JOHN PALMER, KNOWN IN THE P. R. AS “JACK SCROGGINS”—1803‒1822.
To whom this hardy little hero, who so long performed “clown to the
ring,” was indebted for his grotesque _sobriquet_, is a point upon which
history is silent, nor can its elucidation be expected, even from the
editor of “Notes and Queries,” assisted by his staff of contributors.
There was, however, a popular comic song by George Colman the Younger,
in which the loves of Giles Scroggins and Molly Brown were involved with
“a horrible” ghost story, and possibly the mere oddity of the name
suggested itself as an _alias_ for this eccentric pugilist.
John Palmer was born, December 31, 1787, near New Cross, Deptford. It
should seem that as Hercules in his cradle betook himself to serpent
strangling, by way of prefiguring his future monster-destroying
propensities, so Jack was pugilistic from his cradle; and, although not
an ill-natured lad, was continually fighting the boys of New Cross, till
his victories were so numerous, that he was considered as the cock of
the walk. At a more advanced age he went to live as a servant on the
farm of Mr. Giblett (the great butcher of Bond Street), at Kilburn. Here
he had frequent turns-up with the hardy race of navigators belonging to
the Paddington Canal, and here he first received the name of
“Scroggins,” which continued with him throughout his services in the
navy, and stuck to him to the end of his boxing career. The oddity of
this nickname was merited by a corresponding _grotesquerie_ of personal
gesture and appearance. In height only five feet four inches, in weight
hard upon eleven stone, “his appearance when stripped,” says Boxiana,
“is not unlike the stump of a large tree, and from his loins upwards he
looks like a man of fourteen stone.” Add to this, much native humour,
the antics of a merryman, undaunted courage, and a love of riotous fun,
and the reader will admit that the comic lyric poet of _Bell’s Life in
London_ could not have chosen a better known or more comic public
character than “Ould Jack”—or, after his departure for another world of
spirits beyond the grave, “Ould Jack’s Ghost”—for the vehicle of his
fancy facetiæ. What follows here is a _resumé_ of the introductory pages
of the memoir of Scroggins in “Boxiana.”
[Illustration:
JOHN PALMER (“JACK SCROGGINS”).
_From a Portrait by_ G. SHARPLES, 1819.
]
In May, 1803, when sixteen years old, he was ill-treated by one Bill
Walters, at the sign of the Waggon and Horses, at Brentford. Walters was
a full grown man, possessing strength and some knowledge of milling, but
Jack was not easily to be intimidated, and an immediate turn-up was the
result, in a field near the above inn. The battle continued upwards of
an hour, when Scroggy was proclaimed the victor. Jem Belcher witnessed
the mill, and praised Scroggy for the hardy courage he displayed.
Not long after this occurrence, Scroggins dined at a club-feast, at the
sign of the Swan, Sunbury Common. The harmony of the company experienced
great interruption from the improper conduct of a fellow named Sam Beak,
better known as the “Bully of Harrow.” His name was a sort of terror to
all present, and the company would have been compelled to endure his
insolence for the remainder of the evening, had it not been for the
pluck of little Scroggy, who insisted upon his quitting the room. The
threat produced a regular fight out of doors, and after a severe battle
for nearly an hour, Beak was glad to give in.
Scroggins also fought a brick-maker, weighing thirteen stone, near the
sign of the Fox and Goose, at Appleton, near Harrow-on-the-Hill. It was
thought by the spectators, from the great disproportion between the
combatants, that little Scroggy must ultimately be annihilated; but the
smashing activity of Jack reduced the brick-maker to his own pitch, when
he finished him off in quick time.
A navigator, known by the appellation of Long Will, fought with
Scroggins near Harrow. It was a desperate battle, and contested with
alternate success for a long time, till victory crowned the exertions of
our little hero.
At Cowley, near Uxbridge, Scroggins entered the lists with Burke Smith,
denominated the second Robin Hood, from his attachment to deer, a man of
great activity, and distinguished for his great jumps over the canal. In
the hands of Scroggins he was soon glad to acknowledge he was defeated.
Billy Lee, the gipsy, had a desperate set-to with Scroggins, at Kilburn,
in the year 1804. The bruising qualities of the gipsy were well known in
the neighbourhood of Paddington; but Scroggins not only nobbed him
severely, but punished his body in such a hammering style that he
hastily relinquished the contest, acknowledging the superiority and
goodness of our hero.
By moonlight, at Kilburn, between twelve and one o’clock on a Friday
night, a chap of the name of Blinko, otherwise designated as “No Nose!”
had a turn-up with Scroggins, but the severity “No Nose” met with, in
the course of a few rounds, induced him to give in. Upon being shown
Scroggins the next day, he said he was not the same he fought with, but
would fight him for the whole of his week’s wages on the next Sunday
morning; but, when the time arrived, “No Nose” was not to be found.
A strong athletic farmer’s man, of the name of Bill King, was also
beaten by Scroggins, at Sandford Green, near Harrow.
At Appleton, after a very severe battle, Jack Matney surrendered to the
conquering arm of Scroggins.
It was owing to the following circumstance that our hero was compelled
to leave milling on land, to fight the battles of his country at sea, by
entering into the navy. In a row with one Ellis, a constable, at
Sandford Green, the representative of the law, it appears, felt rather
heavily the indignation of Scroggins. In consequence of which turn-up,
an application was made to the magistrate (Dr. Glasse), when our hero
was depicted in such terrible colours, that a press-gang of seventeen
was considered necessary to convey him in safety out of the
neighbourhood.
On the Point Beach at Portsmouth, Happy Jack, the terror of that then
uproarious seaport (so termed from the numerous conquests he had
obtained over various Jack-tars), was, in the presence of some
thousands, wofully cut down from the severe punishment he received in
combat with Scroggins; Happy Jack, for once in his life, being made
miserable by defeat.
During the time Scroggins was on board the Argo, the ship was a scene of
milling adventures, and, it should seem, when off duty, his leisure was
filled up in boxing.
Before our hero was suffered to realise the title of the Champion of the
Argo, the best men in the ship were pitted against him; but it would be
beneath the dignity of our history to record the undistinguished names
of the mere commoners who fell beneath the conquering arm of Scroggy,
who, notwithstanding his pugilistic _penchant_, was the life and soul of
the ship, and as remarkable for his readiness to assist a weaker
messmate as to promote the general mirth of the crew. His practical
jokes and general good humour were long the standing talk of the Argo’s
galley. Toogood, a man of colour, of first-rate weight, and possessing
prodigious strength, had a regular battle with our hero on board the
Argo. Notwithstanding his athletic powers, Scroggins compelled him to
strike his colours.
A caulker, a tall, strong, bony man, who came on board the Argo to make
some repairs, presuming on his strength, took off the boiler and placed
his frying-pan on the fire, in defiance of the whole mess. Scroggins at
length appeared, and took the fellow’s frying-pan from off the fire. A
fight was the immediate consequence; but the caulker was so often
floored, met with such severe punishment, and was so chaffed by the
whole ship’s crew, that out of revenge he complained to the captain of
Scroggins, and our hero was compelled to stand and take two dozen
lashes, or, what is called in the old sea phrase, a “dry holy-stoning.”
Scroggins had scarcely set his foot on terra firma, when he had a turn
up with two dragoons, before the door of the Prince of Wales, at
Woolwich. Notwithstanding the heavy force Scroggins had to contend
against, our little hero bustled through it with so much true courage,
that in the course of a few minutes he came off triumphant, having
floored both the soldiers with ease.
Scroggins’ first battle in the ring, after his return from sea, was with
Jack Boots (whose real name was Wilford), at Wilsden Green, in 1814, for
one guinea a-side. It was a fight without training, and took place
entirely from accident. Boots, it seems, had previously talked about
fighting our hero, and both of them meeting at the above place to
partake of the diversion afforded by Caleb Baldwin’s Bull, they
instantly agreed to decide the dispute in question, upon Scroggins
observing to Boots, “that he thought they were as capable of amusing the
amateurs as the bull had done.” In consequence of this agreement the
sports of the day closed, unexpectedly, with a regular mill. Upon the
bull’s quitting the ground a ring was immediately formed, and Scroggins
and Boots, without further preface, set-to. The latter was well known,
from having fought several battles; but Scroggins was a complete
stranger to the fighting circles. It was a punishing mill for sixty
minutes, during which period the pantomimic tricks exhibited by
Scroggins occasioned roars of laughter; he, however, displayed all the
fortitude of a sailor bent on obtaining victory. Anything like a regular
system of tactics he appeared to despise, and scrambled his way in to
mill his adversary; but, notwithstanding this nondescript boxing, his
hits were so tremendously sent home, that Boots could not resist their
desperate effects. The friends of Boots perceiving that he must
eventually lose, were about to resort to some manœuvres to prevent
Scroggy from being proclaimed the conqueror. This conduct was observed
by old Joe Ward, who was standing in a cart viewing the battle; and
although he was severely afflicted with the rheumatism in both knees, he
hastily jumped out and made for the ring, where he insisted upon fair
play being observed between the combatants. Scroggins was ultimately
declared the victor. The spirited conduct of the latter so pleased the
amateurs that £4 were collected for him as a reward for his exertions.
The friends of Scroggins, not without reason, thought, from this
specimen, that there was good stuff in him. Accordingly, Dolly Smith was
selected as a game active boxer, and a good trial man for the hardy
little tar. The battle was contested at Coombe Warren, on Wednesday,
January 11, 1815, in a twenty feet roped ring, for 20 guineas a-side.
Smith was seconded by Bill Cropley; Scroggins was attended by Richmond
and Oliver.
Smith was well known as a boxer, and considered a good man, from his
game battle with Dick Hares the previous year, on the same ground, while
Scroggins was scarcely known to any person connected with the ring. He
was viewed by the amateurs as an ambitious adventurer, a rough and
daring commoner, opposed to science and experience; the betting was, in
consequence, five to four upon Smith. The combatants in point of weight
were nearly equal. The first round proved a good specimen of the whole
fight; but the impetuosity of the “hardy tar” was so overwhelming, that
the science of Smith, however well applied, could not prevent its
conquering effects. Scroggins’ singular mode of attack astonished the
spectators. Immediately on receiving a hit from his opponent, he went
resolutely in to mill, protecting his head with his left hand over it,
like a ship running in to attack a fort or shore battery, dealing out
terrible punishment with his right hand, and thus took the lead and kept
it, although he was opposed in the most manly and skilful style by
Smith, who was not long in darkening one of the peepers of the sailor.
Scroggins fought at the body with dogged determination, and had the
advantage in a striking degree in throwing, Smith experiencing some
severe cross-buttocks and desperate falls. Smith, too, was frequently
out of distance, and hit over instead of punishing his adversary’s nob.
It was a determined battle on both sides, and Smith did not disgrace his
character in defeat. The blows of Scroggins were terrible, and he was
never off his pins but once during the battle. For three quarters of an
hour it was rattling hard fighting, at the end of which time Smith was
so severely beaten, that he was compelled to cry “enough.”
The milling fame which Nosworthy had acquired by his conquest of the
renowned but worn-out Dutch Sam, at Moulsey, on the 8th of December,
1814, rendered him an object of no small attraction in the milling
sphere. Scroggins, it seems, was eager to make a dash; his ambition
soared above commoners, and he viewed the victorious baker as a
competitor worthy of his aspirings. Some little time, however, elapsed
before he was accommodated; at last they met on the 6th of June, 1815,
at Moulsey Hurst, for £50 a-side. Belcher and Gibbons seconded
Scroggins; Cribb and Clark picked up Nosworthy. The patrons of pugilism
mustered very strongly upon this occasion, and the “crusty coves” of the
metropolis felt so confident the Master of the Rolls would gain the
cause, that, the evening previous to the fight, they laid the odds of
five to four with cheerfulness and alacrity. Nosworthy had won his late
battle with such seeming ease, that no doubt was entertained by his
admirers as to the issue. At one the men set-to.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The notoriety Nosworthy had obtained in
conquering the Jew phenomenon created intense
interest, and every eye was on the combatants
setting to. A short time elapsed in sparring,
when Scroggins made a good hit; the Baker, in
return, missed his aim. Some heavy milling
occurred, when they closed, and both went down;
Nosworthy undermost, Scroggins heavily on him.
(Five to four on Scroggins already.)
2.—Nosworthy appeared bleeding at the scratch.
Determined fighting was the order of this round;
and both the men seemed bent upon proving each
other’s courage. Hit for hit was returned with
as much indifference as if their bodies were
insensible to feeling; and, although both of
them were frequently hit away, they returned
to the attack. The rally was dreadful, and
Nosworthy was, at length, sent down.
3.—It was evident to the spectators that
Nosworthy had got enough to do to make a win of
it. No flinching on either side. They stood up
to each other like a couple of bull-dogs.
Scroggins took the lead in gallant style, and
punished his opponent in the most terrific
manner, by planting a hit under Nosworthy’s ear,
so powerfully, that he went down in a twinkling.
Nosworthy’s importance was now all at an end;
and two to one was offered on Scroggins, without
the least hesitation.
4.—The game displayed by Nosworthy was
admirable, but he had received so plentifully
that his strength was somewhat reduced.
Another terrific rally occurred, in which the
superiority of Scroggins was manifest. He
never left his adversary till he went down.
(Three to one on Scroggins.)
5.—Nosworthy fought like a man, but the chance
was decidedly against him. Scroggins had it all
his own way in this round, and planted his hits
with all the success of a first-rate fighter.
6.—Upon setting-to, Scroggins, with much
severity, floored his antagonist.
7.—Nosworthy, notwithstanding the punishment he
had sustained, came to the scratch full of
pluck, and made a desperate effort to effect a
change in his favour. He with much dexterity put
in a tremendous blow upon one of Scroggins’s
eye-lids; but the latter returned upon him
severely, and had the best of the round.
8.—The head of Nosworthy seemed an easy mark
for Scroggins, who peppered it with the utmost
sang-froid. The baker was again floored.
9 to 15 and last.—The courage of Nosworthy was
the admiration of the ring; he continued to
fight till not a shadow of chance remained. He
was so severely beaten in the fifteenth round,
that, on time being called, he was unable to
quit the knee of his second. The battle was over
in eighteen minutes.
From this triumph Scroggins rose rapidly in the esteem of the best
patrons of the ring, and was considered one of the best “little men” of
the day. Scroggins was scarcely known up to this time to the scientific
circles, and his rambling mode of fighting, so peculiar to himself, was
rather the subject of mirth than serious discussion; still it was
thought, in some instances, that he exhibited the prominent traits of
the once terrific Hooper, a method that would not be denied from boring
in, and, when once in, must triumph from its close and heavy half-arm
deliveries, except in very rare instances. Although Nosworthy was
defeated, it was viewed as a determined and skilful battle on his side.
The springing hits of Scroggins were truly tremendous; and covering his
head with his left hand, not only prevented him from receiving much
punishment at going in, but gave him additional vigour in “smashing” his
adversary.
Scroggins, it was urged, had offended several of his patrons, in
consequence of his insisting on the whole of the battle-money of the
late fight being given to him; and many of them felt determined, if
possible, to select a scientific boxer who should take the fight out of
our hero. Bill Eales was therefore chosen, and backed for this special
purpose; but the knowing ones were much divided in opinion respecting
their merits. Two of the most complete adepts in the ring took them
under their care and training. The sporting knowledge of Gully rendered
him at all times, in the ring or on the turf, no mean judge how to
select his object, or to lay out his money; and Tom Belcher’s experience
had taught him too well to know the value of success to give half a
chance away: therefore when Gully selected Scroggins as his favourite,
and Belcher preferred Eales as the most competent pugilist, it might not
be inaptly observed that, “when Greek joins Greek, then comes the tug of
war!” The backers, as well as boxers, it was certain, meant to win if
possible. Eales was remarkable for his complete knowledge of the tactics
of the milling art, and possessed the important advantages of height and
length; while Scroggins was a nondescript, who disdained copying the
mode of any pugilist, and fought after his own method, if method it
could be termed.
On Saturday, August 26, 1815, near the George, at Kingston Hill,
contiguous to Coombe Warren, this interesting and singular match was
decided. At an early period in the morning the various roads leading to
the scene of action were crowded beyond description. All sorts of
vehicles were so close upon each other as to defy enumeration, and
pedestrians were numerous beyond precedent. A great many high personages
mustered on the turf, among whom Earl Yarmouth, Lord Fife, the Hon.
Berkeley Craven, etc., were observed. A few minutes before one the men
entered the ring, attended by their seconds. Tom Belcher and Harmer for
Eales, Joe Ward and Oliver for Scroggins. The spectators were struck
with the great contrast between the size of the combatants. Joe Ward
tied the colours of the sailor, “true blue,” to the stakes, as a token
of defiance; and Belcher knotted over it the “yellow-man,” as the
colours of Eales. Both men looked well and confident. The ceremony of
shaking hands being gone through, the set-to immediately commenced.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—From the scientific pretensions of
Eales, it was generally expected the first round
would clearly evince his superiority over his
short and sturdy opponent. Scroggy, however,
with the heroism of a British tar, boldly bore
down to the assault. The display of Eales,
although more scientific than effective, was
much admired. Scroggins, equally anxious to
commence the fight favourably, exhibited some
degree of caution. Eales let go once or twice,
but beyond effective distance; at length
Scroggins put in a well directed blow under
the left ear of his opponent, and, in closing,
threw him. (The odds looked rather queer, and
Scroggins was pronounced the favourite.)
2.—This round was decisively in favour of
Scroggins, who exchanged blows with his opponent
in the most gallant style of courage, till Eales
was at length floored.
3.—Both the combatants were now alive to the
interest of the scene in which they were
engaged. A good rally occurred, and they
returned and exchanged liberally; in the rally
Eales went down.
4.—This was altogether a severe round. If
Scroggins planted some severe blows, Eales
returned punishment with equal courage. Strength
was evidently on the side of Scroggins, who
appeared merely getting into work; while Eales,
on the contrary, showed symptoms of weak
constitution, and fought till he again went
down.
5.—Eales, notwithstanding his superior science,
could not make that impression upon his opponent
which was expected by his friends. He succeeded,
it is true, in dexterously putting in some heavy
blows, which the hardy tar was not a degree
behind hand in returning, keeping up a battering
rally, till his opponent went down.
6.—The strength of Eales did not keep pace with
his judgment; he, nevertheless, evinced good
pluck. This was a pantomimic round; altogether a
piece of harlequin and clown antics all round
the ring. Eales exerted his best skill to obtain
a favourable turn, and a terrific rally ensued;
but, in closing, the singularity of Scroggins
excited roars of laughter. In throwing Eales
he went down, then rolled over and over from
his adversary till he rose upon his legs with
all the comicality of a merry-andrew. Eales
displayed weakness, and the odds were five to
one on Scroggins.
7.—The combatants soon fought their way into a
sharp rally, and the science of Eales prevailed
to a certain extent, till Scroggins went down.
(Applause.)
8.—A little discretion seemed necessary on both
sides; some sparring occurred before a hit was
made. Scroggins bobbed his head to avoid the
threatened blows of his opponent, but returned
fighting hand over head. The punishment was
severe in this round, but reciprocal; however,
Scroggins went down.
9.—The combatants attacked each other with the
most determined resolution; anything like
stopping was out of the question, till they both
found themselves upon the ground. Eales could
not lay claim to any advantage; neither had
Scroggins the worst of it.
10.—Another equally desperate round followed,
and a tremendous rally took place. The blows
on both sides did great execution—punishment
without stopping was the order of the day.
11.—Eales, notwithstanding the exertion of
the last round, came to the scratch with
considerable spirit, and showed off in such
good style upon his opponent, that Scroggins
again dropped his nob to escape the intended
milling.
12.—The science of Eales was exhibited to great
advantage, and Scroggins’ upper works seemed
under the direction of a chancery practitioner,
till he was sent under the ropes. The round was
contested with much resolution on both sides.
13.—Eales again tried it on with some
success by planting three severe hits on the
nob of Scroggins; but the latter, determined
not to be deficient in this part of the
practice, liberally returned the favours
which had been bestowed, and concluded the
round by cross-buttocking his antagonist.
14.—The spectators now perceived that Scroggins
was too much for Eales, as the strength of the
latter was evidently on the decline every round.
Scroggins punished Eales in all directions, and
gave him three heavy hits on his nob, stomach,
and neck. In closing, both down, but Scroggins
fell upon Eales with a plunge enough to send the
wind out of his body.
15.—The advantage of strength was completely
on the side of Scroggins, who came up to the
scratch smiling with confidence. Eales, although
weak, fought with much spirit, and contested
every inch of ground in a sharp rally, till
Scroggins again threw and fell upon him.
16.—Eales endeavoured to gain time by cautious
sparring, but Scroggins fought his way pell-mell
into a sharp rally, and adopted the same mode as
in the two preceding rounds, by tripping up his
adversary, then falling upon him, depriving
Eales of what little wind he had left.
17.—From the terrible heat of the sun, and the
severe punishment both the combatants had
experienced, it did not excite any degree of
surprise to see them both at the scratch in an
exhausted state. The little hardy tar, who had
so often braved the changes of climate, seemed
of the two least affected by the scorching rays
that now poured so heavily upon their persons,
and commenced fighting with great spirit. In
closing, he peppered Eales considerably, and
then cross-buttocked him. From this severe touch
it was expected Eales would not be able to meet
his man again.
18.—Eales, though much exhausted, again opposed
his man, but the chance was decidedly against
him; Scroggins threw him as before. (Any odds,
but no takers.)
19.—The fight was nearly taken out of Eales; he
was at the mercy of his antagonist. He was again
thrown.
20.—Eales tottered to the scratch; but Scroggins
gave him another cross-buttock as if a child had
been opposed to his strength.
21.—The strength of Eales was quite reduced as
to effective punishment; he, nevertheless,
evinced good bottom, and did more than might
have been expected from one so nearly beaten.
Scroggins laid himself open, but Eales was too
weak to turn it to account. In falling,
Scroggins went down on him.
22.—It was now a horse to a hen, and Scroggins
threw his man with apparent ease.
23.—Eales, to the astonishment of the
spectators, once more appeared at the mark; but
it was all up with him, and, by way of a
quietus, Scroggins put in so tremendous a hit
under his right ear that he was floored like a
shot. He could not come again. The battle lasted
twenty-two minutes.
REMARKS.—Scroggins, in defeating a scientific
boxer like Eales, completely astonished every
amateur present. It was singular to observe
the severity of his blows, and the punishment
he administered to his opponent, though a man
four inches taller than himself. Indeed our
little hero was confidence itself. He assured
his friends previous to the battle, that he
would win it and nothing else. As an in-fighter,
Eales had decidedly the best of his opponent;
but his distances were so incorrect at times in
out-fighting that numerous blows were thrown
away. Some of the partizans of Eales attributed
his loss to a severe hurt received on the back
part of his head, in falling violently against
the stakes; but the general opinion was that he
lacked stamina to resist the finishing qualities
of his antagonist. Eales was the heavier man,
weighing eleven stone and half a pound. The bets
never varied from the commencement of the fight;
Scroggins was the favourite throughout. It was
altogether a sharp contest, but a great deal
of time was consumed in struggling to obtain
the advantage in throwing. Notwithstanding the
great superiority Eales had in standing over his
opponent, united with his first-rate skill, he
could not prevent Scroggins from going in. The
admirers of science were much disappointed at
the defeat of Eales.
From the success Scroggins had met with in his boxing career, and the
numerous patrons of the art who rallied round him, he was enabled to
commence publican. He accordingly opened the Waterman’s Arms, at
Stangate, Lambeth, for the entertainment of the sporting world. His
house in summer time was then pleasantly and attractively situated,
commanding a view across the Thames, a part of the venerable Abbey, and
Westminster Hall, with the old St. Stephen’s, and the Houses of
Parliament, destroyed by fire in 1836. The name of John Scroggins, in
large letters, at the top of the premises, might be seen from the other
side of the river, operating as an inducement, not only to sporting
characters, but to many an old shipmate of the Argo to call and give our
hero a friendly turn. He did not want for company of every description.
Peers and costermongers all contributed to make the pot boil; and,
though Scroggy could not boast of the eloquence of a Cicero, yet he
never suffered any of his customers to depart without receiving a ready
answer. Life, in a variety of shapes, was to be seen under the roof of
this little caterer for the public. In another part of his dwelling, the
“saloon” was not the least importance in the picture. In ruder hands it
was merely a skittle ground, but, under the taste and judgment displayed
by “Scroggy,” it assumed a new and prominent feature. A gallery was now
added to it, in addition to its being boarded over for the accommodation
of spectators, and embellished with chandeliers. Every Tuesday night it
was opened as a school for the art of self-defence; and here this
remnant of the Olympic games was conducted with characteristic spirit to
overflowing audiences. Scroggins himself usually appeared as a
first-rate actor, assisted by several professionals, in most of these
performances, to explain and render the art attainable. Here many a
novice was floored for his temerity, by way of initiation, and as a sort
of preparatory step to a better acquaintance with the practice and use
of the gloves. The “tip” for admission was upon a reasonable scale, a
single sixpence, and liquor to its estimated value was allowed. The
sporting dinners given by Scroggins were excellent; and the Waterman’s
Arms generally afforded amusement to those persons who were disposed to
take a peep at the fun and frolic there exhibited, under the management
of this comic hero of the ring.
Four months had scarcely elapsed when Scroggins again made his
appearance in the prize-ring, but under very different circumstances.
Having in his last combat defeated one of the most scientific boxers of
the day, he was now called to enter the lists with a complete stranger,
and a mere novice. It appears that Whittaker, from Denbigh in Yorkshire,
an oilman by trade, had criticised the milling talents of Scroggins
rather freely in company; which criticism resulted in a battle between
them. The sum contended for was fifty guineas a side, and so much
confidence did the Oilman feel upon entering the ring with Scroggins
(notwithstanding his name was a sort of terror to pugilists in general),
that he put down thirty-two guineas of the stakes out of his own pocket.
Scroggins viewed Whittaker with so much indifference that he thought he
had merely to take off his coat and win the fight. On Tuesday, the 9th
of January, 1816, the fistic heroes met to decide this trial of skill at
Moulsey Hurst. The Oilman was understood to be a clever and determined
boxer, and so much interest was excited in the sporting circles that
upwards of ten thousand persons witnessed the battle. The odds were two
to one upon Scroggins, who was seconded by Oliver and Clark; Whittaker
was attended by Cribb and Richmond. The men shook hands, and at one
o’clock the set-to commenced:—
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The amateurs expected more of a
smashing than a scientific fight; Scroggins
thought so little of his adversary, that he
went to work _sans ceremonie_, but hit short
with his left hand; the Oilman, in return,
planted a slight nobber. The combatants fought
their way into a rally, and some sharp blows
were exchanged, at the end of which the claret
was seen trickling down Whittaker’s face (no
variation in the betting).
2.—The Oilman seemed full of pluck and eager
for battle. Scroggins again hit short, but
Whittaker improved on the opening, and made a
sharp left-handed blow. Some desperate milling
occurred; no want of spirit on either side. In
closing much struggling took place, when the
Oilman got away, but was ultimately sent down.
3.—This was altogether a well-fought round. If
the Oilman did not show superlative science, he
evinced qualities that convinced the spectators
he was not to be beaten off hand. Scroggins
attacked his adversary with much determination,
and Whittaker showed equal resolution in a sharp
rally, till he went down.
4.—Science was not the forte of the combatants;
downright milling was the order of this round.
Scroggins missed several hits, and did not
appear to such advantage as was expected. The
Oilman fought with much steadiness and
composure, and his left hand, in some instances,
was successful. The men rattled in a close, when
the Oilman, with much dexterity, threw his
adversary. The odds nevertheless were still high
upon Scroggins.
5.—It was evident that Scroggins had paid little
attention to training; and, at this early stage
of the fight, his wind appeared rather
treacherous. The Oilman attacked his adversary
in good style, and had the superiority of
hitting. Scroggins slipped in making a hit, but
soon recovered himself upon one knee, and with
much force levelled his man.
6.—Both combatants on their mettle; reciprocal
fighting took place. The Oilman proved himself a
much better man than he was thought to be. The
odds fell to six to four.
7.—Scroggins came to the scratch much distressed
and out of wind. The Oilman improved upon this
circumstance and made several telling blows,
ultimately finishing the round in his favour.
(Applause.)
8.—Scroggins could not recover his wind; and,
to avoid receiving punishment, resorted to
some strange manœuvres to amuse his adversary.
Whittaker was not to be deluded, and stuck to
Scroggy hard and fast till he was thrown.
9.—Scroggins came up fresher, and attacked his
opponent with unshrinking courage. A rally took
place, which was desperately contested; but
finished to the advantage of Scroggins, who
darkened the Oilman’s left peeper.
10 and 11.—Both of these rounds were fought with
manliness and resolution. It was plain Scroggins
had considerable work to get through before
victory would crown his efforts.
12.—Whittaker seemed more conspicuous for
high game and wrestling capabilities than a
sound acquaintance with the principles of
the pugilistic art; he threw Scroggins in
great style.
13 and 14.—Rather in favour of Scroggins.
15.—Here the Oilman showed to much advantage. He
put in several blows, both down.
16 to 30.—Several trifling changes occurred
during these rounds; in one of which Scroggins
met with an accident in falling, which might
have terminated the battle; but his fortitude
as well as policy was so great, that,
notwithstanding the excruciating pain he
suffered, he did not even communicate the
circumstance to his second, but fought on
under considerable disadvantage. From the
numerous antics and manœuvres he played off,
he recovered himself in some degree, and
succeeded in damaging his opponent’s remaining
eye.
31 to 49 and last.—It is unnecessary to detail
the whole of these rounds; suffice it to
observe the Oilman contested the whole of them
with resolution and true game. He fought till
without the power of directing his blows. He
resigned the contest with reluctance; urging
his not being reduced in bodily strength. In
fact, he was humanely persuaded by Mr. Jackson
and his friends, to retire, as he had no
chance whatever, from his defective vision. In
other respects there is no doubt but he might
have protracted the battle.
REMARKS.-Scroggins had nearly given the chance
away on this occasion by overweening
self-conceit, and the contempt with which he
viewed the pretensions of Whittaker. The
victory indeed was more owing to his good
fortune than to judgment. He laughed at the
idea of training to beat a novice, and never
left his home for a single night. In
consequence of this neglect, he took an hour
and sixteen minutes to beat Whittaker, which,
had he been in good condition, it is presumed
he might have accomplished in half an hour.
Scroggins (almost too late) found out the
fault he had committed from neglect of
training. It was a fortunate moment for our
hero when the Oilman was taken from the
ground. The memorable defeat and ruin of
Broughton ought always to operate as a useful
lesson to all pugilists—more especially to
conquerors—respecting their preparatory
conduct. Scroggins had nearly fallen a victim
to this blind confidence. His fame was
tottering on a precipice. Scroggins too was
extremely incorrect in his distances, but
neither of the combatants fought upon the
defensive. Whittaker was evidently the better
wrestler, and Scroggy appeared more punished
about his nob than in any other battle. Had
not Scroggins succeeded in closing the
remaining peeper of Whittaker, the termination
might have been rather doubtful, as the latter
was not seriously disabled in body nor
distressed in wind. Though he retired from the
ring a defeated man, it is but common justice
to state that a gamer pugilist than Whittaker
never quitted the field. Thirty pounds was
collected on the ground by Mr. Jackson, as a
reward for the bravery the loser had
displayed. Notwithstanding the latter resigned
the contest, he still entertained an opinion
that Scroggins was not the best man, and
attributed the chance going against him to his
being a stranger to the tactics of the
prize-ring.
From the rapid conquests he had obtained, Scroggins was at this period
the envy of the boxing circles. His house was numerously attended; he
was enjoying the fruits of peace and the reward of his victories;
smoking his pipe with ease and pleasure, and laid up as it were in
ordinary, resting from the fatigues of war. But peace was not the
element in which Jack was seen to advantage; therefore, out of numerous
challenges offered to him, he accepted one from a countryman of the name
of Church, a native of Gloucester, who, it seems, “had heard of
battles,” and thirsting to obtain fighting glory, had determined to lead
“a dull inglorious life” no longer. He left Gloucester for the avowed
purpose of challenging our hero; and Colonel (afterwards the Earl of)
Berkeley, his patron, had so high an opinion of his qualifications, that
he backed him for 100 guineas.
Church, it appears, had milled all the best men in Gloucestershire, was
well known as a staunch man, was taller than his adversary, and
possessed a hardy and erect frame. Upon the match being made he went
into training near Enfield; during which period he gave proof that he
was capable of performing no little in the milling way. Three countrymen
called at the house where he resided, and rudely challenged him to
fight. Church, shamefully careless about the engagement he was under,
with more rashness than judgment, accepted their offer; fortune favoured
him, for in a very short time, it was reported, he disposed of the whole
three, and public rumour ran that he was likely to turn out a
troublesome customer for Scroggins.
On Tuesday, August 20th, 1816, the men met, and Moulsey Hurst was once
more the theatre of pugilistic display. Myriads of persons left the
metropolis, in all directions, to view the renowned Scroggins, among
whom were Lord Yarmouth, Colonel Berkeley, Captain Barclay, etc.
Vehicles of all descriptions, from the barouche and four to the
scavenger’s mud-cart, were in requisition at an early hour, to reach the
destined spot; the blood-horse, in all the pride of high breeding, was
galloping by all, and the more humble donkey and the spare nacker
trotting and snorting along the road, to be up in time. Pedestrians of
all ranks formed a moving scene, and by twelve o’clock many thousand
persons crowded the Hurst. Church appeared first, and threw his hat into
the ring; Scroggins shortly following his example. The former was
seconded by Tom Belcher and Bill Gibbons, the latter by Cribb and Clark.
At a quarter past one the men shook hands. Three to one on Scroggins.
The battle lasted fifty-eight minutes, and fifty rounds took place, as
follow:—
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Scroggins, on setting-to, seemed
anxious to be at work, but hit short. He,
however, soon made up for this deficiency by
giving his opponent two desperate facers,
which produced the claret in a twinkling.
Church seemed electrified by the severity of
his hits, exchanged a few blows, turned round
in confusion, and was ultimately sent down.
(Three to one on Scroggins.)
2.—Church appeared at the scratch bleeding.
Scroggins set-to determinedly, and soon showed
his opponent the severe punishment he was likely
to encounter, by putting in two severe blows,
right and left, on his nob. Church again turned
round confusedly, but drew the cork of his
antagonist. Scroggins evinced his superiority,
and finished this round decidedly in his favour,
by sending his man down. In this early stage of
the fight, the spectators made up their minds to
the ultimate event, and four to one was offered.
3.—Church did not know what to do with his
antagonist; he was quickly sent down by
Scroggins, who held up both his hands.
4.—The position of Church was good, but there
was nothing of the scientific boxer about him;
nevertheless, he put in some good hits, and, in
closing, both went down. Scroggins rolled over
like a tumbler.
5.—This was rather a severe round, and, in
closing, Church endeavoured to fib his opponent;
both down.
6.—Scroggins went furiously in to mill his
opponent, which he did most effectually, and
sent Church down. Both their mugs began to show
the effects of punishment.
7.—Scroggins seemed determined to finish his
opponent, but twice hit short: he rushed in and
took great liberties with his nob. Church again
went down.
8.—Church appeared to have no notion of
protecting his head from the attacks of his
opponent. He not only received two desperate
facers, but was punished severely at the ropes,
and milled down.
9.—In this round Scroggins had it all his own
way; he hit Church quite out of the ring. (Great
applause.)
10.—Some good exchanges. In closing, both down,
Church undermost.
11.—Church broke away from a close, and got
into a rally, but he was at length sent to the
ground.
12.—In favour of Church; he put in two good
blows, but, in closing, both went down.
13.—Scroggins hit him quite round against the
ropes, and Church was sent down.
14.—Scroggins put in a facer, and Church went
down.
15.—Church made a hit and fell down. (Nineteen
minutes.)
16.—Scroggins put in two facers, turned suddenly
round with all the agility of a dancing master,
and ended by flooring Church.
17.—Scroggins broke from a close, and exchanged
some blows; but Church ultimately threw him.
18.—Church made one or two good stops, but was
sent down.
19.—Scroggins milled his opponent in all
directions without receiving any return, till
Church went off his legs.
20.—Scroggins was the principal receiver in this
round. In a close, both down.
21.—Scroggins, with the utmost _sang froid_, on
setting-to floored his man, and stood over him
with the utmost contempt.
22.—Scroggins measured his distance again well,
put in a tremendous facer, and ultimately threw
his opponent.
23.—Church felt for Scroggins’ nob twice, and
threw him.
24.—Scroggins received a hit at going in, but,
in closing, both went down.
25.—Church put in a facer, but Scroggins soon
floored him.
26.—Church, with much severity, hit his opponent
quite away from him, and had the best of the
round. In closing, both went down.
27.—Church seemed in this round totally off his
guard. Scroggins put in seven severe facers in
rapid succession, till he sent Church down.
(Twenty to one.)
28.—Scroggins determined to lose no time,
pursued his advantage with the utmost spirit,
dealing out punishment at every step. His rush
was not to be resisted, and Church again went
down.
29.—Church gave his opponent a check upon
his nob as he was going in, but it did not
ultimately prevent Scroggins from boring him
to the ropes, and getting him down. (Any
odds.)
30.—Church was completely on the taking system;
the knowledge of giving he seemed totally
ignorant of. A greater glutton was never seen,
no common caterer could serve his inordinate
appetite. Scroggins hit his adversary off his
legs.
31.—Church only appeared as a mark to hit at.
Stopping his adversary was out of the question;
he again measured his length on the grass.
32.—Scroggins was truly conspicuous in this
round. He did as he liked with his antagonist,
till he sent him down.
33.—It was astonishing to see Church,
considering the severe milling he had received,
continue to face his man with such confidence.
Ho had no chance whatever, except being knocked
down.
34.—Church exchanged some blows in this round
rather to his advantage, but almost laid himself
down from exhaustion at the conclusion of it.
35.—Scroggins, in making a hit, literally pushed
down his opponent.
36.—Church was hit down almost upon setting-to.
37.—Scroggins, eager to put a finishing stroke
to this game article, rushed in furiously and
sent him down.
38.—Church’s face looked deplorable; he received
three tremendous blows. Scroggins put in also a
severe body blow with his left hand, when Church
as usual went down.
39.—The battle might be said to be at an end,
but Church’s game was not yet exhausted.
Scroggins again sent his man down.
40.—Scroggins ran in to his adversary like a
bull, head foremost, at his body, and caught
hold of the waistband of his breeches, but
instantly recollecting, as it were, that he had
committed an error, he slid his hands upwards.
It might have been accidental, but the seconds
of Church considering such an attack contrary to
the established rules of fighting, thought that
to fulfil their duty they ought to take their
man out of the ring. The umpires, however,
passed it over, and thus, fortunately for
Scroggins, saved him from the disagreeable
circumstance of a wrangle, or perhaps making a
drawn battle of it.
41.—Though Church could not win, yet he now and
then felt for his antagonist’s nob sharply, and
in this round he put in a severe facer, but
Scroggins sent him down.
42.—Nothing. Church went down upon setting-to.
43.—Scroggins again nobbed his opponent, and, to
add to the severity of the punishment, Church
received a severe body blow before he found his
way to the grass.
44.—Scroggins hit his adversary cleanly down,
and it was apprehended that he would not be
able to come again; indeed, his backer wished
him to desist from the contest. The seconds of
Scroggins took the hint, and threw up their
hats in the air as the token of victory. The
outer ring immediately gave way, but Church
insisted upon fighting longer, and the
45th round commenced during this confusion. The
spirit of Church was good, but his strength
could not keep pace with his wishes. Scroggins
was awake that victory was certain, and sent his
adversary down in quick time.
46.—Church was now going very fast, and was sent
down upon setting-to.
47.—The mortification of surrender urged Church
to continue the battle while he was able to
stand upon his legs; but it was all up, and he
was only receiving unnecessary punishment, being
sent down every round.
48.—Church went down completely exhausted.
49.—Notwithstanding the reduced state of Church,
he made a couple of hits, but it was only to be
sent down.
50 and last.—On coming to the scratch he was
floored, _sans ceremonie_, and not able to meet
his man any more. He was led out of the ring
dreadfully beaten.
REMARKS.—A gamer man never entered the ring than
Church; he proved himself a complete taker, but
as to the winning consequences of giving he had
much to learn. Scroggins was completely at home;
cautious of himself, his judgment was excellent
in perceiving when his antagonist was exhausted,
and going in promptly to finish him off. He,
however, gave a chance away, by running head
foremost at his opponent’s body, a proceeding
which at the present day would have lost him the
battle. Scroggins, however, did not win this
fight without considerable punishment about
the nob, one of his eyes being nearly closed,
and his face much beaten. He never exhibited
anything like such marks before. Church sprained
his ankle severely in the third round; and had
not this accident occurred, he might have stood
up much better, perhaps with more chance of
ultimate success. His confidence never deserted
him throughout the battle; and he talked to his
second between every round of his capabilities
to continue the contest. After the great success
of Scroggins in the two first rounds, when he in
fact reduced winning almost to a certainty, many
of the fancy expressed some little astonishment
that fifty-eight minutes should elapse before
Scroggins was able to send his man out of the
ring. Mr. Jackson collected £20 to reward the
bravery of Church.
The friends of Tom Hall (known as the Isle of Wight Hall), were
extremely anxious to match him with Scroggins for 200 guineas a-side;
but, after four meetings upon the subject, the last of which was held at
the Mansion House Coffee House, February, 1817, the partizans of Hall
offered to pay half the deposit between Scroggins and Turner, in order
to induce the former to relinquish that match. Hall also proposed to add
ten pounds which had been forfeited to him in a previous instance, to
the battle-money; but the offers were declined. Scroggins had no
objection to fight Hall, provided he weighed no more than eleven stone.
However, it was the general opinion among the best judges of pugilism
that Hall was too heavy for our hero.
After six months’ interval, Scroggins again entered the prize ring. His
antagonist on this occasion was the afterwards celebrated Ned Turner.
The affair came off in a field near Hayes Turnpike, Middlesex, on
Wednesday, March 26, 1817; Scroggins fighting Turner £100 against £50.
This contest ended in a draw, the particulars of which will be found in
the memoir of Ned Turner, _ante_, p. 374.
A second match was afterwards made on the 10th of June, 1817, Scroggins
fighting Turner £120 against £80.
Upon a review of the merits of the drawn battle above mentioned, some
doubts appeared to exist in the minds of the backers of Scroggins
respecting the result of the coming fight. The following contest,
however, which took place _ad interim_, not only tended to remove the
doubts in question, but operated so strongly towards increasing their
former confidence in Scroggins as to raise the odds to three to one that
he was the victor.
A meeting was held at Tom Oliver’s house in Peter Street, Westminster,
on Friday, May 2, 1817, to complete the stakes for the match between
Sutton and Ned Painter. Several pugilists were present upon this
occasion, among whom were Scroggins, Carter, West Country Dick, Ballard,
Purcell, etc. Scroggy having drank freely during the evening above
stairs, descended into the parlour and ridiculed Dick upon his defeat by
Randall. He also offered to bet two to one upon himself against Turner,
which was immediately accepted by Richmond; and, upon the latter’s
taking up the money to deposit in some person’s hands, Scroggins seized
hold of the man of colour. Scroggins now gave some ludicrous imitations
of Richmond’s mode of milling, calling him everything but a good one,
and offered to fight the man of colour in the room for any sum. The
latter was much pressed to give Scroggins a thrashing for his improper
conduct, but Richmond kept his temper, although called a cur for
suffering such a little fellow to insult and triumph over him. Richmond
was not to be moved from his resolution, and very properly observed,
“That as Scroggins was under an engagement to fight Turner, the sporting
world should not experience a disappointment from his disabling the man
from fulfilling his agreement.” This conduct on the part of Richmond was
admitted to be handsome and manly by all present. Scroggins, however,
would not be denied—fight he would with somebody, and to accommodate his
penchant, a match was proposed between him and young Fisher for twenty
guineas a-side, to be decided instantly, the latter having gallantly
beaten the rough and hardy Crockey, before the Grand Duke of Russia, at
Coombe Warren. Previously, however, the opinion of Mr. Jackson was taken
respecting the propriety of Scroggins fighting, considering his
engagement with Turner. Mr. J. thought he ought not. Scroggins overruled
this objection, by declaring that nothing should hinder him from having
a mill, provided Mr. Farmer would make the match. Shelton, in
conjunction with some other persons, then put down the money for Fisher.
The large room at the back of the premises was lighted up, the scratch
made, bottles, lemons, etc., produced; the spectators retired to each
end of the room, and the door was locked. Mr. Jackson acted as umpire.
Carter and Clark attended Scroggins; Richmond and a novice waited upon
Fisher. Three to two on Scroggins. The parties shook hands—half minute
time was allowed, and sixteen minutes before twelve o’clock at night the
battle commenced. More spirited betting or greater order never was
observed at Moulsey, Shepperton, or Coombe Wood.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On setting-to mischief being meant,
little science was displayed between the
combatants; Fisher put in a slight body hit.
Scroggins reeled in after his usual mode, and
both went to work slap bang—some sharp nobbers
were exchanged, and, in closing, both down,
Scroggy undermost. (“Well done, Fisher!”)
2.—Fisher, full of gaiety, again hit, first on
the body, and seemed resolutely determined upon
following up his success. They both nobbed each
other smartly; and in struggling to obtain the
throw, Scroggy, as before, was undermost.
3.—Scroggins, from the effects of lushing, came
quite noisy to the scratch, and laughing at
Fisher, told him if he could hit no harder than
he had done, he must lose it, and he (Scroggins)
would soon convince him of that fact. Fisher,
not dismayed by this threat, not only fought
with his opponent manfully, but threw him
completely on his face. (“Go it, Fisher!”)
4.—This was a good round, and Fisher pelted
away so sharply, that Scroggy seemed rather
sobered by the contact. Ceremony was out of the
question, hit for hit was reciprocally given,
till Fisher slipped and went down. (Two to one
on Scroggy was vociferated by his partisans.)
5.—Fisher came to the scratch in the most lively
style, and set-to with as much coolness as if he
had been fighting a mere commoner. They soon
closed, Fisher undermost.
6.—Nothing but milling was the order of this
round; both down.
7.—Scroggins rushed at his opponent with the
impetuosity of a bull-dog, and made his one-two
tell upon Fisher’s mug: the latter stood to him
like bricks, and contended gamely till he found
himself undermost in the throw. (This change on
the part of Scroggy brought offers forward of
four to one in his favour.)
8.—Fisher went to work manfully, and Scroggins
slipped down from a hit, but, instantly
recovering himself, instead of finishing the
round, he rushed at Fisher, when some sharp
blows were exchanged till both went down.
9.—Fisher with the utmost ease sent Scroggy
down. (“Bravo, Fisher—stick to him, my lad!”)
10.—One of Scroggins’s peepers seemed a little
damaged, but his canvas appeared so impenetrable
that the claret scorned to make its appearance.
Both again down; but Scroggins, while on the
knee of his second, gave two or three loud hems,
as if to improve his wind.
11.—This was a truly punishing round. Fisher hit
Scroggins slightly down—he was up again in a
twinkling, and most furiously went in to mill
his opponent; he was, however, ultimately sent
down.
12.—Fisher put in a good facer; but, in closing,
both down.
13.—As yet, nothing was the matter with Fisher,
and considering Scroggins was three parts groggy
upon commencing the fight, he convinced those
around him what a fine constitution he
possessed. Fisher was also viewed with
admiration—and making allowance for his
“greenness” in contending with a pugilist at the
top of the tree, he proved himself an ugly
customer for this modern Dutch Sam. in this
round Fisher had the best decidedly.
14.—Scroggins went down in closing, but the
advantage was on his side. When on his second’s
knee, he sneeringly observed to Fisher, that “he
could not hit hard enough; he had better give it
in, as a few more of _his_ hits must finish
him.”
15 to 17.—Nothing material on either side.
18.—In this round Scroggy was floored. Great
applause to Fisher.
19 to 23.—Though Scroggins was the favourite,
yet many present considered the event at this
stage of the fight doubtful. (Upon several
offers being made, Scroggy observed, “Aye, bet
away, gentlemen, I can win it like fun. I lay
two to one on myself.”)
24 to 29.—Fisher appeared still fresh, and
notwithstanding the desperate rushing forward
of Scroggins to take the fight out of him, he
never flinched from his man, but fought with
Scroggins like a game-cock. At the conclusion
of this round, which was in favour of the cove
of Stangate, he exclaimed with the utmost
confidence, “Who can beat me, alive? I can
mill any of ’em!”
30 to 32.—Scroggins had the worst of these
rounds. He appeared rather distressed, and from
the effects of the grog reeled about. Fisher
exchanged many blows to his advantage.
33.—This round was complete hammering. Scroggins
wanted to put an end to the fight, and fought
his way in with all the determination of a lion.
His blows were terrific—and although he went
down from a sharp hit, he instantly jumped up
again and milled Fisher furiously till he got
him down. Carter now offered a guinea to
half-a-crown. “Bravo, Scroggy—he is an
astonishing fellow!” was the general cry.
34 to 36.—Well contested on both sides: but in
the latter round Fisher missed putting in a
blow, that might have materially turned the
fight in his favour. He had hit Scroggins away
from him twice, near the corner of the room,
that laid him open, and instead of following up
the chance, he retreated and got sent down.
Scroggins again loudly hemmed, upon his second’s
knee, for wind.
37.—Scroggins sent down Fisher in a twinkling.
This blow was on the face, and from its
tremendous severity, his countenance changed.
Scroggins shouted with glee, and offered to bet
anything.
38.—Fisher again went down from a slight hit.
Scroggins, with much contempt and confidence,
“What do you think of that? I’ll bet a hundred
to one, I’ll win it.”
39 to 42.—Fisher fought manfully, but a change
had taken place; he showed signs of weakness,
and went down in all these rounds. (£250 to
£100 on Scroggy, and his partisans roared with
delight.)
43.—Scroggins now began to finish in high style,
and dealt out some tremendous punishment.
(Guinea to a shilling was offered, but not
taken.)
44 and last.—Fisher came to the scratch much
distressed, and Scroggins again milled him down.
On time being called, Fisher could not rise from
his second’s knee, being very faint and rather
sick, upon which Scroggins was declared the
conqueror. The battle lasted forty-one minutes.
REMARKS.—Fisher must be pronounced a good man,
and had he fought more at the head he might
have been able to have given a better account
of the battle. His mug was a little battered,
but in other respects he did not exhibit severe
marks of punishment. He attributed his loss
to the very heavy falls he experienced more
than to the blows he encountered, and walked
from the scene of action without any help.
Scroggins fought under disadvantage; but the
confidence he possessed was truly astonishing.
He urged that he could beat all the light
weights, and entertained an idea that six men
in the whole kingdom did not exist who could
conquer him. He was much inebriated, and the
danger he was likely to experience by losing a
chance in his ensuing fight with Turner, seemed
not in the least to operate on his mind. Though
the above conquest was not an easy fight, he
was as anxious to bet upon himself as the most
interested looker-on, offering terms almost on
every round. He was more beaten about the face
than his antagonist.
It was now decidedly two to one, and in many instances the odds were
still higher throughout the sporting, that Scroggins would add another
laurel to his wreath, in his second combat with Turner, on the 10th of
June, 1817, at Sawbridgeworth, Hertfordshire, but the smiles of fortune
abandoned our hero, and, for the first time in his life, he found
himself in defeat. (See p. 377.)
The only consolation Scroggins experienced, after his mind had overcome
the shock was attributing his loss to an accidental blow he received
upon the throat in the third round, and which swelled so rapidly as
almost to deprive him of the power of breathing; nothing could satisfy
his wounded feelings but another opportunity to retrieve his lost
laurels. Turner, without hesitation, agreed to accommodate him, and
Scroggins was so confident of victory, that he put down the principal
part of the money himself, to make the stakes £150 a-side, the combat to
take place on Tuesday, October 7, 1817. But the charm was broken—the
invincibility of Scroggins, in the sporting world, was at an end—no
longer a winning man his defects were too prominent to be overlooked. A
material falling off was observed at his benefit and he was altogether
so much reduced that the odds on the third contest were seven to four
against him.
During the time allowed for training, Scroggins, as on a former
instance, unmindful of the necessity of paying attention to his health,
in an inebriated moment had an accidental turn up with Bob Gregson at
Belcher’s. In this skirmish he went down, and sprained one of his legs
so severely that he did not recover from its effects for upwards of a
month; but, to make amends for this indiscretion, so much did he fancy
this match, that he sold his house, quitted the character of a publican,
and became a private individual, “in order,” as he observed, “to be more
able to keep to his training.”
His third battle with Turner was fought at Shepperton October 7, 1818
(which, as well as the former, will be found under the Memoir of TURNER,
p. 382). Notwithstanding his professed contempt for regular training,
Scroggins appeared in the ring in better condition than his opponent. It
was evident to every one present that Scroggy strained every point to
win; and it is but common justice to remark, that his character as a
boxer rose higher, in every point of view, on that day than in any of
his previous battles.
Poor Scroggy’s course was now a downward one. He had survived his fame;
and, never heeding the cautions of prudence, he paid the penalty, which
men in every profession, pugilism by no means excepted, must pay for
disregarding her dictates.
He was successively defeated by Jack Martin, the opponent of Randall,
(see p. 398), at Moulsey, on the 18th of December, 1818, after a game
fight of sixty-five rounds, in two hours and two minutes; by Josh.
Hudson, at the same place, August 24, 1819, in eleven rounds, occupying
eighteen minutes; and twice by David Hudson, the first time in May, the
second in July, 1820.
Scroggy, however, was still game, and ready for anything. Determined as
he himself said, “to lick somebody afore the year was out, pervising he
could get backers,” Jack looked in on the 30th of November, 1820, at a
“spread” given at Randall’s in Chancery Lane, by sundry patrons of the
fistic art. Spring, Purcell, Randall, Turner, Martin, Phil. Sampson,
Harry Holt, and others, were among the guests, and the patter turned on
battles past and matches to come. A swell observed, that “if he could be
got into condition, he should like to see a mill between Holt and the
Old Tar, on account of the contrast of their styles.” Holt expressed his
approbation of the proposal, and six weeks was mooted as the period.
Jack, always rough and ready, replied, “Why, as to that there matter,
’tain’t no match between me and Holt; I can lick him like a babby. I
never was so ill with a cold in all my born days; but as to time, why
I’ll fight him any time you like, even now, bad as I am.” Holt returned
Scroggins thanks for his candour; but, in return, thought Scroggins
would have no chance; “however,” concluded Cicero, “far be it from me to
aggravate the gentlemanly sort of man’s impatience: I too think, if it
can be managed, there’s no time like time present.” “I’m ready,”
retorted Scroggins; “but the winner shall have the whole of the purse.”
“And I am agreeable,” replied Holt. Ten guineas were quickly posted, and
the usual preparations were made for the contest. Turner and Martin
seconded Scroggins; Purcell and Sampson were for Holt. Spring was
time-keeper. Five to four on Scroggins on one side of the room, and five
to four on Holt among the other party.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The attitude of Holt was elegant, and
he appeared also difficult to be got at.
Scroggins was not long in commencing his
favourite rush, and he bored in upon his
opponent till he absolutely ran down Holt in the
corner, and fell upon him.
2.—This round was all fighting; and the
wisty-castors flew about till both went down,
but Holt undermost.
3.—The fine science of Holt here told; and he
planted two nobbers with his left hand without
any return. Scroggins, however, went in upon the
old tack when, after some exchanges, Holt got
him down.
4.—After some exchanges of blows upon their
nobs, the combatants closed, and Holt weaved his
opponent in the Randall style. Scroggins got the
throw, and Holt was undermost.
5.—The left hand of Holt told severely, and
Scroggins went away with the force of the hits.
Both down.
6.—Scroggins rushed in on Holt, but in making
a hit he missed his opponent, and fell. He
immediately got up, and said, “Gentlemen, I
beg your pardon; I could not help it.”
7 and 8.—Nothing else but fighting—giving and
taking without flinching, till both went down.
“Bravo!” from the Pinks, “it’s an excellent
fight. Both are good men; and Jack’s as good as
his master.” Scroggins seemed rather touched in
the wind, and he gave a loud hem.
9.—Holt, in this round, was everything. He gave
Scroggy three facers without any return, and
also hit him down. “Scroggy, he’ll spoil your
beautiful mug, if you don’t take care.”
10 and 11.—Two slashing rounds. In the last,
Scroggy went down from a slip. Ten minutes had
elapsed.
12.—Holt, after making a slight blow, slipped
down. Six to four on Holt.
13 to 15.—The blows of Holt were not effective
enough to take the fight out of Scroggins. It
was hard milling in all these rounds. Scroggins
said to his seconds, “Don’t water me so much;
it’s all right; I can’t lose it.”
16.—Holt’s left eye was rather damaged, and the
claret had made its appearance on his mug. This
was a tremendous round, and Scroggins threw
Holt; but he behaved handsomely to his fallen
opponent,—instead of falling upon him, as he
might have done, he walked away. “Bravo; you are
a good little fellow.”
17.—Scroggins’s nob was a little changed, and he
again received two facers. Scroggins also went
down.
18.—After an exchange of blows, Scroggins
laughingly observed to Holt, “If you don’t hit
harder, my boy, you can never win it.” Both
down.—Twenty minutes.
19.—Sharp fighting; but Scroggins went down.
Here Randall took some brandy to Holt, and gave
him advice. “How many seconds are there to be?”
said an amateur. “If there are forty it will
make no odds,” observed Scroggins.
20.—In this round, Scroggins received a severe
hit on his throat; two facers were also added to
it; but he would not be denied, and scrambled
his way in, till they both went down.
21.—Scroggins now began to wink, and he was as
much distressed as an old, worn out, broken
winded post prad; he, however, got Holt down.
22 and 23.—“Go along, Harry, it’s all your own;
he’ll not come above two more rounds.” The left
hand of Holt did some execution, and Scroggins
had now the worst of it.
24.—This was a tremendous round. Scroggins went
to work like a blacksmith hammering at a forge,
and bored Holt into a corner. Hit for hit was
exchanged, till they both went down; but Holt
was undermost, and the back part of his head
came in contact with the window-seat. “It’s all
up;” and Martin offered fifteen to ten.
25.—Holt was quite an altered man, and he seemed
stupefied from the effects of the fall. The
whole of the falls throughout the fight were
heavy indeed. When time was called, Holt came to
the scratch with great difficulty. Scroggins
down and undermost.
26.—The science of Holt was much admired; and,
although terribly distressed, he put in two
facers before he went down. “He’s nothing else
but a game man,” from all the swells.
27.—Holt got better, and Scroggins, in going
down, was undermost.
28.—It was not yet safe to Scroggins. Both down.
29.—This round was severely contested; but
the heavy fall Holt received shook him all
to pieces. Ten to five on Scroggins.
30.—Holt was game to the last; he exerted
himself, and got Scroggins down.
31.—Scroggins was very much exhausted, but the
fight was not out of him, and he came up first
to the scratch. Both down. Ten to three.
32.—It was evident Holt could not win, and he
was sent down in an instant. Ten to one.
33 and last.—Holt was sent down, and his second
could scarcely get him on his knee. When time
was called, the Birmingham Youth said he should
not fight any more. Scroggins immediately came
up to Holt, and said, “Harry, give us your hand;
you are a good fellow, and here’s a guinea for
you!” Great applause from the swells, and “Jack,
you shall lose nothing by your generosity and
feeling.”
REMARKS.—For two men out of condition, nay, both
unwell, particularly Scroggins, it was a much
better fight than has frequently been seen when
boxers have been in regular training. Scroggins
had still some tremendous points about him, and
the old tar’s rumbling, hardy mode of boring
in, told severely at close quarters. It was a
gallant battle on both sides; but the blows
of Holt were not hard enough to stop the rush
of Scroggins. The accident Holt received in
the twenty-fourth round perhaps lost him the
fight; he also complained of a sprained thumb
before he commenced the battle. In a ring some
of the amateurs thought Holt might have stood a
better chance. The smiles of victory, which had
not been familiar to Scroggins in his last six
battles, seemed to give him new life. It was an
out-and-out concern altogether; and the patrons
of the science, manliness, and true game had a
treat.
This flush of success was followed by another gleam of sunshine.
Scroggins found backers, and was pitted against Joe Parish, the
Waterman, who having beaten Davis, Harry Holt, and Lashbrook, was
thought a promising plant, in spite of his having fallen beneath the
all-conquering arm of the Nonpareil, Jack Randall. Banstead Downs, in
Surrey, on Saturday, March 3, 1831, were the spot and time, and fifty
guineas the sum; it was the second fight on the above day. The rain was
pouring down in torrents when Scroggins appeared and threw his hat into
the ring, attended by Randall and Paddington Jones as his seconds.
Parish showed soon afterwards, followed by Spring and Harmer. Both men
appeared in excellent condition. For one hour and a quarter, the rival
pugilists exerted themselves in the highest style of courage to obtain
the victory. The changes were frequent indeed; two to one on
Scroggins—three to one on Parish—three to one again on Scroggins—then
other changes. In the fifty-second round, from the distressed state of
Parish, Randall threw up his hat, as it did not appear that Parish would
be again able to appear at the scratch. He, however, recovered, and
fought till the sixty-ninth round; but in the last three rounds, it was
a hundred pounds to a farthing in favour of Scroggins. The latter
behaved extremely well, was remarkably steady, and reminded the
spectator of his best days. He was, however, terribly punished. The
greatest anxiety prevailed among the old fanciers, who were more than
friendly in their good wishes towards their old favourite. In the second
round, Scroggins fell with his shoulder against one of the stakes (which
circumstance was not known to the spectators, and operated as a great
drawback to his exertions). Had not this accident happened, Scroggins
thought he could have won it in much less time. Parish was punished but
little about the head; yet he remained in a state of stupor a short time
after the fight was over; and Spring carried him in his arms out of the
ring. Parish displayed a great deal of game, and suffered very severely
from heavy falls. If Parish had gone in to fight first, he might have
given a better account of the battle. Spring this day convinced the
amateurs he was entitled to their praise, not only as a most attentive
second, but as a most active one; and it would not be doing common
justice to the anxiety and exertions he displayed to make “ould Jack”
win, to pass them over without notice.
On the Thursday after the above fight, at Josh. Hudson’s benefit, Parish
addressed the Court, observing, “that although he had been defeated by
Scroggins, he was not satisfied, and was ready to have another trial.”
Scroggins, in reply, said, “from the advice of his friends, he had not
intended to have fought any more; but as how he was too much of a
gentleman not to accommodate Mr. Parish, who was also a gentlemanly sort
of a man; so he would give him another trial.” A guinea a-side was
deposited; but on the arrival of the night to make the stakes good,
Parish did not make his appearance, and the guinea, of course, was
forfeited.
This sunshine, however, was evanescent, and the course of Scroggins’s
history tends henceforth downwards. In April, 1822, as related in the
life of TOM BELCHER, p. 165 _ante_, the hardy hero came in contact with
the scientific Tom; on this occasion if Tom was stale Scroggy assuredly
was but a shadow of his former self, and he was moreover in that state
of lush which had now become almost habitual to him. Still, however,
“ould Jack,” as he was already called, haunted the ring at every mill of
note, unable to quit the arena of his many triumphs. The milling “spirit
strong within him,” was shown on the 12th of June, 1822, at Moulsey
Hurst. On that occasion the fights between Ward and Acton, and Burke and
Marshall, having gone off unsatisfactorily to the patrons of boxing
there and then present, a brace of countrymen offered themselves for a
purse, and had actually “peeled,” when Scroggy roared out, “Gentlemen,
as you’ve had but little fun to-day, suppose I fight the Gipsy, that
will produce sport?” Cooper instantly replied that he was ready; and the
extemporaneous mill quickly commenced. Scroggins was seconded by Harry
Harmer and Bill Eales; Abbot and Turner picked up the Gipsy. In this
battle the rash and hardy little Tar showed the folly of entering the
ring out of condition. He was full of oranges, ginger beer, and heavy
wet, taken as antidotes to the heat of the day, and as unfit to fight as
a stall-fed ox; nevertheless he came up to be set down for twenty-five
minutes, during which seventeen rounds were fought; Scroggins was at
length persuaded to leave off. He afterwards observed, “he could not
win, but he wasn’t half-licked.” This was our hero’s last appearance in
the P. R.
Poor Scroggins now became a mere hanger-on of pothouses: a droll,
diverting vagabond, occasionally picking up a few shillings as a second,
or receiving precarious assistance from those who had known him in more
prosperous days. Among these Cribb was long his friend, and “wittles”
(for which Jack had an inordinate penchant, until brilliant Juniper
utterly destroyed his digestion) were often set before him from the
larder of the generous host of the Union Arms. Occasionally too, Jack
would get in office as a waiter at one or other of the Sporting Houses;
but his invincible love of liquor soon lost him these temporary asylums.
The editor of _Bell’s Life in London_ (V. G. Dowling, Esq.), by frequent
generous appeals, and taking Jack’s name as the comic pseudonyme for
innumerable admirable burlesque poems on public affairs, political and
pugilistic, kept the once formidable pugilist, now the poor pothouse
buffoon, from actual starvation.
May the example of John Palmer have its proper weight with every man
whose physical capabilities lead him to adopt pugilism as a profession;
and enforce the truth, that no constitution, however good, no strength,
however superior to that of ordinary men, no amount of courage no degree
of determination, can supply the want of caution, of attention to
training, of prudence, of moderation; in short, of steadiness of conduct
and becoming behaviour in and out of the ring. This is the deduction
which every attentive reader of this history cannot fail to draw from a
perusal of the lives of our most eminent boxers—that in the ring, as in
every other pursuit, honesty of purpose, self-denial, and sobriety are
indispensable—at least while engaged in struggles to attain distinction.
Scroggins departed this life on the 1st of November, 1836, in extreme
poverty, having not quite completed his 49th year.
In _Bell’s Life in London_ of November 6, appeared a “monody” of great
length, and on the 13th the subjoined—
“EPITAPH ON OLD JACK SCROGGINS, P.P.
BY SIR FROSTY-FACED FOGO, BART., P.L.F.[163]
“Beneath this turf, and number’d with the dead,
Poor old Jack Scroggins rests his weary head.
His form grotesque departed, never more
To set the Castle parlour in a roar.
His spirit now unconscious of distress—
His active limbs all stiff and motionless—
Proof against pain, or poverty’s attack.
Here lies a Nonpareil—alas, poor Jack!
’Twas in the proud and palmy days of fight,
That first his wond’rous prowess came to light;
And long the annals of the ring shall tell,
Floor’d by his fives, how many a prime one fell;
How many a gallant miller, tried and tough,
As victor hail’d him, crying, ‘Hold, enough!’
How from his lips this language oft hath dropp’d,
‘I bears no malice to the man I’ve whopp’d!’
But his last fight is fought—the Champion grim,
To whom we all must yield, hath vanquish’d him
His allies sure—pale sickness, max, and age—
Have fairly driven old Scroggins off the stage;
Stretch’d the tough veteran on his lowly bier,
With none to comfort, and with nought to cheer.
Fogo’s salt tears, since thou art gone, old blade,
Shall oft bedew the spot where thou art laid;
And to thy memory in thy place of rest,
He oft will take a drop of Seager’s best.
A long farewell, from care and sorrow free,
Neglect and kindness are alike to thee;
Yet a poor brother bard, to friendship true,
Weeps o’er thy grave, and sighs a last adieu.”
APPENDIX TO PERIOD IV.
CAPTAIN ROBERT BARCLAY, ALLARDYCE OF URY.[164]
A History of Boxing without mention of Captain Barclay would be
incomplete. As a thoroughbred sportsman, who practised what he studied,
and achieved what he attempted, his name will be long preserved. Whether
following the hounds after fox or deer, labouring to improve the system
of agriculture, displaying his extraordinary feats of pedestrianism,
exercising his judgment in training men for foot races and pugilistic
combats, or in his encouragement of Highland sports and pastimes,
Captain Barclay was always foremost. His knowledge of the capabilities
of the human frame was complete, and his researches and practical
experiments to ascertain the physical powers of man would have reflected
credit on our most enlightened and persevering physiologists. The
sporting pursuits of Captain Barclay were scientific, and his plans so
well matured that his judgment generally proved successful.
Robert Barclay, Allardyce of Ury, succeeded his father in the eighteenth
year of his age. He was born in August, 1779; and, at eight years of
age, was sent to England to receive his education. He remained four
years at Richmond School, and three years at Brixton Causeway. His
academical studies were completed at Cambridge.
The Captain’s favourite pursuits were, the art of agriculture as the
serious business of his life, and manly sports as his amusement. The
improvement of his estates occupied much of his attention, and, by
pursuing the plan adopted by his immediate predecessor, the value of his
property was greatly augmented. His love of athletic exercises was
seconded by the strong conformation of his body and great muscular
strength. His usual rate of travelling on foot was six miles an hour,
and to walk from twenty to thirty miles before breakfast was a favourite
amusement. His style of walking was to bend forward the body, and throw
its weight on the knees; his step short, and his feet raised only a few
inches from the ground. Any person trying this plan will find his pace
quickened, and he will walk with more ease to himself, and be better
able to endure the fatigue of a long journey than by walking perfectly
erect, which throws too much weight of the body on the ankle joints.
With sound sense Captain Barclay tells us he always wore thick shoes and
lambs’-wool stockings, to preserve the feet from injury, and impart a
lightness and activity when for a time a lighter shoe is adopted. The
Captain possessed uncommon strength in his arms. In April, 1806, while
in Suffolk with the 23rd regiment, he offered a bet of 1,000 guineas
that he would lift from the ground the weight of half a ton. He tried
the experiment, and lifted twenty-one half hundred weights. He
afterwards, with a straight arm, threw a half hundred weight the
distance of eight yards, and over his head the same weight a distance of
five yards.
The following list contains the most prominent public and private
pedestrian exploits performed by Captain Barclay.
The Captain, when seventeen years of age, entered into a match with a
gentleman in London, in the month of August, 1796, to walk six miles
within an hour, fair toe and heel, for 100 guineas, which he
accomplished on the Croydon Road.
In 1798 he performed the distance of seventy miles in fourteen hours,
beating Fergusson, the celebrated walking clerk, by several miles.
In December, 1799, he accomplished one hundred and fifty miles in two
days, having walked from Fenchurch Street in London, to Birmingham,
round by Cambridge.
The Captain walked sixty-four miles in twelve hours, including the time
for refreshment, in November, 1800, as a sort of preparatory trial to a
match of walking ninety miles in twenty-one hours and a half, for a bet
of 500 guineas, with Mr. Fletcher, of Ballingshoe. In training, the
Captain caught cold and gave up the bet. In 1801 he renewed the above
match for 2,000 guineas. He accomplished sixty-seven miles in thirteen
hours, but, having drank some brandy, he became instantly sick, and
unable to proceed. He consequently gave up the bet, and the umpire
retired; but, after two hours’ rest, he was so far recovered that he had
time enough left to have performed his task.
[Illustration:
CAPTAIN ROBERT BARCLAY (ALLARDYCE OF URY).
_From a Miniature_, 1798. _Ætatis_ 19.
]
Captain Barclay felt so confident that he could walk ninety miles in
twenty-one hours and a half, that he again matched himself for 5,000
guineas. In his training to perform this feat he went one hundred and
ten miles in nineteen hours, notwithstanding it rained nearly the whole
of the time. This performance may be deemed the greatest on record,
being at the rate of upwards of one hundred and thirty-five miles in
twenty-four hours.
On the 10th of November, 1801, he started to perform the above match,
between York and Hull. The space of ground was a measured mile, and on
each side of the road a number of lamps were placed. The Captain was
dressed in a flannel shirt, flannel trowsers, and nightcap, lambs’-wool
stockings, and thick soled leather shoes. He proceeded till he had gone
seventy miles, scarcely varying in regularly performing each round of
two miles in twenty-five minutes and a half, taking refreshment at
different periods. He commenced at twelve o’clock at night, and
performed the whole distance by twenty-two minutes four seconds past
eight o’clock on Tuesday evening, being one hour, seven minutes, and
fifty-six seconds within the specified time. He could have continued for
several hours longer if necessary.
In December the Captain did one hundred miles in nineteen hours, over
the worst road in the kingdom. Exclusive of stoppages, the distance was
performed in seventeen hours and a half, or at the rate of about five
miles and three-quarters each hour on the average.
As an additional instance of the Captain’s strength, he performed a most
laborious undertaking, merely for his amusement, in August, 1808.
Visiting at Colonel Murray Farquharson’s house in Aberdeenshire, he went
out at five in the morning to enjoy the sport of grouse shooting, when
he travelled at least thirty miles. He returned to the Colonel’s house
by five in the afternoon, and after dinner set off for Ury, a distance
of sixty miles, which he walked in eleven hours, without stopping once
to refresh. He attended to his ordinary business at home, and in the
afternoon walked to Laurencekirk, sixteen miles, where he danced at a
ball during the night, and returned to Ury by seven in the morning. He
did not yet return to bed, but occupied the day in partridge shooting.
He had thus travelled not less than one hundred and thirty miles,
supposing him to have gone only eight miles in the course of the day’s
shooting at home, and also danced at Laurencekirk, without sleeping, or
having been in bed for two nights and nearly three days.
In October, 1808, Captain Barclay made a match with Mr. Webster, a
gentleman of great celebrity in the sporting world, by which Captain
Barclay engaged himself to go on foot a thousand miles in a thousand
successive hours, at the rate of a mile in each and every hour, for a
bet of 1,000 guineas, to be performed at Newmarket Heath, and to start
on the following 1st of June. In the intermediate time the Captain was
in training by Mr. Smith, of Owston, in Yorkshire. To enter into a
detail of his matchless performance would be tiresome; suffice to say,
he started at twelve o’clock at night on Thursday, the 1st of June,
1809, in good health and high spirits. His dress from the commencement
varied with the weather. Sometimes he wore a flannel jacket, sometimes a
loose great coat, with strong shoes, and two pairs of coarse stockings,
the outer pair boot stockings without feet, to keep his legs dry. He
walked in a sort of lounging gait, without any apparent extraordinary
exertion, scarcely raising his feet two inches above the ground. During
a great part of the time the weather was very rainy, but he felt no
inconvenience from it. Indeed, wet weather was favourable to his
exertions, as, during dry weather, he found it necessary to have a
water-cart to go over the ground to keep it cool, and prevent it
becoming too hard. Towards the conclusion of the performance, it was
said, Captain Barclay suffered much from a spasmodic affection of his
legs, so that he could not walk a mile in less than twenty minutes; he,
however, ate and drank well, and bets were two to one and five to two on
his completing his journey within the time prescribed. About eight days
before he finished, the sinews of his right leg became much better, and
he continued to pursue his task in high spirits; consequently bets were
ten to one in his favour, in London, at Tattersall’s, and other sporting
circles.
On Wednesday, July the 12th, Captain Barclay completed his arduous
undertaking. He had till four p.m. to finish his task, but he performed
the last mile by a quarter of an hour after three in perfect ease and
great spirits, amidst an immense crowd of spectators. The influx of
company had so much increased on Sunday, it was recommended that the
ground should be roped in. To this, however, Captain Barclay objected,
saying he did not like such parade. The crowd, however, became so great
on Monday, and he had experienced so much interruption, that he was
prevailed upon to allow this precaution to be taken. For the last two
days he appeared in higher spirits, and performed his last mile with
apparently more ease and in a shorter time than he had done for some
days past.
With the change of weather he had thrown off his loose great coat, which
he wore during the rainy period, and walked in a flannel jacket. He also
put on shoes thicker than any which he had used in any previous part of
his performance. When asked how he meant to act after he had finished
his feat, he said he should that night take a good sound sleep, but that
he must have himself awaked twice or thrice in the night to avoid the
danger of a too sudden transition from almost constant exertion to a
state of long repose. One hundred guineas to one, and indeed any odds
whatever, were offered on Wednesday morning; but so strong was the
confidence in his success that no bets could be obtained. The multitude
who resorted to the scene of action in the course of the concluding days
was unprecedented. Not a bed could be procured on Tuesday night at
Newmarket, Cambridge, Bury, or any of the towns or villages in the
vicinity, and every horse and vehicle were engaged. Among the nobility
and gentry who witnessed the conclusion of this extraordinary
performance were the Dukes of Argyle and St. Alban’s; Earls Grosvenor,
Besborough, and Jersey; Lords Foley, and Somerville; Sir John Lade, Sir
F. Standish, etc. The aggregate of the bets is supposed to have amounted
to £100,000.
Captain Barclay, as noticed in our memoir of Cribb, gave his training
experience to the world in a modest publication. His papers upon
agriculture in various magazines published in England and Scotland, were
remarkable for their sound sense, plainness, and practical knowledge.
That the severity of his athletic feats did not prematurely wear out the
animal machine may be inferred from the fact that he enjoyed a green and
active old age at Ury, near Stonehaven, Kincardineshire, his patrimonial
estate, until his 79th year, respected as strongly in private circles
for his kind and gentlemanly demeanour as celebrated for his public
exploits, sporting and athletic.
GEORGE STEPHENSON, M.P.—1801.
It would indeed be the ignorance which casts away pearls were we to pass
unnoticed an illustration of manhood identified with the practice of
pugilism, wherein the honoured name of the greatest engineering genius
of an engineering age was the prime actor. George Stephenson, therefore,
the practical originator of the locomotive, the creator of railways as
we now see them, the constructor of the most complete, permanent, and
stupendous works on mainland, coast, and sea, that an age of wonders has
seen, finds a place in PUGILISTICA. The facts and text of the narrative
of this episode in the early life of George Stephenson are from Smiles’s
“Lives of George and Robert Stephenson,” p. 80, edit. 1864. We may
observe that George Stephenson (born June 9, 1781) would be twenty years
of age in 1801.
“Not long after Stephenson began to work as brakesman at Black Callerton
(near Newcastle), he had a quarrel with a pitman named Ned Nelson, a
roystering bully, who was the terror of the village. Nelson was a great
fighter, and it was therefore considered dangerous to quarrel with him.
Stephenson was so unfortunate as not to be able to please this pitman by
the way in which he landed him when drawing him out of the pit; and
Nelson swore at him grossly for the alleged clumsiness of his
‘brakeing.’ George defended himself, and appealed to the testimony of
his fellow-workmen. But Nelson had not been accustomed to George’s style
of self-assertion, and, after a torrent of abuse, he threatened to kick
the brakesman, who defied him to do so. Nelson ended by challenging
Stephenson to fight a pitched battle. The latter coolly accepted the
challenge, and a day was fixed on which the fight was to come off.
“Great was the excitement in Black Callerton when it was known that
Geordie Stephenson had accepted Nelson’s challenge. Everybody said
Nelson would ‘kill him.’ The villagers, the young men, and especially
the boys of the village, with whom George was a great favourite, all
wished he might beat Nelson, but they scarcely dared to say so. They
came about him while he was at work in the engine-house to inquire if it
was really true that he was going to fight Nelson? ‘Ay, ay; never fear
for me, I’ll fight him,’ replied George coolly. And fight him he did.
For some days previous to the appointed day, Nelson went entirely off
work for the purpose of training, whereas Stephenson attended to his
daily work as usual, for he was always temperate and in good condition,
and did not seem in the least disconcerted by the prospect of the
battle. So, on the day appointed George went into the Dolly Field, where
his already exulting opponent was ready to meet him. George stripped,
and went in like a practised pugilist, though it was his first and his
last pitched battle. After a few rounds, George’s wiry muscles, sound
wind, cool self-possession, and practised strength enabled him so
severely to punish his opponent as to secure an easy victory. This
circumstance,” concludes Mr. Smiles, “is related in illustration of
Stephenson’s pluck and courage; and it was thoroughly characteristic of
the man. Yet he was the very reverse of quarrelsome. But he would not be
put down by the bully of the colliery, and he fought him. There his
pugilism ended. They shook hands, and continued good friends. In after
life Stephenson’s mettle was hardly tried, but in a different way; and
he did not fail to exhibit the same resolute courage in contending with
the bullies of the railway world that he showed in his encounter with
Ned Nelson, the ‘fighting pitman,’ of Callerton.”
JOHN SHAW, THE LIFE-GUARDSMAN.
ONE OF THE HEROES WHO FELL ON THE FIELD OF WATERLOO.
This stalwart soldier, whose martial exploits and honourable death are
recorded in the pages of Sir Walter Scott, Sir W. Napier, and the
military annals of his country, bade fair to become a bright star in the
pugilistic sphere, had not his career been so speedily terminated in the
field of glory.
John Shaw was a native of Woolaston, in Nottinghamshire, and brought up
as a farmer until eighteen years of age, when, tired of leading a dull,
inglorious life, he enlisted, on the 16th of October, 1807, as a private
in the Life-guards. Europe, we need hardly tell the reader, was then
involved in the flames of war by the martial spirit and aggressive
designs of the French nation and its military Emperor, and young Shaw—
“Had heard of battles, and had long’d
To follow to the field some warlike lord.”
When Shaw was a mere stripling, during the time he was fighting with a
man three stone heavier than himself, at Woolaston, and in danger of
being defeated, Jem Belcher, who was at Nottingham, suddenly made his
appearance in the ring. That experienced hero went up to Shaw, and
advised him how to alter his tactics so as to secure success. Shaw,
learning that it was the renowned Jem Belcher who thus stepped forward
to direct his efforts, felt inspired with fresh courage, acted promptly
on the advice given him, and, in the course of a round or two, so turned
the battle in his favour that he ultimately gained the victory in great
style, and earned the praise of Jem Belcher. From this incident he
attached himself to scientific pugilism.
Shaw possessed, in an eminent degree, many requisites for a first-rate
pugilist. He was in height six feet and half an inch, weighing, when
stripped, close upon fifteen stone; and he derived great advantages from
repeated exercise with the dumb-bells, as a part of his military
discipline; his continual practice of the broadsword also gave increased
strength and elasticity to his wrists and shoulders. Discipline, too,
had taught him coolness, in addition to a most excellent natural temper.
He was introduced to the Fives Court under the patronage of Colonel
Barton. In his first exhibitions he was considered rather slow; but from
the frequent use of the gloves, in competition with the most experienced
and scientific boxers, he rapidly improved. His height, length, weight,
and strength, united with a heart which knew no fear, rendered Shaw a
truly formidable antagonist. His public displays were considered far
above mediocrity, and he felt great pride in getting the best of the
then terrific Molineaux. In a trial set-to at Mr. Jackson’s rooms with
Captain Barclay—who never shrunk from punishment, or hesitated in
milling his adversary, scorning anything like the delicacy of “light
play,”—the latter received such a convincing blow, that a dentist was
called in to replace matters in _statu quo_. The best critics were
satisfied he was a thorough-bred one, and it was proved to be very
difficult to hit him without being returned on. In retreating he made
use of his left hand with much effect, and was thought to fight
something after the deliberate manner of Cribb.
In the neighbourhood of Portman Square our hero milled three big fellows
in the course of a few minutes with comparative ease, for insulting him
on the “stay at home” character of his regiment, at that time a
favourite taunt of the vulgar. They were compelled to acknowledge their
misconduct, and glad to cry for quarter.
Shaw’s first appearance in the P. R. was on Saturday, July 12, 1812, at
Coombe Warren, with Burrows, a sturdy West-countryman, who had fought a
good battle of an hour’s length with the tremendous Molineaux, when the
athletic powers of the latter hero were undebauched and in full vigour;
but, in the hands of Shaw, the West-countryman had not the slightest
chance. In the short space of seventeen minutes, in which thirteen
rounds were fought, the superior science of Shaw had so nobbed Burrows
that he could not see his way, and he was led out of the ring. Burrows
never once drew blood from Shaw, who quitted the field without a
scratch.
Nearly three years elapsed before Shaw made a second appearance, during
which period, it seems, from the considerable practice he had with the
gloves, he was materially improved in science. On April 18, 1815, at
Hounslow Heath, for a purse of fifty guineas, he entered the lists with
one of the bravest of the brave, namely, Ned Painter. Victory again
crowned his efforts in twenty-eight minutes, and he retired from the
contest little, if any, the worse for wear. See PAINTER, Vol. II.,
Chapter III., p. 77.
It is certain Shaw had an eye upon the championship, for he now formally
challenged all England. The amateurs were divided in opinion, but Shaw
felt confident, in his own mind, that no boxer existed who could conquer
him. Six weeks had scarcely elapsed after the above battle, and no time
allowed for either Cribb or Oliver (who would not have suffered such a
challenge to pass over unnoticed) to have an opportunity of entering the
lists with Shaw to decide the point, when the Life-guards were ordered
abroad, and Shaw soon found himself, with his comrades, on the plains of
Waterloo. His heroism on that memorable occasion has been handed down to
posterity in those glowing colours which real courage and love of
country merit. Sir Walter Scott has thus sung the fame of Shaw:—
“The work of Death is done, yet still her song
In Britons’ praise the muse would fain prolong,
Would, were her power but equal to her will,
Swell to a mighty stream her slender rill,
Exalt her voice to praise each gallant son,
But chiefest thee, O godlike Wellington!
But who can count the sands? then might he name
The lengthen’d numbers of the sons of fame:
Nor ‘mongst her humbler sons shall SHAW e’er die,
Immortal deeds defy mortality.
Posterity shall read the glowing page
That paints the glories of a former age,
Then shall their bosoms burn with patriot fires,
And, if their country calls, they’ll emulate their sires.”
In “Paul’s Letters to his Kinsfolk,” Sir Walter, writing from Paris of
the Battle of Waterloo, observes:—“Amid the confusion presented by the
fiercest and closest cavalry fight which had ever been seen, many
individuals distinguished themselves by feats of personal strength and
valour. Among these should not be forgotten Shaw, a corporal of the
Life-guards, well known as a pugilistic champion, and equally formidable
as a swordsman. He is supposed to have slain or disabled ten Frenchmen
with his own hand, before he was killed by a musket or pistol shot.”
The “science of the sword” was possessed by Shaw in a superior degree,
which, backed by British strength and resolution, tended to secure the
fortune of the day, in reducing the confidence of Napoleon’s hitherto
invincible cuirassiers:—
“A desperate charge the cuirassiers oppose,
And thrust for thrust, and blows return for blows.
But still in vain the British sabres fall,
Whose strokes rebounded from a brazen wall.
At length more wary, with experience stor’d,
They now apply the science of the sword:
Just at the juncture of the arm and chest,
Where meet the mail-plates of the back and breast;
In gentle curve, they leave an opening way,
To fit the shape and give the shoulder play;
Some watch the moment while the uplifted arm,
Urg’d by a feint, protects the head from harm,
To reach, with lightning speed, the unguarded part
And through the opening penetrate the heart;
Some, skill’d with dext’rous art, deceive their foe,
Cut through the face and lay the opponent low;
Some at the breast-plate thrust with upward glides
Pierces the jaw, or else the neck divides;
And some, more quick, the unguarded throat observe,
Drive to the spine, and cut the dorsal nerve.”
It appears, on the first day, previous to the Battle of Waterloo, Shaw
was wounded in the breast, and was ordered by his commanding officer to
remain in the rear; but after the wound was dressed, and feeling little
inconvenience from it, he nobly disdained to shrink from the post of
honour, and on the 18th took part in the grand decisive charge. After
having performed his duty towards his country in a giant-like manner,
and exalting his character as a man and a soldier, he fell on the 18th
of June, 1815, covered with glory.
It would appear, from the statement of the author of “Anecdotes of
Waterloo,” that Shaw, though prostrated by a pistol shot, was yet alive
on the morning of the 19th, but in _articulo mortis_, having received an
immense number of lance-wounds after his fall from the French
light-cavalry, armed Polish fashion, who galloped over the ground. A
soldier of the 73rd gave the expiring hero a draught of water; but he
was “past all surgery,” and soon afterwards expired without the
possibility of removal to hospital.
“While martial pomps rise on the view,
And loud acclaim exalts the brave,
The tears of beauty shall bedew
The fallen victor’s laurell’d grave;
Flow, mournful flow, and sacred be the tear,
To grace the hero’s fall, whose bright career
Is clos’d in victory.”
“DULCE ET DECORUM EST PRO PATRIA MORI.”
GEORGE NICHOLLS, THE CONQUEROR OF CRIBB.
George Nicholls finds a niche here, principally from the circumstance of
his early victory over the renowned Tom Cribb; his other fistic
exploits, though numerous, not being of celebrity sufficient to entitle
him to this distinction. Nicholls was one of the numerous offshoots of
the Bristol school, and was born in that city in the year 1795. In the
third volume of “Boxiana” Pierce Egan has given an account of
twenty-five pugilistic engagements, but, like the exploits of heroes
before Agamemnon, they find no record, save in his pages. The most
remarkable of those are thus narrated.
At seventeen years of age George entered the ring with a man of the name
of Hocky Harding. It was only for a guinea a-side, and it took place on
Durdham Downs. Nicholls had for his seconds Applebee and George Davis.
In forty minutes Harding was defeated, and the punishment he received
was terrific. This latter boxer had gained considerable notoriety in
having made a drawn battle, after a desperate fight with the celebrated
Bill Warr.
[Illustration:
GEORGE NICHOLLS.
_From a Drawing by_ G. SHARPLES.
]
A week after the above battle, the brother of Harding, anxious to have a
turn with Nicholls, fought him on Durdham Downs for a guinea and a half
a-side, but, in the second round, Harding, receiving an ugly knock,
exclaimed, “I’ve had enough; George shall not serve me as he did my
brother.” Applebee and Davis were also seconds to Nicholls on this
occasion.
A sailor, who weighed thirteen stone, challenged Nicholls for a guinea
a-side. This battle took place in the Back Fields, near Lawford’s Gate.
The man of war was a troublesome customer, and did not give in till one
hour had expired.
Bill Thomas, a butcher, of Chepstow, had so good an opinion of his
milling qualities, that he sent a public challenge to Bristol to fight
the best man in that city. Nicholls accepted the challenge without
delay, and he also won it off-hand.
Leonard, the champion of Bath, was matched against Nicholls for five
guineas a-side. Bob Watson and Tom Davis acted as seconds to our hero.
This battle took place on Lansdown, the same day that Spaniard Harris
and Bill Cox fought. The Bath champion was dreadfully beaten, and both
his peepers were soon closed; while Nicholls received but a slight
injury.
It is stated by Pierce Egan that Nicholls was victor in forty-nine
battles out of fifty.
We will now quit these dateless records of Nicholls’s triumphs over the
“illustrious obscure,” to come to his crowning achievement, the exploit
which has preserved his name. It has been repeatedly urged that this
overthrow occurred during the brave Tom’s noviciate; but he had
previously beaten that renowned pugilistic veteran, George Maddox, Tom
Blake, and Ikey Pig, all of them men of notoriety as pugilists. The
success of these contests had rendered Cribb somewhat conspicuous, and
he was rising fast into eminence and fame, when he entered the lists
with Nicholls, for a subscription purse of £25, at Blackwater,
thirty-two miles from London, on Saturday, July 20, 1805, made up by the
amateurs, to compensate them for being deprived of witnessing the
intended fight between the Game Chicken and Gully. Tom Jones waited upon
Nicholls, and Dick Hall was second to Cribb. The odds on setting-to were
greatly on the side of Cribb, who was the favourite; but Nicholls, aware
of Cribb’s method of fighting, fought him after the style of Big Ben in
his contest with Tom Johnson. Nicholls, like a skilful general, armed at
all points, was not to be deluded by the feints of the enemy. The system
of milling on the retreat, which Cribb had hitherto practised with so
much success, in this instance failed. The coolness and good temper of
Nicholls appeared so eminently throughout the fight, that not only did
he preserve his fortitude, but added vigour to his judgment. Hence, both
in attack and defence, the future champion found in Nicholls a steady
and decisive fighter. Cribb became perplexed at finding his tactics
foiled. The advantage he had derived in former contests by drawing his
opponents, and then punishing and irritating them in their pursuit, so
as to make them throw their blows out of distance, and consequently
render them feeble, ineffective, and uncertain, was rendered entirely
unavailing. George would not suffer Cribb to play round him, but, with a
guard like Ben’s, firm in the extreme, his attitude was impregnable.
Nicholls could never be induced to quit his position without putting in
a tremendous hit, waiting with the utmost skill for the attack of his
opponent, and then giving the counter with stinging severity. George
scarcely ever failed in breaking through the defence of his adversary,
and ultimately concluded the round with a knock-down blow. Nicholls was
a tremendous hitter; and his one, two, rendered him truly formidable.
The science and ability displayed by Nicholls in this contest completely
astonished the sporting world, many of whom, in obtaining such
knowledge, found that they had procured it at no trifling expense.
We have not met with any good or detailed account of this remarkable
battle, and shall therefore add another report, which we find in
“Pancratia,” pp. 237‒238.
“As so many amateurs had collected and come from town, a distance of
thirty-two miles, to be present at this famous match, they were
determined to knock up a fight, and Tom Cribb, the Black Diamond, who
ranked very high as a pugilist, was matched against a man of the name of
Nicholls, a Bristol man, and who, like Gully, had never fought on a
London stage. The former was seconded by Dick Hall, and the latter by
Tom Jones. At setting-to Cribb was the favourite, and odds were greatly
in his favour. In the first round Nicholls, however, brought him down;
but this was thought nothing of, as it was well known Cribb frequently
threw himself back to avoid a blow. In the fourth round Cribb put in a
most severe blow, and cut his opponent under the right eye. Nicholls
still fought with great spirit, and perfectly cool and good-tempered. By
the end of the twentieth round Nicholls had perfectly closed one of his
antagonist’s eyes, notwithstanding he fought with great dexterity, and
made several good rallies. At the end of the fortieth round Cribb
appeared distressed in his wind; he, however, had somewhat recovered the
sight of his eye, but began to fight very shyly, and shift: his blows
were frequently short, and he several times fell back from his own hits.
At the end of the fifty-second round he gave in, and the knowing ones
were done, as they were sanguine of Cribb, even to the last. Nicholls
was by all acknowledged a prime fellow: his superiority consisted of
very expertly breaking on his adversary, in the style of Slack, by
projecting his arm suddenly against his antagonist’s face when he swung
forward to put in a blow. It has been asserted in the public prints that
Cribb never has been unsuccessful throughout his pugilistic career; but
this must be the consequence of ignorance on the subject.”
Nicholls now retired from the ring, and, returning to his native city,
invested the money he had gained, and which had been somewhat augmented
by the subscriptions of several patrons of manly courage, in a butcher’s
shop, in Gloucester Lane, Bristol. Here he added another to the
innumerable contradictions to those maligners of pugilism, who would
identify it with ruffianism, by earning in a long life the character of
a quiet, inoffensive, nay, a retiring man. In fact, all who remember him
describe him as “shunning general company, rarely visiting a public
house, and of a somewhat religious turn of mind;” the leisure time his
business afforded him being occupied in angling, his favourite
recreation. He died at his native place, June 6, 1832, in the
fifty-eighth year of his age.
DAN DOGHERTY—1806‒1811.
As the name of Dogherty is continually found scattered up and down the
reports of ring affairs for many years, and also in the pages of
“Pancratia” and “Boxiana,” we shall devote a few paragraphs to a sketch
of his ring career, chiefly from the latter work.