Green, where he proved the conqueror; and shortly afterwards, at the
same place, on the 17th, he easily beat one Wall.
On Lowfield Common, near Crawley, Sussex, August 21, 1807, he conquered
Dick Hall; and on his return home that day had a turn-up in the road
with Jack Warr, whom he milled.
George Cribb he defeated twice. See GEORGE CRIBB.
On Epsom Downs, Tom Belcher conquered Dogherty. See _ante_, p. 156.
Dogherty fought one Pentikin, a Scotch Baker, at Golder’s Green, Hendon,
June 11, 1808, for forty-five minutes, when Pentikin gave in. Dogherty
fought him forty guineas to twenty.
At Moulsey Hurst, October 25, 1808, Dogherty fought with Jack Power for
an hour and a quarter. It has been considered rather a disputed point,
but Dogherty claimed it, and got the money. It should be remembered that
Power was but a mere strippling at that period.
On Epsom Downs, February 1, 1809, Dogherty beat a turnpike man.
On the 18th of January, 1811, he met with a reverse of fortune in being
defeated by Silverthorne, at Coombe Wood, but he was then considered in
bad condition.
In November, 1811, he beat with considerable ease, at Chichester, Ben
Burn.
Dogherty for a long time was engaged on a sparring excursion, not only
in various parts of the kingdom, but also in the sister country. On Tom
Belcher’s arrival in Ireland, the superior science of that pugilist
having, it is said, taken from Dogherty a number of his pupils, a battle
took place between them. On the 23rd of April, 1813, for 100 guineas,
they decided the contest on the Curragh of Kildare, when Dogherty again
fell beneath the conquering arm of Belcher. See _ante_, p. 160. This
great battle is omitted from “Fistiana,” under Dogherty, though indexed
under Belcher.
Dogherty, from this period, remained in his native land, where he taught
sparring, and was known as a civil and active fellow: he was thus
engaged as late as 1827. Pierce Egan tells an anecdote of him which we
preserve.
DOGHERTY’S DUEL.—Notwithstanding Dan’s penchant for the arbitrement of
the fist, he accepted a challenge to fight with pistols, in order to
place his opponent upon equal terms, he, it was urged, having no
pretensions to boxing. It appears the meeting was a sort of hoax upon
the combatants, as planned by the friends of both parties. The seconds,
unknown to Dogherty and his opponent, merely put powder into the
pistols. The adversary of Dogherty fired first, when the latter,
forgetful of the “honourable” situation in which he stood, resorted to
the scientific practice of the ring, by putting up his right arm as a
natural stop to prevent the ball hitting his face, producing much fun to
those who witnessed and contrived the duel.
GEORGE CRIBB,
BROTHER TO THE CHAMPION OF ENGLAND.
Cribb and victory have so often been coupled, that in attaching defeat
to the name we almost pause; but such is the case. While the champion,
Tom Cribb, enjoyed the smiles of victory, and the patronage annexed to
it, the junior hero, panting to emulate the heroic deeds of his warlike
brother, encountered nothing but defeat.
George first entered the lists with Horton, near Bristol, for a purse of
50 guineas, on September 5, 1807, and notwithstanding the assistance of
his brother Tom for a second, was beaten in twenty-five minutes.
On February 9, 1808, he was defeated by Dogherty on Highgate Common.
On the coast, near Margate, August 9, 1809, he entered the ring with
Cropley, and was conquered in sixteen minutes. George did not let his
opponent win without punishing him a good deal. It was considered an
unequal match.
At a meeting of amateurs, May 1, 1810, at Bob’s Chop-House, after a
sporting dinner, he again fought Dogherty, when Tom Cribb also seconded
his brother. In this contest George proved himself a game man, and at
times overcame the superior science of his adversary; but, at the end of
an hour, Dogherty was the conqueror, and had the £20 purse. It was a
severe battle.
George fought with Isle of Wight Hall, on November 15, 1810, on Old Oak
Common, near Uxbridge, when the odds were six to four in his favour at
setting-to; but, after a contest of one hour and nine minutes, he was
reluctantly compelled to give in. He fought like a hero, and, although
defeated, reflected credit on the name of Cribb.
After his brother Tom had beaten Molineaux, on September 21, 1811, at
Thistleton Gap, he entered the ring, for a subscription purse of £20,
with Ned Maltby, a Nottinghamshire lad. It was a determined battle for
the time it lasted, thirteen rounds; but George was again not only
conquered but severely punished. Maltby was not much the worse.
George, like his brother, was a slow fighter, but sparred tolerably
well. In height, five feet eight inches and a half, and nearly eleven
stone in weight.
SILVERTHORNE.
From his contests with Tom Belcher, Dogherty, and Burn, we are induced
to mention Silverthorne. It appears that this boxer, who came out under
the patronage of Caleb Baldwin, was a native of the county of Somerset,
but not a Bristolian. From his style of setting-to, Caleb, no mean judge
of such matters, formed a high opinion of his capabilities, and procured
him patronage for a battle for 100 guineas, with Dan Dogherty, then in
high repute. The battle came off at Coombe Warren, near Kingston, June
11, 1811, Caleb Baldwin seconding his _protegé_, assisted by Bill
Gibbons. Dogherty was waited upon by Dick Hall and Power. We copy the
report from “Pancratia,” pp. 353‒355. There is none in “Boxiana.”
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—At half past twelve the men stood up.
Silverthorne stood five feet eight inches, and
weighed eleven stone two pounds; Dogherty,
eleven stone eight pounds, five feet nine
inches, so that there was not a great disparity.
Both sparred with great caution. Dogherty tried
a right-handed hit, but was short. Silverthorne
returned sharply with the left. They rallied
courageously, and exchanged hit for hit, until
Dogherty went down on the saving suit. (Six to
four on Silverthorne.)
2.—Dogherty was touched under the eye, but
smiled and put in a blow on Silverthorne’s ribs
that left a red mark. The latter returned at the
nob, but hit round; another rally, and no best
on either side. Silverthorne got Dogherty down.
3.—Both men went to work rather hurriedly, and
were soon engaged in a desperate rally.
Silverthorne stuck up, and though he threw away
many blows by his round method of fighting,
bored his opponent to every part of the ring.
Dogherty exerted all his skill, and not
unsuccessfully, on his adversary’s head, but
being at length very weak, fell by a slight hit.
(Seven to two on Silverthorne.)
4.—Dogherty bled freely; but he commenced a
sharp rally, and put in a good body blow, which
somewhat staggered his opponent. In endeavouring
to repeat, Silverthorne dexterously struck him
on the head and brought him down.
5.—Exactly as in the last round. Dogherty put in
a body blow, and Silverthorne returned on the
head. A rally, and Dogherty brought down his
opponent for the first time by a severe blow on
the head.
6.—A rally; Dogherty soon laid low.
7.—Dogherty, very gay, appeared first to his
time, and successfully planted a good hit over
the head. Silverthorne made play, seemed
distressed, hit awkwardly, and received a severe
right-handed facer. He still, however, bored in,
and commenced another rally. Hits were exchanged
for a minute and a half, each appearing totally
regardless of blows. Dogherty’s superior science
gave him the advantage, and Silverthorne at
length fell through weakness.
8.—Silverthorne rallied. Dogherty threw in a
good hit over his opponent’s mouth, but was
afterwards knocked down.
9.—Both seemed distressed for wind, and sparred
for some time. Dogherty put in a more forcible
body blow than could have been expected.
Silverthorne returned on the head and fell.
10.—Dogherty commenced a rally, and
Silverthorne, by a tremendous blow, knocked him
down.
11.—It was with difficulty Dogherty could be got
off his second’s knee; he, however, went in with
courage, and fought until knocked down.
12.—Dogherty was again brought to the scratch,
and made play, although almost in a doubled
state. The combatants managed a rally, but in a
state of weakness perhaps unparalleled; they
could stand, but although within arm’s length
were incapable of hitting. Silverthorne,
however, recovered, and knocked down his
opponent for the last time.
The contest lasted twenty-two minutes. A pigeon
was immediately despatched to Jem Belcher’s, but
in passing over Wimbledon Common it fell a prey
to the gun of some cockney spoil-sport. Both
combatants were dreadfully beaten, and were
immediately put to bed and bled. Silverthorne
proved himself a worthy disciple of Caleb, and
possesses that degree of strength which cannot
fail to make him formidable to men of his own
weight. Dogherty’s strength failed somewhat
sooner than usual, which was attributed to
indisposition.
This remarkable success so elated Caleb and his friends that they at
once proposed a match with Tom Belcher for 100 guineas. What came of
this may be seen at pages 158, 159, _ante_.
Silverthorne, who bore the character of a steady, temperate, and
well-conducted man, now publicly announced his retirement from the ring,
in reply to a challenge from Dogherty, adding, he was resolved not to
fight, “except when the necessity of the moment forced it upon him, when
he hoped he should never be found backward to defend himself.” However,
in 1812, at Coombe Warren, being provoked by Ben Burn, he departed from
his resolution, and gave that boxer a thorough thrashing. From this time
forth, though his name is sometimes mentioned, we hear no more of
Silverthorne in the ring. In 1821 (May), we find the following in
“Notices of Boxers who have retired from the P. R.”
“SILVERTHORNE, once distinguished for his contests with Dogherty and
Belcher. He is a teacher in a Sunday school, highly respected, and
follows his business as a master fishmonger.”
JACK POWER.
With by no means first-rate qualifications, Jack Power is one of the
examples of what personal popularity will do in exaggerating mediocrity
into the foremost position. In the first volume of “Boxiana” many pages
are given to Power, and in the second an obituary eulogium, from which
we extract the salient points.
Power was born in London on the 8th of August, 1790, and descended from
Irish parents. His father apprenticed him to a plumber, and Pierce Egan
gives us the usual number of six-feet-two men, butchers, etc., who
surrendered to “our hero” while yet a stripling.
Power’s first regular ring battle was with Dogherty, on the 25th of
October, 1808, at Moulsey Hurst. This was the third battle on that day:
the first being Tom Cribb’s victory over Gregson; the second, Tom
Belcher’s conquest of Bill Cropley. The reporter simply says, “After a
game battle of one hour and a quarter, Dogherty was triumphant.” Egan
says, “Dogherty gave in three times during the fight; but Power being a
new one, and Dogherty more experienced, it was managed in that sort of
way, that the latter was pronounced the victor.” What this may mean we
cannot tell, with “the Duke of York, the Marquis of Tweeddale, Lords
Yarmouth, Craven, Barrymore, Brook, and Somerville, and Paul Methuen on
the ground” (“Pancratia,” p. 322), and with Fletcher Reid as umpire.
Power’s next battle was with one Frere, April 1, 1809, which he won in
twenty-one minutes.
Some ridiculous “turns-up” follow (“Boxiana,” pp. 458‒460), which we
shall omit, to come to Power’s best fight, that with Joel King, for 50
guineas a-side, July 16, 1811, at Moulsey Hurst. The report is from
“Pancratia,” pp. 360, _et seq._ “At twelve o’clock the combatants
appeared. King, who was a new candidate for pugilistic honours, was
accompanied by Richmond and Hall; Power attended by Bob Clarke and
Paddington Jones. Odds, five to four on Power.”
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—King attempted to plant a forcible
right-hander; Power stopped him, and hit one
two, left and right, well planted on the head
and body. King fell. (First knock-down bets
decided.)
2.—King did not appear intimidated; he again
made play, and planted a good right-handed hit
on his opponent’s throat; his left-hand fell
short. Power with great quickness threw in a
severe left-handed facer, and brought him down.
3.—A good rally, several blows well exchanged.
Power scientifically planted one with the left
hand. King returned with the right. They closed
and both fell. (Two to one in favour of Power.)
4.—Power hit left and right, and King returned
very forcibly in the throat. They closed, and
Power threw his opponent again. (Betting two
points more in favour of King than at setting
to.)
5.—King planted a left-handed hit, but out of
distance. He followed quickly with his right,
which Power cleverly avoided. They closed, and
Power threw King a cross-buttock.
6.—Both made play, King with his right, Power
with the left, at the same instant; the former
told on the head. Some good trying hits
followed, and, upon the whole, the round was in
favour of King: notwithstanding Power again
threw him a cross-buttock. In doing this, with
too much eagerness Power received a hurt on the
right shoulder against a stake, which, if it did
not disable him, proved a severe hindrance.
7.—In this round Power changed his mode of
fighting, endeavouring to avert the punishing
right-handed blows of his adversary, and getting
away to hit.
8.—Power put in a good blow on the mouth, got
away, repeated it, and gave an excellent
specimen of science by repeating his blows, and
avoiding his adversary’s, until King fell,
bleeding copiously.
9.—King commenced a rally, in which he evidently
had the advantage, throwing in straight
right-handed hits with great dexterity. His
superior strength gave him the advantage, but at
length he received a violent cross-buttock.
10.—King’s face was much disfigured. Power put
in a severe one two in the mouth, followed by a
scientific hit on the throat, which brought King
down.
11.—A good rally, and both fell.
12.—Another rally. Power hit his opponent,
staggering away, with the right. King
courageously renewed the rally, and returned his
adversary’s hits with the gluttony of a Cribb,
and at length succeeded in throwing him.
13.—Power, by another blow in the mouth, brought
King again on the floor. Power continued
fighting at points until he was scarcely able to
administer the beating his adversary seemed to
require to satisfy him. In the
26th.—Betting came to six to four; and although
the left side of King’s head was a sorry sight
for any feeling spectator to view, he still
fought with such determined bravery as never
can be forgotten by his enemies or too highly
appreciated by his friends. At the expiration of
the
46th.—When every one evidently saw he had no
chance of success, he was urged, particularly by
his backers, to resign, but still expressing
anxiety for the continuation of the conflict,
even in opposition to advice, he was allowed to
go up, but merely to be sent down by a push. The
token of surrender was made, and Power hailed
the victor, after a game battle of fifty-seven
minutes.
In October, 1801, Power’s friends proposed a match with Tom Belcher, a
deposit was made, but they thought better of it and forfeited.
Power now travelled through the provinces as a teacher of boxing. During
this tour he ruptured a blood-vessel, and had a severe attack of
pleurisy. Before his entire restoration to health, he imprudently
suffered himself to be matched with Jack Carter for 100 guineas. The
battle took place at Rickmansworth, Hertfordshire, November 16, 1812.
Power was seconded on this occasion by the Champion, Tom Cribb; Carter
by Bittoon and Tom Jones.
Pierce Egan says, “It would be superfluous to detail the rounds of this
battle, which continued one hour and twenty-five minutes; suffice it to
say that the conduct of Power this day was worthy all praise. Passing
previously a restless night, afflicted with a cough, and somewhat
nervous in his habit, he entered the ring under these disadvantages to
contend against an adversary, his superior in height, strength,
constitution, perfectly in health, and not deficient in pugilistic
acquirements. It was a tremendous task, a daring attempt; and
superlative science, and that alone, gave the victory to Power. It
required something more than fortitude to act thus in opposition to
nature, as well as considerable ingenuity in husbanding his strength to
reduce his opponent to his own level. This Power effected, when he
grappled with his opponent upon superior terms; his strength gone, and
his science inferior, Carter was conquered with elegance and certainty.
Upon no occasion whatever were the knowing ones so completely ‘out of
their know.’ Carter, although defeated, showed that he was not without
game; but Power completely astonished the most experienced of the
Fancy.”
Power had a set-to with Richmond (see _ante_) at a sparring match at the
Fives Court, on Dutch Sam’s benefit, soon after the above contest.
Something about a white feather being mentioned, Power instantly mounted
the stage, and addressed the spectators thus:—“Upon the day previous to
the night when I fought Richmond I was following my business as a
plumber, in making paint. The fumes of white lead are of so strong and
poisonous a quality, that, to prevent any serious effects operating upon
the constitution, we are necessitated to drink a quantity of castor oil;
in addition to which I had been drinking, which rendered me then
unprepared; but now,” said Power, “if Richmond can take out the white
feather, as he pleases to term it, that I possess (stripping off his
clothes), let him come up here, and I will fight him instantly for £50.”
At his own benefit he again offered to fight Richmond.
Power’s excesses are thus leniently touched upon in “Boxiana:”—“In
concluding this sketch, the most painful part remains to be performed.
No boxer commenced his milling career with a fairer prospect to arrive
at the top of the tree, or become a fixed star in the pugilistic
hemisphere, than Jack Power; but, possessing a gaiety of disposition
which could brook no restraint, the fascinating charms of company and
the enlivening glass proving too powerful for his youth and inexperience
to withstand, he plunged into excesses which induced premature debility.
In this last battle, although gaining the victory, he endangered his
existence. From being stripped in the open air for nearly an hour and a
half, the severity of the weather afflicted him so seriously, that for
several hours his frame did not experience the least warmth whatever,
notwithstanding the best medical treatment was resorted to. His
sufferings were acute, and he observed, ‘All the milling that he had
received in the whole course of his pugilistic career was trifling in
comparison with the pain he sustained on his return to a state of
convalescence.’ He, however, was not long in returning to the metropolis
to receive those congratulations which his noble courage had so justly
entitled him to. The supporters of pugilism gave him a most flattering
reception, so that Power’s time was principally occupied with the
pleasures of society, and the enlivening charms of the bottle. Power was
no churl, full of good humour in company, and his song was always ready
when called for to support the cause of harmony.”
At a sparring exhibition which took place at the Fives Court soon after,
when Jack merely looked in as a visitor, and Carter was present, several
of the amateurs expressed a wish to witness a set-to between them. It
proved a sharp contest; but the superiority was decidedly, in point of
science, as in the fight, in favour of Power.
A public dinner, in honour of Power’s victory over Carter, took place at
Mr. Davenport’s, the Three Pigeons, Houndsditch, when Jack presided,
supported by Tom Cribb. Conviviality was the order of the day; and, upon
the introduction of Carter, the behaviour of Power to his fallen
adversary was attentive, generous, and manly, and he strongly
recommended him to the attention of the fancy in general. Soon after
this period he rapidly declined, and endeavoured to recruit his health
by a journey to Oxford. It proved too late, and the last stage of
consumption was reducing him daily. He witnessed the memorable set-to of
Molineaux and Carter, and expressed himself astonished to hear it termed
“fighting!” He returned to his dwelling in Plough Court, Fetter Lane,
not only exhausted in person, but, to add to his afflictions, one of his
children took ill and died. Mr. Jackson, ever attentive to the wants of
brother pugilists, on being made acquainted with his peculiar situation,
instantly made a collection for him among the patrons of the science.
His disorder was so flattering that, at times when his spirits were
good, he would observe, “Let me get but a little better, and I’ll show
the lads how to fight; many of those that pretend to teach it scarcely
know anything about the sound principles of milling—they are only
sparrers.”
Power departed this life June 2, 1813, at the early age of twenty-three,
and lies interred in the burial ground of St. Giles’s-in-the-Fields. He
was in height about five feet nine inches and a half, and in weight
twelve stone. He turned out several good pupils.
WILLIAM NOSWORTHY, THE BAKER.
As the conqueror of the renowned Dutch Sam, albeit in the day of his
decadence, the name of Nosworthy is preserved from oblivion.
In his boyish days, Nosworthy, it appears, was not altogether unknown in
Devonshire, both as a wrestler and pugilist. He was born at Kenn, a
parish in the hundred of Exminster, of respectable connections, on the
1st of May, 1786. He was of an athletic, prepossessing appearance, and
extremely well made. In height five feet six inches, and weighing about
eleven stone. In disposition he was cheerful, good-natured, and
inoffensive; but in the ring Nosworthy was a glutton of the first mould.
Several sporting characters denominated him the “Young Chicken,” from
some likeness he bore to the celebrated Hen. Pearce.
“The historian” having given us the usual “servings out,” “polishings
off,” etc., of unknown opponents, judiciously omitted by the compiler of
“Fistiana,” brings Nosworthy to town. Here it appears that “the Baker”
attended a Devon and Cornwall gathering of wrestlers, and was matched
against one Pentikin, whom he threw.[165] The defeated wrestler offered
to post a guinea and thrash Nosworthy for the stake. The contest took
place on the 3rd of May, 1808, in Pancras Fields. Nosworthy was seconded
by Tom Jones and Bill Ryan. The superiority was evidently on the part of
Nosworthy for the first twenty minutes, Pentikin being milled in all
directions. It was presumed that, had the fight continued without any
interruption victory was by no means doubtful on the side of Nosworthy,
who had, at this period of the battle, considerably reduced the strength
of his opponent. But Nosworthy was here representing a county
partisanship of Devon _versus_ Cornwall, and was moreover unknown in
comparison to Pentikin. The ring, it is said, was broken in consequence,
much confusion ensued, and some delay occurred before the combatants
could appear in a new ring. The contest was renewed with increased
ardour, and Pentikin appeared more fresh from the delay. Reciprocal
fighting continued for one hour and twenty-five minutes, when Nosworthy
was reduced to insensibility, and carried off the ground by his brother.
The game he displayed was highly praised. Pentikin, although the
conqueror, could not be induced again to face his fallen adversary, and
forfeited three times to Nosworthy.[166]
After some irregular battles the bakers of the metropolis, looking upon
Nosworthy as a leader in their sporting circle, a match for ten guineas
a-side was made between him and Barnard Levy, a Jew, which took place at
Golder’s Green. Levy was known to be a good man, and proved himself
deserving of that character throughout the fight. Nosworthy was not in
condition, and the Jew maintained an evident superiority for the long
space of two hours. The game displayed by the Baker astonished every one
present—he fought undismayed, and showed himself a “taker” of no common
mould. Notwithstanding the punishment the Jew had administered, he could
not take the fight out of him, and at length became exhausted.
Nosworthy, contrary to all expectation, appeared refreshed, and finished
the Jew in high style during the last twenty-five minutes. From this
conquest the Baker gained ground. The fight lasted two hours and
twenty-five minutes.
Martin, an active lively boxer, and much fancied by his own people, the
Jews, was now pitted against Nosworthy for a purse of 25 guineas, at
Moulsey Hurst, on the 29th of March, 1814. High expectations were formed
of the pugilistic talents of Martin, but the Baker soon put his skill
and manœuvres at defiance. Joe Ward and Paddington Jones seconded
Nosworthy, and Little Puss and Jacobs attended upon Martin. It was two
to one in favour of the Jew previous to the battle, betting brisk.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On setting-to considerable expectation
was formed as to the talents of the Jew, who
commenced with much gaiety; but Nosworthy
planted a tremendous hit on Martin’s mouth,
which not only drew a profusion of claret, but
he went down.
2.—The Jew, more cautious than heretofore,
sparred for advantage, but ultimately he was
again floored. (The two to one had now all
vanished, and even betting was the truth of the
matter.)
3.—Nosworthy began to serve the Jew in style,
and his hits told tremendously. Martin made a
good round of it, but fell rather distressed.
The dead men now opened their mouths wide, and
loudly offered six to four on the Master of the
Rolls.
4.—Martin, with much activity, planted a good
facer; but Nosworthy again finished the round in
high style.
5.—The Israelite’s nob was peppered, and his
body also much punished; and Nosworthy, with
great severity, hit him right through the ropes.
(Seven to four on Nosworthy.)
6.—It would be superfluous to detail the
remaining rounds. Nosworthy had it all his own
way, notwithstanding Martin resorted to his old
method of falling, to tire out his opponent. In
thirty-six minutes the Jew was completely
defeated, and Nosworthy increased his fame as a
boxer.
After some minor affairs, we come to Nosworthy’s great match with the
Phenomenon, Dutch Sam. Pierce Egan expends pages of wonderment,
conjecture, and exclamation on the fact that a strong, young, resolute
man, and a good boxer withal, should have beaten a gin-drinking stale
pugilist, who would not even train for the battle. We now come to the
report.
Five years had nearly elapsed since Sam had exhibited in the prize-ring.
The curiosity to see him once more display his great pugilistic skill
drew together an unusual number of spectators. Neither bad roads nor
torrents of rain could check the interest excited by this battle.
Vehicles of all descriptions for weeks before were put in requisition to
reach the destined spot, and pedestrians out of number were not dismayed
in tramping through thick and thin for sixteen miles. The vast
collection of carriages on the Hurst excited the astonishment of every
one, and some hundreds were on the spot who did not even see the battle.
Several marquees were erected for accommodation. The sum to be contended
for, in a twenty feet ring, was £50 a-side and a purse given by the
Pugilistic Club of 25 guineas. At a few minutes before one Nosworthy
entered the ring, attended by his seconds, Bill Cropley and
Silverthorne, and was loudly cheered for his confidence, in daring to
face so acknowledged a boxer as the Jew. Sam soon followed, and received
every mark of gratifying attention from the surrounding multitude. Ben
Medley and Puss were his attendants. A heavy shower of rain could not
delay their thirst for fame.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On the combatants approaching each
other, and shaking hands in the usual way, the
difference of person was so manifest that an
ordinary spectator must have given the
preference to the Baker, from the roundness of
his frame, the firmness of his step, and the
cheerfulness of his countenance. He must have
been a novice, indeed, not to have discovered
the wretched condition of Sam upon his throwing
off his clothes. His ribs were spare in the
extreme; his face, which hitherto had assumed
such a formidable aspect, and his fierce eyes
that seemed upon similar occasions to have
penetrated into the very souls of his opponents,
appeared clouded with doubt and anxiety. It was
altogether a different frontispiece. Dejection,
arising from dissipation, was marked strongly on
his features. As for his legs, as if Sam had
anticipated that they might tell against him,
he, for the first time in his life, preferred
fighting in gaiters and breeches. The _tout
ensemble_ portrayed, a worn-out man rather than
a boxer entering the prize-ring, prepared to
vanquish youth, health, and strength. But all
these objections were as a feather in the scale
against the Jew. Weather could not affect him;
no one could punish him; he hit as hard as
Cribb; he was no mannerist; he set-to a hundred
different ways; he altered his mode of fighting
as circumstances required. Many seemed really to
think, and plenty were forward enough to urge,
that Sam was as well, if not better, without
training, than undergoing the systematic
precaution of invigorating the _stamina_. In
short, he was the phenomenon of the fighting
world; everything but a losing man. The
recollection that he had beaten all the best men
for a series of years that had been pitted
against him, gave a double confidence to these
sanguine opinions; and what was Sam now called
upon to perform at the top of his glory? Why, to
enter the lists with a boxer, who, to say the
best, was but of considerable obscurity. Who for
a moment would listen to a comparison made
between Nosworthy and the hardy and brave
Champion of Westminster, who had fallen beneath
the conquering arm of Sam? or with that truly
elegant scientific pugilist, Tom Belcher, who
had twice surrendered up his laurels to this
distinguished Jew. Cropley too, who ought never
to be mentioned without praise, ranking as a
superior scientific boxer, was tremendously
beaten by him; and his last antagonist, Ben
Medley, possessing sound fighting pretensions,
true game, and science, was reluctantly
compelled to acknowledge his vast superiority.
The renowned Dutch Sam was once more before his
friends; and his fanciers were so confident of
his adding another laurel to his brow, that bets
to an extravagant amount were loudly offered. To
have named the Baker as having anything like a
chance, was out of the question; but, at this
period, to have proposed an even bet that
Nosworthy won, would have been laughed at, as
betraying a total ignorance in matters of sport.
Such was the state of things upon the combatants
facing each other; and the great superiority of
the Jew was expected to be witnessed every
instant. The decision was near at hand, and the
Baker, eager to commence the attack, displayed
more of valorous spirit than scientific
precision. In making play, his distances proved
incorrect, and two blows fell short. Sam gained
nothing by this opening. Nosworthy, full of
resolution, followed up the Jew, appearing
rather too rapid in his manner to take any
particular aim, and seemed to prefer going in,
to trusting to those advantages that are
sometimes obtained in sparring. Sam made a
slight hit upon the Baker’s nob, but ultimately
went down.
2.—The eagerness of the Baker appeared to
supersede every other consideration. He
again hit short; but Sam did not miss this
opportunity, and returned right and left,
drawing the cork of the Master of the Rolls.
Nosworthy, it seemed, had made up his mind
to smash the Jew, and, in his haste to get
at Sam, slipped and fell.
3.—The Baker, determined in his mode of warfare,
resolutely made up to Sam, but the Jew warded
off the force of the blows with much adroitness.
Nosworthy received a hit from Sam, and went
down, but his fall was attributed more to the
slippery state of the turf than to the severity
of the blow.
4.—This round commenced with severe fighting,
and much activity was displayed on both sides.
Some good hits were exchanged. The Baker drove
Sam before him to the ropes, and here it was
that Nosworthy showed his superiority by putting
in three tremendous blows. Sam fell, evidently
distressed, and his breath was nearly hit out of
his body, by a terrible blow he received upon
his breast. His friends, however, thought that
his conduct was a mere _ruse de guerre_. In
fact, nothing could shake their opinion that the
Jew was playing a sure game, by letting the
Baker make the most of his strength, in order
that, at a more advanced stage of the battle,
he would become exhausted, when he might be
easily “kneaded” to answer the purpose of the
Israelite.
5.—It was in this round that Sam found out what
sort of a customer he had to deal with. He was
also convinced, too late, that the chance was
against him: he could not resist the hardy blows
of the Baker, nor had he room enough to get
away from him. Sam’s hits produced no effect
upon the courage of Nosworthy, who went in in
such an unusual manner to anything the Jew had
experienced with any of his other competitors,
that he was confounded. His wonted fortitude
seemed to have deserted him, and dismay taken
possession of his mind: he went down quite
exhausted. But however Sam might feel that he
was sent down against his will, it did not
appear in that light to his backers, who
generally looked upon this as nothing more than
artifice of the Jew to weaken and tire out his
adversary. A few persons who were not quite so
infatuated with the appearance of things, hedged
off a little of their four to one. Some others
ventured upon even betting; but this latter
circumstance was by no means general.
6.—Sam was scarcely upon his legs and set-to,
when Nosworthy put in a blow that sent him down.
7.—The Baker, always ready, proved himself a
resolute and skilful boxer. He did not wish to
lose time by any useless display of scientific
attitudes. The proud name of Sam proved no
terror or drawback to his exertions: he went in
with as much gaiety as if he had been only
contending with a novice, instead of fighting
with a boxer who had performed such wonders in
the pugilistic annals. Nosworthy planted some
good blows, and the Jew was again down on the
turf.
8.—The science of Sam was conspicuous in this
round, but the strength of his opponent was not
to be reduced. The Jew put in some good hits in
a smart rally, but he could not divert the Baker
from his purpose, and Sam went down again much
exhausted.
9.—Nosworthy commenced this round with his
usual spirit, by driving Sam again to the
ropes, where he punished him severely. Sam,
notwithstanding, planted some hard blows, but
the impetuosity of the Baker carried all
before him. The best efforts of the Jew,
however well directed, seemed as useless as if
he had been trying to stem a torrent. At this
period the deeply-interested ones perceived
something in the Baker they had not expected.
That a chance must not be thrown away when
four to one had been betted. A bustle now
commenced, and the outer ring was broken. The
populace pressed heavily against the roped
ring, bearing down all opposition to keep them
off, and many persons crossed the ropes, to
the confusion of the combatants. However we
might be disposed to attribute this disorder
of the ring as the effect of accident, owing
to the great concourse of spectators, to what
account can we place the conduct of a strong
man endeavouring to force out of the ground
one of the stakes which supported the ring,
and which attempt was only prevented by the
manly interference of the Champion of England?
Nosworthy appeared at the mark, and called out
to Sam to observe he was ready, but the Jew
declined setting-to till the ring was cleared
out. It may not be improper here to remark
that, if Sam had decidedly felt in his own
person he was, or must be eventually beaten,
if he continued the contest, it is natural to
infer that he would have saved the money of
his friends by taking the advantage of this
interruption in making at least a drawn
battle; but the Jew wished to fight it out. In
clearing out the ring, the confusion beggared
all description. The whips and sticks were
laid on heavily. In the course of about twelve
minutes the desired object was attained, when
the combatants once more commenced operations.
It would be superfluous to detail the remainder
of the rounds, in number thirty-eight. Complete
sameness pervaded the whole of them; and Sam,
who had hitherto portrayed the hero, now
scarcely exhibited the traits of a second-rate
pugilist. The ferocity which had so terrified
his opponents was no longer visible; indeed he
exhibited weakness and distress early in the
fight. It is curious to remark that he never
once knocked down Nosworthy; but, on the
contrary, was either floored or went down every
round, with the exception of about three. Still
the friends of Sam, and particularly those
denominated “the flash side,” relying on his
experience and judgment, flattered themselves it
was all right, that he was aiming to bring down
Nosworthy to his own pitch, to obtain any
conquest, and give a good opportunity of
betting. But they wofully deceived themselves;
the wished for change never arrived.
REMARKS.—Nosworthy proved himself a confident
boxer. If his movements were not equal to the
scientific precision of Tom Belcher, his
undaunted resolution and courage, from the
commencement to the termination of the fight,
reminded many of the spectators of that peculiar
forte of Bill Hooper. The Baker was a two-handed
hitter, and seemed perfectly awake to the
business before him. From this mode of attack
the debilitated Jew stood no chance whatever.
The strength of Sam, once so much the theme of
his backers, was missing, and he appeared a mere
shadow of his former self. He could not knock
down Nosworthy, or even hit him away. This
defeat of a great favourite may operate as a
useful lesson: youth and strength must be
served; and never was the position more clearly
and decisively shown than in this instance. Sam
was turned of forty-one years of age, and his
irregularities of life must have dilapidated as
fine a constitution as was ever possessed by
man. His opponent, a young man of twenty-eight,
was in good health, of great strength, and
weighed a stone and a half more than the Jew;
besides, we are to take into the scale that
Nosworthy was not destitute of skill, and
possessed unimpeachable bottom, which had shown
itself in all the battles he had fought. But
calculation was out of the question. The game of
chance, even, was completely lost sight of. “To
a certainty, to a certainty,” was the cry of
nearly the whole of the fancy; and any opinion
expressed in favour of the Baker was instantly
silenced by four to one, treated as a want of
judgment, and laughed at with derision and
contempt. Upon Sam’s resigning the contest, a
general consternation took place among the
backers of the hero. If the Jews were weighed
down with grief, the Christians were equally
miserable and chapfallen at this unexpected
defeat. So complete a cleaning out, it is
supposed, had not taken place in the boxing
world, since the conquest obtained by Slack. It
is computed that, in different parts of the
kingdom, £100,000 at least were lost upon this
battle. In the dismay of the moment, the
exclamations of the losers were loud and
vehement. “’Tis impossible!” said many. “It must
be a cross!” The combatants did not appear to be
so much punished as might have been expected.
But the case was altered; instead of giving, as
heretofore, Sam now received punishment. Sam
must have suffered terribly from the repeated
knock-down blows he experienced; but his frame
was of so close a texture that it did not
exhibit marks of punishment like most other men.
This was an important point towards victory on
his side, by disheartening his antagonists, who,
however they might mill him, could not see the
result of their efforts, from Sam’s appearing
fresh and unhurt. Had Sam properly attended to
his training, had he viewed the consequences of
the battle in the light of an experienced
veteran, bearing in mind that he had everything
to lose, and but little to gain, the sequel
might have proved different. His experience and
judgment should also have pointed to him, that
youth, strength, science, and determined
resolution were not to be disposed of as matters
of course; that it was not a mere sporting
article he had to pink for his amusement—one who
had presumptuously dared to enter the lists
against so mighty and renowned a chief. Some
caution, it might be presumed, was necessary
when it was also known to him his antagonist was
above a novice; that Nosworthy was an energetic
boxer, aspiring to reach the top of the tree.
But the conquests of Sam had made him forget
himself. Fame and flattery had cheated him. The
whole race of pugilists viewed him as a
phenomenon, and impressed with this character,
it should seem, latterly, that poor Sam “had
crept so much into favour with himself,” that he
vainly imagined he had only to appear in the
ring, and his name alone was sufficient to
vanquish any pugilist who might have the
temerity to oppose him. He at length fell a
victim to “self-conceit” and ill-timed flattery.
The fame which Nosworthy earned on this occasion led to several
challenges, among others to one from the renowned and hardy Scroggins,
which he accepted, and they met on June 16, 1815, at Moulsey Hurst. The
details of this battle will be found in the Life of SCROGGINS, p. 416,
who was on this, as on many other hard fought fields, the conqueror. His
friends attributed this defeat to bad condition; but the truth seems to
be that in Scroggins, Bill Nosworthy met a miller of his own stamp.
Bill was afterwards matched to fight George Curtis, but the latter paid
forfeit from ill-health.
Nosworthy felt his defeat by the hardy little tar, and never recovered
his usual spirits. Dissipation and excessive drinking hurried him into a
consumption, and in the last stage of this frightful disease, he, with
the assistance of a few friends, left London for Lympstor, in
Devonshire; but, in October 26, 1816, while resting at Exeter, he
received his final knock-down, scarcely surviving the Jew three months.
His connections in Devon were very respectable, and his manners, until
depraved by excessive drink, pleasing, while his appearance was
prepossessing.
BEN BURN (“UNCLE BEN”)—1810‒1834.
There was nothing in the pugilistic exploits of the first of the Burn
family (“Uncle Ben,” as he was afterwards termed, on account of the
higher merits of his “nevvy”) to deserve particular record. He was well
known as a sparrer with the “big ’uns” at the Fives Court, a
match-maker, a second, a ring attendant, and a sporting publican. He
beat J. Christie on Highgate Common, January 1, 1810, for 40 guineas.
Fought Flanagan for 100 guineas, March 27, 1814, whom he also defeated.
His after fights were with Dogherty, Silverthorne, Palmer Jones, Tom
Spring, and Tom Oliver, by all of whom he was beaten. He also had a
set-to with “Gibletts” (Charles Grantham), whom he beat in twenty
minutes in a room fight in Bow Street, June 13, 1821. His last
appearance (which is omitted under his name in “Fistiana”) was with Old
Tom Oliver, in 1834, who defeated him at Hampton in six rounds,
twenty-four minutes, for £25 a-side, as will be seen under the Memoir of
OLIVER.
HARRY HARMER, THE COPPERSMITH—1812‒1815.
This scientific pugilist was allied to the family of the Belchers, and
was born in the place known as the Horse Fair, Bristol, in 1784. His
sparring was for many years the theme of admiration. His height, five
feet eight inches and a half; his weight, eleven stone and a few pounds.
It does not appear that Harmer, although reared in the hot-bed of
pugilists, exhibited in any public scientific contest previous to his
arrival in the metropolis.
The superior style he displayed in his first battle with Maltby, the
latter having vanquished George Cribb and Cope, brought Harmer into
notice with the admirers of pugilism. With Jack Ford, in his second
contest, he also rose a step higher; and in his third and last battle,
with Shelton, he established his reputation as a game and first-rate
boxer.
Harmer entered the lists with Maltby on Thursday, June 12, 1812, at
Wilsden Green, for a purse of £25 guineas. Maltby was the favourite six
to four, and nearly a stone heavier than Harmer, who was a stranger to
the ring. Tom Jones and Cropley seconded Maltby, and Belcher and
Richmond attended upon Harmer. At one o’clock the men set-to.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Both the combatants seemed intent on
fighting, and began without ceremony; they,
however, soon disengaged from a close, and
Harmer, with great dexterity, planted a severe
right-handed hit on one of Maltby’s peepers
without receiving any return. Maltby, with much
determination, fought his way into a close, and,
in a trial of strength to obtain the throw, they
both fell, Harmer uppermost. (The odds rather
lowered, and Harmer became attractive.)
2.—Harmer commenced in grand style, and planted
a left-handed blow upon Maltby’s nose, which,
added to his already damaged eye, changed the
appearance of his face. A desperate rally
occurred, and hit for hit took place, when
Maltby was floored from a severe blow on his
forehead. (The partizans of Harmer began loudly
to applaud, and offered five to four upon his
winning.)
3.—The men were both on their mettle, and
considerable execution was done on both sides.
Maltby stood up like a hero, and satisfied the
spectators he had not a particle of flinching
in his composition. A rally ensued, and much
reciprocal hitting occurred. The right hand of
Maltby punished Harmer’s body so severely
that, from one tremendous hit, he went
staggering away like a drunken man; but the
latter, to the astonishment of the ring,
returned hastily upon his opponent, and, in a
finishing style of execution, Maltby went
down. It was now seen that the reach of Harmer
gave him the superiority, and his friends
sported the odds without hesitation.
4 to 15 and last.—At this early stage of the
fight Maltby was reduced. Harmer made play in
every round, and kept the lead in gallant style.
From the quickness of Harry, he literally beat
his man stupid. Maltby contended, in the most
determined manner, for thirty-seven minutes,
when nature was so exhausted, that he was
carried out of the ring by his seconds.
From this manly specimen Harmer became the object of considerable
conversation in the pugilistic circles; his length, quickness, and
punishing hitting deterred a few of the fighting men from entering the
lists with him, till Jack Ford was matched with him for a purse of 25
guineas.
This battle took place on the 23rd of August, 1813, a mile to the
eastward of St. Nicholas, in Kent, upon the land of Mr. Neale, a Kentish
yeoman, a short distance from Margate. The veteran Joe Ward and Hall
seconded Harmer; Paddington Jones and Clark attended upon Ford.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Harry commenced fighting with great
confidence by making play right and left, but
without much effect, Ford having stopped and
returned. In closing, they both went down. The
betting, which had been previously rather high
upon Harmer, was now rather reduced, it
appearing that Ford would not let his nob
receive that severe punishment which Harmer had
dealt out so liberally upon Maltby. (Five to
four upon Harmer.)
2.—A good rally, and both the combatants upon
their mettle. Ford most conspicuous, but did
not like the right hand of Harmer. Strength on
both sides was resorted to in falling; but the
advantages in this round appeared on the side
of Ford.
3.—The right hand of Harmer got into work, and
the forehead of Ford received a severe taste of
his quality. The game of the latter, however,
was not so soon frightened as to deter him from
attempting to adopt his favourite mode of
in-fighting; and several teasers did not
frustrate Ford from boring in upon his
adversary, yet he still lost by comparison, and
was thrown.
4.—The truth must be told: the bad training of
Ford could no longer be concealed. His wind was
treacherous, and he was sparring to gain time;
but he guarded himself so scientifically, that a
short time elapsed before any opening occurred
whereby Harmer could derive any advantage, when
he at length put in a heavy body blow on his
opponent, and Ford, with considerable dexterity,
returned a “sender” on the head of Harmer.
Equality was preserved in this round; but Ford
went down from a terrible blow. (Brisk betting
upon Harmer two to one.)
5.—Ford, full of pluck, rallied with spirit,
slashing away without any care respecting
himself; and Harmer was no ways behind hand in
hammering his opponent. Their hitting told,
and the round was not terminated without
considerable execution being manifest. Harmer
threw Ford. Weakness now appeared on both
sides.
6.—Harmer received a severe hit in the body and
went down.
7.—In going in to rally, Harmer was repulsed by
Ford, when the latter for a short period had
the best of the milling. On getting near the
ropes, Harmer got Ford’s nob under his left arm
and fibbed him so terribly that he was glad to
put an end to it by falling through his hands.
Harmer was now the favourite in every point of
view.
8.—Ford, always brave, showed he was determined
not to lose his character, and the fortitude he
exhibited in this round claimed universal
praise. Punishing without ceremony took place
upon both sides; and the right hand of Harry,
from a terrible hit he planted upon Ford’s eye,
was much injured. The combatants stuck to each
other hard and fast, pelting away in all
directions; but the strength of Ford was leaving
him, and he held by the ropes, where the mastery
of Harmer was evident, by holding up his
opponent with his left hand and with his right
putting in some weighty blows. The betting
amateurs were now satisfied it was all their own
way, and offered to lay any odds upon Harmer.
9.—Ford had now received so much severe
punishment that it was evident he was losing
ground rapidly. He had given such decided
specimens of game in his other contests, that it
was well known he would not relinquish fighting
while anything like a chance remained. He
therefore summoned all his courage to get a turn
in his favour, but was reduced to that state
where superior science and strength must be
served. Ford, from one leg being shorter than
the other, fought under peculiar disadvantages
in this respect, and when retreating, it
appeared very conspicuously. It now appeared
that he fell without a blow, but it was owing to
this defect.
10.—Humanity of character should never be
forgotten, and it ought always to be recorded as
an example to other pugilists. Ford was in an
unfortunate situation against the ropes, where a
blow must have finished him; but Harmer nobly
disdained to take any advantage of a brave
competitor while a more manly path presented
itself; and he never could show manhood in a
finer style than in walking away and leaving
Ford to go down himself.
11.—Harmer now punished his antagonist with ease
and address till he went down, and Ford was more
enfeebled every round; but, notwithstanding the
milling he met with, he could not be prevailed
upon to give in until the twenty-third round,
when he was completely told out.
REMARKS.—Ford, although defeated, showed that
his pretensions to boxing were good and
scientific, and that he was not to be got at
without some difficulty. The importance of
training does not seem to operate on pugilists
in general; or, if they do understand its value,
it should seem that, in too many instances, they
do not strictly comply with its regulations to
obtain those essential requisites toward
victory—sound wind and good condition. It was
evident that Ford suffered considerably from
this neglect. As an in-fighter he was able to do
considerable execution, but the length of Harmer
was too much for him. With Oliver, Ford
contended for two hours and ten minutes; and,
notwithstanding it was thought that he had
generally improved, yet with Harmer he was
disposed of in thirty-five minutes. Ford’s body
exhibited some severe marks of punishment, and
he was bled before he left the ground.
Harmer, after a year and a half had elapsed, was matched with Tom
Shelton, the navigator. It may not be improper to premise the occasion
of this battle. Shelton was introduced at the Fives Court, and ascended
the stage with Harmer, at Cribb’s benefit, on May 31, 1814, as a
complete novice. Shelton appeared determined for a downright mill, and
attacked Harmer furiously, endeavouring to show his abilities. Harry,
with skill and dexterity, parried off his strength, and put in some
touches that drew forth the claret. To call it sparring would be
erroneous, it was complete roughing. The impetuosity of Shelton was
astonishing, and it was also curious to observe the decided mode in
which Harmer drove the former away from him. During the contest Shelton
was so sharply met by his antagonist, that he turned completely round
twice, and recommenced his attack. The science of Harmer, however
pre-eminent, was not enough to convince Shelton of his superiority, and
it at length became necessary for Harry to add strength to his efforts
to abate the rushing of his opponent. Harmer, at arms’ length, gloved
him severely, but, upon Shelton rushing in to mill, Harry got his nob
under his left arm, and with his right hand fibbed him so tightly that,
to prevent its proceeding to an actual fight, it was deemed prudent that
no more such sparring should take place between them in the Court. This
was Shelton’s first appearance; and, from the spirit he displayed, he
was much fancied by several of the amateurs. An opinion was entertained
that he only wanted a better knowledge of boxing, in addition to his
other requisites, to make him a dangerous customer for any of his
weight. In the course of a twelvemonth he acquired considerable science;
and, notwithstanding the character Harmer maintained as a first-rate
boxer, the capabilities of Shelton were not viewed with indifference by
many of Harry’s friends. The match at length being made for 100 guineas,
it created considerable interest in the sporting circles, and on
Tuesday, April 18, 1815, they met, in a twenty-four feet roped ring, on
Hounslow Heath, near the rivulet which divides the heath from Twickenham
Common. Shelton was the heavier man by some pounds. Seven to four on
Harmer eagerly taken by the friends of Shelton. The spectators were
exceedingly numerous. Richmond and Oliver were for Shelton, and Tom
Belcher and Bill Gibbons with Harmer. At one o’clock the men shook hands
and set-to.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The determined quality of Shelton was
well known to the amateurs, and great anxiety
was manifested. The navigator, eager to commence
fighting, endeavoured to plant two left-handed
blows, but his distance proving incorrect,
Harmer floored him in a twinkling, and the
claret was visible upon his face. (Loud
shouting, and two to one freely offered against
Shelton.)
2.—The Navigator, from his eagerness to do
something, again hit short, as did Harmer in
returning. The men now got into a sharp rally,
when Harmer, from a slip, fell down upon his
knees, and received an accidental blow from the
suddenness of his situation. “Foul!” “Fair!” was
vociferated, but the umpires knowing the real
state of the case, the battle did not suffer the
slightest interruption.
3.—This round was resolutely contested on both
sides, and the combatants, in a tremendous
rally, exchanged hit for hit with a firmness
that claimed applause from all parts of the
ring. Harmer, in point of quickness, put in the
most blows, and finished the round by sending
his man down. (It was current betting five to
two upon Harmer.)
4.—Good reciprocal boxing, when, in closing,
Harmer was thrown.
5.—Shelton, full of gaiety, made play, and
Harmer, from a slight hit, was again on the
ground.
6.—The science of Harmer was seen to much
advantage in this round. From the Navigator’s
hitting short, he received tremendously left and
right from Harmer, and was ultimately floored.
(This changed the betting again, and seven to
four was sported upon Harry.)
7.—The blows upon both sides were so hard and
fast as not to be described. It was a long
round, and Harmer went down rather distressed.
8.—The time appeared to be called rather too
quick for both men, as both showed symptoms of
distress. Some sparring occurred, when Shelton
was missing in an instant: he received a blow
under his left ear, and he appeared stunned,
lying on the ground.
9.—It was astonishing to see with what pluck
Shelton again met his man. Another desperate
rally took place, at the end of which Shelton
went down.
10.—Some good blows exchanged, and both down.
11.—The Navigator was on the grass from a slight
hit.
12.—A short round, and Shelton thrown cleanly by
his adversary.
13.—Both the combatants were no strangers to
the hammering they had received. However, they
got into work, and desperation seemed the
order of the round. Harmer manfully strove to
take out the fight of his opponent, while the
latter seemed to have that precise object in
view. It was hard work on both sides; but the
round closed to the advantage of Shelton, who
sent Harmer down. The head of the latter
unfortunately, in falling, came in contact
with a stake.
14.—The appearance of Harmer was against him
on coming to the scratch; and none but an
extraordinary man could have returned so quickly
to have commenced the round. His right hand
appeared also to have given way, and some alarm
was felt from this circumstance. Harmer went
down from a slight hit. The backers of Harry
were rather puzzled, and the partizans of
Shelton now boldly offered six to four upon him.
15.—Affairs were materially changed. Shelton
was now decidedly the favourite; he again sent
Harmer down.
16.—Harmer was still in the back ground,
notwithstanding he exerted himself to change
this unfortunate aspect. Shelton again had it
his own way, and Harry went down from a slight
blow. The friends of Shelton looked upon victory
as a matter of course, and betted seven to four
without hesitation; many still greater odds.
17.—This round, to all appearance, seemed to
have decided the fight. A rally took place, but
Shelton was quite a hero in it; he planted blows
in all directions, and, from a dreadful one that
Harmer received on his nob, he was floored in a
twinkling. (Five to one upon Shelton.)
18.—Harmer came up to the scratch in a tottering
state. He merely placed himself in a fighting
position, but was soon sent down.
19 to 21.—The game exhibited by Harmer under
these circumstances astonished every one
present. In all these rounds he seemed
bewildered, and the advice of his seconds lost
upon him. It was all against him, and in the
twenty-first round Shelton was so much the
superior man, that Harmer was hit out of the
ring. (The odds were now so great, and the
termination of the battle considered so certain
in favour of Shelton, that no takers were to be
found.)
22.—Harmer came almost reeling to meet his man.
It was desperation in the extreme, or, in the
bold language of the hero of Bosworth Field,
“I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the die.”
It was thought next to an impossibility
that Harmer could last a round longer; but
such is the uncertainty of battle, that he
made a tolerable bout of it, and also had
the good fortune to hit his opponent down.
The surprise this circumstance occasioned
cannot be described; even betting was the
fact.
23.—Harmer appeared first upon his legs, and,
strange to state, so sudden was the falling off
of the Navigator that, on being brought to face
his man, he seemed insensible to every object
around him. Harmer hit him down.
24.—Considering the exhausted state of both
the combatants, this might be considered a
good round. The Navigator seemed to recollect
himself, and ultimately sent down Harmer.
(Shelton was again the favourite, and seven to
four against his opponent was viewed as safe
betting.)
25.—Harmer still persevered, in spite of all
obstacles, and from the advantage of giving
Shelton a dreadful cross-buttock, victory turned
in his favour. The fall was so heavy that the
breath seemed to be all shaken out of the
Navigator, and one of his shoulders received a
violent contusion.
26.—Shelton was completely stupefied from the
effects of the last round, and Harry merely
pushed him down. (The odds now rapidly changed
again, and Harmer for anything.)
27, 28, and last.—The Navigator was all but
done, and a blow from Harmer on the side of his
head put a period to the contest, which was
decidedly finished in thirty-five minutes.
REMARKS.—It was impossible for superior courage
to have been shown in any battle whatever than
in this between Harmer and Shelton; a more truly
sporting fight was never witnessed. It is true
the amateurs felt some degree of surprise at the
sudden falling off of the Navigator; but Harmer
raised his fame from his manly conduct, and
only won the battle from his unbounded game and
perseverance.
Harmer, shortly after the above combat, in company with Fuller, crossed
the water, in order to give the natives of France some practical ideas
on the national sport of English boxing, and were liberally received.
Their efforts were thus delicately announced in the French papers:—“Two
English boxers have already given several representations in the Rue
Neuve des Petits Champs. Persons of the most refined sensibility may be
present, for these boxers do not strike so as to do each other any
injury. In England, after every battle, one or two of the assailants
must be declared _hors de combat_, and when they are obliged to carry
him off the field in a wheel-barrow or on a shutter the pleasure is
complete. At Paris we are not so greedy: we content ourselves with a few
blows, and the demonstration of them is enough.”
Harmer set-to with Fuller upon a stage erected on the race-course, near
Montmartre, between the heats. The Duke of Wellington was one of the
spectators upon this occasion, and ordered five Napoleons to be put into
the hat. This was shortly after the occupation of Paris by the allied
sovereigns, and a number of distinguished characters belonging to
various nations attended. At some of the minor theatres in Paris the
sparring of these boxers not only contributed to fill up the ballet of
action, but was loudly applauded. The liberality of Monsieur, however,
was far behind the contributions of the amateurs at Moulsey. One lively
instance presents itself. An English officer, a Captain of the Guards,
went round to the spectators on the race-course with a hat, to collect
subscriptions for Harmer and Fuller, and upon coming up to a fashionably
dressed Frenchman, he generously threw in a single sous. The officer, by
way of a set-off for the liberal donation, immediately held it up in his
hand and, walking round the stage, exclaimed, “Behold this very handsome
present given by a French gentleman!” This _nouvelle_ mode of ridicule
had the desired effect, and the Frenchman, not possessing nerve enough
to encounter such an _exposé_, instantly took the hint and galloped off
the ground, amidst the shouts and laughter of the assemblage, which was
a complete mixture of English, French, Austrians, Prussians, Russians,
etc.
From the conflict of opinion respecting the battle between Harmer and
Shelton, the friends of the latter were induced to give him another
chance. He was accordingly backed to fight Harmer, on the 26th of June,
1816; but Shelton, during his training, fell off altogether in
constitution, and paid forfeit.
In December, 1817, Harmer’s ring career was ended by a severe ophthalmic
disorder, which so affected his eyesight as to compel him to decline all
challenges. As Harry had never been defeated, he was the object of some
envy. He began business as a publican at the Plough, in West Smithfield,
which he kept for many years. Shelton, having called at Harmer’s and
quarrelled with him, he thereafter published a challenge, to which
Harmer sent the following reply:—
“SIR,—
“I have only to observe, in answer to your challenge to me in
_Bell’s Weekly Dispatch_, that you know the cause which compelled me
to take off my coat and waistcoat in the affair to which you allude.
It was to resent an injury; nay, more, it was to recover my money,
the wager not being decided. Under the like circumstances, I hope I
shall be always ready to resent an injury. Respecting my fighting
again in the prize ring, it is well known to you and the sporting
world that, from my defect of sight, I have left the ring. Indeed, I
regret my defect of sight most seriously, that I am not able to meet
you again in the ring, as I feel equally confident respecting the
termination of it as it occurred about three years since in our
battle.
“H. HARMER.
“_The Plough, Smithfield, October 21, 1820._”
Harmer died in 1834, well respected by numerous friends.
HENRY JOSIAH HOLT, THE CICERO OF THE RING—1816‒1820
Harry Holt was born at Islington on the 17th of May, 1792. In early life
he was articled to a surveyor, but his master having failed, he was
turned over for the remainder of his apprenticeship to a builder, in St.
Martin’s Lane. Here he seems to have imbibed a love of “arms,” and,
disdaining the jog-trot operations of the plane and saw, he appears to
have determined to chisel his way through life in a more exciting path.
That this resolution was prudent we are by no means disposed to believe,
but “every one to his taste,” as the old woman said when she kissed her
cow; and if he was unable to build for himself a fame equal to Sir
Christopher Wren, he at least obtained a fame in other respects which,
to the day of his death, made him acceptable in the eyes of the fancy
circles.
Upon all occasions in the prize ring he evinced a tact and gallantry
which obtained for him well-earned commendations; and his literary
ability for some time made him the support of the milling department of
the second sporting paper of the kingdom, the _Era_.
The first recorded conflict in which Harry Holt engaged was with a hero
of the trowel, in the Five Fields, Chelsea, in the year 1810. His
opponent was well known in the neighbourhood as a determined miller, and
flattered himself he could dispose of the pretensions of the slight and
fair-haired youth without giving him half a chance. But the science and
quickness of Harry turned the scale, and he not only astonished the
bricklayer, but carried off the laurel of victory in triumphant style.
His next trial was with a life-guardsman (as recorded in “Boxiana”), and
here again, despite the disparity of height and weight, Harry milled the
swordsman till he laid down his arms.
The skirmishes of Holt ere he was out of his teens will be found related
in “Boxiana,” vol. iii., pp. 372‒5, in the usual loose, skimble-skamble,
ungrammatical style of the uneducated editor of that undigested
hotch-potch.
At the age of twenty-five Harry first shied his castor within the
twenty-four feet ring (so called, upon the _lucus a non lucendo_
principle, from its shape being a parallelogram), on the 20th of August,
1816, with Joe Parish, the waterman. This was indeed a manly, as well as
a scientific, contest; and, although defeated, Holt earned “golden
opinions” from all those whose good opinion was worth having. The
victory was gamely disputed for ninety minutes, during which seventy
rounds were fought. At the commencement Holt was thought to have the
advantage, but the tide of fortune soon changed, and he “got into
trouble,” out of which he never again was able to struggle. On one
occasion during the fight Parish had Holt upon the ropes, in a position
where he might in all probability have “finished” him, but he manfully
threw up his hands and walked away, amidst loud and well-merited
approbation from all parts of the ring. Holt felt so impressed with this
generous behaviour of his adversary, that while his adversary sat upon
his second’s knee, he shook him by the hand, saying, “I thank you, Joe,
for your conduct.” After an hour and ten minutes, the termination seemed
extremely doubtful, when Parish, like a true aquatic, watching the turn
of the “tide which leads to fortune,” went in so strongly and
determinedly that poor Harry, despite the most heroic efforts, was
forced to succumb, and was led from the ring completely beaten. The
result of this contest raised both men in the esteem of the milling
circles, and Parish (this was his first appearance in the prize ring)
was shortly after matched against the Nonpareil, Jack Randall, who, we
need hardly say, in turn defeated the victor.
Holt now devoted some nine months to sparring, and acquiring a still
further knowledge of his art. His manners were pleasing, his address
engaging, and, as he sung a song somewhat above mediocrity, his company
was sought, a dangerous thing for a young man in the great metropolis.
Harry, too, from having received an education somewhat above the average
of the society with which he mixed, and being moreover gifted with a
command of words and a power of expression rather beyond the ordinary
range, was generally elected to address the public on the occasion of
benefits, etc., by such of his brother pugs who were “slow and halt of
speech,” a deficiency to which those readiest with hands and feet are
often doomed. From these oratorical displays, he soon acquired the
sobriquet of “Cicero,” and, as the Cicero of the ring, Harry Holt for
some quarter of a century figured in the public prints.
Holt’s next appearance in the prize ring was with Jack O’Donnell (said
to be a relative of the once celebrated Irish pugilist of that name), at
Arlington Corner, near Hounslow Heath, after a harassing journey of some
miles across the country, in consequence of the interruption which took
place on the day the first fight between Scroggins and Turner occurred,
at Hayes, Middlesex. This was on Wednesday, March 26, 1817. The
combatants stripped in a heavy shower of rain, and commenced fighting at
a quarter before six o’clock in the evening. Tom Owen and Dolly Smith
seconded O’Donnell; and Painter and Harmer attended upon Holt. Five to
four on the latter.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Upon setting-to the attitude of Holt
was extremely elegant, and his appearance
altogether rather interested the spectators
in his behalf. He commenced play without
ceremony, by planting a severe facer under
O’Donnell’s left eye, and got away with much
dexterity. The latter endeavoured to return
the compliment, but hit short. It was one of
the most manly rounds ever witnessed, the men
fighting at arm’s length; and, notwithstanding
the rain descended in torrents, the combatants
seemed insensible to its chilling effects, and
opposed each other with the utmost gaiety. A
number of good blows passed between them,
materially to the advantage of Holt, who nobbed
poor Paddy most successfully. Near ten minutes
had elapsed, nothing like closing had occurred,
and both appeared quite exhausted, when
O’Donnell rushed in, and Holt was sent down.
Such a first round was scarcely ever seen
before. (Seven to four on Holt.)
2.—O’Donnell, finding that keeping out from his
opponent was disadvantageous, endeavoured to
bore in, but Holt stopped him by a tremendous
blow on the jaw, that made his pimple rattle
again. The Irishman was not to be dismayed, and
he succeeded in marking one of Holt’s peepers.
Some reciprocal fighting took place, when, in a
struggle to obtain the throw, both went down,
but Holt undermost.
3.—Holt hit and stopped with great facility,
and his science was loudly admired throughout
the ring. O’Donnell did not want for courage,
and showed himself to much advantage in this
round. A desperate rally took place, and in
closing, O’Donnell endeavoured to fib Holt, but
the latter resolutely broke away, and knocked
O’Donnell’s head about like a spinning top. Both
ultimately went down.
4.—A smile sat upon the countenance of Holt: he
had all the coolness about his actions of the
experienced pugilist, and he scarcely threw a
blow away. O’Donnell’s mug, from the repeated
attacks made upon it, appeared rather out of
shape. Both again down. (Two to one upon Holt.)
5 to 17 and last.—It was most manly boxing
throughout the whole of these rounds. O’Donnell
put in some good hits, and always had the best
of his opponent in throwing, but he never could
keep his head out of chancery. The seventeenth
round was truly desperate. O’Donnell repeatedly
attempted to go in, but was as repeatedly kept
out by a stopper on his nob. Holt put in six
facers without any return. The jaw of O’Donnell
was terribly battered, part of his chin laid
open, and a tremendous blow, put in under his
ear, brought out the claret instantaneously, and
his senses seemed almost beat out of him. He
could not come again.
Mr. Jackson made a collection of £9 to be
divided between them. This battle proved a treat
to the admirers of scientific boxing; so good a
fight restored good humour to the amateurs for
their disappointment at Hayes; and they retired
well satisfied. The ring was kept in good order,
although neither ropes nor stakes were used to
protect the men from the crowd. The unpropitious
state of the weather had not the least effect
upon the feelings of the spectators, who never
shifted an inch of ground in consequence of
being so drippingly assailed.
The friends of Holt, from his decisive victory over O’Donnell, and the
general improvement which had taken place in his fighting, were induced
to match him with a better man, and, on the 20th of May, 1817, the
sporting world was on the _qui vive_ to witness the decision of the
match between Harry Holt and the Nonpareil of the ring, the celebrated
Jack Randall, who long preceded the subject of this sketch in his
journey “to that bourne from whence no traveller returns.” Indeed, the
friends of Holt and many of the most distinguished amateurs were much
prepossessed in his favour, and, notwithstanding the known excellence of
Randall, it was very generally thought that Holt would prove a worthy
competitor. Coombe Warren was the _locus in quo_, and, on the appointed
Wednesday, Colonel Berkeley (the late Earl), Captain Barclay, Mr.
Jackson, and a muster of Corinthian patrons of popular sports, assembled
at the above-named place. The combatants were equal in weight and
height, namely, each about five feet six inches and a half, and ten
stone two pounds to four pounds. Randall was backed by his patron
Colonel Barton, and Holt by several amateurs of eminence. The stake was
£50. This battle will be found in the Life of RANDALL, p. 332.
It was urged by many of Holt’s friends that he displayed no fight at all
in this contest with Randall; but this complaint will vanish on a slight
examination. Randall assumed the offensive throughout the battle, and
his punishment was so electrifying and severe that he never gave Holt
any opportunity of showing himself, save in the defensive department of
fistic strategy. Holt did, in the earlier part of the battle,
occasionally stop his opponent’s left; but the fact was, as Holt
frequently afterwards observed, the fight was decisively hit out of him
in the third round. Indeed, if Holt had not been a truly game man, he
never could have stood before Randall twenty-five minutes, after the
heavy milling he received at the outset, and in consequence of this
opinion a few amateurs present collected £10, which they presented to
him as the reward of his bravery.
After the battle between Turner and Cy. Davis at Wallingham Common, on
Friday, June 18, 1819, a cessation of hostilities for upwards of an hour
took place, during which period a purse was subscribed, but went begging
for want of a couple of good ones. Sutton, the black, who had defeated
the brave Ned Painter, wished to have a shy at Carter (once the
_soi-disant_ Champion of England), but the latter boxer pleaded
indisposition. Hall, Jack Martin (the Master of the Rolls), and others
were named, but it was “no go.” At length Harry Holt, to adjust all
difficulties, shied his castor into the arena for any ten stone man,
declaring (unlike our cavilling pugilists, “those of the modern time”)
that he was not nice to a few pounds. His challenge was speedily
accepted by David Hudson. Randall and O’Donnell waited on Holt, and
Josh. Hudson and Tom Owen upon David Hudson. The purse was 20 guineas,
and the odds on Holt five to four.
The “game” of Holt had been proved on more than one occasion, and his
character stood high as a neat stopper, a pretty rapid hitter, and a
well-scienced man. He was not, however, by any means in condition, and
had walked all the way from London that morning to see the first fight.
Hudson, too, was out of condition; nevertheless, they set-to with a
spirit which might put to the blush mills of far higher pretence and
more careful and expensive preparation, Holt taking the lead, and
nobbing Hudson down.
Harry contested this battle up to the eighty-ninth round, but he could
not stand the hitting of Hudson, and went down repeatedly; while, on the
contrary, Hudson seemed to be getting fresher, and often ran and jumped
to get in at Holt. The latter would not give in, and he was taken out of
the ring by the desire of a noble lord and other amateurs. The fight
occupied an hour and three-quarters.
It was a most distinguished, capital fight on both sides, and, in a
word, the men covered themselves with pugilistic glory. Holt was rather
too stale for his opponent; he had also some of his teeth dislodged. A
handsome subscription was made for Holt.
Holt now bade adieu to the ring, in which, if he had not done what
Addison declares is not within the power of mortals, namely, “command
success,” he had done more, “deserved it.” Time, however, and the Fates
brought round another scrimmage in the shape of a room fight, with the
never-to-be-forgotten Jack Scroggins, whose “ghost” long “revisited the
pale glimpses of the moon” in the poetic gaggeries of _Bell’s Life_.
On the 30th of November, 1820, after a sporting dinner at Randall’s
house in Chancery Lane, there arose a difference of opinion during a
discussion of the merits of various pugilistic professors. Spring,
Purcell, Randall, Martin, the Birmingham Youth, Holt, etc., being among
the parties assembled. Among matches proposed and talked of, was one
between Holt and Scroggins, to come off in some six weeks from the first
“time of asking.” This delay, however, the time being eleven o’clock at
night, and the spirits mounting, did not suit the desperate Scroggy, who
delivered his ideas on the subject somewhat in the following form:—
“Why, as to that there matter, it ain’t no match between me and Holt; I
can lick him like a babby. I never was so ill with a cold in my life;
but I will fight him any time you like, but I’d rather it ’ud be now.”
Holt returned Scroggins thanks for his candour, but, in return, thought
Scroggins would have no chance to win with him. Nevertheless, he too was
of opinion that the best way would be to decide it instantly.
“I am ready,” said Scroggins; “but the winner shall have the whole of
the purse.”
“I am agreeable,” replied Holt.
The usual preparations were made for the contest. Turner and Martin
seconded Scroggins, and Purcell and Sampson were for Holt. Spring was
the time-keeper. Five to four on Scroggins on one side of the room, and
five to four on Holt among the other party.
In this affair Holt, after taking the lead in scientific style, received
a heavy fall from Scroggy’s rush in the twenty-fourth round; up to that
period Scroggy had all the worst of it. Harry’s constitution, however,
could not stand the wear and tear, and, after thirty-three rounds,
Sampson declared Holt should fight no more.
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 training for six weeks. Scroggins had always some
tremendous points about him. It was a most 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 lost
him the fight; and he also complained of a sprained thumb before he
commenced the battle. In a ring, some of the amateurs thought Holt might
have had a better chance. The smiles of victory, which had not been
familiar to Scroggins in his last six battles, now seemed to give him
new life. He was, however, in the most exhausted state; and nothing but
a lack of the _physique_ to second his science and courage made Harry
the loser of this most determined contest.
We here drop the curtain on the pugilistic career of Harry Holt,
whereon, although the sunshine of victory seldom shone, he ever
displayed, under the clouds of misfortune and ill-success, the brightest
attributes of a British boxer, science, courage, self-possession, and
honesty. “Some one must lose,” as a practical philosopher has remarked,
and the mischances of war fell often and heavily on poor Harry.
Henceforth his career was chequered and various in its character,
sometimes basking in the sunshine of Dame Fortune, and at others
reposing in the shade of her elder daughter, and tasting the bitters of
vicissitude. He became publican, whether a “sinner” or not we will not
take upon ourselves to state; but, as far as our experience has gone,
the traits of his character were quite as estimable as any of those in
whose sphere he moved. His early education enabled him to bring into
useful operation the powers of his pen, and upon the retirement of
Pierce Egan from the _Dispatch_, he was engaged by Alderman Harmer as
the mentor of Mr. Smith, the new milling editor of that paper, now, like
Harry, gone to that bourne from which no pugilist returns. Harry was
found an excellent Asmodeus to Smith, and introduced him to all the
eccentricities of London life, as well as to the mysteries of the London
Ring, and found so apt a pupil that his _protegé_ was soon enabled to go
alone, and to obtain for the _Dispatch_ a reputation for its advocacy of
the sports of the ring, which it has long since lost, and which lies
buried in the tomb of poor Smith. As a second in the ring, with his
consummate judgment and “artful dodging,” Harry was only equalled by Tom
Belcher and Dick Curtis; and these three men were always considered
hosts of themselves in doubtful points, for, by their ingenious devices
and careful husbanding the strength of their principals, they have
frequently “brought their men through,” when the balance preponderated
against them. In the course of his life Harry occasionally dealt in
cigars and other “Parliament” commodities, and thus did his duty
manfully for the support of a large family. He latterly devoted himself
entirely to sporting literature, and proved himself a useful assistant
to the _Era_ newspaper, in recording milling and pedestrian occurrences,
always reporting faithfully and impartially, and displaying a knowledge
of his profession, eminently useful in describing the “ins and outs” and
“ups and downs” of a fight. His inevitable exposure in this vocation to
the change of weather in every season of the year, whether on the land
or the water, now sitting for three or four hours up to his fetlocks in
snow or mud in a slimy marsh, and then scorched by the rays of a mid-day
sun, and again at night breathing the fœtid atmosphere of some fancy
“re-union,” gradually operated upon a constitution injured by early
exertion, seized his lungs, and threw him into a rapid decline. His last
appearance in the discharge of his vocation was at the fight between
Heffernan and Scully, in the Marshes of Kent, on Tuesday, April 9, 1844,
to and from which he was conveyed with great difficulty to the steamer,
and thence home. While committing to paper the result of his
observations, he received his last awful summons from “the grim king of
terrors,” and handing his pen to his son, left him to give the finishing
stroke to his report. He left behind him a widow and six children, one
of whom, Alfred, succeeded to his father’s post of Ring reporter,
firstly on the _Era_, and subsequently on a daily journal.[167] Holt was
eminently known among his compeers for his “gift of the gab,” as it is
vulgarly termed, hence his cognomen of “Cicero,” the speechmaking at
benefits, etc., being entrusted to his care.
Would that he had left behind a goodly number of men in his profession,
who, without his talents, were imbued with an equal share of honesty of
purpose, integrity of conduct, and correctness in all the relations of
life, both public and private; were such the case, the position of
British boxers would not be degraded to the low ebb at which it stands
at present. Highly respected by the patrons of the science of
self-defence, and esteemed by many of the right sort yet remaining, his
compeers in the ring, Harry Holt left behind him a name which may be
envied by many of his fraternity who less deserve it.
WEST COUNTRY DICK, THE NAVIGATOR.—1816‒1820.
A more manly and courageous boxer was not to be found among the records
of pugilism than this little hero. In a short period he fought no less
than sixteen prize battles in gallant style, and the smiles of victory
proved propitious to his exertions in twelve, Curtis, Gipsy Cooper, and
Jack Randall ranking among his conquerors; defeat by such men being no
dishonour.
Richard West was a native of Bedminster, in Somersetshire, and was born
in the year 1794. At the period of his first battle he was in height
five feet five inches and a half, and weighed nine stone and half a
pound. Dick ranked more as an active boxer than a fine fighter, and was
conspicuous for being a slashing hitter; considering his weight, he
certainly used his right in a tremendous manner. His courage was of so
superior a quality that it often prompted him to fight men much above
his own weight. The most prominent of Dick’s battles were the
following:—
Dick’s first attempt at prize milling was with a man denominated the
Grabbler, in Tothill Fields. It was a desperate fight, and one hour and
twenty minutes expired before Dick was declared conqueror.
A man of the name of Reeve was disposed of by Dick in the short space of
six minutes, at Coombe Wood. It was a match for seven guineas a-side,
Dick putting down his own stake.
A gardener, of good weight, fought with Dick at Moulsey Hurst. This was
also a short battle; and, as before, the confidence of Dick again
prompted him to back himself. He gained the victory in good style.
Dick next entered the lists with the determined Jack Curtis, whose fatal
termination of his fight with Turner we have already noticed in that
boxer’s life. Dick was defeated in fifty-eight minutes, his right hand
being disabled by an accident.
For a trifling purse, to make up a second fight after Carter had
defeated Robinson, the man of colour, in a match against time, at Coombe
Warren, on Wednesday, June 26, 1816, Dick entered the ring with Jack
Payne, the butcher, but, in the course of only four rounds, the latter
was so satisfied that he declared he would fight no more, and left the
ring.
Dick was at length matched with Charley Martin for the sum of 20 guineas
a-side. This contest took place at Moulsey Hurst on Tuesday, August 22,
1816. It was a spirited battle on both sides, and reciprocal milling
occurred during forty-seven rounds; but the severity of Dick’s hitting
brought him through in fifty minutes.
Martin, not exactly satisfied as to the merits of the above battle,
requested a second trial of skill, which being granted, he entered the
ring with Dick, confident of recovering his lost laurels, on Thursday,
February 13, 1817, at Coombe Warren, for 20 guineas a-side. Richmond and
Eales seconded Martin, and Dick had for his attendants Oliver and
Clarke. This second encounter was bravely contested for thirty-four
rounds; and sharper milling, for the time it lasted, thirty-five
minutes, had not been often seen; for the last six rounds Martin had not
the least chance, and left the ring much punished. The Grand Duke
Nicholas of Russia, the late autocrat of that mighty empire, who
witnessed this battle, seemed much interested in the event, and made
many remarks upon the courage displayed by both boxers.
Dick was now thought a competent match for the Nonpareil, Jack Randall,
who defeated him in thirty-three rounds. See RANDALL, p. 330.
To make up for a wretched burlesque on scientific pugilism, which took
place on Tuesday, December 23, 1817, at Coventry Farm, on the Hale,
Middlesex, Dick was suddenly called upon to enter the ring with Street,
for a subscription purse of 10 guineas. No delay occurred, and Dick,
attended by his seconds, Paddington Jones and Ballard, and Street by
Dolly Smith and Lancaster, appeared within the ropes at thirteen minutes
to three o’clock, and fought as follows:—
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Dick’s right hand soon got into work,
and slightly nobbed his opponent. Street, in
returning, hit short. They immediately fought
their way into a close, and both went down. (Six
to four on Dick.)
2.—Dick, as usual, full of bustle, put in a
severe facer that made Street’s head shake
again; the latter, with much confidence, stuck
close to Dick, and gave him a sharp blow on the
shoulder. In closing, both down.
3.—Street, on setting-to, planted a heavy hit
under Dick’s ear and got away, laughing and
nodding, by way of self-approbation. Some hits
were exchanged and both down.
4.—Street made play with his left hand and got
away. Hard fighting soon commenced, when Dick,
with spirit and judgment, drove his opponent to
the ropes, and hit him clean out of the ring.
(Great applause. Seven to four against Street.)
5.—Street met his man confidently, but his
blows, though often well directed, lost their
force from being open-handed; the best of the
hitting was on the side of Dick. In closing,
both down.
6.—Dick went down from a hit under his left arm;
but it appeared more owing to the slippery state
of the ground than the force of the blow.
7 and 8.—In the latter round Dick took the lead
in good style, hit his opponent quite away from
him, and followed him with success, making
several blows tell, till both went down.
9.—Street did not turn out quite so easy a
customer as Dick had imagined. The nob of the
former was rather the worse for the battle; but
no claret was to be seen about either. Could
Dick have used his left hand with any sort of
effect, he might have made greater progress
towards conquest. This was a milling round, and
both down in the close.
10.—Dick was rather distressed from his
exertions in the last round, and seemed rather
slow in quitting his second’s knee, which
excited much vociferation of “Time, time,” from
Lancaster. Paddington Jones was angry at this,
and offered to fight the former for his
uncalled-for noise. When at the scratch some
sharp hits were exchanged, and Street went down
from the severity of his opponent’s right hand.
(Two to one on Dick.)
11.—Street, it was evident, could not protect
his head from repeated facers; but he planted
a sharp body blow that moved Dick from his
station. The ground was in such a wet clayey
state that neither of the combatants could
stand firm. However, Dick sent Street down in
a twinkling. (“Bravo, Dick!” and five to two
was offered.)
12 to 15.—In the latter round Street hit his
opponent down, and planted so severe a blow on
one of Dick’s peepers that made it wink again.
Street felt flattered at this event, and clapped
his hands at Dick while on the knee of his
second.
16 and 17.—Dick slipped down from a slight hit;
he was evidently distressed. Oliver handed the
_eau de vie_ to his seconds, who instantly
administered the restorative cordial.
18 to 20.—In all these rounds Street appeared
the fresher, though his opponent had rather
the best of the milling. Dick’s eye was puffed
up and seemed dark, and Street anxiously
endeavoured to shut up the other.
21.—Street came to the scratch laughing and
nodding at Dick by way of derision; but the
latter gave him such a podger on the jaw that
not only spoiled the grin on his countenance,
but made him laugh on the wrong side of his
mouth. He finished the round by hitting him
down.
22.—Dick seemed to have recovered and reduced
Street to his pitch; he made his hits tell as
fast as he could plant them.
23.—The scale was now turning, Dick having it
all his own way. He planted four severe facers
without any return, and ultimately sent Street
down. (Five to one.)
24 to 27.—In these rounds Street scarcely
exchanged a blow before he was in the mud.
28 to 32.—It was all up with Street; he was down
every round. Dick very politely inquired how he
felt himself?
33.—Street, on leaving the knee of his second,
was asked by Dick “To come to his place, and
stand up like a man;” but he was again down, as
soon as Dick stepped towards him.
34 and last.—On setting-to, Street almost laid
himself down. He, however, got on his legs, but
seemed to avoid meeting his man, and so the
fight ended in thirty-one minutes.
REMARKS.—Considering that the above contest was
a made up mill on the spur of the moment, it was
far above mediocrity, although there was more
manhood than science displayed. The combatants,
too, it seems, were equally unprepared for the
event, Dick having been “navigating” early in
the morning, and “padded the hoof,” as it was
termed in what Ephemera calls the “faded flash
era,” down to the Hale. Street also had
pedestrianised it from Woolwich to the same
spot, a distance of twenty-two miles, which must
have operated as a considerable drawback upon
activity. Dick’s mug was rather battered; and
had not the frame of Street been of a close
texture, the repeated punishment he received
would have been much more visible. The latter,
though defeated, was not altogether satisfied
with the termination of the fight; and it was
thought not unlikely, at a future period, it
might lead to a more regular meeting. Dick was
now not above nine stone and half a pound, and
declared himself open to any man under ten stone
weight in the kingdom.
Colonel Barton and several amateurs of rank appeared on the ground.
Randall, Parish, Scroggins, Oliver, Gibbons, Tom Belcher, etc., were
also present.
A match was now proposed to Dick to enter the lists again with Jack, the
butcher. Our game little hero accepted the challenge without hesitation,
and on Tuesday, February 2, 1818, upwards of eight thousand persons
assembled on Old Oak Common, Middlesex, to witness the battle. The fight
was for 20 guineas a-side, in a twenty-four feet roped ring. From the
size, strength, and weight of the knight of the cleaver (added to his
promise of fighting like a man for once in his lifetime), he was backed
by the _soi-disant_ knowing ones at six to four; but the steady amateurs
who valued character, who admired pluck, and who were well assured that
while a chance remained Dick would not quit the field, took the odds
again and again as a safe thing. The event justified their judgment. At
thirteen minutes past one o’clock, Dick, accompanied by his seconds,
Randall and Paddington Jones, entered the ring and threw up his hat.
Payne soon followed and answered the token of defiance, attended by the
veteran Joe Ward and Dick Whale. The good old ceremony of shaking hands
was then gone through, and the combat commenced.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Jack set-to rather eagerly, but hit
short, when Dick’s right hand made free with his
opponent’s nob. In closing, Jack endeavoured to
fib West, but both went down.
2.—Jack seemed to feel as if he had still some
character left, and endeavoured to convince the
amateurs that he could fight. He gave Dick a
precious muzzler, and exchanged some sharp hits;
but when Dick put in a facer which produced the
claret, a slight trait of his old system peeped
out, and he went down not in the most gallant
style.
3.—This was a good round, and two minutes of
downright milling occurred. Jack put in two
desperate facers with much dexterity, and
likewise some sharp body hits. Dick was not
behindhand with his opponent, and exchanged hits
in a manly style till he sent Payne down.
4.—Payne hit his adversary till Dick got the
turn, when he followed the butcher all over the
ring; the latter’s mug was bleeding copiously.
Both down.
5.—Sharp work was the order of this round, and
reciprocal nobbers occurred. In closing, Dick
threw his adversary.
6.—Dick evidently took the lead, although he did
not escape severe punishment. Payne went down
from a heavy hit he received on his body; he
fell on his knees, and his nob bent forward on
the ground in a singular manner.
7.—After an exchange of blows Jack curred it
down from a facer. (“He’s coming it!” and
disapprobation.)
8.—Dick went down from the force of his own
blow.
9.—This round raised a blush upon the cheeks of
the game pugilists who witnessed the fight. A
boxer, at least twenty pounds heavier, and
taller, than his antagonist, positively turned
his back and ran away from a nine stone man,
after receiving a few sharp hits, and in a
manner laid himself down. (Loud hissing.)
10.—It was singular to observe how, when the
butcher forgot his fears, he fought in manly
style. In this round Jack had decidedly the best
of the milling: he planted two facers right and
left, and sent Dick down from a bodier. The
latter, while on his second’s knee, appeared
much exhausted, and brandy was applied with
success.
11.—Jack again took the lead: he planted two
dreadful hits right and left on Dick’s nob that
seemed nearly to stupefy him; but Dick,
game-cock like, went in with the most determined
confidence, changed the scene, and the butcher
rolled down from a hit.
12.—After an exchange of hits, Dick sent his
opponent down.
13.—Dick slipped down on one knee, but recovered
himself, and ultimately got his adversary down.
14 and 15.—Jack was down in both these rounds,
but not before Dick had received much mischief.
16.—Dick again slipped; but recovering himself
to meet his antagonist, received a desperate
blow near the mark that floored him. This was
bad judgment on the part of Dick.
17.—This was a singular round: both went down
from counter hits.
18 to 20.—One of Dick’s peepers was nearly
closed, and although he had not lost a single
drop of claret, he had received an unusual
degree of punishment. These rounds were rather
in favour of Dick.
21.—This was a grand round on the part of the
little one. He planted three facers with his
right hand without return; but Jack at length
got into work, and fought gaily till he went
down.
22 and 23.—Jack down in both these rounds; in
the latter he received so severe a facer that he
crimsoned all over in a twinkling.
24.—The butcher again administered some heavy
punishment. In closing, both down, when Jack
laughed at his antagonist.
25.—Jack went down from a hit in the throat.
(“Well done, Dick!”)
26.—There was nothing like stopping attempted
between the combatants; and several of the round
lunging blows told desperately. Dick again
received some terrible punishment about his nob
that made him stagger. Both down.
27.—Dick was now extremely weak, and his nob had
been so peppered that he could scarcely tell
what he was about; but his natural game prompted
him to proceed, and in consequence he floored
Jack from a desperate hit on his mouth. (Loud
shouting.)
28 to 30.—Although Payne curred it down in all
these rounds, it could not be considered exactly
safe to Dick. The butcher always hit his
opponent. In the last round the hats were thrown
up, in consequence of Jack’s not liking to leave
his second’s knee. (Five to one on Dick.)
31.—The butcher slowly appeared at the scratch,
and the terrible long faces of his backers
resumed a more cheerful appearance at the
chance. He fought this round tolerably well,
and, in closing, when Dick attempted to fib him,
held his hands till both went down.
32.—On setting-to, Jack fell down. (Hissing.)
33 to 37 and last.—In all these rounds the
butcher went down in a currish style, although
he generally planted a hit before he fell. He
could not have lost it had he possessed anything
like the heart of a true English boxer.
Thirty-five minutes and ten seconds had elapsed,
when victory was decided in favour of Dick. The
latter was led out of the ring almost deprived
of vision; and Jack leant across the ropes to
show, as usual, that he was quite sick of it.
It, however, cannot be denied that he took a
good share of milling, and was heavily hit about
the loins.
REMARKS.—Notwithstanding Dick’s well-known
bottom, it was physically impossible he could
have lasted three rounds more. Nature was
completely exhausted by the heavy punishment
he had received. Upon Dick s being put into
a coach he was for a short period stupefied,
which might have been owing to the heavy nobbing
hits he had undergone; and, in consequence of
not losing a single drop of blood, his head
was much swelled. Had Dick been anything but
a game cock, he could never have had the pluck
to have fought a man twenty-three pounds heavier
than himself, and in every respect a more
skilful boxer. Upon the whole, it was not a
contemptible fight. In this instance it was
admitted that the butcher “did the thing that
was right,” and was defeated against his will.
In a word, he was a boxer without “a heart,”
and it was a matter of great astonishment how
the amateurs could have suffered him again to
make his appearance in the prize ring, after
his unblushing effrontery in previously
acknowledging his being privy to a cross. His
backers, it was said, lost considerable sums in
consequence of his defeat.
Dick was matched with David Hudson, for 50 guineas a-side; but he was
defeated, to the great surprise and mortification of his friends, in a
few minutes. See DAVID HUDSON, Appendix, Period VI.
On Friday, September 11, 1818, Dick, for a purse of 20 guineas, fought
with Davis, a navigator, belonging to the Chatham Dockyard, in a field
near the Chatham Lines. For the first twelve rounds it was tremendous
punishment and reciprocal fighting; but in the thirteenth round Davis
dislocated his wrist, which compelled him reluctantly to acknowledge
Dick as the conqueror.
Abbot, who had defeated Dolly Smith, at the Barge House, in Essex, after
a long fight of 138 rounds, occupying two hours and fifty-five minutes,
it seems looked forward to greater conquests. At a sporting dinner which
took place on Tuesday, March 2, 1819, in the neighbourhood of
Westminster, several of the milling coves looked in to see if any
business had been cut out for them. Dick and Abbot, it appears,
accidentally met each other, and, in consequence of some difference of
opinion, Abbot threatened to mill the former. Dick replied with much
spirit, it should not be long before he was served out for his
insolence. A purse was subscribed by the amateurs, a large shed cleared
and lighted up, and the combatants stripped, attended by seconds and
umpire, with all the regularity of a Moulsey Hurst contest. Randall and
a gentleman amateur took Dick under their especial care; and Abbot was
equally well looked after by Richmond and Hopping Ned. Dick was terribly
out of condition, much distressed, and totally unfit for fighting; and
the state of Abbot was a few degrees removed from condition; but, it
being election time, some excuse was admitted on account of his “voting
for Lushington.” For thirty-five minutes the battle raged with
manliness, activity, and hard hitting. The left hand of Dick was seen to
greater advantage than usual, while his right dealt out tremendous
punishment. Abbot was equally on the alert, the body of Dick serving for
a drum. Abbot, it is said, gave in twice. At the expiration of an hour
and ten minutes, when “time” was called, he left his second’s knee, but
so completely exhausted that he could not put up his hands; the umpire
requested Dick not to hit him in that defenceless state, and victory was
declared in his favour. Dick cross-buttocked his opponent several times
with great adroitness, but did not win without receiving heavily, and
from the manliness he displayed, and the weight against him, he received
much praise. It was three to one on Abbot in the early part of the
fight, and a great deal of betting occurred, the tens and twenties
flying about like waste paper. Dick was offered to be backed to fight
Abbot in a ring for £50 a-side.
Dick fought a Clerkenweller of the name of Parsing, in a long but narrow
room, in the neighbourhood of Smithfield, before a few swell amateurs,
for a purse to the winner, and £1 to the loser, on Tuesday evening, June
13, 1820, at ten o’clock at night. Randall and Scroggins seconded Dick,
and Purcell and Tisdale were for Parsing. It was all over in eleven
rounds, occupying fifteen minutes. No claret was drawn. Parsing would
not fight any more, observing, Dick was too much for him in a room, but
he would fight Dick in a ring for £10 a-side of his own money. Parsing,
though much taller than Dick, had not a shadow of chance. The latter
hero challenged Tisdale to fight before he put on his clothes, as the
battle just over had not afforded any amusement to the amateurs; but
Tisdale refused, stating he should obtain no credit if he won it. “Never
mind,” replied Dick, “I’ll risk it.” Tisdale then publicly acknowledged
that he did not think himself competent to cope with Dick in a room.
Dick fought a most tremendous battle with Jack Cooper, the Windsor
Gipsy, on Epsom Downs, May 16, 1820, but he was defeated in twenty-nine
rounds. See GIPSY COOPER, Appendix, Period VI.
A small subscription purse, for a second fight, at Banstead Downs, on
Tuesday, July 4, 1820, was contested for between West Country Dick and
Parsing. Dick was the favourite six to four. Parsing had been defeated
by Dick in a room, as we have just related, but flattered himself, from
his length, that he could conquer Dick in a ring. Randall and Paddington
Jones seconded the latter, and Purcell and Holt attended upon Parsing.
Twenty-nine rounds took place, occupying twenty-eight minutes. The
latter, it appeared, could not take punishment; and the severe bodiers
given to him by Dick made him grin again. Parsing went down almost every
round, and finally surrendered.