SPORTS AND PASTIMES--CRICKET, HUNTING, RACING, AND PRIZE-FIGHTING--THE
BUTCHER AND THE BARONET, AND OTHER CHAMPIONS.
Among winter recreations skating was hardly known, and not at all as an
amusement for ladies, but then what a glorious pastime was that of
sliding! Very few young people can slide on the ice now as the boy in
1800-20 could do. In summer cricket was played, but, as in all the
multiplied facilities for acquiring skill and knowledge, to-day the
youthful cricketers have the best of tools, while their grandfathers
had a home-made bat, or even a pale, and as for stumps, they generally
grew in the neighbouring hedge till wanted, and the scoring book, in
the form of a notched stick, came from the same quarter! But even at
that time some "grand matches" sometimes came off, and nearly always
for high stakes, as the following notice will show.
The earliest announcement of a grand match in this district, I have met
with, is the following for the year 1771--
"Tuesday, se'n night, a match at Cricket was played between the
gentlemen of Saffron Walden and Stanstead Abbots, for 44 guineas, when
the latter were bungle beat, that is, 51 notches in one innings."
What is the precise meaning which the old chronicler meant to attach to
the phrase "bungle beat" in this instance, I must leave to lovers of
the game to determine for themselves. But it was customary to play for
much higher stakes than the above. Thus, in the memorable year of
scarcity of 1801 when people were longing for the deliverance of
harvest--
"A cricket match was played at Stanstead Marsh, Herts., between 11
gentlemen of Homerton and 11 of Stanstead, for 500 guineas. The
Homerton side won by 15 runs."
Another thing these old cricketers did which may be commended to the
modern clubs--they set about the game as if they meant to finish it.
"Stumps to be pitched at _nine o'clock_" says the announcement of a
fifty-guinea match between Hertford and Hoddesdon in 1812. I have
found no record of a match of this description for high stakes on
Royston Heath, but cricket was undoubtedly played there, especially a
few years later than the above dates.
{131}
Of other forms of sport, the meets of Squire Wortham's harriers were
notable events, and especially on such occasions as "The Little Fair
Day"--the second day of Royston Fair--when they were taken to the top
of the "One Hill" on the Heath, where the meet attracted not only a
large number of the regular followers of the hounds, but a great many
irregular ones as well; and, under the management of "Old Matt," the
huntsman, with the stentorian voice, whose holloa could be heard at
Therfield by persons in Royston, the chase excited no little interest
and excitement. Thriplow Heath was also a favourite place of meeting
for Squire Wortham's harriers, and, among the many horsemen who
followed the pack, a notable figure was that of Sir Peter Soame, of
Heydon.
[Illustration: THE HUNT BREAKFAST.]
Sir Peter was a dark, handsome man, of great muscular power and
activity. It was commonly said that he could plant a dozen hurdles
only a yard apart and clear them one at a time. As a horseman he had
few equals, and was famous for the condition of his horses, which were
the best turned out in the hunting field, and Sir Peter himself made a
notable figure in his skin-fit leather breeches. It was the fashion
then {132} to wear the hunting breeches so tight that it would have
been impossible to get into them but for the expedient of hanging them
in the cellar or some damp place overnight! Even then, to put them on
was no child's play, and Sir Peter, it is said, used to put his on by
sliding down the bannister! In this way he got into garments which
fitted him like a second skin, and, regardless of the dampness of them,
rode out in the pink of condition, on the best horse in the district!
Unless reports did him injustice, the sporting baronet was devotedly
attached to the bottle, and more than once came to grief when driving
his pony home from Cambridge, when he would be picked up by one of the
"fly" wagons and given a lift to the Black Horse at Fowlmere. Of Sir
Peter in other sporting aspects more will be said presently.
The Heath appears to have been associated with other forms of sport,
from the following lines taken from a local poet, to whose picturesque
descriptions and facile handling of the heroic measure, I must be
indebted in this chapter. I refer to a book entitled "Visions of
Childhood," by W. Warren Butler, of Barkway, printed and published by
John Warren in 1843. Of one questionable form of sport on the Heath,
he writes--
Here on this very spot, here have I seen
Such bloody deeds performed upon the ground;
And men have search'd the secret coverts round,
Where ev'ry harmless rabbit could be found.
* * * * * *
The innocent collection in a sack,
Are carelessly slung round their murd'rer's back
And one by one let loose with joy they fly;
This moment they are free--the next they die,
The savage hound set on amidst the fray,
Seizes and tears their little lives away,
While laughter from all sides his valour draws,
And even fair ones pat him with applause.
As to other kinds of sport, it may be mentioned that sportsmen then not
only managed with flint guns, but were often mounted on ponies; for,
while the open field system enabled them to mark and follow the birds
in any direction, it often meant a longer journey for a bag than under
more modern conditions of sport, while dogs played a much more
important part in sport than to-day.
Then, it was no uncommon thing for the inhabitants of this, as of other
districts, to go a long distance to be present at some sporting event.
As late as 1831, every available horse, cob or donkey, that could be
mounted was ridden to Newmarket, where about 20,000 persons assembled
to witness Osbaldiston's astonishing feat of riding two hundred miles
in ten hours, or twenty miles an hour on horseback for ten successive
hours, for one thousand guineas! He was allowed {133} eight horses for
changes, standing constantly saddled for him to jump off one on to the
other, and on again in his flying career at each time round the
"Beacon" course of four miles. The feat was accomplished in a little
less than the ten hours.
To come back once more to sport on Royston Heath in the years
immediately following George III.'s reign, I find the following with
reference to the revival of the Royston Races, which had flourished so
famously during the last century under the name of the Odsey Races.
In the spring of 1827 it is recorded that the Heath "was much crowded
to witness a match between a mare, the property of Sir Peter Soame, of
Heydon, and a horse, the property of Mr. T. Berry, of Hertingfordbury.
Other matches were run by hunters belonging to those present; and, at a
subsequent meeting in July, arrangements were made for a regular
programme, and a cup for competition the following year; and from that
time the races continued for many years."
The revived Races were held every year on the 14th May, whereas the old
Odsey Race meeting was in September. Among the stewards appear the
names of Lord Hardwicke, Mr. Brand, Mr. Delme Radcliffe and Mr.
Barnett, while Mr. George Smith was the treasurer and clerk of the
course.
In 1836, when Lord Hardwicke and Mr. Brand were stewards, it is stated
that there were from five to six thousand persons present, and as to
the character of the gathering, we are told that--
"The usual attendants at all amusements of this kind were there, and
succeeded in victimizing a few who were green enough to fancy they had
a _chance of increasing_ their funds on the race-course."
Genteel at first, with a grand-stand erected on the course and numerous
booths for refreshments, these Races became in less repute as time went
on and were associated with many disagreeable incidents. Of the
general characteristics of the scene of these Races in their best days
during the present century, Mr. Butler's poem gives us a vivid picture.
The preparations for the event are shown, where
Many a pole stripp'd of its native rind,
Bears a pink flag, that rattles in the wind;
And all the rustic villagers around
Behold with wond'rous eyes the hallow'd ground,
And often pause to view the massive roll,
Bear down the turf, and level round the goal.
Of the morning of the Races and the concourse of people coming in from
all points of the compass, we get a glimpse
For ten miles round, each village yields
Its bumpkin swains, and labour quits the fields.
* * * * * *
{134}
Full many a smock shines white as driven snow,
With pea-green smalls, whose polished buttons glow.
* * * * * *
Nor they alone the glorious sight to share,
Their master's family will sure be there.
Lo! the old wagon, lumb'ring on the road,
Bears on its pond'rous sides the noisy load.
Lopp'd is the vig'rous tree, its spreading boughs
Cling to the sides, and shade their vacant brows.
Other characters, too, of the dandy type are coming in
For many a sprightly Cantab springs to view,
Borne swiftly on upon his licens'd steed,
That all the day ne'er knows what 'tis to feed;
Cantabs and bumpkins, blacklegs wend along,
And squires and country nobles join the throng!
* * * * * *
Loud sounds the knotty thong upon the backs
Of poor half-starv'd and kennel-smelling hacks.
In this fashion the noisy streams feed the growing crowd, as it nears
the "painted landmark," where
With what delight they view, the colours fly,
That flap and flutter 'neath a windy sky.
Then we get a glimpse of the gentleman jockey as he "quits the just
machine"--
Strutting along equipp'd in vest of silk.
* * * * * *
Full many a hat is doff'd as he draws near,
For gentlemen themselves turn jockeys here.
We see him sitting there on his mount "impatient for the start, while
by his side, with equal pomp his lofty rivals ride," and anon the
signal is given, and they are off! "Bending thousands raise a rending
cry," and the incidents which accompany the exciting event are well
described in the following lines--
And while all eyes are fixed upon the goal,
The skilful lads from town are on the prowl,
Swift fly the steeds along the even green,
Bored by the bloody spur, and quickly seen
The champion full in front, and as he goes
He wins by half a head, or half a nose;
Then betting fair ones fumble for their purse,
Eager the trifling wager to disburse.
Alas! they've nothing hanging by their side,
Save but the string by which the bag was tied,
For through the silken dress a gash is seen,
Where the pick-pocket's impious knife hath been!
But others besides the fair sex were sufferers from the same cause,
while the "thimble-player" plied his trade and secured the attention of
some countryman with "cash in his fob and forward with his prate."
{135}
But old balances of this sort had a way of getting righted, and many
will remember the scene here depicted--
Thinking all safe, the sharper wends his way,
But soon his foolish dupes get up a fray.
* * * * * *
So the poor mortal, by the raging pack,
Receives the heavy throng upon his back,
Until he sinks, exhausted by their rage,
And finds, perchance, a lodging in the cage!
Such were the Royston Races during the present century. Their
abolition some twenty years ago, and the scenes of disorder and of shop
robberies in the town, which had marked the moribund stage of their
course, are too familiar to most Roystonians to need further notice
here.
From Royalty, down to the smallest stable or errand boy in the land,
prize-fighting, or "the noble art of self-defence," as it was
grandiloquently styled, was really looked up to as a manly and worthy
spectacle during the first quarter of the present century, and a little
later. When the Prince Regent, afterwards George IV., did not think it
beneath his royal dignity to pet and encourage professional "bruisers,"
to attend the prize-ring, shake hands with Tom Cribb, the champion, or
drive through the streets with a celebrated boxer in his carriage; and,
when Gully, the champion, could be returned as a member of Parliament
for Pontefract, it is not surprising to find the craze descending
through all ranks of society. I am obliged to introduce into these
Sketches something of this "seedy" side of the early years of the
century, because, for good or evil, the neighbourhood of Royston was
frequently the scene of some of the more notable contests in the
prize-ring.
Farther back, about the middle of the reign of George III., these
contests appear to have been almost entirely free, not only from any
interruptions from the magistracy and the constable, but also from any
risk of it. The result was that most elaborate arrangements were made
not merely for the convenience of the combatants, but more especially
with a view to make it a spectacle not unworthy of an arena of a Roman
amphitheatre of old. Thus, in 1789, on February 11th, when _Johnson_
and _Ryan_ gave their patrons at Rickmansworth, Herts., a set-to which,
we are told, "was prodigiously fine," it was found that four thousand
persons had subscribed their guineas, half-guineas, and crowns, and so,
as it was impossible for the event to come off in the yard of the Bell
Inn, a stage was erected round the sides of a gravel pit in the bottom
of which the fight took place. The "door money" was divided equally
between the combatants, and amounted to 512 pounds.
In later years it was usual to select some spot where the combatants
and their friends could, if interrupted by any Justice of the Peace
more courageous than his fellows, speedily cross over into {136}
another county and another jurisdiction. For this purpose few parts of
the country offered better facilities than the neighbourhood of
Royston; especially such spots as Noon's Folly, near the borders of
three counties--Herts., Cambs., and Essex--or Royston Heath, from which
it was easy to cross over from Herts. into Cambs. This precaution was
not often really needed, for the magistrate and the constable either
did not appear or were themselves passive spectators of the exciting
scene. One exception may, however, be made, for I believe Mr. John
George Fordham (father of Mr. Henry Fordham) had the courage to go and
interfere with a fight on the Heath, and when they adopted the tactics
of crossing over into Cambridgeshire, thinking he was not a magistrate
for that county, he crossed over after them.
Sir Peter Soame, of Heydon Grange--whose father, Sir Peter Soame, was a
gentleman of the Privy Chamber in the Royal household of George III.
(in 1798)--has been mentioned as a prominent figure in the hunting and
racing world in this chapter. He was also often the chief promoter of
encounters in the prize-ring in this district. His residence at Heydon
was the scene of many a roistering gathering of the sporting
fraternity, and the baronet was such a practised hand himself, that in
the event of the fighting men not turning up according to appointment
he would himself step into the ring and challenge anyone present if
need be, rather than allow the spectators to go away disappointed.
There is a story of Sir Peter told by Mr. Cross in his _Autobiography
of a Stage Coachman_, which, being, on both sides, of a local
character, may be worth repeating here. On one occasion a local
butcher, named Mumford, who had the reputation of "the fighting
butcher," went to Sir Peter's house, just as he had some guests to
dinner, to demand payment of a small sum of money. The sporting
baronet was equal to the occasion; asking his guests to excuse him a
few minutes, he went down into the kitchen, saw the butcher, and asked
him if he was not the "fighting butcher." The applicant acknowledged
that they did call him by that name. "Well then," replied the baronet
"that is the amount you say I owe you, and we will see who is to have
it," depositing the money to be handed over. The terms were agreed to,
sawdust was brought into the kitchen, and the butcher and baronet
stripped and set to, with one or two of the servants to see fair-play.
The fight was furious at the outset, but the butcher was soon defeated
by the superior science of the baronet, and he had to depart without
his money, after which Sir Peter joined his guests in the dining room,
as if nothing had occurred!
Perhaps the most memorable event in the prize-ring that ever happened
in this neighbourhood was the contest between Jem Ward and Peter
Crawley, for the championship, on Royston Heath, on the 2nd {137}
January, 1827. The event was the occasion of tremendous excitement,
and the concourse of people was enormous. Of the popular aspect of the
event on the morning of the fight, the following graphic reminiscence
is taken from some autobiographical notes by the late Mr. John Warren,
who, however, was too young to know anything further of the event.
"I remember when I was a little boy that the neighbourhood of Royston
was the scene of many prize-fights. That between Ward and Crawley for
the championship took place when I was a youngster. Early in the
morning our High Street was so full of people that you could walk on
their heads. My father would not allow me to go on the Heath to
witness the prize-fight; so I went to the top of our garden, where I
could hear the roar of voices and fancied I could hear the blows!"
This famous "milling" came off on the Heath at the lower end of the
cricket ground somewhere near the spot selected for the Jubilee tea in
1887. Cambridge and neighbouring towns sent their thousands of
visitors, coaches were loaded and over-loaded, while the villages were
nearly emptied.
The greatest precaution appears to have been taken to secure a spot
where no interruption would be likely to take place, and with this end
in view two places were appointed, one on Royston Heath, and the other
at Heydon Grange, the seat of the boxing baronet, Sir Peter Soame. But
whichever spot was to be fixed upon, Royston was the rendezvous. Jem
Ward, the champion, made his head-quarters at the Red Lion, and Crawley
and his friends stopped at "a road house about two miles from Royston."
The extraordinary ferment of interest and anxiety in Royston as to
where the event was actually to come off was kept up till even the
morning of the day! To increase the uncertainty, the parties actually
got two rings, and one of them was put up at the famous fighting
rendezvous near Heydon Grange, as a ruse; but there was little need of
such a precaution. The rumour of the erection of the ring near Heydon
Grange got wind, and away went an excited avalanche of human beings,
helter-skelter, over fields and hedges that winter's morning, for
Heydon Grange, only to find themselves disappointed, and under the
necessity of running back as fast as tired legs and panting lungs would
carry them! In at least one case a Royston spectator lost his life by
the excessive exertion and over-heating!
Upon the site of the battle, at the lower end of the cricket ground,
about ten to fifteen thousand persons were assembled, including all
classes of society from post-boy to nobleman.
The fight came off about mid-day amidst the utmost excitement and
enthusiasm. In an age when fighting was reckoned among the "fine
arts," Ward was allowed to be "the finest fighter in England." The
{138} rapidity of his movements "gave amazing advantage for the display
of his inimitably fine science," says the writer of the account in the
_Cambridge Chronicle_ for 1827. "On taking the champion's belt many
sprung up in bravado, but none in arms sufficiently hardy to dispute
his well-earned honours. At length, Peter Crawley got backed against
him. Crawley was a giant and stood 6 feet, 2 inches, while Ward was 5
feet, 9 inches, and stout and active."
I am not going to describe the scene further, beyond the remark that
the fighting was a furious and tremendous onslaught upon each other, so
that in the space of twenty-six minutes, and after eleven rounds, both
men were perfectly exhausted, and in a wretched plight. Crawley had
his cheek laid open and both eyes nearly closed, and Ward could not
stand.
In this short space the two pugilists had reduced themselves to the
pitiable condition of simply mauling each other, hugging each other,
and because Crawley just managed to _push_ Ward down and he could not
rally in time, the champion lost his belt!
The scene as described by eye witnesses, of whom there are very few
living, as well as from the facts on record from which I have quoted,
must have been a brutal one as we now look upon such things, though it
was considered a grand and memorable spectacle to thousands of those
assembled on our fine old Heath!
Jem Ward, who was generally looked upon as a little above the ordinary
run of pugilists in intelligence and education, lived to an old age,
and died only a few years ago.
The frequency of these pugilistic encounters naturally had some effect
upon, and was reflected in the local life of the period, and the amount
of fighting at fairs and village feasts was in striking contrast with
the rarity of such exhibitions now-a-days. The undergraduates from
Cambridge gloried in being mixed up with, and promoting such scenes of
disorder, and it is well-known that in the "Town and Gown rows" at
Cambridge, they sometimes engaged some well-known champion--such as
Peter Crawley, who defeated Jem Ward, on Royston Heath--to do the
"slogging." They would attend village feasts in such company, and when
their riotous conduct had provoked the young men of the village to a
general row, these professionals set-to and often made short work of
the fray. It was in one such exhibition at the Melbourn feast in the
early years of the century that J. King earned the title of the Royston
champion, and, for a time, gained more than a local repute.
The undergraduates were bent upon their old game, led by the Hon.
George Fitzwilliam, then of Trinity College, and accompanied by two
noted pugilists, "Soapy Dan" and a big black man named Mahone. After
the men of light and leading from the University had {139} run a course
of outrageous conduct towards all and sundry that came in their way,
there was the customary general fight, and the two pugilists played
terrible havoc among the Melbourn young fellows, till, to the surprise
of the visitors, one of the Melbourn party, J. King, came forward,
floored "Soapy Dan," and next had a regular set-to with the great black
man, whom, after a sharp fight, he vanquished also, to the amazement of
the Honorable George. The latter had staked ten guineas on the issue,
which he handed over to the Royston champion, took a mighty fancy to
him, and "took him in hand." He brought him to London, where, after a
short training, he met Jack Power at the noted fighting rendezvous of
Mousley Hurst, on an issue of L50 a side. The battle was a terrible
one, and though the Royston, or rather Melbourn, champion, was the
least skilful of the two, he fought for 47 rounds before giving in to
his better-trained antagonist, and practically closed a fighting career
which was as surprising as it was brief.
Better remembered perhaps by some who are still living, was a notable
prize-fight which, though it carries us a little beyond the era of the
Georges, cannot be passed by in these Glimpses of the past, as it
affords a striking instance of the fascination which the prize-fighting
ring had over many young men of good birth and education, and marks
what was practically the disappearance of these exhibitions from this
locality. This was the fight between "Owen Swift," a practised hand,
and "Brighton Bill," otherwise William Phelps, a young man of only
twenty years of age, who had seen little of such encounters and was
believed to have been deserving of a more useful career than that which
was so suddenly cut off by the fatal fight which, in the year 1838,
caused many persons in this neighbourhood to look with shame upon, and
to turn with disgust from such exhibitions. The combat took place near
Noon's Folly, on the Newmarket Road; Barkway, on the Cambridge coach
road, being the head-quarters of the pugilists. It created an immense
amount of interest, and, after a brutal exhibition, the unfortunate
young man from Brighton simply allowed himself to be pummelled to
death, the outcome being an inquest and a trial for manslaughter at the
Herts. Assizes.
The evidence given at the inquest, held at the Wheatsheaf, Barkway,
throws a very interesting light upon the spirit in which such
exhibitions were regarded by the public, and also upon the attitude of
the supposed representatives of law and order, who in those days seemed
to go with the majority and throw aside the official mantle whenever it
was inconvenient.
Upon this point, the evidence given by Mr. John Parr, the high
constable for the parish of Barkway, is especially interesting. This
official candidly admits in his evidence that he saw the deceased on
the {140} Saturday before the fight, believed he was there for the
purpose of fighting, that it was generally reported the fight was to
take place on Melbourn Heath, and that Owen Swift was to be deceased's
antagonist. On the Tuesday, witness went to see the fight, and admits
the soft impeachment that he was not there for the purpose of
preserving the peace, but went as a spectator! Did not see any
magistrates or constables present. There were at least three thousand
persons present. Saw deceased and Swift enter the ring and saw them
fight for an hour-and-a-half. Saw nothing like foul play, and did not
hear anyone call out "shame" when deceased was carried from the ring
and put into a carriage. Saw deceased at the Wheatsheaf, Barkway, next
day, when he could not speak, and appeared insensible. Saw him again
on Thursday and Friday, on which latter day he found him dying, and he
expired ten minutes after witness entered the room.
The evidence of Lee, the post-boy, who rode one of the "wheelers" to
the fight, showed that the Marquis of Waterford's carriage was there,
but he did not see the Marquis.
The jury, after hearing the evidence of Mr. James Balding, surgeon, of
Barkway, who attended Brighton Bill--and made a post mortem, with the
assistance of Dr. Hooper, of Buntingford--returned a verdict of
manslaughter against Owen Swift and against the seconds, "Dutch Sam,"
otherwise Samuel Evans, Francis Redmond, Richard Curtis, and "Brown,
the go-cart-man," for aiding and abetting the said Owen Swift. The
jury had the courage to add this significant rider:--"The jury feel
themselves called upon to express their deep regret and concern that
the magistrates of the adjoining counties of Cambridgeshire,
Hertfordshire, and Essex, did not interfere to prevent the breach of
the peace, so notoriously expected to take place for some days
previously, and also for the fact that a prize-fight having taken place
at the same spot about twelve months since without their interference."
This pointed reference to a former supineness of the representatives of
the law was not altogether undeserved, for, on that occasion, the same
Owen Swift had fought near the same spot against Lazarus (on June 1st
in the previous year) for two hours, and extending over 105
rounds--evidence of itself that the "fancy" men had it all their own
way in this happy corner of no-man's-land.
That there was no attempt to disguise the object of the gathering is
shown by the fact that the fight took place so near the turnpike road
that "the stage coaches drew up as they passed, for some time, to allow
the drivers [and the passengers!] to indulge in witnessing the
spectacle." Indeed, it is recorded that the spot and time of the
encounter were publicly announced two days beforehand.
{141}
It was said to be the third fatal fight in which Owen Swift had
engaged, while Phelps had only fought once before, and so brutal was
the onslaught, that it is said bets were offered and taken on the
ground, that both men would die in consequence of the injuries
received! Swift was hastily got out of the way, and it was asserted
that as soon as his friends in London knew of the fatal result, four
expert fellows were sent off with a view to recover the body to defeat
the ends of justice by preventing an inquest, a reward of L500 being
offered had they succeeded!
The seconds were arrested, but Swift got away to France. When one of
the seconds, indicted as Redmond, was placed at the bar, nobody could
identify him--and it is said that this was believed to be due to his
manipulation of beard, &c.--but the other seconds were identified.
The case came on for trial at the Hertfordshire Assizes in the same
year, before Mr. Sergeant D'Oyley.
John Parr, the constable, (and a saddler) said that he saw 60 or 70
rounds fought, and that ten or twelve were fought that he did not see.
There were "persons of high consideration" there, and many gentlemen's
carriages.
One of the defendants' counsel, in the face of the awful experience of
the misled and gentlemanly young Phelps, had the hardihood to
"energetically contend for prize-fighting, which, in the opinion of
many, formed that national character of courageous fairplay which was
the pride of the nation."
The jury found the prisoners guilty, but "recommended them to mercy."
Evidence of character was given, but it amounted to this, that the
defendants "were quiet, good humoured people, who never took advantage
of anyone."
They were sentenced to three months' imprisonment with hard labour, and
"seemed overjoyed with the leniency of the Court."
In his interesting _Autobiography of a Stage Coachman_, Mr. Cross, who
for many years drove the Lynn coach, says he saw the young man Phelps
both before and after the fight, and gives the following graphic and
pathetic incident. The Lynn coach, on leaving Kingsland Road, picked
up three passengers, and upon its being mentioned that the coach had
some fighting men inside, a clergyman, who was riding on the box, and
whose wife, a young and beautiful lady, was inside, protested against
allowing such company to sit in the coach with his wife; and, says Mr.
Cross, his mind was set at rest by two coarse-looking fellows in rough
great coats getting on the outside, and a well-dressed gentlemanly
young man getting in. Upon the husband assisting his lady out, she
asked him who was the gentleman who got in last; for {142} his
conversation had been extremely interesting, and she was sure by his
general information he must be a gentleman of distinction at the
University. Dressed in an elegant suit of black, and displaying on a
delicate white hand a diamond ring, he took his place at the table at
the inn for refreshments on the road, and, his manners corresponding
with his appearance, no one could suspect him of being a fighting man.
"Reader, this was the man known as 'Brighton Bill'--his real name I
never knew, but that he was of respectable parents, and intended by
them for a better calling I was convinced. When two days afterwards I
saw his contused and distorted countenance, the only part visible from
under the bedclothes, at the 'Wheatsheaf,' at Barkway, when he was
deserted by all, and had no friend or relative near to watch over his
fast-departing spirit, I could not restrain a tear. I silently, as I
descended the stairs, invoked a curse on such barbarous practices, as
well as on the authors of his death!"
If the writer of the above was correct in the identity of the dying
pugilist with his cultured passenger, his parents or friends never came
forward to recognise him. He was buried in a corner, the lower corner,
of the Barkway Churchyard, and the only trace of him is in the Parish
Register, which tells the simple fact of the death of William Phelps,
of Brighton, Sussex, aged twenty years.