NED NEALE (“THE STREATHAM YOUTH”)—1822–1831.
In the memoir of the redoubtable Tom Sayers, in our third volume, will
be found a few remarks on the persistency with which Hibernian reporters
and newspaper scribes, old and new, claim an Irish origin for fighting
heroes, naval, military, and pugilistic. Ned Neale furnishes another
instance of this assuming proclivity. Indeed, at the time of Neale’s
appearance, the talented editor of _Bell’s Life in London_, Vincent
George Dowling (himself of Irish descent), and Pierce Egan, were the
recognised reporters of every important ring encounter—the clever but
eccentric George Kent, who for twenty years had been its most active
chronicler, having previously gone to his rest in the churchyard of
Saint Paul’s, Covent Garden. The _Bell’s Life_ and _Dispatch_
accordingly prefixed a “big O” to the name of our hero, and plentifully
larded their reports of Neale’s doings with Hibernian humour,
misspelling his name “O’Neil,” until, in a letter to _Bell’s Life_,
signing himself “Ned Neale, the Streatham Youth,” the young aspirant
disclosed his parentage and place of birth, depriving “ould” Pierce’s
rhodomontade of its applicability and point.
Ned Neale first saw the light in the pleasant village of Streatham, in
Surrey, on the 22nd of March, 1805, of humble but respectable parents.
His youth, it may be remarked, was passed in a period when the ring had
for its patrons noblemen, gentlemen, and sportsmen, and among its
professors Gully, the Belchers, Randall, Cribb, and Spring. At an early
age he was in the employ of Mr. Sant, an eminent brewer near Wandsworth,
and a staunch patron of the ring. Neale often stated that the first
battle he witnessed was the second fight between Martin and Turner, at
Crawley, on the 5th of June, 1821, and from that moment felt convinced
that he “could do something in that way” himself. That he was not
mistaken, his career, as here recorded, will bear witness.
Neale now placed himself under Harry Holt, and by glove practice with
that accomplished tactician soon became a proficient in the use of both
hands.
His patron, Mr. Sant, gratified his desire to figure in the “24–foot” by
backing him for £20 a-side against Deaf Davis, a well-known veteran, a
game man, and a hard hitter. The battle came off at the Barge House,
Essex, opposite Woolwich Warren, on the 21st of May, 1822, Neale being
then in his eighteenth year. The odds were seven to four against “the
youth,” as he was booked to lose the battle by the knowing ones. Neale
was seconded by Harry Holt and Paddington Jones, while Davis had the
skilful seconding of Ned Turner and Dick Curtis. The contemporary
report, which is brief, remarks of this battle, that it was “a rattling
mill for the first forty minutes,” prolonged for another hour by Davis’s
“manœuvring and going down,” without even getting a turn in his favour.
In the “remarks” we are told “Neale proved himself a good hitter, a
steady boxer, and one who can take without flinching; we shall no doubt
hear more of him by-and-by. His youth and good condition carried him
through triumphantly.” We may here note that in “Fistiana,” by a
typographical error, the battle is set down as for “£100” and lasting
“20 minutes.” It should read “100 minutes and £20 a-side.”
The ordeal passed, Ned did not long stand idle. After Brighton Races, on
the 21st July, 1822, a purse was subscribed, and the announcement being
made to the London pugilists, some of whom were exhibiting their skill
in the booths on Lewes Downs, Peter Crawley proposed that Neale should
offer himself to “any countryman on the ground.” One Bill Cribb, a
brick-maker, who held among his companions the title of the Brighton
champion, and known as an exhibitor at the Fives Court, accepted the
challenge. Neale was seconded by Peter Crawley and Peter Warren, Cribb
by Belasco and Massa Kendrick (the man of colour). No time was lost, and
the men at once began.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The Brighton man looked hard and muscular. He at once went
to work right and left, but was short, from his opponent’s activity.
Neale nobbed his man prettily, but Cribb returned in a rally, with a
sounding body blow. “Well done, Brighton.” Neale stopped prettily,
and in closing sent his man to grass.
2.—Neale, after a feint or two, stopped a right-hander and sent in
one, two, cleverly, got away, and repeated the pepper. Cribb stood
it gamely, like his namesake, but he could not get home well. In the
close Cribb got Neale under.
3.—Cribb’s dial much battered, but he took it cheerfully and tried
to lead off. Neale again gave him a postman’s double knock on the
middle of the head that sent him back into his corner. He, however
fought his way out, but slipped down.
4, 5, 6, 7.—Similar to the third round, except that in the last
Neale hit Cribb clean off his legs. Two to one offered.
8.—Cribb could not keep Neale’s fist from his face, yet he fought
game till his strength failed, and he got down anyhow.
9.—Neale set aside the efforts of his opponent with ease and
coolness. Cribb could not keep him out, and was again down.
10.—The Brighton man, still game, was up determinedly, and showed
fight, getting in a slovenly crack or two in a rally until punished
down.
11, and last.—Cribb, without a shadow of a chance, bored in; Neale
caught his head under his left arm and fibbed him severely, until he
broke away quite groggy. Neale sent him down, and he was deaf to
“time.” Over in fifteen minutes.
REMARKS.—Neale out-fought his man at all points. It is clear no
yokel must meddle with the Streatham youth. Hickman, the Gasman,
held the watch, the ring was well kept, and the subscribers declared
themselves well pleased with the short but sharp battle. Neale was
without a mark on the face.
Three days after, on the 3rd of August, 1822, Neale being at Lewes
Races, and a purse being declared, Miller, a London pugilist, known by
the odd sobriquet of “The Pea-soup Gardener,” offered himself. Young
Ned, “to keep his hand in,” accepted the challenge. Neale on this
occasion was waited on by his late opponent, the Brighton champion, and
Peter Warren—Miller by young Belasco and a friend. The fight was a
fiasco. Pierce Egan says, “The _pea-soup_ cove was made _broth_ of in
the first round.” The affair went on for six more rounds, when Miller
gave up the battle, saying “he would fight any man of his weight.” Over
in seven minutes.
This little provincial practice brought Neale forward, and his next
appearance was on the London stage, with Hall, of Birmingham, as his
opponent. Hall had just distinguished himself by defeating the
once-famous Phil Sampson, of whom more anon. The affair came off at
Wimbledon, on Tuesday, November 26th, 1822, Hall being the favourite at
six to four, and much money was laid out by backers of Hall from the
“Hardware Village.”
The road exhibited a good sprinkling of the fancy, particularly the
milling coves. Martin, Randall, Shelton, Spring, Oliver, Abbot, Lenney,
Brown, Hickman, Stockman, Carter, A. Belasco, Ned Turner, Scroggins,
Barlow, Dolly Smith, Spencer, &c., assisted in keeping a good ring. This
fight was announced to be on the square, and “lots of blunt dropped on
it.”
At one o’clock Hall, accompanied by Josh Hudson and Jack Carter,
attempted to throw his nob-cover into the ring, but the wind prevented
it reaching the ropes. Neale soon followed, attended by Harry Holt and
Paddington Jones. Hall was favourite, at six to four.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Hall displayed a fine frame, and his features reminded some
spectators of Tom Reynolds, while others declared his figure to
resemble the formidable “Gasman” (Tom Hickman). Neale also looked
well, but was by no means in as good condition. Hall began, breaking
ground and working round, but by no means cleverly. Neale faced him,
armed at all points. Hall went in with a half-arm hit, and Neale,
stepping back, caught him a flush left-hander on the nose. Hall
staggered, and as Neale went in, slipped down. The Streathamites
uproarious. “Take him back to Brummagem! he can’t stop, except with
his head!”
2.—Hall tried to shake off the last facer. He sparred, shifted
ground, and stopped one or two blows neatly. Neale forced the
fighting and the men closed. Hall got hold of Neale to fib, but the
Streatham Youth extricated himself, not, however, before Hall had
damaged his nose and mouth by a round hit or two. Neale went down.
3.—Neale planted a heavy blow on Hall’s ear. Hall bored in and got
hold of Neale, hugging him on the ropes, and trying to fib, but not
effectively. Neale got down. Hall was evidently the stronger man,
but the worse fighter.
4.—Hall rushed in, got a nobber, but closed and threw Neale heavily.
Cheers from the hardware lads.
5.—The Streatham Youth met his man boldly and coolly, hit him twice
on the head, avoiding the return, and after a sharp rally sent Hall
down. The odds changed, Neale for choice, 5 to 4.
6.—Hall fought rather wild—Neale steady, and active in defence.
Again Neale visited Hall’s right eye heavily, raising a large mouse.
A severe struggle. Hall fell through the ropes. 6 to 4 on Neale.
7.—Hall was piping. He did not like to commence milling, for fear of
consequences. “You have been a soldier,” said Josh. “Fighting is
their business; why don’t you fight?” A good round was the result,
and Neale was thrown.
8.—It was “bellows to mend” with Hall; and Neale was none the better
for the throws. A long pause, both combatants sparring for breath.
“How is your wind?” said Josh. “Like a horse,” was the reply from
Hall. “Then go to work, instead of standing as independent as a
gemman,” Hudson said. Neale thrown in a struggle.
9, 10, 11, 12.—More struggling at the ropes than effective blows,
although lots of fibbing took place.
13.—Neale took the lead in this round, nobbed Hall over the ring,
till he went down. A Babel shout of applause.
14.—Neale showed weakness; in closing he went down.
15.—The Streatham Youth went to work in this round, put in three
facers without any return, and got Hall down.
16, 17, 18.—Hall showed plenty of game, but he could not fight; in
close quarters he had generally the best of it.
19.—Neale, on setting-to, floored Hall; but the latter instantly
jumped up, put up his hands, and said, “Oh, that’s nothing at all.”
20.—Hall came to the scratch in a shaky state, when Neale planted
some sharp hits, till he went down.
21.—Hall ran Neale off his legs furiously.
22, 23.—Struggling at the ropes, till both down.
24.—Hall was so distressed that on setting-to he caught hold of
Neale’s hands, when both went down in a struggle; not a blow passed
between them.
25.—It was evident a round or two more must finish the fight. Much
execution had been done on both sides; Neale was severely peppered
about the body; he slipped down.
26, and last.—The Birmingham man getting bad in struggling at the
ropes to obtain the throw he received so severe a fall on his head,
that his seconds had great difficulty in lifting him from the
ground. When time was called, Hall was insensible, and remained in a
state of stupor for more than five minutes.
REMARKS.—It was a manly fight, and the heavy hits of Neale did
considerable execution. Had he been well, it was thought that Neale
could have won the battle in twenty instead of thirty minutes. Hall
knows little about scientific fighting; he is a random hitter, a
strong wrestler, can pull and haul a man about, and does not want
for game. Opposed to science and straight hitting he is lost.
Ned was now the conqueror in four succeeding battles, when Dav
Hudson[48] (brother to the John Bull fighter) was matched against him
for £40 a-side. The fight took place on Tuesday, September 23rd, 1823,
on Blindlow Heath, in Sussex, twenty-four miles from London. Early in
the morning the fancy were in motion, the amateurs grumbling at the long
distance they were compelled to go to witness a minor fight, when
Wimbledon Common would have answered the purpose. Hudson came on the
ground in first-rate style—a barouche and four—accompanied by a mob of
East-Enders. At one o’clock Dav threw his hat into the ring, followed by
his seconds, Tom Owen and Josh Hudson. Neale, a few minutes afterwards,
waited upon by Harry Holt and Jem Ward, repeated the token of defiance.
Six to four on Neale.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Hudson appeared too fat, while Neale looked as fine as a
star. David hit short; Neale also got away from a second blow. In
fact, it was a long scientific round, displaying considerable boxing
skill on both sides, but no work; ultimately a few blows were
exchanged, yet no mischief done. In struggling for the throw, Hudson
was undermost.
2.—This was a similar round. Neale would not fight first, and showed
great agility in getting away. It was evident in this early stage of
the fight that Hudson was too short for his opponent; the loss of
his eye was also a great drawback. Hudson often missed his
adversary, hitting at random, owing to the above defect. In closing,
both down.
3, 4, 5, 6.—Neale received two severe cross-buttocks, but he did not
appear to be injured by them.
7, 8, 9, 10.—Tedious to the spectator and of no interest to the
reader.
11.—This round reminded the amateurs what Davy was in his prime. He
went to work boldly, when a sharp rally commenced, but the length of
Neale gave him the best of it. Hudson received a tremendous hit on
the left ear; the claret flowed profusely.
12.—This was a similar round, but Neale went down. Great shouting
from the East Enders. “Go it, my little Davy!”
13.—Neale received another cross-buttock. David was the better
wrestler.
14, 15, 16.—Hudson was terribly distressed. He was too puffy. Neale
was piping a little. Neale was thrown by Hudson, alighting, like a
tumbler, on his hands. Seven to four on the Streatham Youth.
17, 18, 19, 20.—The truth must be told. Stale cocks must give way to
younger birds. Davy had been a publican, and the ill effects of the
waste-butt here began to peep. Davy thought himself now as good a
man as when he beat Harry Holt, disposed of West Country Dick, and
defeated Scroggins. That his courage was equally good cannot be
denied. But nature will not be played tricks with; and training
cannot make a young man, though it may help an old one. In all the
above rounds Hudson could not reduce the strength of his adversary.
21, 22.—Hudson’s face had received pepper, and Neale’s mug was
rather flushed. Each seemed to be anxious to throw the other, and
closed quickly.
23.—Neale received a severe hit between his eyes, that made him wink
again. He, however, recovered, and made the best of a rally, till,
in closing, both went down. Two to one on Neale.
24.—Hudson fought like a Hudson. For high, if not the highest,
courage in the Prize Ring, no boxers stand better than Dav and Josh.
But a man cannot have his cake who has eaten it. This was another
sharp rally, but terribly to the disadvantage of Hudson, who was
nearly finished.
25, and last.—Neale, as the term goes, had “got” David, and by a
very severe hit on the latter’s throat, floored him. On Josh picking
up his brother he said he should not fight any more—a proper and
humane decision. It was over in fifty-three minutes. Josh carried
David in his arms out of the ring. A collection to the amount of six
pounds was made for Hudson.
REMARKS.—It was by no means the smashing fight which had been
previously anticipated. If Neale had gone to work, instead of being
over-cautious, he must have won it off-hand.
Neale, by his repeated conquests, now became an interesting object to
the fancy, and was matched by his friends against the scientific Aby
Belasco for £50 a-side.
To render the battle more interesting to the sporting world, the day was
fixed by mutual consent for the 7th of January, 1824, to fight in the
same ring with Langan and Spring. Both the combatants were in attendance
on the ground ready to fight at Worcester; but owing to the lateness of
the hour when the championship battle was decided, the fight unavoidably
was postponed. This untoward circumstance was a great mortification both
to Belasco and Neale.
A short time after this disappointment Ned accepted a challenge from Tom
Gaynor, at the Fives Court, at the benefit of Tom Reynolds, for £50
a-side. This battle was decided at Shepperton Range, on Thursday, the
24th of May, 1824.
The ring was soon made, and at one o’clock Gaynor appeared, and
attempted to throw his hat into the ring, but the wind prevented its
arrival; one of his seconds, Callas, picked it up and threw it into the
ropes, Gaynor’s other second being Ben Burn. Neale soon followed, and
dropped his castor gently into the ring, under the protection of Josh.
Hudson and Harry Holt. The colours were tied to the stakes—dark blue for
Neale, and blue mixed with yellow for Tom Gaynor. Two to one on Neale,
but numerous bets that the latter did not win in an hour.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Neale was quite up to the mark in point of condition and
confidence, and really looked a formidable man. Gaynor was well
enough, but by comparison the greatest novice must have taken Neale
for choice. Gaynor, who was a carpenter by trade, had been
represented as a tremendous hitter, which accounts for the caution
observed by Neale. Five minutes passed without a blow being struck,
Neale being prepared at all points. Neale made several good stops,
and at length put in a rum one on the body of his opponent. (“That’s
the way, Ned!”) Feints, offers, retreating, occurred till nine
minutes were past, when Neale gave Gaynor a sharp left-hander on the
side of his nob. An exchange took place, and in closing, both down,
Gaynor undermost.
2.—Gaynor’s left eye was touched a little, and after a number of
movements, similar to the first round, Gaynor rushed in and threw
Neale.
3.—Twenty minutes had elapsed and no claret seen, so great was the
caution on both sides. This round was concluded by Neale putting in
two or three clumsy thumps, Gaynor falling forward and Neale upon
him.
4–10.—Neale had not a mark about him, but Gaynor had napped
punishment, and went down tired.
11.—Gaynor, it was said, went down without a blow; but the umpire
was appealed to, when he gave it as his opinion that blows having
been struck in the round it was not foul.
12–17.—Neale had got his man to a certainty, and Gaynor was all the
worse for the fighting. The nob of the carpenter was damaged, and
his upper lip cut through. In one of the above rounds a singular
circumstance occurred. The men struggled at the ropes, got through
them, and fought a good round outside in the open. One hour and
three minutes.
18–21 and last.—Gaynor had not a shadow of chance in any of these
rounds, and at the conclusion of the last, in which Gaynor was
thrown heavily, Cribb stepped into the middle of the ring and said,
“I will give in for Gaynor.”
REMARKS.—It is impossible to please all parties—in fact, a man
cannot at all times please himself. Many persons called the above
battle a bad fight, others said it was not half a good one, while,
on the contrary, several excellent judges insisted that Neale had
won it “cleverly.” It is true Neale obtained the victory without a
scratch, and that alone is saying something for a man, after
fighting one hour and ten minutes with a boxer who had been called
“a tremendous hitter.” Neale was determined not to give a chance
away—he meant winning and nothing else; his backers we are sure will
not find fault with him on that account. We never saw the Streatham
Youth so cautious before. At all events Neale has won all his
battles, and it will take a good man indeed to make him say, “No;”
indeed, the Streatham Youth asserts the word “no” is not to be found
in his spelling-book.[49]
Neale had now risen so high in the estimation of the patrons of boxing
that he was backed without hesitation by his friends for £100 a-side
against Edward Baldwin (White-headed Bob). The battle was fixed for
Monday, July 26th, 1824. The bill of fare at Shepperton [three fights]
was rather inviting to the fancy, or, as the professionals belonging to
another stage phrase it, “a good draw.” There was accordingly an immense
attendance of all classes at Shepperton. At the appointed hour Neale was
there, and threw his hat into the ring. Baldwin soon after arrived in
the carriage of his backer (Mr. Hayne). But, alas! it was but the shadow
of the stalwart White-headed Bob of a few months previous. His
complexion, as old Caleb Baldwin facetiously remarked, might have earned
him the name of “White-faced Bob.” Imprudent indulgence, late hours,
loose associates, women, and wine had prostrated him; and his
“Pea-green” backer, alighting from his drag, said, “Bob’s health is such
he can’t fight with anything like a chance; so, as I don’t want to creep
out, or to expose a brave fellow to defeat, I now declare Neale entitled
to the stakes as a forfeit.” And thus ended round the first, by the
transference of a cool hundred to the pocket of the Streatham Youth,
without even holding up his hands.
In a few weeks, the medicos having doctored the White-headed one sound
in wind and limb, a new match was made for £100 a-side; the day fixed
was the 19th of October, 1824, and a field contiguous to Virginia Water
selected as the _champ clos_. A goodly muster of the Corinthian order,
as “the Upper Ten” were then designated, surrounded the lists. Baldwin
endeavoured to throw his hat into the ring, but the wind prevented its
falling within the ropes. He was seconded by no meaner men than the
champions, Tom Cribb and Tom Spring. The castor of Neale arrived at its
proper destination, and both men were loudly greeted. Harry Holt and Jem
Ward attended upon the Streatham Youth. The colours were tied to the
stakes—blue bird’s-eye for Neale, and crimson for Baldwin. Five to four
had been previously betted upon Neale; even betting, however, was about
the thing—the Streatham Youth for choice.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—So eager were the men to begin that they were both in
attitude before the umpires were chosen. This deficiency was soon
remedied, and both on the look-out for an opening. The frame of
Baldwin was muscular and fine: Neale also had a robust appearance.
Both shy, cautious, and nothing like work. Feints on both sides,
shifts, stops, and no go. “Are you afraid, Bob?” from a voice in the
crowd. Baldwin made a good stop with his left. Counter-hitting; a
slight shade of the claret appeared on the right side of Neale’s
nose. A long pause; both ready, but no opening; at length an
exchange of blows took place, Baldwin retreating to the ropes; Neale
in the struggle for the throw showed most strength, and the
White-headed one was thrown. This round occupied nearly seven
minutes.
2.—The ear of Neale looked red; Bob attempted to do “summat,” but
missed. Neale planted a clean facer, but he napped one in turn. Both
were now busy, but Baldwin was again undermost.
3.—Neale took the lead in this round in gay style; he gave a facer
so hard and sharp that Bob’s pimple shook again; indeed, he was upon
the stagger from its severity. Ned repeated the dose twice with
success; and over Bob’s left eye appeared a cut. Neale ran in to do
execution, but Bob put up his left hand, and bobbed his head away to
avoid punishment. In the struggle both down, Neale undermost. (A
shout for Baldwin.)
4.—This was a gallant round. Baldwin planted a severe hit on the
middle of the Streatham lad’s face; the claret ran down in streams.
Counter-hits and good work. Neale was thrown.
5.—Bob was now advised to fight first, but he did not take the hint.
Caution again the order of the day. (Here Cribb mimicked the
attitudes of Harry Holt, who was eloquently advising his man.) Bob
retreated, and Neale hit him on the back as he was going down.
6.—Nothing; of no use to either side.
7, 8.—Not effective; Bob was a difficult man to be got at. Both
down.
9–12.—Bob napped a rum one on his body which made him twist. In the
eleventh cries of “foul” occurred; Neale was in the act of hitting
as his opponent was going down. It was not intentional. Bob went
down in a close at the last round covered with claret.
13.—The superiority of Neale was evident; he nobbed Bob
successfully; and at the ropes the White-nobbed one went down
exhausted.
14.—The left peeper of the Streathamite was considerably damaged;
and his friends were alarmed lest it should soon be dark. Neale
obtained a point towards victory in this round; he threw Baldwin
heavily, and fell upon him.
15.—This was a hotly contested round, and both men did their best.
Bob proved himself a much better man than Neale had anticipated;
giving and taking were prominent, but the round finished in favour
of Neale, who threw Bob on his head.
16.—A good rally, but Bob appeared to be at a loss in sharp attacks;
out-fighting should have been his game. The faces of the combatants
exhibited severe punishment. Both down. Serious faces all round the
ring and great doubts who had the best of it. The truth was, at this
period of the fight, it was almost anybody’s battle, though Neale
hit swiftest and straightest.
17, 18, 19, 20, 21.—All these rounds were fought manfully; and Neale
satisfied all his backers that he was nothing else but a game man.
He was severely punished, but his courage was so high that he never
flinched. The friends of Bob still thought he might win it. The
Streatham Youth gave Bob such a severe cross-buttock that the latter
showed visible symptoms of bellows to mend; yet a tolerably good
judge cried out, “Bob will win this battle!”
22.—Six to four was offered freely at the conclusion of this round.
The nob of Bob was at the service of his opponent, and in getting
him down Neale rolled over his man.
23.—Severe counter-hitting, Neale undermost in the fall. The
Streatham lad appeared rather weak, yet his eye was full of fire.
24.—“It is a capital fight,” was the general cry; and the hard
hitting and gaiety displayed by Neale gave his friends confidence
that he would last too long for Bob. Neale went down on his
opponent.
25.—This was a severe round, and considerable execution was done on
both sides. More than an hour had elapsed, yet bettors were shy as
to the event. Neale went down rather exhausted.
26.—Spring whispered to Baldwin to fight first—to lead off with his
left hand, and it would be “all right.” Bob tried it, but Neale got
away, hit him in retreating; in closing Bob was thrown.
27.—Counter-hits effective, but nothing to anybody but the
combatants; “lookers on” will find fault at times. Neale slipped
down by the force of his blow, which missed the object intended.
28.—In this round Bob seemed to be recovering his wind a little, and
endeavoured to take the lead. A rally; but Bob did not appear to
advantage in close fighting. Neale down, and Bob with him.
29.—The right hand of the Streatham Youth felt for the face of his
antagonist three times in succession. Bob went down weak.
30.—Neale napped a smart one on his nose, which produced the claret;
he was anxious to return the compliment, and in attacking Bob, the
latter attempted to retreat, but fell.
31.—Ward, who was the bottle-holder, thought it prudent to give
Neale a small taste of brandy, which had the desired effect. This
was a milling round on both sides, until both measured their lengths
upon the turf.
32.—Neale put in a sharp body blow, which almost doubled up poor
Bob. The latter, at times, appeared a little abroad, and Neale took
advantage of every opening that offered itself. The Streathamite had
the worst of the throw, and Bob fell upon him.
33.—Neale now proved himself to be the more effective boxer; he hit
and followed Bob till he went down at the ropes. Neale could not
stop himself in the act of delivering, and cries of “foul” were
repeated.
34.—Bob was getting very weak, and went down from a slight hit.
35.—The story was nearly told; without an accident, it was almost a
certainty Bob must lose it. The latter fell on his face.
36.—Neale planted three successive facers, and by way of a climax,
threw White-headed Bob. Three to one.
37.—Baldwin was so weak that he almost laid down. “Take him away!”
38.—Short but sweet to Neale; the stakes nearly in his hands; he hit
Baldwin down cleverly.
39.—It was almost useless to show at the scratch, but Baldwin did
not like to resign the contest. Bob down.
40, and last.—Bob was no sooner up than he was down. Cribb said he
should not fight any more. Neale jumped several times off the
ground, so much was he elated by his conquest. It was over in one
hour and thirteen minutes.
REMARKS.—Some would-be critics declared that Neale did not fight
well; we think he won the battle with great credit to himself. He
has clearly manifested to the sporting world that he possesses two
good points towards victory—Neale can take as well as give. It
should be remembered Neale had not yet numbered twenty years, yet he
had attained, step by step, the high situation he held upon the
milling list. Bob asserts he was not well. He might have been ill,
but still he might have made use of his left with more effect, and
not bobbed his head back so often. At all events, it was a capital
mill.
Neale, gaining higher ground in the fancy, was matched against Jem Burn,
for £200 a-side. On Tuesday, December 19th, 1824, this battle was
decided at Moulsey Hurst. Neale was decidedly the favourite.
At one o’clock Jem Burn, attended by his uncle Ben, and Tom Oliver,
threw his hat into the ring; and almost at the same instant Neale,
waited upon by Harry Holt and Sam Tibbutt, repeated the token of
defiance. The colours, blue for Neale and a dark grey for Burn, were
tied to the stakes; hands were shaken in token of friendship, and the
fight commenced.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Jem, on peeling, obtained the approbation of all the
spectators, and “He is a fine young man,” was the general opinion
round the ring. Neale was cool and steady, and seemed quite aware of
the height and length of his opponent. Jem, in a hurry, went to
work, and with his right hand touched an old place, damaged in the
fight with White-headed Bob. Neale got away from two or three more
attempts of Jem; but the young one, at length, succeeded in planting
another sharp blow over Neale’s eye, which produced the claret.
(“First blood!” exclaimed Uncle Ben.) Neale still on the defensive,
till they got close together at the ropes, when Ned put in one or
two good ones. In closing, Neale got his man down, and fell upon
him.
2.—Burn, full of spirit, made play on witnessing the claret
trickling from the forehead of his opponent, and obscuring his eye.
(“Go it, Jem! it’s all right!”) The length of Burn enabled him to
plant a facer; but Neale returned sharply. This round also finished
by Burn being undermost in the fall.
3.—Jem showed himself more troublesome than Neale expected, but it
was evident he wanted stamina. Small symptoms of piping betrayed
themselves; Burn had been getting on beyond his strength. Neale
planted two sharp hits with his right; some good fighting took
place, and Burn, by his stops, convinced the spectators he was not
destitute of science. Counter-hitting; but the blows of Burn, from
his length, were the most effective, and the claret flowed freely
from Neale’s damaged peeper. A rally, when they separated. A pause;
a little wind necessary for Jem. In closing, Uncle Ben’s “nevvy” met
with a heavy fall.
4.—The Streatham Youth cleared away the blood from his eye. This
round was decidedly in favour of Burn; and, after an exchange of
blows, Neale was knocked clean down by a blow on his chest. This
event decided two bets in favour of Burn—first blood and first
knock-down blow. (“We shall win it, for a thoosand!” cried Uncle
Ben. Loud shouting for the young ’un, and his friends, quite nutty
upon him, took the odds.)
5.—In point of punishment, the appearance of Neale was the worse,
but his confidence never forsook him, and he stood firm as a rock.
The men closed, but after an attempt at fibbing, separated. The
right hand of Neale did a little now and then, and Burn did not make
such good use of his left as he might have done. Burn again lost the
throw, and Neale went down heavily on him.
6.—In this round Neale gave his opponent pepper, met him right and
left, and threw him at the ropes. (“Well done, Ned!”)
7.—Jem showed weakness, when the Streatham Youth drove him to the
ropes, and in closing, Jem, with great activity, planted a facer;
but Neale laid hold of his adversary so tightly as to throw him over
the ropes.
8.—This round was “a chalk” for Neale; he took the lead, kept it,
and milled his opponent down. (“That’s the way, Ned—never leave
him!” Two to one on Neale.)
9.—Burn commenced the rounds in general well, but Neale finished
them. Jem again thrown.
10.—Jem got away well, but Neale was after him, and planted a body
blow with his right hand that nearly made an S of Burn; his game,
however, was so good that he shook it off. Neale met with a stopper
on his head, but nevertheless he threw Jem.
11.—The weakness of Jem could not be disguised, and he hit short.
Neale began a rally, and Jem was determined not to be behindhand
with him. In closing, Neale, with the utmost ease, gave his opponent
a complete cross-buttock.
12.—Nothing; Burn slipped down.
13.—Jem got away from several blows, and Neale did not do so much
execution as heretofore—in fact, the length of Burn rendered him
extremely difficult to be got at. In closing, Neale slipped on his
hands, but napped it on his ribs.
14.—Nothing the matter, and Jack as good as his master. Burn was
thrown.
15.—If the fight had not been taken out of Burn, it was clear to the
unbiassed spectators that he wanted stamina. Jem put up his hands to
defend himself, but he did not show any disposition to go to work.
Neale waited for him, when he went to mill, and poor Jem was not
only fibbed, but Neale fell upon him so hard as almost to force the
breath out of his body. (“It’s all your own, Ned!”)—three to one on
the Streatham Youth, by some desperate bettors.
16.—The fight was nearly over in this round, and if Jem had not
proved himself a game man, it would have been to a certainty. A
sharp rally took place, when Neale put in a slogger with his right
on Jem’s nob, that dropped him like a shot. (“He will not come
again!—Take him away!—He’s done for, poor fellow!”) However, a
little brandy revived him, and, when time was called, Jem appeared
at the scratch.
17.—This was short, and to add to the distress of Burn, Neale fell
upon him.
18.—Burn was down almost as soon as he appeared at the mark.
19.—After some futile attempts on the part of Burn to stop his
opponent, he was hit down.
20.—“It will soon be over,” said the friends of Neale. “Not for
three hours,” answered Uncle Ben. Jem was again sent down.
21.—Burn napped a facer, and was soon down, owing to weakness.
22.—Jem a little better; he appeared to be getting second wind, to
the great joy of his backers; he also made play, and planted a
couple of hits; but at the end of the round the finishing was on the
side of Neale, who got Jem down.
23.—This was a singular round. Neale bored his opponent to the
ropes; and in closing Jem struggled himself out of the ring. Burn
showed fight outside, but as Neale could not reach him, he returned
to the scratch, and sat himself down on his second’s knee. Burn then
entered the ropes, and followed his example, and so the round ended.
24–26.—In the last round, Jem dropped weak.
27.—The battle might now be said to be at an end; the event was
almost reduced to a certainty. Fighting, as to execution, was out of
the question on the side of Burn, and Neale was determined not to
give the slightest chance away. Burn went down.
28.—Jem now bobbed his head aside to avoid the coming blow, and was
hit down distressed.
29.—A severe cross-buttock nearly shook out the little wind left in
Jem’s body.
30.—After a trifling exchange of blows Jem went down.
31–54.—It would be a waste of time to detail these rounds; suffice
it to say that Burn fought like a brave man in all of them, and
never resigned the contest till Nature completely deserted him. We
repeat he is a brave young man, and ought to have been taken away
half an hour before the battle was over, which occupied one hour and
thirty-eight minutes.
REMARKS.—Neale was opposed to superior length, height, and an
active, aspiring young man, and moreover was in nothing like such
good condition as when he fought White-headed Bob; his hands also
went a little, and he had too much flesh upon his frame; yet he
never had the slightest chance of losing; his firmness never forsook
him, and he always kept the lead. He left off nearly as strong as
when he commenced. Neale is not a showy fighter, but the truth is,
winning eight battles speaks a volume as to his milling character;
and any boxer who enters the P. R. with Ned will find a good deal of
work cut out before he says “No.” Ned is an honest man, and
deserving of support; he is a civil, quiet, inoffensive fellow,
which entitles him to the attention of the fancy, and a great enemy
to “Lushington,” which renders the Streatham Youth a safe man at all
times to back. Jem was put to bed at the “Red Lion,” Hampton, and
Neale started for London at the conclusion of the battle.
By the advice of his friends, Neale inserted the following letters in
the sporting journals as to his future conduct in the P. R.:—
“_To the Editor_ of ‘PIERCE EGAN’S LIFE IN LONDON.’
“SIR,—In order that Baldwin’s (better known as White-headed Bob)
journey may not be delayed an hour on my account, I take the
earliest opportunity of acquainting him that it is not my intention
to appear again in the Prize Ring at present. As he has declared he
will fight no one but a winning man, he must excuse me if I am a
little particular upon that point, as I have never been beaten.
“My determination is adopted in deference to the wishes of those of
my friends by whom I consider it an honour to be guided, and who
possess the strongest claims to my grateful respect. When it is
recollected that I have fought and won three battles, besides
receiving forfeit, within seven months, I trust the liberal portion
of the sporting world will consider me entitled to a cessation from
labour for the present.
“I am, Sir, yours respectfully,
“EDWARD NEALE.”
“_Streatham, Jan. 15, 1825._”
“_To the Editor of_ ‘PIERCE EGAN’S LIFE IN LONDON.’
“SIR,—It was with much surprise I saw a paragraph in the _Dispatch_
of last Sunday stating that Cannon had declared, at Harry Holt’s,
his readiness to fight me for five hundred pounds. He probably was
not aware that in your paper of the 16th ult. I declared my
intention not to appear in the Prize Ring _at present_; he may,
therefore, save himself the trouble of again challenging me in my
absence. I believe I may with safety claim the merit of being cool
and steady in the ring, and I trust I shall always be firm and
consistent out of it; and if I could be induced to change my mind,
my late brave and manly antagonist, Baldwin, certainly claims the
preference.
“If, however, Cannon is particularly anxious to fight me, _and is
not in a hurry_, I am ready and willing to make a match with him for
three hundred pounds, to be decided the first week in the next year,
and shall be happy to meet him at any time or place, and put down a
deposit of fifty pounds. If I hesitate to meet his terms, it is
because I think five hundred pounds too great a sum to call upon my
backers for, to contend against a man so much my superior in weight
and height, and particularly one who aspires to the Championship of
England—a title which, I believe, is a considerable distance from
both of us. If, however, the chance of war should place the laurel
upon his brow this year, I will endeavour the next to remove it to
that of
“Your obedient, humble Servant,
“EDWARD NEALE.
“_Streatham, Feb. 12, 1825._”
Neale, in consequence of the above declaration, having plenty of time
upon his hands, was induced to visit Ireland—not only as a tour of
pleasure, but as a profitable spec., under the wing and mentorship of
Pierce Egan. The _Dublin Morning Post_ thus notices him:—
“THE FANCY.—On Monday night there was a grand muster of the fancy at the
Raquet Court, Winetavern Street, for the benefit of Neale and Larkin.
They were patronised by an immense number of swells and tip-top
Corinthians of this city. O’Neal, the big Irishman, displayed a ‘pretty
considerable’ deal of science in a set-to with his trainer, Pat Halton.
Larkin next put on the gloves, and gave a newly-arrived Corkonian a dose
that may probably induce him to relinquish any relish he might have had
for the pugilistic profession. Minor candidates then mounted the stage;
they forgot, in their ardour for punishing, that a good boxer, like a
good reader, always minds his stops. Just as the meeting was about
dissolving, a sprig named Jackson, anxious to gather some ‘Olympic
dust,’ challenged any man in the ring to a turn-up for fun. Neale, the
Streatham Youth, who was standing near him, offered his services, merely
for the pleasure of accommodating the young customer, whom he soon
convinced of having been under a mistake with respect to his prowess.
Five times did Ned treat the ‘aspiring youth’ to a smashing facer, and
five times did the boasting would-be pugilist (Jackson) fall to his
mother earth—
“‘——Like a full ear of corn,
Whose _blossom_ ’scaped, but wither’d in the _rip’ning_.’”
“TO THE SPORTING WORLD.—Ned Neale, the Streatham Youth, will have the
honour, on Monday night (for the first time in this kingdom), of
soliciting the patronage of his countrymen, at Fishamble Street Theatre.
He begs leave to state—and he trusts it will not be considered egotism
in him to mention it—that he has already contested the palm in eight
battles, with eight different candidates belonging to the Prize Ring of
London, and as yet he has not been the cause of a stigma on his country.
On this occasion a correct representation of that famed spot Moulsey
Hurst, with a view of a wood. In the foreground the ring, with umpires,
seconds, bottle-holders, fighting men, &c., &c. He begs to state that
Pat Halton, who is backed to fight the Chicken on the 4th of August,
has, assisted by all the first-rates of this city, offered his services
for this night only. A youth from Cork, named Donovan, will appear, who
wishes it known that he will peel with any man in the world of his own
weight. Ned begs leave to add that no exertion on his part shall be
wanting to show as much and as good sport as possible to those friends
who may honour him on Monday evening with their company. Boxes, 3s. 3d.;
Pit, 2s. 2d.; Gallery, 1s. 1d. Doors open at seven, and sparring
commences at half-past seven o’clock.”
Neale, on his return to England, made the happiest match of his life, in
which the “Ring” was also concerned, and, singular to remark, the name
of Baldwin was attached to the register as a witness. It was thus
announced in the journals of the day: “Fancy Marriage.—Married, on
Wednesday, June 29th, 1825, at St. Luke’s, Old Street Road, Mr. Edward
Neale to Miss Mary Weston. The happy pair, after a sumptuous breakfast
at Bob Watson’s, the ‘Castle,’ Finsbury, started for Margate to spend
the honeymoon.”
Neale was now installed Boniface of the “Black Bull,” Cow Lane,
Smithfield, one of the many old inns swept away by the modern Farringdon
Road and Smithfield improvements.
Sampson, who was always a restless and quarrelsome fellow, was
continually taunting Neale upon his “judicious retirement,” &c., and at
length, after some quires of correspondence, Neale declared his
readiness to accommodate him, to finally set at rest the question of
“best man.” Articles were signed to meet in June, 1826, and at the
signature Neale backed himself for an even £50.
The next week brought an afflicting event. In March, 1826, Mrs. Neale
died in childbed, and on the night of the second deposit at Holt’s,
Sampson, in a handsome and feeling manner, declared he should not claim
forfeit, and that the third deposit should be made as the second, on
that day month. The friends of Neale, however, declined the
postponement, and forfeited the money down. Thus matters rested until
the month of August, when Neale declared himself ready to meet Sampson
for not less than £200 a-side. The articles, now before us, run
literally thus:—
“_Articles of Agreement entered into this 11th of September, 1826,
between Edward Neale and Philip Sampson._
“The said Edward Neale agrees to fight the said Philip Sampson a
fair stand-up fight in a four-and-twenty foot ring, half-minute
time, for £200 a-side, on Tuesday, the 12th day of December, 1826.
In furtherance of this agreement £10 a-side are now deposited in the
hands of Mr. Pierce Egan. A further deposit of £40 a-side to be made
good on Wednesday, the 4th October, at Harry Holt’s, the ‘Cross,’ in
Cross Lane, Long Acre. A third deposit of £60 a-side to be made good
on Tuesday, the 7th of November, at Edward Neale’s, the ‘Black
Bull,’ Cow Lane, Smithfield. And the fourth and last deposit, of
£100 a-side, to be made good on Tuesday, the 5th of December, at
Josh. Hudson’s, the Half Moon Tap, Leadenhall Market. The fight to
take place within thirty miles of London, Mr. Egan to name the place
of fighting. The men to be in the ring between twelve and one
o’clock; and in the event of failure on either side to comply with
the terms of these articles, the party failing to forfeit the money
down. Two umpires and a referee to be chosen on the ground, and if
any dispute shall arise, the decision of the referee to be
conclusive, and the battle-money to be given up accordingly.
“EDW. NEALE.
“P. SAMPSON.
“Witness—JOHN ROOKE.”
On Tuesday, December 12th, 1826, at South Mimms Wash, Middlesex, fifteen
miles from London, this interesting contest was decided. Sampson was
thought by his friends to have improved considerably in frame and
science since his second contest with Jem Ward—nay, so much so that he
was placed as the “second best” on the list of pugilists; indeed, to
make use of Sampson’s own words, he acknowledged Jem Ward as his master,
but styled himself “foreman to the champion.” In calculating the
advantages he possessed over the Streatham Youth, three points were
considered in his favour—length, height, and weight; and another point
was added by some—the best fighter. Sampson’s immediate friends
therefore booked his winning as a certainty, urging, as a proof of their
good opinion, that Neale had never beaten or stood before so capital a
boxer as Sampson. The latter pugilist also supported this opinion by
offering to take long odds that he won the fight in fifteen minutes, and
without a black eye. Equally confident were the friends of Neale. They
urged that Ned had always proved himself a conqueror, and acted upon the
general rule adopted by sporting men—always to back a winning horse and
a winning man to the end of the chapter. Five and six to four were
betted in numerous instances upon the Streatham Youth.
As the time of fighting drew near the interest upon the battle
increased, and large sums of money were sported on the event. At the
John Bull Fighter’s dinner, when the whole of the four hundred
sovereigns were made good, Sampson and Neale met, but not upon the most
friendly terms. Sampson informed the company that he had heard Neale had
spoken of him in a disrespectful manner, and he now gave him the
opportunity of offering a contradiction to the aspersions he had made
upon his character. Neale, with considerable warmth, replied: “You
behaved unmanly to me in my own house, Sampson, while I was in a bad
state of health, and I will never forgive you till you and I have
decided our fight in the ring. Give me five pounds and I will bet you
one hundred that I lick you.” To prevent an open row it was judged
necessary by the backers of both of the men that they should separate as
soon as possible.
Every precaution was used to select a secure place for fighting; and
after an assurance that it was likely no interruption would take place,
Dunstable Downs was the spot appointed. Sampson left the “Crown” at
Holloway, his residence during the time of his training, on the
Wednesday previous to the battle, and took up his quarters at the
“Posting House,” in Market Street. Neale did not leave the house of his
backer at Norwood until Monday morning, when he was placed, on his
arrival in London, under the care of Mr. William Giles. Neale, in
company with the gay little Boniface of the first market in the world,
and Harry Holt, in a post-chaise, reached the Crown Inn at Dunstable
about eight in the evening of the Monday.
It might have been anticipated that in consequence of Sampson having
pitched his tent in the neighbourhood of the scene of action, a buzz
would be created that a prize-fighter was on the spot, and the
magistrates would become acquainted with the circumstance. It proved so,
for on the Monday morning a notice was sent that he must not fight in
the counties of Bedford and Buckingham. This information got wind early
on the Monday afternoon, and the town of Dunstable, which otherwise
would have been filled to an overflow, was completely spoilt, as the
amateurs preferred halting at Redburn and Market Street to proceeding
forward on a matter of doubt.
During the whole of the night carriages filled with persons were on the
road. An hour before daylight another magistrate arrived in Dunstable,
in his gig, declaring himself a magistrate for three counties, and that
no mill should take place in Bedfordshire, Buckinghamshire, or
Hertfordshire. On his meeting with Sampson, Phil promised the gent he
would not exhibit in either of the proscribed counties. It therefore
became necessary to hold a council of war. Sampson wished to proceed to
Stony Stratford, as a spot where no interruption was likely to take
place, but Pierce Egan, on whom the selection of the ground had
devolved, decided for Middlesex, acting upon the articles agreed to,
which stated the fight was to be within thirty miles of London. The
office being given “towards home,” confusion began, and “The devil take
the hindmost,” was the word. The northern stage coaches were all filled
inside and out, for the sudden turn round had nearly thrown most of the
passengers bound for the fight out of distance. All the post-chaises and
horses had been previously hired, so nothing else was left to numerous
persons, with plenty of cash in their purses, but to toddle for miles
through mud, slush, and heavy showers, to the scene of action. It was
truly laughable to see lots of heavy swells, with their thick upper
toggery tucked up under their arms, trudging along as if pursued by an
enemy, their brows covered with perspiration, and their hinder parts
splashed with dirt. The muster of the motley group was immense, and the
turn-out of Corinthians more numerous than had been seen for months past
at a fight. A crowd of fours-in-hand, tandems, curricles, post-chaises
and fours, cabriolets, gigs, drags, &c., were all trying to get the best
of each other to be early on the ground, and so obtain a good place. At
length Mimms Wash appeared in view, a large sheet of water, when Bill
Gibbons dashed through the stream with as much _sang froid_ as if he had
been crossing a kennel in the streets of London. “We are not going to be
outdone by the Ould One!” exclaimed some costermongers, following Bill,
and suffering for their temerity by going head over heels in the muddy
water mixture, to the no small chaffing and laughter of the crowd.
Several pedestrians, regardless of cold or consequences, waded the Wash
with as much indifference as if it had been a summer’s day. A swell, who
had plunged in up to his middle, invited his fellow-travellers to
accompany him through the flood, exclaiming: “I’m a philosopher! Come
along! Follow me. I’m not wet at all. You only _fancy_ it is water!” But
even this logic had not the desired effect, and his companions preferred
being conveyed across the Wash in a coach. The ring was soon made, upon
a rising spot of ground in a field hard by, and at a quarter past two
o’clock Sampson threw his hat into the ring, amidst loud cheers,
followed by his second and bottle-holder, Jem Ward and Jem Burn. Neale
soon afterwards repeated the token of defiance, attended by Josh Hudson
and Harry Holt. Sampson deliberately tied his colours (pink) upon the
stakes; and Holt placed the dark blue bird’s eye for Neale upon those of
his opponent. The men were not long in peeling, and at twenty-five
minutes after two they shook hands, and the battle commenced.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Both men appeared in excellent condition. Sampson was quite
tip-top, but Neale, it was thought, was not exactly weight—that is
to say, what he ought to have been—and the judges hinted he was
rather thin. The attitudes of the combatants claimed attention; in
fact, the contrast was singular. Neale held his left hand firmly
above his nob, operating as a kind of office that he was perfectly
aware of the danger of the Strong Man’s right mauley. Sampson’s
guard was low, but his ogles were on the alert, and he kept a good
look-out to do mischief. In most fights, the first round, if not
tedious, is generally expected to show superiority of science in one
of the men as the first blow is considered of consequence; but in
this instance it was extreme caution against extreme caution.
Sampson, however, had previously asserted that only let him have the
chance of getting Neale before him in the ring, and he would cut his
nob to pieces. Such is the difference between theory and practice;
Sampson soon found out the difficulty of going to work off-hand with
his clever opponent; and Neale, like that great master in the art of
war, the Duke of Wellington, was determined not to give away a
chance, and preferred the retreating system. Several minutes were
occupied in making offers, retreating, dodging, and pacing all over
the ring without any effect, Neale jumping back from every attempt
of Sampson. The goodness of Ned upon his pins attracted the
attention of all spectators. After numerous attempts to do “summat,”
Neale having retreated to a corner of the ring, Sampson went in and
planted a slight facer. Ned, having no opportunity to make a hit,
closed with his adversary. In struggling for the throw, Sampson down
and undermost. (The Streathamites opened their chaffing-boxes, and
gave him the benefit of their red rags, by repeated shouts of
approbation.)
2.—The left arm of Neale was again raised, and Sampson could not
make him out. The latter boxer did not at all seem prepared for the
mode of defence resorted to by his adversary. Neale, it should seem,
had made up his mind to a certain mode of fighting, and was not, by
any stratagem of Sampson, to be led away from it. Neal kept walking
round his adversary, anxious to obtain an opening, and retreating
when anything like danger showed itself. It was remarked by a
spectator that “if the one was afraid, the other dared not commence
fighting.” Several minutes passed away in looking at each other, and
in making feints. Phil at length went to work, but missed a slashing
hit, which was calculated to have done mischief. Neale returned, but
it was not effective. In closing, Neale threw Sampson heavily.
(“Bravo, Neale!” from his partisans.)
3.—Sampson eyed his opponent from head to foot. Both combatants were
tired of holding up their arms, or appeared to be so, and Sampson,
finding nothing was to be done, dropped his guard, and stood still.
Neale also crossed his arms, and viewed his opponent. In fact, it
was a complete suspension of hostilities—the spectators at length,
became impatient, and expressed their disapprobation. Each man
several times made himself up to do mischief, and every peeper was
upon the stretch to witness some hits, instead of which retreating
was again the order of the day. Sampson, in following Neale, got the
latter boxer again in the corner of the ring, when he hit out right
and left, and caught Neale on the mug, but Ned returned the
compliment. In closing, Sampson went down on his knees, and brought
down Neale with him. Odds were betted on Neale.
4.—“He’ll go to work soon,” said Ward, pointing to Sampson, “and
give Neale a slogger.” “I should like to see it,” said an old
ring-goer; “I never saw such a mill before!” “I call it anything but
fighting,” replied a third. The men looked at each other, and
Sampson, with all his cleverness and experience, could not put Neale
off his mode of fighting. An exchange of blows, but no mischief.
Sampson made a good stop, or his wind-market must have been
disturbed. Neale, however, got another turn, and planted a rum one
on Sampson’s canister. (Loud shouting from Neale’s friends.) Sampson
missed one of his wisty-casters at the nob of his opponent, or Ned’s
upper works might have been in chancery. In closing, Sampson
endeavoured to fib his adversary. Ned was thrown, Sampson uppermost.
5.—This was a short round. Neale rushed in and got Sampson down.
6.—A little bit of fighting this bout. Sampson tried all he knew,
but Neale would not be had, and got away from all his opponent’s
feints. After some manœuvring Sampson again had Neale in the corner
of the ring, and planted one of his heavy right-handed hits on his
temple. Ned for an instant appeared stunned, and fell on his knees,
but jumped up directly to renew the fight. Hudson, however, pulled
him down on his knee, and the round was finished.
7.—After some little dodging about the ring, each crossed his arms
and stood still. Barney Aaron begged the fight might be put off, and
begun again the next day with daybreak. “No, no,” exclaimed an Old
One, “recollect there’s moonlight.” “I am happy,” exclaimed Josh,
“that I am a patient man.” These, and a thousand such remarks,
occurred all round the ring, but still the combatants were not
roused into action. (“Come,” said Sampson to Neale, “why don’t you
fight?”—“When I like,” answered Ned; “you begin, I’ll soon be with
you.”) This round was tediously long. Counter-hitting, Neale planted
a sharp blow on Sampson’s nob, and the latter returned with his
right. (“He can’t make a dent in a pound of butter, Sampson. Go to
work, and hit him as you did me,” said Jem Burn.—“Be quiet,” said
Harry Holt; “look to your man. It’s as safe as if it was over.” This
latter remark seemed to make Sampson angry, and with a sneer he
observed, “What signifies what a fellow like you says?”—“I’ll give
you one presently for that,” answered Neale; “he is my second, so
you don’t like him.”) Neale napped a heavy one to all appearance on
his head; but Sampson received a smart body blow. A variety of
feints—great preparation—retreating, but no blows. In closing,
Sampson fibbed his antagonist slightly. Both down, Neale undermost.
The friends of Sampson here gave him a chevy for luck. During the
short space of time Neale sat upon Josh’s knee, he said to him,
“Sampson is but a light hitter.”—“Well, then,” replied the John Bull
Fighter, “there can be no mistake about your winning!”
8.—Sampson said “First blood!” pointing to a slight scratch near
Neale’s mouth. “Don’t be foolish,” replied Hudson; “it is only a
touch of the scurvy on his cheek—a pimple irritated.” Neale stopped
in style a tremendous right-handed hit. A pause. Sampson made a
stunning hit on the head of his opponent, which nearly turned Ned
round. (“What, you’ve caught it at last,” said Jem Ward, rubbing his
hands. “Another blow like that, and good night to you, Master
Neale.”—“Walker,” replied Josh. “Why, Jemmy, you are all abroad, to
talk so!”) In closing, Sampson obtained the throw.
9.—This was an excellent fighting round. After the numerous
standstills which had occurred—feints, getting away, &c.—Neale
seemed quite ripe for execution. Sampson received a rum one on his
listener, but returned cleverly on Neale’s index. Some good stopping
occurred upon both sides, and it appeared to the spectators that the
fight had just commenced. Neale stopped one of Sampson’s tremendous
right-handed hits so well that several persons exclaimed,
“Beautiful!” Sampson missed one or two blows. A short rally
occurred, when Sampson went down from a slight hit. Ned, as yet, had
scarcely the slightest mark of punishment. His friends were
satisfied he was so good upon his pins that he would wear out his
opponent if it came to staying.
10.—Neale saw an opening, and without hesitation turned it to his
advantage. He commenced milling with severity, and planted two good
hits. He also repeated the dose by a heavy right-handed hit on the
jaw of his opponent, which took Sampson off his legs as if shot. He
was picked up by his second like a log of wood. His eyes were
closed, and his nob was swinging on his shoulder as if it did not
belong to his body. “It is all U P,” was the cry—“the Strong Man is
done over.” Any odds in favour of Neale. Ward endeavoured to keep
Sampson’s head steady, and led him to the scratch.
11, and last.—Sampson appeared incapable of keeping his legs,
neither did he attempt to put up his arms. He was of no use. Neale,
by way of finisher, planted a light blow, and Sampson again measured
his length upon the grass. When time was called, Sampson did not
leave the knee of his second. Holt threw up the hat, and victory was
declared in favour of Neale; Sampson observing he would “fight no
more,” when asked by Ward, and requesting his second to take him out
of the ring. Neale jumped about the ground for joy, and soon left
the ring for London, neither fatigued nor hurt. Sampson was taken by
some of his Birmingham friends to Market Street. The fight lasted
one hour and six minutes.
REMARKS.—That this fight was not a good one was certainly not the
fault of Neale. He expected, from the boast of Sampson, that he
would go in and win off-hand, or fall in the attempt. Hence Ned’s
over-caution, as it proved. Neale never was a showy pugilist; on the
contrary, he was steady, cautious, and safe. Sampson, when he found
he could not confuse his man by impetuosity, fell off sadly, and the
affair, which it was anticipated would be a rattling fight, became a
tedious succession of bouts of sparring, with short intervals of
hitting, in which Neale was slowly but surely establishing his
superiority, and Sampson was beaten against his will.
Many of the friends of Cannon, the “Great Gun of Windsor,” were of
opinion that their man was just the sort of pugilist to “make Ned
fight.” Accordingly a proposal was made for a meeting for a stake of
£200 a-side, and accepted by Neale. On Tuesday, February 20th, 1827, the
men met at Warfield, in Berkshire. The morning was intensely cold, and
both men appeared at the ring-side with their nobs covered with Welsh
wigs, Neale having slept overnight at the “Crown,” in Windsor, and
Cannon driven over from his training quarters, the New Inn, at Staines.
The men shook hands with smiling cordiality, each assuring the other he
“felt quite well.” The colours were then tied to the stakes, a blue
bird’s-eye for Neale, and crimson with a white spot for Cannon. Peter
Crawley and Harry Harmer waited upon Cannon, Harry Holt and Josh Hudson
on Neale.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The Great Gun, on stripping, showed excellent condition;
but in spite of good skin training, age cannot be concealed; and
Cannon, according to the exclamation of “The Gas,” was “an old man.”
The fact is that Neale was not yet twenty-three years of age, while
Cannon had passed his _thirty-sixth_! Cannon appeared cheerful,
smiling, and confident. The body of Neale was covered with spots,
like a leopard—his condition was anything but good; he had a slight
cold, and his flesh was soft; yet the grand points in his favour
were youth, and a “heart in the right place.” On setting-to, Cannon
did not display that bull-dog sort of eagerness which characterised
his efforts in his second battle with the John Bull Fighter, but he
was upon the alert, ready to punish, and anxious to obtain an
opening. Cannon commenced offensive operations, but his wary
opponent “would not have it,” and got away. Cannon tried it again,
but it would not do; Ned endeavoured to plant a hit, but the Great
Gun was not to be had, and retreated from mischief. Sparring on both
sides, but no hitting. Neale at length went to work, and with his
left mauley slightly touched his opponent’s canister; Cannon
returned sharply. A short struggle occurred, and Cannon went down.