On the 13th of November in the same year (1827) Jem a second time met
Ned Neale, but after a hard battle of forty-three rounds, occupying
forty-six minutes, had again to succumb to the conquering arm of the
Streatham Youth. (See Life of NEALE, _ante_, Chapter V., p. 310.)
This was Jem’s last appearance as a principal within the ropes of the P.
R. As a second, a backer, and a demonstrator of the art, the Press and
the sporting public never lost sight of him. His house, the “Queen’s
Head,” Windmill Street, Haymarket, which he kept for some years, was the
resort of all lovers of jolly companionship, and those who wished to
keep themselves _au courant_ to all sports of the ring.
Jem’s Master of the Ceremonies at his sparring _soirées_ was for some
time the accomplished light weight Owen Swift; and many an M.P. slipped
away from St. Stephen’s, and many a smart guardsman from a Belgravian
dinner-party, to give a look in at Jolly Jem’s snuggery; an inner
sanctum, communicating with the sparring-room, and set apart for “those
_I_ call gentlemen,” as Jem emphatically phrased it. The inscription
over the mantelpiece of this room, from the pen of “Chief Baron
Nicholson,” was appropriate:—
“Scorning all treacherous feud and deadly strife,
The dark stiletto and the murderous knife,
We boast a science sprung from manly pride,
Linked with true courage and to health allied—
A noble pastime, void of vain pretence—
The fine old English art of self-defence.”
In vain did mere playmen, or “calico swells,” attempt to gain a footing
in Jem’s “private room.” Jem instinctively detected the pretender.
“There’s just as much difference in the breed of men as there is in the
breed of horses,” he would say. “I read that fellow in a minute; the
club-room’s his place.”
In his later days Jem shifted his domicile to the “Rising Sun,” in Air
Street, Piccadilly (previously kept by Johnny Broome), where many a
night burly Jem was to be found, enjoying his pipe and glass, surrounded
by the few surviving members of the old school, and visited during the
season by many youthful saplings of the Corinthian tree, to whom Jem
would mirthfully and cheerily impart the adventures and sporting
experiences of his earlier days.
“A merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour’s talk withal.
His eye begat occasion for his wit,
For every object that the one did catch
The other turned to a mirth-moving jest.”
For several years, as Jem grew in years and in portliness, and, though
not a hard drinker, fully enjoyed the good things of this life, he was
subject to intermittent attacks of gout, which, towards 1862, assailed
him with increasing frequency, yet failing, when they gave him even a
short truce, to subdue his natural fun and frolic. It was during one of
unusual severity that we looked in to inquire after Jem’s health, and
his pleasant daughter (Mrs. Doyle) having taken up our name, the
bedridden boxer desired us to be “shown up.” We expressed our sympathy,
regarding at the same time with some curiosity a contrivance suspended
from the curtain-rods of the four-poster in which Jem was recumbent.
“Ha! old fellow,” said the merry Yorkshireman, “you’re wanting to spell
out the meaning of that. I’ll tell you, if this blessed crab that’s just
now got me in _toe_ don’t give his claw an extra squeeze. If he does,
why, I’ll strike, and he shall _tow_ me into port at once.”
“No, Jem, it’s not come to that yet.”
“But it very soon must, if it don’t stalk. See here,” said he, pointing
to a strong cord stretched from the top rail across the bed, from which
another cord was suspended midway, and made fast to the handle of an
old-fashioned corkscrew. “If it warn’t for this tackle I’d get no sleep
night nor day. Inside the bedclothes I’ve got a bung—good idea for a
licensed victualler—into that I screws the corkscrew through the
bedclothes, which I then raise tent-fashion by this hal’yard, and that I
make fast down here to the bedpost. There’s a wrinkle for you, Miles’s
Boy; but I hope you’ll never want it for yourself.” Poor Jem we never
saw again. His arch-enemy ascended to his portly stomach, and on the
morning of the 29th of May Jem slept with his forefathers.
“——Men must endure
Their going hence, even as their coming hither,
Ripeness is all.”
CHAPTER VII.
EDWARD BALDWIN (“WHITE-HEADED BOB”)—1823–1828.
Ned Baldwin, whose sobriquet was suggested from the profusion of his
pale flaxen hair, was born at Munslow, near Ludlow, in Herefordshire, on
the 6th May, 1803. His youth was spent in his native county, in which,
and in Shropshire and Worcestershire, several unimportant battles are
placed to his credit by “Boxiana.” After a gallant contest on Worcester
Racecourse with a local boxer named Souther, whom he defeated in an hour
and a quarter, a gentleman well known in the London Ring, finding him an
active, civil, and intelligent fellow, engaged him as his groom, and
brought him to London. A trial battle in Harper’s Fields, Marylebone,
with a big Irishman named O’Connor, in which the youngster displayed
more pluck than science, led to his master putting him under the tuition
of the scientific Bill Eales, who then superintended a boxery at his
house in James Street, Oxford Street. Here he rapidly improved his
style, and gained the reputation of a quick and fearless hitter, with
some skill in defensive tactics. In February, 1823, he went down to
Wimbledon, and there, after Hall and Wynes had settled their
differences, Bob, as he was now called, threw up his hat to accommodate
any man who had not yet fought in the Prize Ring, for £10 of his
master’s money. Here he was made the victim of a not very creditable
“plant.” The afterwards renowned Jem Ward, who had already defeated Dick
Acton and Burke (brother to “Warrior” Burke), and fought a draw with
Bill Abbott, habited in a countryman’s smock frock, was introduced as a
“yokel” aspirant. The men set to, but the _ruse de guerre_ was soon seen
through, and after nineteen minutes Bob’s friends took him away, though
Bob was game enough to have fought it out with defeat staring him in the
face.
[Illustration:
EDWARD BALDWIN (“WHITE-HEADED BOB”).
]
After a disappointment with Harry Lancaster, Baldwin was matched with
Maurice Delay, for £50 a-side, and the battle came off at the classic
ground of Moulsey, on the 11th of February, 1824. Bob was brought upon
the ground in a carriage, in a smart Witney upper, and threw his hat
into the ropes, esquired by Bill Richmond and Paddington Jones; Delay,
accompanied by Josh Hudson and Ned Neale, quickly followed. Tom Owen
fastened a green bandanna to the stakes for the East Ender, and Richmond
tied a blue bird’s-eye over it for Bob. The seconds and principals shook
hands, and the men threw themselves in attitude. Five to four on Maurice
Delay.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Delay on peeling looked an effective man; and the
White-headed One also appeared well as to condition. Bob did not
weigh more than 11st. 7lb. Delay was heavier by several pounds. The
latter made himself up for mischief, although he wore a cheerful
smile, and Bob had also a grin upon his countenance. Very little
time was lost in scientific movements, when Bob made a feint, but it
would not do. Delay hit out, and Bob got away. Delay stopped well
the right hand of his opponent. (“Stopping is very well,” said the
John Bull Fighter, “but hitting is better; be with him, he’s coming,
Maurice.”) Delay put in a heavy body blow, but Bob prevented a
repetition. A tiny bit of sharp work occurred, in which Delay’s lip
showed a slight tinge of claret, when the man of colour called out,
“First blood for a hundred!” The lads tipped it each other heavily.
In a sharp rally Delay was rather too much for his opponent; Bob
went down, and Delay hit him as he was going down. (A tremendous
shout from the East Enders; Tom Oliver offered 2 to 1 on Delay.)
2.—The left side of Delay’s temple, also his eye, exhibited
specimens of the handiwork of Bob. This was a short but a good
round, and Bob again went down. (The East Enders were “all
happiness;” and Maurice gave them the office it was as right as the
day.)
3.—Maurice, full of spirits, gave Bob’s chest an ugly touch; ditto,
and ditto. (“What are you arter?” said Tom Jones to his man. “Go to
work, he can’t hurt you.”) Bob countered in good style, also caught
Delay’s nob under his arm, and fibbed him down. (“Well done, Bob!”)
4.—Bob was piping a little. The White-headed One took the lead,
fibbed Maurice severely, and hit him twice as he was going down.
(“Where’s the umpires?” from the John Bull. “We must look after this
man. We will have nothing foul.”)
5.—Short and sweet to Bobby; a sharp rally; Delay went down
distressed.
6.—This was nothing else but a good fighting round; it was give and
take like a couple of good ones. Maurice satisfied the ring that he
was a game man; but Bob convinced the amateurs he was the best
fighter. After a sharp rally in which some ugly counter-hits
occurred, Maurice went down on his knees.
7.—Delay bored Bobby all over the ring, till he went down
distressed.
8.—Nothing. At the ropes a struggle took place for the throw;
Maurice was undermost.
9.—The counter-hits of Bob did precious mischief to the phrenology
box of Delay. He bothered Maurice’s order of caution. Bob also got
into his wine-cellar without a key, and tapped his claret without
the aid of a corkscrew. “Only look,” said Paddington Jones, “here’s
a bit of good truth,” while Bob kept fibbing his opponent till they
both went down, Maurice undermost.
10.—Wind was necessary on both sides, and both found that a little
pause was agreeable to their feelings. Delay’s hand told on Bob’s
body. After an exchange of blows, Bob again got Delay’s nob under
his arm, and tipped it to him _à la_ Randall, till he went down.
11.—Both had quite milling enough in this round. It was hit for hit
when they separated, and both fell.
12.—When time was called, Maurice came up as gay as a lark, and
endeavoured to mill his adversary all over the ring. Bob stopped two
heavy hits skilfully, and in closing got Delay’s head under his arm,
and punished him so severely that Delay fell down stupid. (“Go
along, Bob, it’s all your own!”)
13.—This might be called a Big Ben and Tom Johnson round. Maurice’s
face was completely changed, his left eye nearly closed. He made one
or two good stops, and also planted a stomacher, but game was more
prominent than science. They stuck to each other blow for blow, till
they were both distressed to a stand-still. At the conclusion of the
round they merely pushed each other down.
14.—The strength, however, appeared on the side of Delay, and he
bored in to mill his adversary. Some severe blows were exchanged,
when Bob went down from a left-handed blow.
15.—The White-headed One had the best of the fighting; and at the
commencement of this round Delay bored his antagonist to the ropes,
when Bob put in two tremendous nobbers, and in turn drove Delay
across the ring, and sent him down on his knees.
16.—Bob was piping, and it was the opinion of several of the
amateurs that the strength of Delay would ultimately bring him
through. Maurice again drove Bob before him to the ropes, and got
him nearly down, when the White-headed Cove, full of pluck,
recovered himself on his pins, and milled away, till both went down.
17.—Very short. Delay napped several nobbers, and went down terribly
distressed.
18.—Hudson, with all his industry and attention towards his man,
could not keep him clean. Still he would bore in upon Bob—this
conduct brought him terrific punishment. The White-headed One
planted one, two, and three blows in succession, right in the middle
of his already damaged face. He was positively hit to a stand-still;
but on recovering himself, he went resolutely in to mill, and got
Bob down. (“His game will win for him!” was the cry.)
19.—Both as good as gold; true courage displayed at every step, with
conduct and fortitude, adding honour to the character of Britons.
(Our eye at this instant observed the French Hercules in a wagon, in
company with another Frenchman, expressing their admiration, and
applauding the manly and honourable mode of settling a quarrel in
old England.) Delay commenced this round with the pluck of a
gamecock; and the gluttony he displayed astonished the ring. At
every step he received a jobber, sending him back; nevertheless he
would not be denied, and absolutely bored in, fighting hand over
head till he sent Bob down. “It’s as right as the day,” said Maurice
to his second.
20.—The counter-hits of Bob told unmercifully upon Delay’s nob. This
was a manly-fought round, good on both sides, when Delay dropped,
Bob also very much exhausted.
21.—This was a terrific round. Bob, although extremely weak, had
decidedly the best of the milling; he planted his hits effectually,
and in several instances he broke ground well. Delay, who was met at
every movement on the nob, would not retreat, but contended for
victory like the best out-and-outer upon the list. The determination
of Maurice enabled him to send Bob down.
22.—This round decided the battle. It appeared to us that Delay
wanted elasticity about his shoulders—his blows were not effective.
Yet with as fine game as any man ever exhibited in the Prize Ring,
he persevered without dread or fear. Delay appeared at the scratch
undismayed, and after receiving three severe hits, pressed upon his
antagonist, and, strange to relate, he sent Bob down.
23.—Of a similar description. Delay went down exhausted. “Bob for
any odds!”
24.—This was short but effective against Delay; he had the worst of
the hitting, and in going down Bob fell upon him. (“Three to
one—take him away!”)
25.—This was a sharp round. Delay would not give up an inch of
ground; but he stood up only to receive additional punishment. He
however got Bob down.
26 and last.—Nature had done her utmost, but Delay, game to the end
of the chapter, appeared at the scratch, and fought “while a shot
remained in him.” Bob did not like to punish his opponent any more,
and Delay went down quite exhausted, falling forward upon his hands
and knees. Here the John Bull Fighter showed his true character to
the spectators. Josh loves winning; but he was satisfied that
Maurice had done all that a brave man could perform; so, with
consideration and humanity, he loudly exclaimed, “My man shall not
fight any more!” The battle was over in forty-two minutes. The first
words uttered by Delay to Josh, after his recollection returned,
were, “Have I won it?”
REMARKS.—Bob did not win the battle without receiving a sharp taste
of Delay’s quality. The White-headed One was not in such good
condition as his backers wished him to be; in fact, he was sick and
ill from a cold four days before fighting. It was countering with
his opponent that gave him the victory. In the middle of the fight
it was by no means safe to him; nay, it appeared to us that he was
so weak as almost to leave off fighting. But he recovered himself,
and turned the tide in his favour till the 22nd and 23rd rounds,
when some of the best judges declared it “anybody’s battle.” In the
11th round Bob turned round to avoid the punishment of Delay; but
the sun was so powerful at that period as to deprive him almost of
viewing his antagonist; he therefore shifted his ground with
dexterity. In the 3rd round Bob hurt one of his hands considerably
against his adversary’s nob; and Baldwin has since asserted that the
latter circumstance, and also having the sun continually shining in
his face, prevented him from winning the battle so soon as he might
otherwise have accomplished. Baldwin’s back was cut by the ropes.
Delay was put to bed at the “Bell,” at Hampton, and every attention
paid to him that humanity could suggest, backed by the advice and
assistance of a medical man. A collection was made on the ground for
one of the bravest pugilists that ever took off a shirt in the Prize
Ring.
This manly battle placed the milling talents of White-headed Bob in a
favourable point of view with the amateurs. He aspired to riding inside
a carriage instead of holding the horses; and thus, unfortunately for
himself, the injudicious patronage and loose companionship of swells
were brought within his reach.
Bob might now be said to have obtained a footing in the sporting world,
and he was determined to push his fortune without delay. Notoriety in
the Metropolis is a taking feature, and Bob was determined not to remain
in obscurity; he visited most of the places of amusement, and manifested
indications of his fondness for a “bit of high life.” He soon
recommended himself to the notice of Mr. Hayne, then and afterwards
known as “Pea-green Hayne,” and for his affair with Miss Foote and
Colonel Berkeley; and Bob had the art to induce this liberal-hearted
gentleman to become his patron and backer. Baldwin was fond of dress,
and knew its advantages; he was frequently seen in the company of swells
of the first water, at the “Royal Saloon,” and other resorts of “fast
life” where the “Corinthians” of George the Fourth’s time “most did
congregate.” As a proof that Bob possessed some knowledge of
“character,” he appeared at one of the masquerades at the Argyll
Rooms,[51] habited “as a fine gentleman” of the modern time!
Bob took his first benefit at the Fives Court on Tuesday, May 14th,
1824, when he was well supported.
Soon after his benefit Baldwin was matched against the Streatham Youth,
for £100 a-side. The parties met on Monday, July 26th, 1824, at
Chertsey. Bob appeared on the ground in the drag of his patron, and
would have entered the ring, but Mr. Hayne, on account of his bad state
of health, preferred forfeiting £100 rather than risking his reputation.
So much for dissipation.
A second match for £100 a-side was immediately made between Bob and
Neale at Harry Holt’s, and three months were allowed to Bob to get
himself right. This battle was decided at Virginia Water, on Tuesday,
the 19th of October, 1824. The fight continued for one hour and thirteen
minutes, occupying forty rounds, when Cribb said Bob should not fight
any more. Fast living is fatal to athletes.
Bob, anxious to recover his lost laurels, inserted the following letter
in the sporting journals, to the editors:—
“SIR,—Having recovered from my recent illness, to which alone I
attribute the loss of my fight with Neale, I feel anxious for
another job; and as Neale is matched with Jem Burn, and Jack Langan
does not appear to fancy Shelton for a customer, I am ready to
accommodate Langan for £200 a-side, as soon as he pleases. If Langan
does not accept this challenge I shall offer myself to the notice of
the winner of the next fight between Neale and Jem Burn.
“Yours, &c.,
“EDWARD BALDWIN.
“_November 26th, 1824._”
Baldwin did not wish to leave London for Scotland (January 9th, 1825)
without announcing his intention to Neale, that his friends were ready
to back him for £200 a-side; but if the time was too soon for Neale to
enter the ring, he was open to any twelve stone and a half man in
England.
To the surprise of the admirers of scientific pugilism, Bob was matched
against George Cooper, distinguished in the annals of boxing as a
fighter of superior pretensions, for £200 a-side. This battle was
decided at Knowle’s Hill, thirty miles from London, on Tuesday, July
5th, 1825. It was completely a foregone conclusion in the minds of the
“judges” that George Cooper must win in first-rate style; nevertheless,
the ring was surrounded by amateurs of the highest distinction. At ten
minutes before one Bob threw his hat into the ring, attended by Holt and
Oliver. He was applauded by a few backers, but his countenance was
angry, and he complained of having been neglected by his friends, and
said that if it had not been for the kindness of one gentleman (Mr.
Hines) he might have arrived completely unattended at the ring. George
Cooper was seconded by Hudson and Shelton.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Condition was not wanting on either side, and every
spectator was perfectly satisfied that both men had paid the
necessary attention to training. The frame of Cooper was fine and
manly, but it did not exhibit that muscle and strength which
characterised the body of the White-headed One. The knowing ones,
the old ring-goers, booked it as a certainty that Bob would be
little more than a mere chopping-block for the display of Cooper’s
great milling talents, and the John Bull Fighter, the Nonpareil, Tom
Belcher, and Tom Shelton, looked upon the event as a certainty.
Under such flattering circumstances, and backed liberally at odds,
George Cooper entered the ring, equally confident in his own mind
that victory was within his grasp. Bob, on the contrary, had but few
friends, excepting his late opponent Ned Neale, who observed, “Bob
will turn out a better man than is expected, and I have no doubt he
will win the fight.” However, this opinion had no weight, as it was
thought Ned was paying himself a compliment. The attitude of Cooper
was elegant, and Bob seemed perfectly aware that he was opposed to
no commoner, by the caution he displayed. The White-headed One
hopped away from a feint of Cooper’s, but at length he tried the
bustling system, and planted a single hit on his opponent’s cheek.
(Applause, and “Well done, Bob!”) Cooper, however, returned a
swinging right-handed hit on Bob’s ribs. Bob did not seem to mind
it, but rushed in, and gave Cooper a facer; the latter returned on
the body. Exchange of blows, and Bob as good as George; the former
also made a good stop. (“Bravo, Bob!”) Cooper napped another facer.
George, on the alert, put in a severe ribber, and also produced the
claret from Bob’s right eye. (“Mind, Pierce,” cried Josh, “this
decides first blood.”) The White-nobbed One displayed more science
than was anticipated against such a skilful fighter as Cooper. He
took the lead gaily, bored Cooper to the ropes, who acted on the
defensive till he napped a rum one on the side of his head, when
George went down. (Uproarious applause for Bob, symptoms of
uneasiness among the friends of Cooper, and the majority of the
spectators exclaiming, “Why, Bob will win!”)
2.—This slice of luck put Bob on terms with himself, when he
observed George’s face displayed some of his handiwork. Cooper
planted a ribber with his right, but Bob said it was “no go” with
his left. The fighting was excellent on both sides; Cooper found out
he had indeed a troublesome customer, one not to be disposed of as a
matter of course. Bob had sense enough to see that out-fighting was
dangerous to him, therefore he resolutely went in, hit George’s
sensitive plant, and in struggling for the throw Cooper went down
and was undermost. (“Hallo, where’s the six to four now?”)
3.—This round was decidedly in favour of Bob. He found out that the
bustle of a young one is very tiresome and dangerous to an “old
cock,” and he went in _sans cérémonie_. Bob took the lead, planting
blows right and left, and also by a well-planted hit on the nose of
George the claret flowed freely, and he was also sent down
completely out of the ropes.
4.—Bob’s rush was stopped by a facer, but he was not dismayed, and
in endeavouring to get in at his opponent he fell.
5.—The spectators were now satisfied that the capabilities of Bob
had been treated too lightly, and that more danger was in him than
had been anticipated. Cooper again planted his favourite hit on the
ribs of his opponent, but injured the knuckles of his right hand.
The science of Cooper was delightful, and although bored by Bob, he
stopped several blows. The White-headed One, however, would not be
denied, and the result was Cooper went down weak. Bob was now the
favourite, and five and six to four was offered on him.
6.—George had the best of this round. He administered the pepper-box
in style, and Bob put up his hand. Counter-hits, and severe ones;
Bob, in closing, had the advantage, and Cooper went down.
7.—Short. Bob rushed in, caught hold of Cooper, and both went down.
8.—The White-headed One had made up his mind to adopt the bustling
system, and rushed in to work, but he met with a precious stopper,
very near his middle piece. Bob recovered himself, and was resolved
to “try it on” once more; but Cooper, on the alert, put in a cracker
on the jaws, and Bob went down on his hands and knees. The friends
of Cooper recovered their spirits, and George was once more the
favourite.
9.—This round amounted to nothing; it was almost over before it
began; a struggle at the ropes, and both down.
10.—Fighting on both sides, till Cooper took the lead, punishing his
opponent with his left hand, until Bob went down across the ropes,
and fell out of the ring.
11.—George appeared anxious to go to work, and although Bob stopped
his left with great skill, Cooper fought his way into a sharp rally.
Harry Holt, who was behind Bob, was forced against the stakes, and
the bottle broken which held the water. Both combatants were on
their mettle, and some hard hits were exchanged, till, in closing,
Bob was thrown.
12.—Cooper had not done enough to make it satisfactory to all his
friends that he must win, although his backers flattered themselves
that his fine skill, united with his game qualities, would
ultimately bring him through. On appearing at the scratch, both went
to work like good ones, particularly Bob, who stood to no repairs,
and rushed at his opponent, determined to do mischief. In struggling
at the ropes, both down.
13.—The White-headed One was determined to tire George, if possible,
and to reduce his skill and strength. Bob’s scheme did not succeed,
and George stopped his efforts with science. Bob likewise showed
science. Some rum ones passed between them; in closing, both down,
Bob undermost.
14.—Youth must be served; and Bob, in this respect, had the best of
it. Cooper appeared weak, and in struggling for the throw, went
down, and rolled over his opponent. Bob astonished the spectators by
his good fighting.
15.—The science of Cooper told to advantage, and Bob’s nob napped it
in two instances; but the latter was now confident that to bustle
his man was the way to win it; he therefore fought his way in, but
in closing Bob went down, Cooper on him. The friends of George
flattered themselves he would win it by his skill; and some even
betting, for small sums, occurred at the close of this round.
16.—Bob received punishment on going in, but would not be denied.
Cooper was now compelled to fight on the defensive, and in
retreating went down at the ropes.
17.—Although Bob was almost sure to receive it in the bustle, he
preferred that mode; he got two stoppers, and by way of a finish
George threw him. The friends of Cooper cheered.
18.—The right hand of George was puffed, and was nearly, if not
quite, gone. In point of strength, it was now two to one in favour
of Bob. A severe struggle took place for the fall, and by a
desperate effort on the part of Cooper, he succeeded in giving Bob a
tremendous back fall.
19.—Bob had completely proved himself a game man, and also a good
fighter. He was now decidedly the favourite, and two to one offered
on him. Bob went to work uncommonly sharp, and planted a heavy
facer. In struggling for the throw, Cooper got his leg twisted in
going down. During the short space of the half-minute, he
communicated to Hudson that he had hurt his leg, but before it could
be examined “time” was called.
20.—Cooper stood up at the scratch, but his leg gave way, and he
fell without a blow, as Bob was making himself up for a hit. (Loud
murmurs, “Foul!” “Foul!”) “His leg is broken,” said Josh. “We’ve won
it,” observed Holt—“do not leave the ring, Bob”—when time was
called.
21, and last.—Cooper, although in great pain, endeavoured to meet
his man in the highest style of game, when Bob dropped him by a
straight hit. It was ascertained (by a surgeon) that one of the
small bones of Cooper’s ankle was fractured, when Hudson gave up the
contest in favour of Bob. It was over in twenty-six minutes and a
half.
REMARKS.—Cooper’s accident leaves the event of the battle in some
doubt; but in canvassing the matter fairly the opinion of the
majority was in favour of Bob. The courage he showed was excellent;
he was not deficient in science, and his judgment was equally good
in the mode he adopted in fighting an older man, by keeping him at
work. Scarcely an amateur would allow Bob a shadow of chance against
such an accomplished boxer as George Cooper. The front piece of Bob
was rather the worse for the engagement, but in other respects his
strength was undiminished; and as a proof he put on his clothes, and
walked about the ring, to witness the battle between Young Dutch Sam
and Stockman. Bob also observed he was extremely sorry for the
accident, and had much rather the battle should have been terminated
by fighting, as he felt confident of winning. Upon recapitulation of
the whole affair, Bob had the advantage of fourteen years in age,
but proved a much better and cleverer man than was calculated upon
by the _cognoscenti_.
Bob, still soaring into swelldom, in imitation, _longo intervallo_, of
John Jackson, opened what he called “The Subscription Rooms,” in
Pickering Place, St. James’s Street, for the purpose of “giving private
lessons in the art of self-defence,” having previously, as a
contemporary wit said, “studied Chesterfield in the stable,” to qualify
himself for the professorial chair. Like other “stars” Bob now took a
provincial tour with Jem Burn, Neale, and others, and was well received
at Liverpool and in the north. A severe illness, said to be “the
measles,” laid Bob up during the summer of 1826; a retirement from
London life restored him, and in January, 1827, at the “Castle,”
Holborn, Baldwin was matched with Jem Burn for £100 a-side, to meet on
Tuesday, April 24th, 1827.
At No Man’s Land, on the day appointed, in nineteen rounds, occupying
thirty-three minutes, Baldwin was knocked out of time and the stakes by
the fresh and vigorous arm of “My Nevvy.” (See life of JEM BURN, in
preceding chapter.)
Baldwin took a benefit at the Tennis Court on Wednesday, May 9th, 1827.
The difference between winning and losing a battle, Bob asserts, was
clearly proved to him on that day. However, a respectable muster of the
amateurs assembled to witness the sports. The sets-to were effective,
particularly the bout between Tom Belcher and Jem Burn, which proved a
high treat of the art of self-defence. Scroggins, as Clown to the Ring,
afforded much fun in his set-to with Deaf Davis.
It was not to be supposed that Baldwin, whose stamina certainly
improved, thanks to youth and a good constitution, whenever he was under
a cloud, and compelled, by what he called “the neglect of his patrons,”
to practise self-denial, would long lie idle. Hence, on the day of
trial, July 3rd, 1827, when Bob peeled at Ruscombe Lake, he was “himself
again.”
The second trial for £100 a-side took place on a fine piece of common
about a mile from Twyford, Berks, called Ruscombe Lake, from its being
covered with water in winter time. From the facility with which Bob was
beaten by Burn in their previous encounter, and the rumours, of course
exaggerated, of Bob’s “saloon” exploits in “the wee hours ayont the
twal,” Jem was the favourite at six and seven to four; Uncle Ben having
actually booked two to one “rather,” as he said, “than not do business.”
There were those, however, who thought, with us, that there was nothing
in the comparative qualities of the men to justify odds, and it was
impossible with those who witnessed the former battle not to see that
Bob was not only not “all thar,” as the Yankees have it, but so utterly
surprised by Burn’s mode of attack in the first three rounds that he
never recovered his fighting tactics. Nevertheless, there was a period,
in the middle of the fight, when Jem became so distressed that had
Baldwin a vestige of strength left, he might have snatched the victory.
The long odds were therefore freely taken by many, and especially at
Tattersall’s. The sequel proved that the opinions thus founded were
fully borne out, and that a solitary instance of defeat under peculiar
circumstances ought not to deprive a man of the chance of redeeming his
credit. Both men quitted their training-grounds on Monday, and proceeded
to Twyford, Burn taking up his quarters at the “Bell,” and Baldwin at
the “King’s Arms Inn.” They were accompanied by their friends, and
professed themselves to be equally confident. In point of condition,
too, they appeared to be pretty much on a par. Bob’s weight was twelve
stone and a half. Jem Burn never lost a day during his training, and
could not have been better. His weight was twelve stone, six pounds.
On the morning of action Twyford exhibited the usual lively scene;
vehicles of every denomination were seen pouring in from the surrounding
country, and among them were many carriages and four; in fact, few had
witnessed a more slap-up turn-out of the Fancy. An excellent ring was
formed at an early hour in the morning by Tom Oliver, Fogo, and Jack
Clarke, in the centre of an immense number of wagons, within which there
was an inner roped circle, so as to confine the spectators to a proper
distance from the stakes. The veteran Bill Gibbons arrived just in time
to perform his part of the duty, and all was in readiness soon after
twelve o’clock—the weather delightful, the crowd numerous, but orderly,
and not the most distant apprehensions of an unfriendly beak. Orders
having been issued from headquarters, the men left their respective inns
for the place of rendezvous, Bob dressed in a smock frock, sporting his
blue fogle, and Jem in a post-chaise, wearing a yellow squeeze with
black stars. Both were cheerful, and on their departure scarcely an
inhabitant was left in the village.
Shortly before one they entered the ring; Bob attended by his backers,
and his second and bottle-holder, Jem Ward and Dick Curtis, and Jem Burn
by Tom Belcher and Harry Harmer. The ceremony of peeling was soon
performed, and the excellent condition of both men became visible. Bob
showed most muscular strength and sturdiness of frame, but Burn was the
longer and taller man. Jem was still a marked favourite, and just before
setting-to was backed at two to one, but there was little money laid out
on the ground. At last the interesting moment arrived, and the men were
placed at the scratch, Baldwin having won the toss for choice of
position.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Jem did not now, as on the former occasion, let fly the
moment his man was placed before him, but having the sun in his
face, veered a little round, to get rid of that disadvantage. Bob
soon showed that he had not come on a waiting job. He at once rushed
to work, and hit out right and left at Jem’s nob. Jem stopped him,
and got away, but immediately returned, and caught Bob with his
right on the left ogle. Bob pursued his quick system, and hit away
with rapidity, but did not succeed in planting any important blow.
Jem fought with him, and again jobbed him with his left, while he
caught him on the body with his right. Bob stopped some
well-intended compliments, and after a bustling rally, was forced
against the ropes, where a long and severe struggle took place,
equally exhausting to both, which ended in their going down, Jem
uppermost. (“That’s the way,” cried Bob’s friends, “wear him out; he
can’t stand bustling.”)
2.—Bob, true to his orders, lost not a moment in going to work, but
commenced hitting right and left. Jem stopped him cleverly; some
slight wild returns followed, and, in the close, Bob was thrown,
scratching Jem’s face with his nails as he went down, to the
dissatisfaction of the spectators, who cried out against such
practice.
3.—The moment the men were at their posts counter-hits were
exchanged on their canisters, and Bob proceeded to pepper away as
quickly as his power would permit. Jem was all alive, and hit with
him, but science was laid aside, and nothing but downright rattling
followed. In the end, Jem bored Bob to the ropes, and threw him. It
was obvious, however, that these rapid movements set his bellows to
work, and the judges exclaimed, “If Bob keeps to that, he’ll win
it.”
4.—Jem came up flushed, and Bob was at him. Jem was ready, and hit
away, straight, but wild. Some hits were exchanged, when Jem, in
hitting, went down.
5.—Bob pursued the bustling game, and threw in a blow with his right
on Jem’s ribs. Jem returned on his face. A desperate rally followed,
to the advantage of Jem in hitting, but the pace seemed too fast for
him. At last, after a severe assault, both fell in different
directions from the force of their own blows, and on rising Bob
showed first blood from the eye.
6.—Bob again took the start, and hit Jem on the body. Jem returned
on his canister, and both closed at the ropes, when another severe
struggle took place; both down, Bob under. In this round Jem made a
right-handed up-hit, as Bob was following him, with great success.
7.—Bob came up piping. Bob stopped Jem’s right and left, but did not
return. Jem was more successful in the next attempt, and touched him
heavily on the ogle, drawing more blood. A spirited and rapid rally
followed, hits trod on the heels of hits, and both received heavily.
A close and violent struggle at the ropes followed. Both down,
blowing.
8.—Bob came up black in the peeper, but game. He hit out with his
right, but the blow went over Jem’s shoulder. He received a
right-handed job in return, and Jem forced him back on the ropes,
himself falling over him on his head, out of the ring.
9.—Bob came up rather more cautious. Jem jobbed him right and left
in the face. Bob fought wildly, and missed several blows. He fought
round, and did not hit at points. Jem was more steady, and had him
repeatedly. Bob, in boring in, was thrown.
10.—Bob took the lead, but his right hand again went over Jem’s
shoulder. Jem closed, threw him, and fell heavily on him.
11.—Jem put in two of his favourite nobbers, but received in return
slightly on the head and body. The weaving system now commenced, and
both men fought wildly, but interchanged several blows. A close at
the ropes, and a struggle in which both went down, Jem under.
12.—Bob made some good stops, and again held off on the defensive.
Jem rattled at him and caught him for the fall, but Bob slipped
through his arms and went down.
13.—Bob made a good stop, but had a jobber in the next trial. Wild
weaving followed, Bob planting a few blows on Jem’s ribs, which Jem
returned on his head. In the bustle Jem went down on his knees.
14.—Bob again stopped Jem’s right and left, and then hit away, Jem
retreating and jobbing. A close at the ropes, and Bob pulled Jem
down.
15.—Jem delivered right and left. Bob instantly closed, and both
went down.
16.—Jem popped in a good body blow with his left, and then
retreated. Bob followed him wildly, and was hit up in good style on
the mouth, from which more claret was drawn. In the close Bob was
thrown, Jem on him.
17.—Bob rushed in on the bustling system, but Jem met him right and
left on the canister. Jem then retreated, and Bob, in following,
fell on his face.
18.—Bob received a right-handed facer, and in attempting to close
for the throw, fell on his knees.
19.—Bob kept his hands well up, and stopped Jem’s jobbers. He still
preserved his strength, and went in to mill. Jem got away, hitting
as he retreated. At last Bob, in a wild effort to punish, fell
forward, scrambling down by Jem’s legs.
20.—Bob came up abroad, and rushed in to fight open-handed. Jem
caught him right and left. Bob, urged on by Dick Curtis, bored in
with his right, but the blow passed over Jem’s shoulder. In the
close Bob was thrown, Jem standing over him.
21.—Jem, elated, went to work. Bob fell on his knees, and
immediately jumped up to renew the round, but his seconds prevented
this unnecessary display of game.
22.—A scrambling round, hitting away without judgment on either
side. Jem went down by the ropes, but no mischief done.
23.—Bob came up as lively as a lark, although his left eye was
completely closed, and he bore other marks of severe punishment. He
delivered a right-hander on Jem’s body. Jem countered on his nob. A
spirited rally followed; both worked might and main, and at last Bob
was thrown across the ropes, Jem upon him.
24.—Jem became a greater favourite, and the moment Bob came up he
rushed at him. Bob retreated, and they reached the corner of the
ring. A violent struggle followed, Bob hanging on Jem, and
attempting to fib. He did, in fact, catch Jem on the paunch, below
the waistband. We thought the blow a foul one, but it was not seen
by the umpires. Bob was at last thrown, and was weak. The fight had
now lasted thirty minutes, and some bets were decided on Bob’s being
licked in half an hour.
25.—Bob stopped well Jem’s jobbing manœuvres. He then went to work.
Jem was ready, stopped Bob’s rush, and caught him right and left. In
the close both down.
26.—Bob, still holding his hands well up, again stopped Jem’s right,
but did not return. Jem caught him on the nozzle. Bob bored in; both
down, Bob uppermost.
27.—Bob, on the bustling system, but fought open-handed. Jem nobbed
him and closed. Bob showed great strength. He threw Jem over the
ropes and fell on him.
28.—Bob, desperate, fought away without reflection. Jem was ready,
and after a short rally, in the close both went down.
29.—Bob showed most physical strength. He rattled to Jem and put in
a blow on the ribs. Jem let fly right and left, but Bob stopped the
favours and bored in to a close. A long struggle followed at the
ropes. Bob at last got the fall, and was loudly cheered. Jem piped
woefully, and another change took place in the betting; Bob, from
his lasting qualities, reducing the odds to even betting.
30.—Jem distressed, and Bob not much better. Jem delivered right and
left, and Bob fought wildly, missing his blows. In the close both
down.
31.—Bob’s face was now much punished; one eye shut, divers gashes on
his phiz, his conk distilling the ruby, and lips pouting. Jem also
showed his marks, but nothing like so severe; his body was red and
scarred from the ropes, his right hand puffed, and his bellows in
full play, while his right eye was a little swollen. Jem
occasionally popped his fives into Harry Harmer’s jacket pocket, in
which there was a supply of powdered resin, to assist him in keeping
his hands tight. Jem made his left good on Bob’s right ogle and
closed, when both went down heavily. Bob very weak.
32.—Jem came up as bold as brass, and made up his mind for quick
work. He rushed at Bob, caught him right and left, and Bob fell on
his knees distressed. Another change for Jem, who was the favourite
at five to four.
33.—Bob bored in wildly; Jem met him in the canister with his left,
and Bob fell.
34.—Jem now had recourse to the brandy bottle. Bob came up wild as a
colt, and went sprawling down.
35.—Jem missed a tremendous jobber with his right. Bob fought to a
scrambling rally, and, in the close, was thrown on the ropes.
36.—Bob, cheered on by Dick, bored in to bustle, and forced Jem down
on the ropes.
37.—Jem met Bob, as he rushed in, on the conk with his left, and in
the close Bob was thrown.
38.—Again was Bob hurried in, fighting open-handed, and was thrown.
39.—Bob, game, followed Dick’s orders and rushed in, but Jem was
ready, hit away, and in the end floored him.
40.—Jem put in a jobber between Bob’s guard with his left, and got
away. Bob pursued him, and Jem fell in the retreat.
41.—Good counter-hits for Bob was still determined, though groggy.
Jem jobbed him right and left, but as his left hand had now gone as
well as his right, his blows wanted force. In the close Bob was
thrown across the ropes, Jem upon him. The latter fell out of the
ring.
42.—Bob was first to go to work, but Jem was awake, and after a
short and fruitless rally, threw him.
43.—Bob, urged on, hit away, but Jem retreated, and met him as he
advanced, right and left. Bob at last closed in and Jem fell, Bob
getting weaker.
44.—Jem now seemed to make certain of his work, and nobbed away in
good style to finish. Bob went down from a clink on his noddle, all
abroad.
45.—Bob, still alive, was cheered on by Curtis. Counter-hits. Bob
went in to weave, but made no impression, Jem getting away in good
style. Bob, in pursuing, fell on his marrow-bones.
46.—Bob rushed in wildly, closed upon Jem, and pulled him down.
Fifty-four minutes had now elapsed, and it was thought it could not
last much longer.
47.—Jem set to work to polish off his customer. Bob, almost blind,
was hit right and left, and then turned his back to his man. Jem
tipped him two luggers right and left, and dropped him. Both men
remained on their seconds’ knees a minute after time was called.
48.—Bob stupid. Curtis roared in his ear. He then bored in, and hit
Jem on the body, and fell over the ropes.
49.—Bob, still a stickler, rushed in to mill, hit wildly, was
jobbed, and thrown.
50.—Bob’s stubborn gameness surprised the ring. He went in to
bustle, and received Jem’s right and left, but, as we before
remarked, the force was deadened by the state of Jem’s hands.
Weaving on both sides. Bob down weak, and almost dark of both ogles.
51.—Jem made another attempt to finish, rushed to Bob, hit him right
and left, and threw him at the corner of the ring.
52.—Jem again took the lead, but Bob was with him, wild, though
weak, and grappling with Jem, at last threw him, and fell heavily
upon him.
53.—Jem had another sup of brandy. The fight had now lasted an hour.
Both men got to work on coming to the scratch, and were both greatly
distressed, but Jem succeeded in throwing Bob from him.
54.—Jem, on the cautious system, to repair his bellows, kept off.
Bob was hallooed on by Dick, and in he went, neck or nothing. Both
fell, side by side.
55.—Jem very weak. Bob rushed to him, and was the first to fight.
Jem rattled away, right and left, and as Bob was falling on his
knees, caught him on the ear.
56.—Bob made a body hit, but not in the right place. A close at the
ropes. After a struggle, Jem went down, Bob on him.
57.—Both groggy, but Bob the first to begin. Wild fighting; no
discretion. Bob, in getting away, fell heavily on his back, Jem upon
him.
58.—It was now considered that Bob had every chance of winning, as
Jem was unable to steady himself with sufficient precision to finish
his work, and both, on “time” being called, seemed much disinclined
to quit their second’s knees. Still Jem was the favourite, and “My
Uncle,” seeing his distress, called upon him not to hurry himself.
In this way, to the 65th round, Bob bored in to bustle, and was
loudly cheered by his friends, who assured him that he had every
chance of victory. In the closes, Jem went down, evidently to gain
time, and the turn was again in Bob’s favour. In the 70th round, Jem
produced another change, delivering heavily right and left. Bob,
almost blind, never attempted to return, and dropped.
71.—Bob was lifted up, was hit right and left, and fell. Curtis
again rang a peal in his ear. “It’s all up,” cried the Burnites, and
a good deal of excitement followed, several persons calling out time
who had no right to do so, and Bob was actually taken from his
second’s knee before the proper time had arrived.
72.—Bob, dreadfully weak, rushed in to close, hung round Jem’s neck,
and both went down.
73.—An hour and twenty minutes had now elapsed. Bob made a desperate
effort, and cheered on by his seconds, bored in to Jem, who caught
him on the nose, and both fell. The water was now exhausted, and Bob
had not a drop to wash his mouth with. Still he bore up, and looked
round as if still fit for battle. Tom Belcher, with great kindness,
gave him a swig from his bottle.
74.—Bob came up all abroad. Jem peppered away, and dropped him.
75 to 77.—All in favour of Jem, who hit away, and dropped his man in
good style, although he was greatly exhausted.
78.—It was any odds on Jem, and “Take him away!” was the cry, but
“No,” said Dick, “we’ll win it yet.” Bob had a drop of brandy, and
was again driven in with desperation. He grappled Jem by the ropes,
and, after a short struggle, threw him heavily.
79.—Jem, after this, came up very weak; his head sank on his
second’s back, and he seemed much exhausted. The backers of Bob ran
to the time-keepers, and loudly called on them to watch the time,
while they cheered Bob with the cry, “It’s all your own.” Bob, like
an old hound, pricked up his ears, and, on going to the scratch,
darted at Jem, bored him back over the ropes, and fell on him. Here
was another extraordinary change.
80.—Bob got new life, rushed in, and again threw Jem heavily, with
his loins on the ropes, and fell on him. The ring was in an uproar,
and Bob’s friends in extasies.
81.—Bob got up from his second’s knee before time was called, as if
sure of winning. He rushed in, but fell from his own attempt.
82.—Jem, at the last gasp, stood up to fight, but Bob bored in hit
him with the right on the body, closed, and threw him.
83.—Jem came up hardly able to stand. Dick shouted, Bob rushed in,
and both went down.
84.—Bob again bored in, hit with his right, and floored Jem. Bob
fell with him.
85, and last.—Jem, all but gone, collected his remaining strength,
and jobbed slightly with his left. Bob returned, catching him on the
front of the head, and Jem fell at the stake, completely doubled up
from exhaustion. Belcher tried to bring his man to the scratch, but
he could not stand, and “time” being called, Bob was proclaimed the
conqueror, in exactly one hour and a half, amidst the warm
congratulations of his friends. Jem remained for some time
unconscious, while Bob stood up shaking hands with his admirers, and
was carried off in triumph. Belcher was, of course, dreadfully
mortified. He accused Jem of laziness, for not going in to finish
before; and charged the time-keeper with calling time too quickly at
last, when Jem was distressed, while he gave additional time to Bob
when he most wanted it. This was denied; and, in fact, the
irregularities in time-calling, as we have already stated, were not
attributable to the time-keeper, but to those who assumed his
prerogative, and thereby created much confusion. Some time elapsed
before Jem could be removed from the ring, but on comparing
punishment, the odds were fearfully against Bob, who, we think, was
more punished than in his last battle. His wiry frame, however,
added to the uncommon pains taken by Curtis and Ward, brought him
through, and, in fact, as it were, he performed a miracle.
REMARKS.—Never was there a fight in which so many extraordinary
changes took place. Nor ever was there an event won so completely
out of the fire, except the fight between Cooper and Shelton. In
speaking critically of the affair, without disparaging the bravery
of the men we must pronounce our opinion to be unfavourable to the
character of the contest. Bob fought badly. It is true, profiting by
experience, he kept his left hand well up, to save his nob from
Jem’s right-handed jobs, but in his returns he was irregular and
wild, fought round, and with his hands open. He did not hit at
points, and, in fact, as far as punishment went, made but little
impression; bustle was his motto, and bustle alone gave him the day.
Jem Burn fought infinitely better; he hit straight both left and
right, but his in-fighting was bad, and he did not make as much of
his man as he might in the closes. At the time when Bob was brought
to a stand-still, too, he was unable to make an effectual finish.
This may be attributed to the disordered state of his hands; but
from the distress of his opponent, if he could not hit, he ought to
have rushed in and got him down any way, for Bob, at one time, had
no notion of protection left. Perhaps his seconds were to blame in
not giving him this hint, instead of permitting him, after time was
called, to sit upon the knee until Bob made a move. At one time it
was a hundred to one in his favour, and yet Bob was suffered to
recover, and thus gain those laurels which appeared at an
immeasurable distance from his grasp. Looking at the quickness of
the fighting, and recollecting that at least 50 minutes were devoted
to time, some judgment may be formed of the men’s condition, for it
will be seen that 85 rounds were fought in 40 minutes, during which
the exertion on both sides was immense. This proves that training
had not been neglected, for nothing but the finest physical powers
could have stood such a test. There was no standing still, no idle
sparring, but all slap-up work. Jem lost the light solely from
exhaustion. Nature left him. His frame is not anatomically so well
calculated to endure continual work as Bob’s, and thus Nature, and
not the want of good milling qualities, lost him the victory. He was
weak when he most wanted vigour, for if he could have steadied
himself to put in two or three good hits in the middle of the
battle, his labours must have been brought to a conclusion. Whatever
may have been said of Bob’s game, he, on this occasion, proved
himself entitled to every praise. Large sums were dropped by Jem’s
friends on the event.
Baldwin, by his defeat of Jem Burn, having turned the tables on one of
his adversaries, appeared to think the time had arrived for effecting a
similar operation upon another. Accordingly he issued a challenge to Ned
Neale for a second trial of skill. The Streatham Youth, ever willing,
accepted the proposal, and articles were signed to meet on the 29th of
April, 1828, for £200 a-side. The details of this undecided battle,
which was interrupted by a magistrate, will be found in Chapter V.,
under “NEALE,” p. 316.
On the Thursday after the fight Baldwin took a benefit at the Tennis
Court. He took the money at the door, was as gay as a lark, and bore but
little marks of face punishment. He jestingly remarked that he had “just
got half through his job of beating Neale when the beak popped in.” As
neither man was satisfied with this unsettled question of superiority, a
third match was made, the stakes being increased by £50. Wednesday, the
28th of May, 1828, was agreed upon; as the fight between Jem Ward and
Carter was fixed for the Tuesday, both men’s friends, thinking them too
good to play second fiddle in a second fight on the same day, shifted
the tourney a day forward.
St. Albans was, accordingly, all alive on the Wednesday morning, and
before one the gathering round the ring at No Man’s Land amounted to
over four figures, including a goodly muster of the Corinthian _élite_
of ring-patrons. Neale first put in an appearance, accompanied by Harry
Holt and Dick Curtis as his seconds, Baldwin soon after following suit,
attended by Young Dutch Sam and Tom Olion. Betting seven to four on
Neale. All being in readiness the men were led to the scratch, shook
hands smilingly, and their seconds having retired to their corners,
threw up their hands for
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—An opportunity of judging the condition of the men, about
which there had been so many rumours, was now given. Neale was a
trifle lighter than we have seen him, but looked bright and well,
his weight, in all his clothes, being under 12st. 4lbs. Bob was as
fine as a star, every muscle in his splendid frame fully developed,
his skin fair, his eyes clear, and in every point in first-rate
trim. His weight was said to be 12st. 4lbs.; we believe it was a few
pounds more. For the first five minutes the men manœuvred steadily,
each watching for an opening, and each endeavouring by mutual feints
to throw his antagonist off his guard. Both, however, were extremely
cautious; and Neale more than once, in jumping back from a
threatened attack, displayed great activity. At last Neale, as if
impatient of fencing, stepped in, and delivering right and left
rapidly, caught Baldwin on the side of his head and on the mouth,
drawing first blood from the latter. Bob hit out rather wildly, and
closed. In the effort for the fall both were down.
2.—Bob came up smiling, and Ned made himself up for quicker
operations. After a short pause he again planted his right and left
on his adversary’s nob. Baldwin returned with the left lightly, and
closed. Ned grappled for the throw, and chopped him on the back of
his head with the right; he then put out his leg for the lock, and
threw Baldwin over on his head, falling with him. Five to two on
Neale.
3.—On coming up, Neale said, “Fight fair, Bob; don’t push your
finger in my eye.” Baldwin nodded, then dropped in his right on
Ned’s left side. Ned hit out heavily with his right, but it went
over Bob’s shoulder, and some half-arm hitting followed. In the
close Baldwin got down easy.
4.—Both began at a quick pace. Slight hits were exchanged, when Bob
tried for the fall, but got thrown himself, amid cheers from the
Streathamites.
5.—Bob came up laughing, and kept his guard well up. Ned, determined
on work, went in left and right. Bob slashed away in the weaving
style, but without much effect; in the close Baldwin was thrown,
Neale upon him.
6.—No serious marks of punishment as yet. Ned planted a right-handed
jobber on Baldwin’s frontispiece, and jumped away. Bob stopped the
repetition of the compliment with the left, and then hit short with
his left. Ned drew back, but coming again quickly, popped in left
and right. He then closed, and some in-fighting followed, in which
Ned caught it on the ivories, showing blood on the lips. In the
close, both down, Bob falling awkwardly.
7.—Ned lost not a moment in going in, delivering right and left. Bob
countered with his left, and in a rally which followed, Ned hit up
cleverly, and then threw Bob from him. Bob fought wildly, and not at
points, and Neale continued the decided favourite.
8.—Bob hit out resolutely, but Neale jumped away. At length Bob
planted slightly on Neale’s smeller, and stopped his return neatly.
The latter, after parrying a vicious right-hander, stepped in to
mill, and got on heavily with his right. Baldwin fell backward,
rather from a slip than a blow.
9.—Ned reached Baldwin’s ear with his right; Bob instantly closed,
and catching him round the neck, both were down in a scramble, Neale
laughing.
10.—Bob tried right and left on the weaving system, but Neale
retreated nimbly. Exchanges, but little done. Baldwin was down in
the close.
11.—Neale rushed in and hit Bob on the _os frontis_ with little
effect, except on his own knuckles. Bob hit out right and left, and
closed. Ned pegged him on the back of the head with the left, and
both went down.
12.—Bob stopped Neale’s left, and put in his right once more on
Ned’s ribs; Ned returned on his nob, and a wild rally followed, in
which heavy blows were exchanged, Bob catching it on the leg. Both
down.
13.—Ned put in his left with cutting precision on Bob’s cheek, then
popped in his right above the eye, cutting his adversary’s eyebrow,
which bled profusely. In the close, he threw Bob a cross-buttock.
Offers of ten to one on Neale.
14.—Bob came up game, though evidently shaken by the last fall. Ned
was ready, and went in, but Baldwin cleverly stopped his left, and
was in turn stopped in his return. Ned went in for in-fighting, and
tried to screw up Bob for another cross-buttock, but he was foiled,
and both were down together.
15.—Bob stopped Neale’s left neatly, and went in turn for close
quarters. Exchanges, in which Bob was cut on the cheek and Neale on
the brow. Bob got hold of Neale round the neck and threw him.
(Shouts for Baldwin. “It’s all right as yet.”)
16.—Bob short with the left. Ned again missed with both hands, and
his man shifted. Bob, in trying for the return, missed, and fell
forward.
17.—Ned jobbed with his left, but Baldwin was on the alert, and
caught him on the cheek with a counter. Bob then kept out, but Ned
would be with him, hit right and left, and forced a rally. Bob
fought bravely, though rather wild, and Ned fell.
18.—Ned tried three times unsuccessfully to lead off with the left,
Baldwin sparring neatly. At last Neale closed, and gave Baldwin
another heavy cross-buttock. (Shouting for Neale.)
19.—Bob, awake, though blowing slightly, stopped Neale’s left. Many
blows thrown away on both sides. In the close Baldwin was thrown.
20.—The fight had now lasted thirty minutes. Bob rattled in left and
right, but was neatly stopped. Ned pursued the same game, but was
more successful. Bob fought with him, but rather wildly; in the
close Baldwin was down.
21.—Ned received a sharp hit on the right eye, and retreated. Bob
rushed to a rally, and the men fought in the corner of the ring.
Neale planted a nobber, and Baldwin went down. A claim was made for
Baldwin that Neale hit him with his right when on his knees. The
referee said he did not see the blow given, and the men were ordered
to “go on.”
22, 23.—Wild fighting on both sides, and both down.
24 to 34.—Similar in character. Each man with slight alternative
advantage, and each in turn distressed, and fighting on the
defensive to recover.
35.—Bob rushed in hand over hand, and was met by Neale with a flush
hit, and fell. Ned’s hand was uplifted, but he withheld the blow,
and walked to his corner. (Applause.)
36.—Science seemed to be disregarded on both sides. The men went in
weaving right and left, each determined to make a turn. At length
Baldwin was down, Neale on him.
37.—Forty-five minutes had now elapsed, and Neale was favourite at
two to one. The latter hit down Bob with his right.
38, 39, 40.—In all these rounds Neale led off, and Baldwin fell from
a blow. In the last-named round there were cries of “Take him away!”
from the opponents of Baldwin. Indeed, the proportion of punishment
at this time was largely on the side of the White-headed One.
41 to 48.—Much of the same character, but Neale’s blows seemed to
lack steam, especially those from his right hand, which was visibly
swelled. Bob’s friends saw this, and he went in desperately. In the
47th round Neale fell from his own blow, apparently rather weak. In
the 48th Baldwin got in heavily with his left on Neale’s head, who
went down.
49 to 54.—Anybody’s battle. Baldwin now the stronger man, though
Neale yet fought best at points. In the 54th round Neale was hit on
the nose, but returned the blow with interest, Bob slipping on his
knees. In this position Neale hit him on the side of the head. There
were cries of “Foul!” and an appeal, but as Baldwin had his hands up
it was not allowed.
55.—Great confusion round the ring, and loud shouting for Baldwin.
Ned planted his puffy right hand without much effect, and continued
to weave away. Both down.
56.—Neale rushed in, but was evidently unsteady. He missed both
hands; both went down.
57.—Neale groggy, Bob regaining strength. Ned went in as before, and
a rally ended by both rolling over.
58–63.—Wild but courageous fighting. In the 61st round Bob rushed in
like a lion. Neale met him cleverly with an up-hit, but went down
from his own blow, greatly distressed. In the 63rd Ned fell from a
heavy body blow, Baldwin on him. (“It’s all over!” from Bob’s
friends.)
64.—Neale guarded his ribs and head steadily, making some good
stops, but Baldwin bored in; Ned could not keep him out, and was hit
in the body and thrown, Baldwin falling over him. (Shouts for
Baldwin.)
65.—Neale planted his left, but Bob hit with him, gave him a
rib-bender with the right, and finally hit him down. (“It’s all
over, Neale’s beaten!” was the cry.)
66, and last.—Neale came to time greatly distressed; Bob was loudly
called on, and as he came in met him with a right-hander in the
mark, and poor Ned fell heavily. This was the _coup de grace_. On
Neale being lifted on his second’s knee his head dropped, and he
became perfectly insensible. On “time” being called Baldwin was
saluted as victor of the hard-fought field. Both men were
reconducted to St. Albans, where they were carefully attended to.
Neale, whose condition was certainly the worst, complaining chiefly
of pain from the body blows he received, and the disablement of his
right hand. The fight lasted one hour and eleven minutes.
REMARKS.—By this victory Baldwin placed himself on the topmost round
of the ladder as a game, enduring, and resolute boxer, while Neale’s
superior art, activity, and precision all but balanced Baldwin’s
advantages in weight, strength, and stamina. It was an heroic
battle, and either of the men at different changes of the
well-fought fight might have resigned the prize without discredit to
his courage or his honour. Indeed, more than once a scrupulously
strict time-keeper might have called on one or other of the men with
fatal result to his chance of success. A fairer or better ring, and
more fair-play principle in those surrounding it, have seldom been
seen of late.
Baldwin and Neale both showed on the following Tuesday, when
White-headed Bob took a benefit at the Tennis Court. Considering the
severity of the contest, both men looked well—a satisfactory proof of
their excellent condition, and of the effects of careful training.
This was Baldwin’s last encounter in the P.R. By the assistance of his
aristocratic patrons he became host of the “Coach and Horses,” St.
Martin’s Lane, afterwards kept by Ben Caunt. Baldwin was a free liver,
and his position one of temptation, which he was by constitution and
temperament by no means inclined to resist. He died at his house in
October, 1831, aged twenty-eight years, from an inflammatory attack,
after a short illness.
CHAPTER VIII.
SAMUEL EVANS (“YOUNG DUTCH SAM”)—1825–1834.
Among the town celebrities of the second quarter of the nineteenth
century the subject of this memoir held a prominent place. His immediate
and personal intimacy as boon companion or “pal” of a certain notorious
marquis, and an earl whose career, while “sowing their wild oats,”
savoured rather of the early days of the Regency than those of Queen
Victoria, brought him too often before the public. Indeed, the nature of
the associations into which he was thus unfortunately thrown, acting
upon a volatile and reckless disposition, led him into excesses which
destroyed a fine constitution, prevented his availing himself of more
than one opportunity of achieving competence and a fair social position,
and finally consigned him to a premature grave. In the ensuing pages,
however, we shall chiefly deal with Young Dutch Sam as a public
demonstrator of the art of self-defence, and as one whose biography
furnishes an illustrative chapter in the history of the Ring.
Samuel Evans, deservedly distinguished as “the Phenomenon,” was born in
Wells Street, Ratcliff Highway, on the 30th of January, 1808. He was
descended from a sire whose fame as a professional boxer the son did no
discredit. The battles of Samuel Elias, in his day also dubbed “the
Phenomenon,” will be found in our first volume. Sam’s earlier years,
from all that we have gathered from his own lips and his intimates, were
spent in the same “university” which another famous “Samuel” (not
Johnson, but Weller) declares to be the “best for sharpening the
intellect” of the youth who may chance to be subjected to its rough
discipline. The traditions of Rosemary Lane, now itself swept into what
Thomas Carlyle calls “the dustbin of the past,” were once rife with
reminiscences of the intuitive fistic skill and the marvellous mastery
of milling manœuvres displayed by “Young Sam,” in many an encounter with
the pugnacious progeny of the “peoplesh,” who once populated that
inodorous but sweetly named thoroughfare, renowned for the “ancient and
(fried) fish-like smell” of its edibles, and the yet more fusty
emanations of its clobbered and thrice-renovated garments.
Thus Sam fought his way upwards in the rude “battle of life” until his
sire “shuffled off this mortal coil” in the month of July, 1816, when
Sam appears to have been thrown upon his own resources. Sam was
evidently a precocious youth, for in his fifteenth year, if we take
Pierce Egan’s account, he was following the employment of a baker, when
his associate in dough, one Bill Dean, a chap with some milling
pretensions, threatened to serve out Young Sam for some trifling fault.
This brought forth the father’s blood in his veins, and in emulation of
his warlike sire, he challenged Dean out to fight early the next
morning; but old Burntcrust, his master, locked Sam up in his bedroom to
prevent the mill. Sam, however, in defiance of bolts and bars, got out
of the garret window, scrambled over the tiles of several houses, found
his way into a strange house, ran down the stairs, ultimately into the
street, and met Bill Dean at the appointed place, Kennington Common,
when the battle commenced without delay. In the course of four rounds
Young Sam played his part so well that Dean would not fight any longer,
gammoning it, as was supposed, that his thumb was out of joint.
Dean was not exactly satisfied with this first battle, and, after
several quarrels, a second match was agreed upon, Sam fighting Dean for
three half-crowns to two. This mill was also decided upon Kennington
Common, Tom Cooper and Spencer acting as seconds for Young Sam, a fact
which shows that “the Young Dutchman” was already an associate, if not a
member, of the P.R. Dean “screwed his courage to the sticking-place,”
and fought well for three-quarters of an hour; but finding the chance
was against him, he declared his knee was injured, and he would fight no
more. Sam was loudly applauded by the spectators for the pluck and
science he had displayed throughout the battle.
[Illustration:
SAMUEL EVANS (“YOUNG DUTCH SAM”).
]
Soon after this affair our hero migrated westward, leaving the “dead
men” of the east, and becoming an apprentice at case in the office of
Mr. Charles Baldwin, in the Crescent, Blackfriars, on the very spot now
occupied by the Ludgate Terminus of the London, Chatham, and Dover
Railway. Sam had scarcely taken his initiatory lessons in the mystery of
a typo when he got into a fracas with the peripatetic potman of the
neighbouring public, which supplied the printing-office with beer and
other alcoholic stimulants. The purveyor of heavy wet had with him a
pair of gloves, and he and the youthful Sam (we had this from his own
lips) at first began to spar “in fun,” for the entertainment of such of
the compositors as were taking their midday meal beneath their “frames”
and on the “stone” from pressure of business. The publican and sinner
was short-tempered as well as conceited, and Sam having “pinked him”
more than once on his prominent proboscis, the gin-spinner’s deputy
threw off the mufflers, let go right and left viciously, and “went in”
in earnest. He was a strong fellow, a stone, or perhaps two, heavier
than the youthful Sam, but the Young ’Un retreated milling, and popping
in “teazers” all along the passage and out into the short street, when,
after half an hour’s fighting, from Apothecaries Hall to Bridewell, Mr.
Gin-and-Bitters cried, “Hold, enough!” In the opinion of Mr. Charles
Baldwin’s overseer, however, Sam’s skill in “setting-to” did not seem to
compensate for his deficiencies in skill in “setting up,” and our hero
was soon after a “gentleman at large.”
Released from the confinement of a printing-office, Sam turned his
attention to selling newspapers instead of setting them up. In this
vocation he became known to Pierce Egan, and with his natural
predilection for sporting, Sam took up the supply of his sporting paper
to sporting houses. It must be remembered that newspapers were then
costly articles—the _Dispatch_, _Bell’s Life_, and _Pierce Egan’s Life
in London_ being 7d. to 8½d. per copy, and the trade profit
proportionate.
About this time, also, Young Sam obtained an introduction to Mr. John
Jackson, Captain Dudley, and other amateurs of distinction, whose
judgment of the pretensions of the young aspirant for fistic fame was
decidedly favourable. London then teemed with “professors” of the noble
art, and among them one known as Jack Poulton, of the Mint, opened a
school in that classic locality “to teach the young idea how to shoot”
straight from the shoulder. Sam was “planted” on the-rough-and-ready
Southwark bruiser as a lad who wanted improving. The result was comical
to all but the “professor.” Sam stopped him, got away, nobbed him as he
came in, and so completely bothered the _soi-disant_ “professor” that he
threw down the gloves, and never again showed as the principal of an
academy. At this period, Pierce Egan says of him: “On comparing
likenesses, it is the general opinion that the Young ’Un’s countenance
does not possess the fine-spirited animation of the late renowned Dutch
Sam’s face, yet the resemblance was admitted to be genuine, allowing for
the difference between youth and age, and the want of large whiskers.
The sparklers of the Young ’Un, if not partaking (? possessing) the
penetrating look of the once Phenomenon of the P.R., nevertheless gave
Young Sam’s nob a lively appearance throughout the battle. Our hero is
in height five feet eight inches and three-quarters, weighing ten stone
and a half, and generally considered a fine-grown young man.”
Soon after Sam’s introduction to the sporting world, his friends were so
satisfied with his abilities as a sparrer that they matched him, as a
trial, against Jack Lenney (the Cowboy), a boxer who had won three ring
fights, but had surrendered to the “Pet of the Fancy,” Dick Curtis.
Monday, the 28th of March, 1825, was named as the day, and the Old Barge
House, opposite Woolwich, as the battle-field. Young Sam showed at the
scratch, his “soul in arms, and eager for the fray,” but no Cowboy came
in sight. It was reported he was locked up in town, so the Young ’Un
claimed and pocketed the stakes (£25), without a struggle for the prize.
About this time Sam, while in training at Tom Shelton’s house at Walton,
in Surrey, made the acquaintance of the scientific Dick Curtis, an
acquaintance that soon ripened into a warm friendship. Dick’s report to
Hughes Ball, Esq. of Sam’s capabilities led to a glove exhibition before
that gentleman and his friends at Combe Park (when Dick gave his opinion
that the “novice” _must_ beat Lenney), and the subsequent patronage of
“The Golden Ball,” one of the notabilities of the Fourth George’s reign.
Sam declared himself much disappointed, and possessing the utmost
confidence in his powers, he soon found an opening for a public _début_.
On Tuesday, July 5th, 1825, after White-headed Bob (see Life of BALDWIN,
_ante_, p. 342) had defeated the game George Cooper at Knowle Hill,
Berks, Young Sam made his first bow in the Prize Ring, as the opponent
of Ned Stockman, for a purse of twenty pounds. Stockman was well known
to the Fancy as “the Lively Kid,” and, in addition to several victories,
had beaten Harry Jones (the Sailor Boy, 10st.) three times, and lately
defeated Raines. The general idea was that Sam was too much of a novice
and too boyish to defeat so experienced and crafty a boxer as Stockman,
who was therefore backed freely at six to four, and at setting-to at two
to one. On this occasion Sam was waited upon by two East-End friends,
Dick Curtis and Josh Hudson, the John Bull Fighter. Stockman had the
attentions of Harry Holt and Dick Acton. The colours, a canary-yellow
for Sam and a blue bird’s-eye for Stockman, being tied to the stakes,
the men shook hands and stood up for
THE FIGHT
Round 1.—Sam was not only in excellent condition, but appeared the
better man of the two, as he had length and weight over his
opponent. Stockman soon perceived he had reach against him, and did
all he could to get between the guard of Sam, but in vain. Stockman,
determined on mischief, let fly, but Sam stopped him with perfect
ease, and returned with advantage. In a sharp rally Sam hit his
opponent so neatly as to call forth the admiration of the ring; be
also adopted Cribb’s favourite mode of milling on the retreat, and
jobbed Stockman’s nose repeatedly, till he went down. (Immense
applause. “This,” said Josh, patting Sam on his back, “is not a chip
of the old block, it’s Old Sam himself. He’ll win, for £100.”)
2.—Stockman, full of gaiety, came to the scratch, and in a resolute
manner tried to find out a soft place on Sam’s head, but it was “no
go.” Sam sent down his opponent by a rattling hit with the left in
the neck. (Thunders of approbation; and “Here’s a Shiloh for Duke’s
Place! Here’s the pink of Petticoat Lane!”)
3.—This round, at this early stage of the battle, decided victory in
favour of Young Sam. He jobbed Stockman all over the ring; in fact,
the nob of Stockman was a mere drum to the hands of Sam. The latter
finally floored his opponent. The Sheenies, who always claimed the
Dutchman, were uproarious in the praise of Sam. (“Vat a nishe boy!
Vat a shweet hitter! Isn’t he like ish fader!”)
4.—Stockman positively had not a shadow of chance, and if he planted
one blow he got five in return. The jobbing system was resorted to
by Sam, and in closing at the ropes he held Stockman in his left
arm, and with his right hand he nobbed him in the Randall style,
ditto, ditto, ditto, ditto, and ditto, till Stockman went down quite
bothered, amidst the loudest applause ever heard in the Prize Ring.
5.—The length of Sam, his steady guard, and his confidence,
prevented Stockman from placing any hits with effect. Stockman,
after the receipt of several blows, went down on his knees; but Sam
held up his hands, smiled, and walked away. “That’s right Sam; he
only wants a foul blow.”
6.—We never saw Stockman so much at a loss before; he was nobbed
with the utmost ease by his opponent, and fibbed tremendously till
he went down.
7.—Sam stopped the rush of Stockman, hit him as he liked, till
Stockman dropped. Two to one, but no takers.
8.—Stockman might have resigned the contest—every round was against
him. The left hand of Sam was continually in his face, when with a
heavy blow Stockman was floored. Three to one.
9.—Stockman countered well, but Sam got out of the way of punishment
with the skill of an old general. Stockman received a staggering
hit, and a repeated blow sent him down.
10.—This was a good round. Fine science was exhibited on both sides,
till Sam sent Stockman down on his knees. Sam raised his hand. (“Be
careful,” said Josh, “we won’t have it that way at all, Sam; mind,
don’t be caught for a foul blow!”)
11.—“Move your feet in and out,” said Curtis; “but it is all your
own.” Stockman made a good stop, and also put in a heavy blow on
Sam’s throat. In closing both down. Any odds against Stockman, but
shy of taking.
12.—Stockman went down on his knees from a hit, but Sam held up his
hands, and walked away. Applause.
13.—Stockman put down his hands, and appeared to wish the battle was
at an end. Sam planted a tremendous blow bang in the middle of his
opponent’s head; Stockman’s eyes flashed fire, he was quite abroad,
and went down completely exhausted. Ten to one laid and taken.
14.—The battle nearly over; by way of a finish, Sam caught hold of
Stockman and fibbed him down. The Jews in rapture on beholding the
talents of Dutch Sam the second.
15.—It was all U P.; Stockman, groggy as a Jack Tar three sheets in
the wind, was sent down before he was scarcely at the scratch.
16.—Stockman still showed fight, but he was met by Sam on going in,
when he fell on his knees, but he instantly got up, and with much
fury rushed in to mill Sam. The latter, however, floored him like a
shot.
17. and last.—Sam had it completely his own way, till Stockman went
down. While sitting on his second’s knee he hinted that he had
enough—if not too much. Sam was hailed the winner in thirty-six
minutes and a half.
REMARKS.—The “Downy Ones” were completely thrown out, as the
non-favourite proved victorious. Stockman did all he knew to win;
but he could not get at his opponent. Sam was completely his master
in every point of view; in fact, he felt so surprised on being
declared the conqueror that he exclaimed: “Is it all over? Why, I’m
not hurt in the least; I could fight an hour longer.” Stockman, on
being taken out of the ring, was quite exhausted, and insensible for
a short period. Young Sam was positively without a visible scratch.
Young Sam was now welcomed as the true son of the Phenomenon of the
Prize Ring, entering eagerly on a life of gaiety which must impair the
stamina of an athlete. Dick Curtis, too, selected him as his partner in
public sparring exhibitions. At this period it was the fashion to
illustrate the art of self-defence at the theatres, and more especially
upon the stages of the transpontine houses. Dick Curtis and Young Dutch
Sam figure frequently in the playbills of this period, and he showed off
his graceful and effective style with much _éclat_ behind the footlights
of the Surrey, Coburg (now Victoria), and Royalty Theatres, and at the
Sanspareil, in Catherine Street, Strand.
Sam was not long allowed to be idle. Harry Jones, the Sailor Boy,
offered himself to his notice, and a match was made for £25 a-side.
This battle was decided at Shere Mere, on the borders of Bedfordshire,
on Tuesday, the 18th of October, 1825. Jones was backed for this event
in consequence of his being said to have had the best of Sam in a
sparring match at the Jacob’s Well, Barbican. The odds, nevertheless,
were against Jones, six to four, and in several instances two to one,
and some persons even ventured to lay three to one on the ground. Sam
was attended by Dick and George Curtis, and Jones by Goodman and Reid.
The Young One had the length of his opponent, but Jones showed most
muscle and strength, and also the best condition. Two to one on
setting-to in favour of Sam.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Caution was the order of the day on both sides—Sam on the
look-out, and the Sailor Boy equally leary to guard against squalls.
Sam tried all the manœuvres he was master of to do summat, but
Jones, who had a good knowledge of milling, was not to be had. Some
minutes elapsed and nothing was done, until the Sailor Boy rushed in
to work. He made a hit with his left hand on Sam’s cheek, and
closed. The weaving system was now adopted; Sam was thrown; and the
Sailor Boy fell on the young Israelite. (“Well done, Jones!”)
2.—Jones cleverly stopped Sam’s left hand; sparring for advantages;
and Sam hit short. The Sailor Boy, eager for work, went boldly up to
his adversary, and planted a right-handed hit on Sam’s nob. A sharp
rally of give and take occurred. In closing, the Young One received
a cross-buttock, and Jones fell heavily on his opponent.—(“Bravo,
Jones! that’s the way to win.”)
3.—Jones hit short, being too eager to make play; however, he soon
made up for it, by planting a heavy blow on Sam’s cheek. In closing,
the pepper-box was handed from one to the other, the Sailor Boy
fighting at the nob, while his opponent was hammering at the body.
The round was finished by Jones getting down as well as he could,
Sam keeping on his pins.
4.—The Young One did not show anything like the superiority he
exhibited in the fight with Stockman. The claret was running down
from Sam’s mouth, while, on the contrary, the Sailor Boy looked none
the worse for his engagement. Sam’s mouth was open, rather piping.
Jones, with excellent skill, stopped a heavy left-handed blow of
Sam’s. In fact, considerable science was displayed by both
combatants, till Jones rushed in to mill; sharp counter-hitting; in
closing, the pepper-box was in full use until they separated.
Another sharp rally took place, when the Sailor Boy went down.
5.—This was a prime round; and the fighting was excellent on both
sides. Sam’s peeper napped a rum one from Jones—the Sailor Boy
repeated the dose. (Great applause; and “He’ll win it!”) Sam was
also bored down at one corner of the ring.
6.—The Sailor Boy appeared as fresh as when he commenced the battle.
Sam’s condition was not satisfactory. He sparred, and looked
anxious. The Sailor Boy appeared quite up to the movements of Sam,
and would not be decoyed from his mode of fighting by the stratagems
of the young Israelite. Severe counter-hits, which told on both
sides. Jones, however, received a heavy one on his listener as he
was going down.
7.—A long fighting round, and Harry as good as Sam. A sharp rally,
and mischief in it. The Sailor Boy broke ground, but soon returned
to his adversary, laid hold of him by the body, and sent him down in
an ugly manner. (“Well done, Jones—you can’t lose it!”)
8.—Sam’s left hand was stopped by Jones; still the former persevered
till he made a good hit. Sharp counter-hitting; rather too hot for
Jones, so he retreated; nevertheless he returned to the charge in a
passion, and planted a flush hit on the young Israelite’s face.
Jones ultimately went down.
9.—The upper works of Sam napped a little one; and Jones got away
laughing. A severe rally; give and take without flinching. Sam tried
milling on the retreat, was successful, and the Sailor Boy slipped
down.
10.—This round was decidedly in favour of the Sailor Boy. The latter
began his work without delay; and Sam slipped down by accident,
receiving a heavy hit on his conk; but, like a trump, he jumped up
and slashed away without ceremony. The Sailor Boy drove him to the
ropes. Sam adopted the weaving system, but not with effect; the
Sailor Boy hung upon his neck, till both went down.
11.—The Sailor Boy was a dangerous customer. He planted a heavy blow
with his left hand—then boldly went up to his opponent, and caught
him round his neck—it was then blow for hit, till Sam was thrown.
(Lots of applause for the Sailor Boy.)
12.—The chaffing-box of Sam received rather an ugly thump from
Jones; but Sam was determined to be with him, cutting the skin of
his eyebrow like a knife, the claret following. Good milling, till
Jones seemed a little abroad, and pulled Sam down.
13.—Jones parried well; and in a sharp rally the Sailor Boy was
extremely active. Sam was cautious, but kept milling with his
opponent. Ultimately Jones went down.
14.—The young Israelite appeared distressed, and also exhibited
marks of punishment. The blows of Sam, at this period, seemed to
have but little effect on Jones. The Sailor Boy again parried the
hitting of his opponent with much skill; but he bored in, and caught
hold of his adversary round his neck. Sam, in order to extricate
himself, fibbed his opponent, and at length got away. Jones went
down.
15.—Severe counter-hitting, after which, Jones bored Sam to the
ropes. It was expected the Sailor Boy would have done some mischief,
but after a little struggling he went down.
16.—Jones planted a sharp facer with his left, but the young
Israelite, in return, jobbed him with his right. A rally, of no long
duration; and in closing Sam was thrown.
17.—The Sailor Boy planted several hits, after which he bored in
with his head down, in order to escape milling. A struggle for the
throw, when Jones got down anyhow. (“I don’t like that,” observed an
Old Ringgoer; “he’s going to cut it.”)
18, and last.—Sam came up to the scratch quite gay; and the Sailor
Boy was lively to all appearance. After some sparring, Sam planted a
blow on the right side of his opponent’s nob, and he fell on his
back. It did not appear by any means a finishing blow, and the
amateurs did not like it. When time was called, the Sailor Boy was
deaf to it; and Young Sam was declared the conqueror. The battle was
over in fifty-three minutes.
REMARKS.—There is nothing new in the Sailor Boy’s cutting it: in
several of his battles he has done the same thing, when the amateurs
have been perfectly satisfied that he had the best of it. It was
exactly the same sort of thing in his last battle with Stockman. He
showed himself decidedly the best fighter, and was also the
strongest man. In truth, when he had got his clothes on, he was very
little the worse for milling! The blows of Sam were more showy than
effective, and his hits were trifling on the nob of Jones, compared
to the style with which he finished off Stockman. To sum up the
matter, it was the opinion of the majority of persons present that
Jones, although a good fighter, a strong chap, and capable of doing
severe execution, by the manner of his giving in, showed the “white
feather” most unmistakably.
Sam’s defeat of Harry Jones did not add much to his reputation; but he
was soon matched with Tom Cooper, the Gipsy, for £30 a-side. This battle
was decided on Tuesday, the 25th of April, 1826, at Grays, in Essex,
nearly opposite Gravesend, twenty miles from London by road.
It would be wrong to state that the road was covered with amateurs on
the appointed Tuesday; nevertheless, the “Old Ring-goers” were in motion
at an early hour, and a good muster of the Fancy, in gigs and other
vehicles, were trotting over the ground, to arrive in time at the scene
of action. Tom Cooper, by his manly behaviour in a turn-up with Bishop
Sharpe, which continued for twenty minutes and upwards, was viewed as an
opponent likely to test the “staying capabilities” of the Young ’Un.
Nevertheless, the betting was decidedly in favour of Sam, six and seven
to four. The ring was formed in a field near the Thames, in a most
delightful spot; the ships in the river added to the picturesque effect.
The ride from London was truly charming. At one o’clock the combatants
entered the ring, Dutch Sam attended by Dick Curtis and Harry Holt, and
Cooper waited upon by Jem Ward and his brother Jack Cooper. After the
hands were crossed together in friendship, the men made their toilets,
and in a few minutes set to.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Sam looked well, and the advantages of careful training
were perceived in the improvement of his frame. The “Hero of the
Bush” was also in good trim; in fact, Cooper is naturally a hardy,
wiry sort of chap. Both on the alert, but cautious; and a short time
occurred in manœuvring to obtain an opening. At length the Gipsy let
fly, and touched Sam’s canister slightly, but the son of the
Phenomenon returned a sounder on the body of his opponent with his
right. In a rally, counter-hits took place. Sam, however, got away
in style; but the Gipsy, anxious to do mischief, again made use of
his right hand, when Young Dutchy, with great celerity, planted a
second body blow. Sam also, by his skill, bored the Gipsy into a
corner, and exhibited his superiority, to the delight of his
backers, by using his left and right hands on the index of Cooper,
producing the claret, until he went down. (Uproarious shouts of
applause for Sam, and two to one offered without the slightest
hesitation. “Sam will win in a canter.”)
2.—The blows of the Gipsy were seen on the frame of Sam, but did not
appear mischievous. Caution again on both sides; but the Gipsy,
always fond of slashing, used his left hand with success on Sam’s
head. Dutchy, like a good one, and master of his art, took the lead,
went in, and punished the nob of his opponent like fun. The Gipsy
did not like it, but kept fighting as he was retreating from danger.
A sharp rally, and milling on both sides. Sam, perceiving that he
could go in without much danger, again drove his antagonist to the
ropes, where the Gipsy, rather tired, went down. (“It’s as right as
the day!” said the Pet of the Fancy; “we shall win without any
trouble.” “Sam for a hundred.”)
3.—The mug of the “Hero of the Bush” was now the worse for fighting,
but his pluck was as good as ever, and mischief seemed his object,
by his slashing away at his adversary. Random shots seldom tell, and
so it turned out for the Gipsy. Sam took advantage of this sort of
wildness, and put in a conker so sharp that Cooper was quite mad,
rushed in to work, helter-skelter, and planted a severe blow under
Sam’s right ogle, which produced the claret. (“Capital!” from the
friends of Cooper; “another like that, and summat will soon be the
matter!”) Young Dutchy, as gay as a lark, returned the compliment by
two severe hits, and as a sort of tie-up to the round, sent his
opponent headlong on the turf. (“Dat’s de vay!” from the Sheenies;
“Vat a peautiful hitter! Dat’s vat he ish, my dears! He’s an article
not to be shold for his vally!”)
4.—The coolness displayed by Sam, as well as his superiority as a
boxer, satisfied the judges he must win it, although he had napped a
severe one under his left eye, which bled rather copiously. His left
mauly was also a tiny bit damaged, and the friends of the Gipsy
announced the circumstance with delight and hopes that it was a good
chance for their man, who, they said, could last a long time. Sam
got away cleverly from a desperate blow, but went in to his
opponent, and by a flush hit on his mouth set Cooper’s ivories
dancing. The Gipsy, not dismayed, returned on the body. A sharp
rally followed, in which Cooper was floored; and Sam, rather weak,
reeled against the stake. (Five-and-twenty pounds to ten, but the
backers of the Gipsy did not fancy it.)
5.—This was a prime round; and the friends of the Gipsy observed, if
he had but commenced the battle as he now fought, the chance might
have been in his favour. The Gipsy wildly fought at the body, while
Sam (adopting the traits of his master, Curtis, who was at his
elbow) kept milling at the head, and doing considerable execution at
every hit. Sam also got away from numerous blows; and such was the
fine science he exhibited, uniting tremendous punishment, that he
nobbed the Gipsy five times, one after the other, and then, by way
of a quietus, floored him. (The Sheenies were now roaring in
ecstasy, offering any odds on their “peautiful Young Dutch Sam!”)
6.—The courage and resolution of the Gipsy were admired by every one
present, but his mode of fighting was wildness instead of science.
He trusted much to desperation, and slashed out without looking at
his opponent; in a word, he was no marksman. In the hands of a
scientific boxer like Young Dutchy he stood no chance. When once
kept out with a few nobbers such a fighter becomes an easy prey, and
is licked off-hand at the leisure of the cool miller. Thus was the
Gipsy disposed of in this round. He napped “divers blows in sundry
places,” and was ultimately floored. (Five to one, but no takers.)
7.—The appearance of the Gipsy was considerably altered, but his
friends insisted he was now fighting better, and thought they
perceived a small turn in his favour. Anxiety and friendship for a
man, in addition to backing, too often punishes the pocket of the
amateur—he does not view the contest in a proper light. The Gipsy
was still mischievous, and a chance blow might win the battle. (“Be
on your guard,” said the Pet. “Give nothing away. Be ready for him;
he’s coming, wild as an ox.”) Sam waited for his adversary, met him
in the head, and in the struggle for the throw both went down.
8.—In this early stage of the battle it was a guinea to a dump as to
the best fighter. Sam did as he pleased, as a superior tactician,
and finished this round in great style by a flooring hit. Any odds.
9.—The Gipsy was piping, all abroad, and of little use, with his
index out of shape. He was also fatigued, yet he went to work
desperately, in order to obtain something like a chance in his
favour. It, however, was “no go.” The wildness of the Gipsy was fast
leaving him; and the jobbers he received at every turn rendered him
nearly stupid. He was hit down distressed.
10.—It was “bellows to mend” with Cooper—in addition to which, Sam’s
fists were never out of his face until he was floored. (Thirty to
ten. “Take him away; he can’t win it.”)
11.—The Gipsy in this round endeavoured to hit up, which, if it had
told upon Sam’s nose, might have been dangerous. But he was punished
severely, and in endeavouring to make a return Cooper fell
exhausted.
12.—The Gipsy was nearly done over, but he was gay, fought like a
man, and contended till he went down. (“Take him away.”)
13.—Wildness and mischief was still the tactics of Cooper, but it
was all up with him as to victory. Sam planted his hits as safely as
if he had been attacking a dead mark. The Gipsy down.
14.—Cooper was now so distressed that all the champagne in Charley
Wright’s extensive cellars—successful as it is in most cases towards
recruiting drooping spirits—would have proved of no use towards
renovating the strength of the defeated Gipsy. He was severely
punished till he went down like a log of wood. (“Pray take the brave
fellow away!”)
15, and last.—All things have an end, and the Gipsy was compelled to
submit to defeat. Like a drowning man that catches at a straw,
Cooper made a desperate rush as his last effort. But Sam finished
his opponent by a tremendous blow on the nose as he was falling
forward, which deprived him of his senses. When time was called the
Gipsy was deaf to it, and Sam was declared the winner. The Young ’Un
left the ring little the worse for the combat, excepting his hands,
which were much swelled. The Gipsy did not open his eyes for several
minutes, when he was not only carried out of the ring, but also to
the nearest public-house. In fact, Cooper could not stand. The
battle was over in thirty-eight minutes.
REMARKS.—Sam not only proved himself worthy the confidence of his
backers, but he raised himself a step higher in the sporting world
by his victory over Tom Cooper. He won the battle like a master of
his art. His coolness was admirable. He was perfectly prepared at
all points, and he met his man with all the skill of an experienced
warrior. Cooper did not disgrace himself by this defeat, but he
ought to have paid more attention to science. His mode of fighting
may suddenly dispose of ugly commoners in a street row, but with a
skilful pugilist, when desperation is stopped, the chance is gone,
and it is a heart-broken attempt to retrieve the day.
At Ascot Races, on Thursday, June 8th, 1826, after His Majesty (Geo.
IV.) had left the ground, a subscription purse of £50 was subscribed for
a fight. Sam, determined not to let a chance pass him, entered the
lists.
This mill was patronised by some swells of the first order, £50 being
collected in the Royal Stand with little difficulty, and great interest
was manifested by the spectators when Young Sam was announced as
prepared to contend for the prize-money. It will be observed that only
six weeks had elapsed since his last fight, and Sam’s hands were said to
be somewhat damaged. His opponent, Bill Carroll, was a good man. He was
seconded by M’Kenzie and Lenney; and Sam was handled by Dick Curtis and
Barney Aaron. Sam took the lead, at two to one, till the tenth round,
when he received a severe cross-buttock. This circumstance rather
alarmed his friends; but he soon recovered from its effects, and
finished off his man in a canter, in sixteen rounds, occupying thirty
minutes. The Duke of Wellington was present during the fight, and
subscribed £30 towards the stakes, and to a purse for the losing man.
From the great improvement exhibited by Sam, not only in his person, but
his knowledge of milling, he was matched, without hesitation, against
Jack Cooper, known as the Slashing Gipsy, for £50. This contest was
decided upon a stage, on Tuesday, February 27th, 1827, at Andover, after
Dick Curtis had defeated Barney Aaron. The Gipsy, attended by Jem Ward
and Mr. Nathan, ascended the stage, and Dutch Sam was waited upon by his
faithful friends Josh Hudson and Dick Curtis. The appearance of the
latter hero as Sam’s second excited general surprise. Curtis said,
“Gentlemen, a bet was laid me, ten pounds to one, that I did not win the
fight and second Young Dutch Sam. I believe,” said he, laughing, “I
shall win both events.” The combatants appeared in excellent condition;
Sam seemed lively as a dancing-master, and full of confidence. The
Gipsy’s mahogany mug bore a smile of triumph as, after shaking hands,
the men set to.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Sam did not exhibit the determined character of his late
sire, who was considered the hardest hitter of his time. Young Sam
stepped in and out exactly after the lively manner of Curtis, and he
also held up his hands like that great master of the art of
self-defence. The Pet is a model for all boxers; and Uncle Ben
(Burn) publicly expressed his regret that his Nevvy Jem was not at
Andover, to have taken a lesson from the battle between Curtis and
Aaron. Sam endeavoured to make a hit, after long sparring; but the
Gipsy got away from mischief. A precious long pause, and both upon
the watching system; at length the Gipsy went in hand over head, and
planted a heavy blow on the left arm of Sam, which left its mark.
(“I say, governor,” observed an old ring-goer, “if that there hit
had knocked at the door of Sam’s victualling office, summat would
have been the matter.”) Sam, on the alert, got away from another
random shot. The Gipsy followed Sam all over the stage, but gained
nothing by his bustling system. The Young One planted a facer; an
exchange of blows was made, but Sam had the best of it. In closing,
the strength of the Gipsy prevailed, and Sam went down upon his
knees.
2.—This was a long round, Sam taking his time to punish his
opponent. After several pauses, feints, and other manœuvres, Sam
gave a facer which produced “first blood.” The Gipsy, rather wild,
rushed in and planted a body blow; but it was a chance hit. Sam,
upon the whole, was too leary for his opponent, and having Curtis at
his elbow might be considered three points in his favour. He nobbed
the Gipsy frequently, without any return. The long space of
twenty-five minutes elapsed before this round was finished. In
struggling for the throw, both down, the Gipsy undermost. Sam for
£100.
3.—The Gipsy, at times, stopped well; but in general he had little
discretion about his hitting; he, however, planted a body blow. Sam
kept out of mischief with considerable skill, every now and then
planting facers, which put the Gipsy out of temper—nay, made him so
wild that he rushed in like a bull, and by a sort of scrambling
pull, he got the Young One down; five and six to four on Sam.
4.—Had Sam been a punishing hitter, the numerous blows which the
Gipsy had received upon his mug must have reduced the fight at this
period to a complete certainty, and also short in its duration.
Cooper is always a dangerous customer, and his scrambling hits may
win a fight. Sam, aware of this feature belonging to the Gipsy, kept
out of harm’s way with considerable talent, nobbing the Bush Cove at
his leisure. The Gipsy’s mug was bleeding profusely, and in rushing
in to do mischief, he ran himself down weak.
5.—This was a long round, but the Gipsy, although desperate at
times, could not turn the fight in his favour. The face of Sam did
not exhibit punishment. It is but right to observe that Cooper
stopped several well-meant blows; but he fought open-handed, and
missed numerous hits. If he had measured his distance properly,
another account might, perhaps, have been given of the battle. The
face of the Gipsy was bleeding in every direction, and he did his
utmost to win. In struggling for the throw Sam undermost.
6.—“You need not be in a hurry, Sam,” said Dick, “you are sure to
win it; he’s about cutting it now. It is £100 to a kick of the
rump.” Sam planted a facer that sent the Gipsy staggering, but he
returned to the charge, and fought desperately. In closing Sam
fibbed Cooper down. Six to one upon Sam, and “Take him away! He’s of
no use!”
7.—The Gipsy, quite abroad, ran at his opponent like a madman,
receiving facers at every step; nevertheless, he bustled Sam about,
who appeared a little distressed. In closing the Gipsy again napped
it severely, and went down, covered with claret. (“Take him away!”)
8.—Strange to say, the Gipsy answered the call of time with
alacrity. He also made two good stops. (“Bravo, Gipsy! you behave
like a brave fellow!”) Sam now had nothing to do but wait for the
rush of his opponent and nob him with ease and certainty. The Gipsy
was again punished severely till he went down. (“It is all up now!
ten pounds to a crown he does not toe the scratch again! Take him
away!”)
9, and last.—The Gipsy, however, showed fight, and proved himself a
much gamer man than his friends had anticipated. But he only stood
up to receive. Sam milled him down without ceremony. The Gipsy would
again have answered the call of time. He was game enough to have had
another round, but his backer humanely interfered, and said “he
should fight no more.” The battle continued for one hour three
minutes and a half. It is impossible to describe the joy felt by
Sam; he performed some regular dancing steps in the ring on being
declared the winner.
REMARKS.—Sam is an improving fighter; and if he can but add force to
his blows, bids fairly for the highest honours of the P.R. He left
the ring without a mark upon his face, and no casual observer could
have told that he had been engaged in a battle. The face of the
Gipsy exhibited severe punishment. Jack Cooper never took anything
like such a licking before. He did his best to win, and the bravest
could not have done more. Sam is anxious to get higher on the
pugilistic list; and if he can find friends to back him, expresses
no hesitation to fight Bishop Sharpe. We should say, upon this
point, to him, “Be bold, but not too bold!” But the Young One,
perhaps, knows best what he is about. He asserts that he fancies
“the Bishop” as a customer in preference to any other boxer in the
Ring.
In the days of old “the road to the fight” was one of the features of
sporting life, nor was the “return from the fight” made without its
vicissitudes. On this occasion the sudden alteration in the weather, and
the overwhelming showers of rain, rendered the roads almost impassable
between Andover and Basingstoke, and the men and horses were beaten to a
stand-still. But “it is an ill wind that blows no one any good,” and the
“Wheatsheaf Inn,” at Virginia Water, was not neglected either in the
journey from or return to London. A good larder, excellent tipple, prime
beds, and moderate charges are sure recommendations to the sporting
world; and here many of the London division rested for the night. Curtis
and Sam arrived in town on Wednesday night, with full pockets, and
amidst hearty greetings. Before he left Andover for London, Sam called
upon the Gipsy, and made him a present of two sovereigns.
On Thursday, March 1st, 1827, Young Dutch Sam took his benefit at the
Tennis Court, and was well supported. The sets-to generally went good,
the wind-up by Young Sam and Ned Stockman. Sam was as gay as a lark,
fresh as a four-year-old, and quite ready for another mill. Stockman
stood up well against his clever adversary; but Sam had decidedly the
best of the bout. Curtis also appeared at the Court, and was
congratulated by his numerous friends upon his recent conquest over
Aaron. His face was considerably swollen, and the handiwork of Barney
evident. The Star of the East also showed himself. Barney’s peepers were
completely in mourning; his mouth also damaged, and he complained of
soreness of his throat. He was quite cheerful, consoling himself that he
had done his duty like a brave and honest man.
The Gipsy did not exhibit much punishment—his head was rather out of
shape—a proof that Sam was not so hard a hitter as the Pet. Sam himself
had no visible signs of recent fighting about his nob; his face was
entirely free from marks. He returned thanks for the support he had
received, and hoped he had given his friends satisfaction.
Dick Davis, the “Pet of Manchester,” stood so high in the provincial
Fancy, from his repeated conquests, that the patrons of boxing in
Manchester were determined Davis should have a shy in the London Ring.
He was accordingly matched with Young Sam for £100 a-side. This battle
was decided on Tuesday, June 19th, 1827, near Stony Stratford. The
journey was rather too long for the cockneys, being nearly sixty miles
from the sound of Bow bells; as it is also one hundred and twenty-nine
miles from Manchester, it was also above a joke for the Manchester lads
to leave their homes. Therefore the muster of the Fancy was but thin at
Stony Stratford, although the battle between Sam and Davis excited
considerable interest among the lovers of boxing, both in town and
country. Davis was a native of Lancashire, and twenty-eight years of
age. He was employed in Mr. Peel’s iron foundry, at Manchester, as a
moulder—in height about five feet six inches and a quarter, weighing ten
stone twelve pounds. Davis, by his numerous victories, stood high as a
milling cove; and his friends at Manchester flattered themselves that he
was invincible, as with his country opponents he was never particular as
to weight and size. Davis defeated twice Jack Wilson, also Witman twice;
with Tom Reynolds he made a capital battle, which was brought to a
wrangle; and he likewise defeated Fidler Hall. Davis entertained an
opinion that he could conquer any pugilist of his own weight with the
greatest certainty. Sam had now proved victorious in five battles; Ned
Stockman, Jack and Tom Cooper (Gipsy), Carroll, and Harry Jones (the
Sailor Boy), all in succession had surrendered to his conquering arm.
Davis, with two of his backers, and Phil. Sampson, arrived at Stony
Stratford on Saturday, making the “Cross Keys” their headquarters. Davis
wore his working dress, consisting of a fustian jacket and wide thick
trousers; he also wore a check shirt, and he looked as rough a customer
as might be met with in a day’s walk, offering in these respects a
striking contrast to the smart and natty London boxer, who was a decided
swell in dress and deportment.