Sam arrived with Curtis during Monday, and made his headquarters at the

“George.” In walking through the streets of Stratford, the men met each

other for the first time, and shook hands like brave fellows. After this

_rencontre_, Davis appeared yet more confident he should prove the

winner, the opinion of the countryman being that “such a fine gentleman

couldn’t stand to be spoilt.”

On Tuesday morning the knowing ones laid their nobs together as to a

spot of ground, and a field at Haversham, about five miles from Stony

Stratford, was named as the scene of action. Thither the travellers

repaired, and a few minutes past twelve o’clock Sam, attended by Curtis

and Oliver, threw in his tile. Sam sported silk stockings. Davis

appeared immediately afterwards, followed by Sampson, and Johnny

Cheetham, of Manchester. The colours, yellow for each of the combatants,

were tied to the stakes. Sam was the favourite for choice; but his

friends were not inclined to give above five to four. Sam won the toss.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Davis reminded us of Bishop Sharpe, but was even more

formidable in appearance. He had been well trained; in fact, he was

up to the mark, and his heart also in the right place. To win, and

nothing else but to win, he said, he left Manchester. Sam was gay as

a lark, but his friends did not think him so well as he might have

been, and one of his knuckles on the left hand was tender and

swelled. Sam had the advantage in height and length, but the

superiority in weight was with Davis. The latter hero looked every

inch a milling cove. On appearing at the scratch Davis was still

cautious, and watching the movements of Sam from his eyes down to

his toe. Sam also measured his opponent at all points, and felt

assured that he had a rum customer before him. Offers on both sides,

but no blows; at length Davis rushed in, and slightly planted a hit

on Sam’s arm. Sam, with great skill, crept, as it were, by degrees,

up to his adversary, and let fly on Davis’s sensitive plant. Davis’s

ogles winked again, (“Sam for £100!”) A trifling exchange occurred,

when Sam cried, out, “First blood!” the claret slightly appearing on

the mouth of Davis. Sam was not long before he planted another

snouter, but Davis received it very coolly. Davis put in a body hit.

Exchange of blows; when they separated, Sam waiting for another

turn. A long pause. Davis would not make play. Sam planted another

successful noser. Several minutes had elapsed; so much caution was

observed on both sides that it was certain that a long fight would

be the result. Sam retreated from some heavy work to a corner of the

ring, where he received a bodier; but he returned a heavy nobber,

which sent Davis staggering until he went down. This was considered

a knock-down blow; and the two events had been obtained upon the

part of Sam, as to first blood and the first knock-down blow. (The

Samites opened their mouths like good ones, saying, it was as right

as the day, and offering any money on the son of the Phenomenon.)

2.—Davis hit Sam on the ribs. Sam returned right and left. Davis

missed two heavy blows. A long pause. Sam again felt for the nose of

his opponent. Davis gave two body hits, but they were short, and not

effective. Counter-hits; but the length of Sam gave him the “best of

it.” Another tedious pause. Sam walked round his opponent to get an

opening. (“As you are a fine fighter,” said Sampson, “why don’t you

go to work?” Curtis observed to Sampson, “Do you recollect Ned

Neale?”) Davis stopped a left-handed blow cleverly; he also got away

from another. The men now went to work, and several blows were

exchanged. In closing Sam endeavoured to fib his adversary; but the

strength of Davis was too much for him, and in struggling for the

throw Sam got down well. “Well done, Sam!” from the London boys.

3.—The claret was now visible upon the mug of Davis, and the

nose-enders he had received put him on the winking system. This

round was a truly tedious one—five minutes at a time and no blows

passed. Sam was determined, like a skilful general, not to lose an

inch of ground, and only to hit when it was a certainty to get home.

Sam let fly, and the face of his adversary napped it. Some sharp

fighting occurred, Davis endeavouring to do mischief, and he

ultimately succeeded in planting a desperate left-handed hit on the

side of Sam’s head, which floored the Young One. The Lancashire lads

began to open their mouths—“That’s right, Dick!”—while the Samites

not only looked blue, but were silent as fish.

4.—Sam looked rather stupid; he was labouring under the effects of

the last blow. Davis did not follow up his success, but waited for

Sam to make play. The latter with great ease put in a rum one, and

Davis put up his hand to feel if his nose was in the right place.

Sam stopped a well-meant body blow. A short rally, but Sam broke

away. In closing some expressions of disapprobation saluted Davis

for his mode of throwing. But as it did not appear to be done

intentionally, the umpires did not notice it, and Sam was under.

5.—This was a short round, but the milling in it was better than in

any of the preceding rounds. The exchanges were at par. Davis

thrown.

6.—Several of the London Fancy began rather to be alarmed, and got

their money off by backing Davis. Excepting his nob he was none the

worse for the battle, although one hour and more had passed away.

The science displayed by Sam was the delight of the amateurs; he

jobbed Davis repeatedly; but the game of the latter was not to be

reduced by the left-handed blows of Sam. The right eye of Davis was

cut in the corner, and the claret was streaming from his nose. He

made some counter-hits, but had the worst of the round until he went

down.

7–9.—The fighting of Davis in all these rounds was the same; he

would not go in; and stood out to be nosed at the will of Sam. The

latter was thrown heavily in the last round.

10.—This was a long round. Sam was more than cautious; and under the

circumstance of his bad hand his fighting was entitled to praise.

The lip of Davis was cut severely. He received lots of smashers in

the face, and the claret running down his throat annoyed the

Lancashire man much. In closing Davis was under.

11–16.—The superiority of the style of Sam’s fighting in all these

rounds gave him the lead; yet the goodness and game of Davis

rendered him a troublesome customer. The latter could not get at Sam

with anything like certainty, and therefore his favourite hits were

at the body. Sam was thrown, and also received some heavy blows. In

the last round he received a severe cross-buttock.

17–21.—(“Pray take him away,” said Tom Oliver to his backer; “he is

one of the gamest fellows I ever saw, but he cannot win; you will

get yourself into trouble—nay, all of us. It is a shame to let such

a brave fellow fight any longer.” “Well done, Tommy,” replied a

Manchester covey; “he is not half licked yet; Davis will soon begin;

he can’t lose it. Sam has not strength to lick a baby.”) The head of

Davis, by the repeated jobbers he had received, was quite out of

shape; both his peepers were damaged, his cheeks puffed up, and his

nose cut and bleeding. But his backers relied upon his gameness, and

several of them calculated upon his winning. The last round was well

fought, and rather in favour of Davis, who went in to fight. Sam was

down.

22, 23, 24.—Nose and mouth. Although it might be termed quite safe

to Sam, and three to one offered upon him, yet the son of the

Phenomenon treated Davis as a dangerous rival, and kept out of

mischief. He jobbed Davis at his leisure, reducing his strength

every round. (“Take him away!” from all parts of the ring.)

25–27.—Davis would not listen to anything like “giving in,” and

although his nose was hit two or three times in every round, he

fought in the most manly style. He was down in every round. (“Take

him away!”)

28.—The gameness of Davis never deserted him and it did appear to

the spectators that he would sooner part with his life than lose the

battle. (Ten pounds to a crown—any odds—but no takers.) Davis sent

down.

29, 30, and last.—Davis again appeared at the scratch and showed

fight. Sam now did as he liked with his brave opponent, punishing

him in all directions, until he hit him down in the corner of the

ring. His backers said Davis should not fight any more. In fact,

Davis could not have appeared again at the scratch. The fight

occupied _three hours and thirty-five minutes_.

REMARKS.—Against a fine fighter like Dutch Sam something more than

gameness is required. Davis may defeat a mob of yokels, but it is

quite a different thing to tackle London prize-fighters. Davis is a

good man, a scientific hard hitter, and stands up like a

chopping-block; but the above requisites, although essential to a

boxer, will not ensure victory unless he can fight more than a

little. He must learn to give as well as to take; a receiver-general

is but a foolish character. Davis was severely punished about the

head. Had he gone in according to the direction of Sampson a

different account might have been given of the fight; yet it is but

common justice to say of Davis that he exerted himself all in his

power to win the battle. Sam, notwithstanding it took him upwards of

three hours to defeat his opponent, won the fight like a first-rate

tactician. If the left hand of Sam had not been injured he would

probably have won the battle in half the time. He left the ring

quite fresh, and could have fought another hour without difficulty.

The backers of Sam, without hesitation, now pitted him against the

“all-conquering Bishop Sharpe” for £100 a-side. This match excited an

unusual degree of interest. Sharpe had the majority in his favour,

particularly the old ring-goers; nevertheless, Young Sam stood well with

the Corinthians and the lovers of fine fighting. The following remarks

as to the different capabilities of the combatants were published a few

days previous to the day appointed for the battle to take place: “First

on the list stands Bishop Sharpe, the Bold Smuggler, who has proved

himself successful in upwards of twenty battles, both in and out of the

Prize Ring. The Smuggler never picked his customers, but took them as

they came, and always got through the piece with victory. As a fighter,

Bishop Sharpe is not generally admired; but as a hitter he is

tremendous, and one blow well planted has often rendered it ‘no go’ to

his opponents. The Sage of the East pronounces him to be ‘prodigious;’

and the John Bull Fighter asserts, ‘He hits them as I like, and so hard

as his opponents do not like!’ But Sharpe will be opposed by a ‘leary’

fighter in Sam, cautious in a high degree, and who has a very great

aversion to be hit at all. This renders Sam a very difficult cove to be

‘got at.’ He is also a very dangerous adversary for those customers who

like to ‘go in,’ as he nobs and gets away, frequently without any

return; his blows are considered light, and of the sparring school; but

the Manchester Pet tells another tale. We are inclined to think—nay,

almost certain—that Young Sam cannot punish anything like his late papa,

nor hit as hard; but he has a knack of hitting a man twice in a place

which nearly amounts to the same thing. Sam is confidence personified,

and the Bishop thinks victory is as safe to him as if the battle were at

an end. Sharpe is at present the favourite, five to four.”

Tuesday, October 23rd, 1827, was the day set apart for the battle to

take place, and great anxiety was manifested upon the event. Many of the

Londoners started overnight for the scene of action; and in consequence

the Bonifaces on the road to No Man’s Land came in for a turn, more

especially at St. Albans, the “Blue Boar” being the grand rallying

point.

Before peep of day on Tuesday morning, the North London road was covered

with vehicles of every description, filled with the lads of the Fancy,

picturing to themselves a prime day’s play between Sam and the Bishop,

and the complete fill up of the scene by Barney Aaron and Redmond. The

“Crown,” at Holloway, kept by Joe Emms, was attractive; Young on

Highgate Hill was not forgotten; Pepper, at the “King’s Arms” at Barnet,

came in for a good slice, and “Little Tim’s Crib,” near to the twelfth

milestone, was overflowing with company.

Sharpe, on the Monday evening, made his quarters at St. Albans, and Sam

took up his residence for the night at “Little Tim’s.”

As the day wore on, it was ascertained that a screw was loose, and five

to one offered that no fight would take place. Such was the state of

things for two or three hours at St. Albans; at length it was announced

that Sam was upon the road, and he shortly afterwards made his

appearance in a post-chaise.

Time was on the wing; and Sharpe and his seconds, Peter Crawley and

Ward, made the best of their way to No Man’s Land, where the ring had

been previously made by Joe Fishwick. At one o’clock Bishop Sharpe threw

his hat into the ring, according to custom, in order to claim the stakes

should Sam not make his appearance, but Sam, attended by Curtis and

Harry Holt, showed himself within the ropes. All was happiness amongst

the crowd for a few minutes, and nothing but a scientific battle

expected to take place; but the mishap was soon developed; Sam took off

his fogle, but the remainder of his toggery remained untouched. The

traps now appeared, and said they had a warrant against Sam; but on no

occasion whatever did officers ever conduct themselves more gently, or

act “according to their instructions” to behave in a gentlemanly manner

to the offender against the law, than these did. This compliment is most

certainly due to them. The warrant was demanded, and was soon brought to

light. It purported to be from Marylebone Office, signed by Mr.

Rawlinson, directing all constables, &c., “to apprehend Samuel Evans and

bring him before the said magistrate of the county of Middlesex, on

suspicion of his being about to commit a breach of the peace with one

Bishop Sharpe.” During the conference with the traps, the Bishop

addressed himself to several gentlemen in the ring, observing, “It is

too bad—it is rascally conduct to rob me of the battle-money,” and

taking off his clothes, went up to his opponent, and said to him, “Sam,

do you mean to fight? I am ready for you.” Sam replied, “What am I to

do?—I can’t fight in the face of the officers.” His seconds, Holt and

Curtis, declared they would not give a chance away by seconding Sam in

defiance of the law. The traps, to prevent any further misunderstanding

on the subject, and to make “their visit pleasant,” in the most gentle

manner gave Sam a hint that his services in the ring would be dispensed

with, so, like “a good boy,” he retired from within the ropes without

giving them any further trouble. Bishop Sharpe put on his clothes; but

before he left the ring he said he had no doubt the lovers of fair play

would not let him be deprived of the stakes, and thus the affair ended.

On Thursday, October 25th, 1827, the Pet of the Fancy took his benefit

at the Tennis Court; and, considering the unfavourable state of the

weather, it was a good one. Several bouts proved attractive; but the

great feature of the day was the set-to between Harry Holt and Young

Dutch Sam. This gave the amateurs an opportunity of judging of Sam’s

condition; and, in the general opinion of the audience, he appeared

nothing wanting; on the contrary, he was considered up to the mark.

Young Sam was pitted against one of the best sparrers on the list, and

one who has had great experience, not only in fighting with Jack

Randall, but continually setting-to with the Nonpareil in his best days.

Holt has been opposed to all the first-rate men on the list, and always

proved himself a distinguished scientific artist. The attack and defence

were a masterpiece on both sides. Harry was perfectly aware that he had

a troublesome customer before him, and Sam had not to learn that the

eyes of all the Court were on him. We do not know a better opponent than

Holt for Sam to produce a trial scene for the Fancy in order that they

may draw their own conclusions. Harry was capital, and Sam proved

himself excellent. The “best of it” was of a doubtful nature, and a

feather in the scales of candour and justice might have been the award

on either side; but it should be recollected that Sam was in condition,

and Harry quite out of it. This, however, was not the point in view; but

the most remarkable and valuable feature in the above set-to was

this—Sam, it was seen, could change his mode of fighting as

circumstances presented themselves—no hopping about, no standing still,

but stopping and hitting his opponent with the utmost ease, rallying

like the most determined boxer, and getting out of trouble with ease,

style, and decision. Indeed, such was the display of Sam and Harry Holt

that the greatest admirers of Bishop Sharpe on witnessing the set-to,

must have pronounced the “Young One” a formidable and dangerous customer

to the Bold Smuggler. Tumultuous applause crowned their exertions and

exits from the stage. It was pronounced by the whole of the visitors one

of the best sets-to ever witnessed at the Tennis Court.

Several persons of rank who were present wished that Sam would give some

explanation on the subject of his not fighting with Sharpe. He replied

“that he had no explanation to give; he had been used very ill, and it

was not his fault!”

DECISION OF THE STAKEHOLDER.—The “Castle Tavern” was overflowing on

Wednesday, October 24th, 1827; Bishop Sharpe and his backers were

present. The stakes of £200 were demanded by the Bishop, on the score

that he was in the ring, and ready to fight, according to the articles

of agreement. He said that Sam had declined to fight through the

collusion of parties, under the idea they would lose their blunt if he

fought, and not on account of any fair magisterial interruption. One of

the backers of the “Young One” resisted the stakes being given up until

the whole of Sam’s backers were present, as they had nothing to do with

the matter in dispute. The stakeholder, Tom Belcher, considered, in

point of right and fairness, the Bishop was entitled to the

battle-money, and accordingly gave Sharpe one hundred pounds, holding

the other hundred as an indemnity against any legal proceedings which

might be instituted against the stakeholder.

Sam, full of pluck, and anxious to obtain a job, offered to fight Peace

Inglis, but no match was made.

In April, 1827, Dan M’Kenzie was matched against Young Sam for £50

a-side, but the backers of M’Kenzie ultimately preferred a forfeiture to

running the risk of a battle.

In a set-to with “the Young Gas” at the Tennis Court, Sam distinguished

himself, proving a most troublesome customer. Jonathan had “all his work

to do” to prevent his being placed in the background by the superior

tactics of Young Sam.

The set-to between Young Sam and Harry Holt had given so much

satisfaction to the amateurs that a second bout was called for by the

admirers of the art of self-defence. At the benefit of Jem Burn at the

Tennis Court on Tuesday, December 11th, 1827, the above pugilists again

met. Sam, as a rising performer, appeared anxious to obtain the

superiority, and Holt was equally on the alert to prevent losing his

laurels obtained as an accomplished sparrer. The latter defended himself

with considerable skill; but the length and activity of Sam ultimately

gave him the advantage. Upon quitting the stage they received thunders

of applause from a delighted audience.

The following statement, addressed to the sporting world, appeared in

the newspapers in vindication of Young Sam’s character:—

“November 1st, 1827.

“GENTLEMEN,—I have been much surprised to perceive that almost all

the blame of the disappointment experienced by the fancy owing to

the fight not taking place between Bishop Sharpe and myself has been

laid upon my shoulders, and yet I have been unquestionably the

greatest sufferer; for I am confident that had no interruption taken

place the battle-money would be now in my possession. An inference

is drawn to my prejudice that as the warrant from the Mary-la-bonne

Office was granted on the information of my mother, I had employed

her to give such information, or, at least, that she acted with my

knowledge and consent; but I declare most solemnly that this was not

the case. I had no previous knowledge whatever that any one intended

to adopt such a course, nor did I know that such a warrant was

issued, till informed of it on the morning of fighting. Whether or

not this warrant was obtained at the instance of persons who had

taken a strange alarm and were afraid to risk their money on me, I

shall not pretend to say; but of this the Fancy may be assured, that

I meant _to do my best to win_, and felt fully confident of success.

With respect to the assertion that the officers had no authority to

take me, as their warrant was issued from Middlesex, and was not

backed by a Hertfordshire magistrate, I can safely plead that they

told me they certainly had full powers to act, and I did not feel

sufficiently acquainted with legal niceties to resist their

authority. I could not venture to fight in defiance of a couple of

experienced officers, who I reasonably concluded must be much better

judges of the extent of their powers than I could be. As to the

alleged error of a _misnomer_ in the warrant, _my real name is

Samuel Evans_, so that the document was correctly drawn in that

respect at least. The whole affair has ended most unfortunately for

me; I am bound over to ‘keep the peace towards all his Majesty’s

liege subjects for twelve months,’ and am thus prevented from

exercising my profession in the Ring during that period—a

consequence of most serious import to a young man who, vanity apart,

was rising into notice, and had been hitherto invariably successful.

Of course, it is useless for me to talk of making any match at

present; but, when the above period has expired, I shall be prepared

to fight any man in England, of my weight, for from £100 to £500.

And now a word or two to Bishop Sharpe: If he has one spark of

English feeling belonging to him, he will not fail to give me the

preference as soon as I am free from the fetters of the law and able

to meet him. I have a prior claim upon his notice, and shall never

rest satisfied till I have a fair opportunity of proving which is

the best man. Good luck, and the unfair precipitation of the

stakeholder, have placed the battle-money for our late match in the

Bishop’s possession (to which, under all the circumstances, he was

not entitled); let him add to the windfall as much more as he

pleases up to £500, and, at the end of one year from the date of

this letter, I will fight him for the whole.

“Yours, &c.,

SAMUEL EVANS

“(Commonly called Young Dutch Sam).”

During the twelve months of enforced exclusion from the ring as a

principal, Sam figured in a turn-up in February, 1828, with a big carman

who insulted his friend, Dick Curtis, near London Bridge, polishing off

the wagon-driving Hercules in five rounds. The affair will be found in

the memoir of Dick Curtis, _post_.

In the autumn of 1828, in consequence of some personal unpleasantness,

the veteran Jack Martin (the once-renowned conqueror of Scroggins, Josh

Hudson, Phil. Sampson, and Ned Turner) challenged Young Sam to the

battle-field, and a match was made for £100 a-side. For some months this

affair was the talk of sporting circles; Sam’s conduct being the subject

of much censure. At length, all preliminaries being arranged, the men

met on the 4th of November, 1828, at Knowle Hill, Berks, thirty-four

miles from London, a spot celebrated from its having been the scene of

similar exhibitions on a former occasion—we allude to the fights between

George Cooper and Baldwin, Young Dutch Sam and Ned Stockman, and Goodman

and Reidie, all of which were decided on the same excellent arena

without interruption. In fact, a more suitable spot could not have been

selected; first, from its being at a distance from any populous

neighbourhood; and next, from one side of the grounds being bounded by a

gradual elevation, from which the spectators could look down upon the

sports as from a sort of amphitheatre. The distance from London, too,

four-and-thirty miles, brought the journey within the scope of a day,

and enabled the amateurs to go and return without any serious sacrifice

of time or labour.

Both men had been attentive to their training; Martin at Milford, in

Surrey, and Sam first at Hartley Row, and then at the “New Inn,”

Staines. In the early part of his training, Martin, from having but just

recovered from a severe fit of illness, as well as from the deep wound

which his feelings had sustained, was in anything but promising

condition. At last he came out with every appearance of renovated

health. At his benefit, on the previous Tuesday, he seemed to have

reached his pristine vigour, and, as he said himself, was quite as well

as an “old ’un” could expect to be. Of the result of the battle he

always spoke with perfect confidence, and led his friends to believe

that victory was certain. So persuaded was he himself of this issue that

he advised all whom he knew to back him without hesitation, and actually

gave them money to lay out on his account. In the end this confidence

proved to be misplaced, and the milling maxim that “old stale ones are

of no use to young fresh ones,” was fully exemplified; Martin, who had

been for some years a licensed victualler, being in his thirty-third

year, while Sam’s summers numbered but twenty-one. It was stipulated in

the articles that Martin should not weigh more than 11st. 7lbs. on the

morning of fighting—a superfluous condition, seeing that his weight, in

his prime, was under 11st., and his recent illness had reduced him some

pounds. Sam stated his weight at 10st. 12lbs.; to us he looked more than

half a stone heavier. The toss for choice of place was won by Sam, and

he very naturally named the scene of his former good fortune. On Monday

afternoon Martin reached the “Castle Inn,” on the further side of

Maidenhead; and Sam, accompanied by Dick Curtis and other friends,

shifted his quarters from Old Shirley’s at Staines, to the same

neighbourhood. It was soon ascertained that the magistracy would not

interfere, and the anticipation of the approaching contest was thus

unalloyed by those fears which were but too common even in those days in

meetings of a like character.

The road from London during Monday afternoon was crowded by drags of

every description. A great number pushed on to Maidenhead, while others

pulled up at Cranford Bridge, Colnbrook, or Slough.

The dawn of day produced a new cavalcade from all quarters. Carriages,

post-chaises, and gigs kept pouring through the town all the morning in

an almost uninterrupted line, reminding men of the days when Crawley

Downs was the favourite resort of the Fancy. Many persons of distinction

were among the motley assemblage, whose patronage, under the

encouragement afforded by the Fair Play Club, was hourly increasing. The

weather was as propitious as the most fastidious could desire; the sun

shone with brilliancy, and every countenance seemed gladdened by the

cheering prospect of a good day’s sport.

The Commissary was early on the ground, and formed the ring with his

usual judgment. The whole was surrounded by wagons and other vehicles,

which were drawn up three and four deep, and the most perfect regularity

was preserved. As the hour of combat approached the throng came rattling

in from every point of the compass, and the “yellowman” of Sam and the

“blue bird’s-eye fogle” of Martin were everywhere sported. Tom Cribb and

most of the old members of the P.R. were present, and we were glad to

recognise in the circle many of those old Fancy mugs whose countenance

in former days lent life to the scene.

At half-past twelve there were not less than ten thousand persons

assembled. At this time the F.P.C. whips were put into the hands of

twelve of the “Order of Regulators,” and the ring was immediately

cleared of interlopers, all of whom, with a few exceptions, retired

behind an outer ring of ropes, in which situation they remained

throughout the contest.

At a quarter before one o’clock it was announced that both men were on

the ground, and in a few minutes afterwards Sam entered the ring,

attended by Dick Curtis and Jem Ward. He looked serious, and was a

little pale, but still appeared well and confident.

In a few minutes afterwards Martin entered from the opposite side of the

circle, attended by Tom Spring and Peter Crawley. He was received with

loud cheers, and appeared in high spirits. He came forward with a smile

on his countenance, as if, to use the words of an old toast, “the

present moment was the most happy of his life.”

Martin paid but little attention to his antagonist, while Sam eyed him

with a searching look, and, turning towards his friends, said, “It will

be seen to-day whether fear forms any part of my composition.” On

peeling, Martin showed a fine muscular pair of understandings, and had

some good points upwards; but it was obvious that his frame was not in

its prime. His breast showed marks of recent blisters as well as the

bites of leeches, and the flesh about his collar-bone and ribs wanted

that fulness and freshness which betoken good health. Sam was “all over

right,” and was evidently in slap-up condition. Though not so well

pinned as Martin, his upper works were symmetry itself, and the fine

muscle of his shoulders and arms was visible at every move. At length,

both men being ready, the toss for choice of position took place, and

was won by Curtis. The men then went to the scratch, and shook hands

slightly, and immediately threw themselves into position. Breathless

silence prevailed, and the seconds retired to their corners. At this

time the betting was twenty-five to twenty on Martin.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The men set to across the sun, with their sides to it, and

each got close to the side of the ring. Sam had the higher ground,

and made one or two dips or half plunges with his left, as if going

to let fly; but Martin was steady, and held his arms well up to

guard his nob. In this way they stood opposite each other for some

seconds, when Sam again made a feint with his left. Martin

immediately broke away, and veering round, got the upper ground, so

that they, in fact, changed positions. Three minutes had now

elapsed, when Sam hit out slightly with his right, but was stopped.

He tried it again, and popped in his left and right with great force

on Martin’s right eye and left cheek. Martin then rushed in to a

rally, but was cleverly met by Sam with his left, and both hit away,

Sam well in, and quick with his right and left. Martin slipped on

his knees from the moist state of the ground, or from a hit in the

neck, but was up in a moment. Sam, ready at all points, instantly

plunged in to a close in the corner of the ring, and a desperate

struggle ensued, each trying for the advantage, Sam hitting right

and left at the body and head, while Martin grasped him round the

neck. Sam cleverly disentangled his left hand, and delivered a

slashing hit on his right eye; he then hit him with the right, and

both still continued to struggle with all their force, Martin

receiving some severe hits, but making no return; at last Sam threw

out his leg, and catching Martin on his thigh, flung him over, and

fell heavily on him. The ring was in an uproar, and all Martin’s

friends in dismay. It was a fearful but decisive struggle in favour

of Sam, for on Martin rising to his second’s knee his right eye was

closed and dreadfully swollen, while his face exhibited other marks

of Sam’s handiwork. Sam himself had not a mark. “It’s all over,” was

the general cry—“Sam must win;” and, indeed, it was evident that

Martin was quite abroad, as well as obviously distressed. The round

lasted five minutes, and six and seven to four were freely offered

on Sam, but no takers, for all were too much astonished to think of

hedging.

2.—Both men came to the scratch with deliberation, and each seemed

desirous of recruiting his wind, which was in full play from the

violence of the previous struggle. Sam again poised himself on his

left leg, keeping his head well up, and his fists ready for

delivery. At length Martin, as if he considered something desperate

was necessary, hit out with his right, but the blow fell short; he

then rushed in, but was met cleverly by Sam with his left. Martin,

quite wild, bored him to the ropes, but Sam, cool and steady, broke

away and jobbed him with his right. Martin, rather abroad, now tried

at the body, and rushed in with his head down—Sam again met him with

his right, and closed, when he caught poor Jack’s nob under his

right arm, and hit up with his left ultimately flooring him, and

falling on his head. Three to one on Sam, and no takers.

3.—Sam cautious, and in no hurry to begin. Martin stood with his

back close to the ropes, and many thought Sam ought to have gone in

to finish. He seemed to think, however, he had the game in his own

hands, and was evidently collecting his wind. At last he put in a

fearful job with his right on Martin’s left eye, and again with his

left on the nose, drawing claret in abundance. Martin broke away and

took up fresh ground (Approbation). Both got to the corner of the

ring, and again waited for Captain Wind-’em. Martin hit out with his

left, but was neatly stopped, and Sam smiled; Martin then tried his

right, but was short, and this was followed by another desperate

rally, in which Sam’s deliveries, right and left, were precise and

severe. His hitting was admirable, and style of attack beautiful.

Quick as lightning Martin had it in the chops, without being able to

make a successful return, and again in the throat. At last Martin

closed for the fall, running in with his head down, and succeeded in

getting Sam down, and falling upon him. (Ten minutes had now

expired, and it was pretty evident the first round had taken the

fight out of Martin).

4.—Martin all abroad; but still kept his hands well up. At length he

rushed in with his head down, and attempted to deliver a body hit,

which fell on Sam’s breast. Sam stepped back and met him as he came

in, and then closing hit up with great force, and delivered a

tremendous body blow with his right. In the struggle for the fall

both went down, Martin under.

5.—Spring now called for a lancet, if possible, to let the blood

from Martin’s right eye, but could not obtain one; he endeavoured to

scarify the skin with a penknife, but without effect, and poor Jack

was again brought to the scratch, when Sam lost little time in

jobbing left and right on the sore spots. This dose he repeated and

broke away. Martin rushed in wild, hitting right and left, but short

and without effect. Sam again closed, fibbed, and threw him.

(Fourteen minutes had elapsed.)

6.—Martin came up quite abroad, when Sam, after a feint, threw in a

tremendous smack with his right on the left jaw, and dropped him,

thus winning the first knock-down blow as well as the first blood.

7th, and last.—It was now Bushey Park to a lark sod. On Martin being

brought to the scratch Sam jobbed him right and left on the head and

ear, and repeated this discipline till his man went down completely

abroad and woefully punished. He tried to make a rally, but it was

all in vain, and on being lifted up by Spring, he said it was no

use, he was too stale, and had not a chance. Spring tried to

persuade him to get up for a few more rounds, but he would not “have

it,” and on his rising on his legs Spring gave in for him. He then

walked a few paces, and Spring gave him his knee when he complained

of his being sick at stomach. Sam was declared the victor in sixteen

minutes.

REMARKS.—In the history of Martin’s pugilistic feats—with the

exception, perhaps, of his quick despatch by Jack Randall in his

second fight, upon which so much was said at the time—we never

witnessed greater disappointment or astonishment than was manifested

on the present occasion. Hundreds of individuals, many of the

highest respectability, who had long since abandoned the sports of

the Ring, were induced to come from distant parts of the country in

full confidence that they would be gratified by seeing something

worth looking at, but what was their surprise to find that their

anticipations were groundless, and that the man on whose talent and

game they had relied proved to be below mediocrity, indeed, we have

never seen even the most unpretending commoner so easily and so

quickly disposed of. After the first round, in fact, he had not the

ghost of a chance. It is said that he was taken by surprise by the

quick assault of Sam, who from being a cautious out-fighter suddenly

changed his style and became the assailant. This may have been the

case; and we know that Sam, under the advice of Dick Curtis, adopted

this mode as the most likely to puzzle a man of Martin’s bustling

manner. Sam’s first feints were evidently dictated by a desire to

try what Martin meant, and whether he would stand to be jobbed if an

opening offered. The experiment told. Curtis saw the advantage, and

exclaiming to Sam, “Go it!” the latter at once made play. This

quickness immediately drew Martin to a rally, in which he clearly

lost his presence of mind, and left himself open to the severe

punishment, which he received without making anything like a return.

Feeling the sting of Sam’s hits he had recourse rather to hugging

and endeavouring to get his man down than to the more prudent course

of dropping or breaking away. This effort in his state of

constitution was decidedly the worst he could have made, as it could

only lead to exhaustion on his part much more easily than with his

more vigorous and youthful assailant. It also gave Sam an

opportunity of hanging upon him, and fibbing him in a way which, of

all things ought to have been evaded. Sam was alive to all his

advantages and availed himself of them in the most decisive manner,

and in so short a time we have seldom witnessed more decided

execution. If anything were wanting to prove the “patched up” state

of Martin’s frame, it was the rapidity with which his eye puffed up

from the effect of Sam’s left-handed hit, and the distress which he

exhibited when he was placed on his second’s knee. It has been

observed that after this he lost his temper, but to this we do not

subscribe, as he came up with great coolness and courage. He had,

however, sufficient reason to lose his confidence, which combined

with the punishment he had received, led him to the wild efforts he

subsequently made, and exposed him to the excellent generalship

which Sam displayed—not only in averting his antagonist’s

injudicious rushes, but in making the best of the openings which

were offered. It is true that after the first round Sam’s work might

be considered as done, but still he preserved his caution, did not

throw his chance away, and finished his man in a very masterly

manner. After the first round Martin was sick at stomach, and when

all was over this was his principal complaint, for, though severely

hit, we have seen him take five times the hitting with not one tithe

of the effect. A good deal of regret was expressed that Martin

should have had so signal a defeat added to his other mortification.

We have only to look to the character of the men in the ring; and,

in this view, to give Sam every credit for his milling talent, which

we unhesitatingly pronounce of the first order. From the ring Martin

was led to an adjoining cottage, where he was put to bed, and

received every necessary attention. Previous to Martin quitting the

ring Sam went up to him and begged him to shake hands. This Martin

for a long time refused, but at last put up his hand coldly, and Sam

promised to give him £10 of the battle-money. Sam dressed on the

ground, and appeared as if nothing had happened. He returned to

dinner at Shirley’s, and arrived in town the same night. Martin, on

recovering went to the “Castle Inn,” and set off the same evening

for Godalming, where he arrived alone at twelve o’clock at night and

remained there. He was much depressed, and refused to see any person

who called.

The battle-money was given up to Young Dutch Sam on the following

Thursday evening at Tom Cribb’s, in Panton Street, in the presence of a

full muster of the Fancy, and all bets were of course paid.

In the September following the defeat of Ned Neale by Baldwin

(White-headed Bob), Neale fought and defeated Nicholls, who had defeated

Acton, an opponent of Jem Ward. This match was for £100 a-side, and was

won by Neale in eighteen rounds and seventy-eight minutes. On the 2nd of

December, 1828, he beat Roche for £100 a-side, in thirty rounds,

occupying exactly half an hour, and was now without a competitor. At

this time Young Dutch Sam, who was in the zenith of his fame, was

naturally anxious still further to increase his reputation, and,

although he knew that Neale was a much heavier man than himself, he,

with a different feeling to that which is now but too prevalent, issued

a challenge to fight Ned, provided he would confine himself to 11st.

10lbs., he (Sam) undertaking not to exceed 11st. His fighting-weight was

declared to be under 10st. 10lbs., so that, in fact, he gave away at

least a stone. Neale, although his milling-weight was 12st. 4lbs.,

agreed to reduce himself to the stipulated 11st. 10lbs., the match was

made, and everything went forward satisfactorily, the battle exciting

intense interest.

FIRST FIGHT BETWEEN YOUNG DUTCH SAM AND NEALE, FOR £100 A SIDE.

The battle took place on the 7th of April, 1829, at Ludlow, in

Shropshire, but, owing to the distance from the Metropolis, and the

difficulty of getting thence to the scene of action, did not attract

that crowd of London Particulars which the known capabilities of the men

would have undoubtedly attracted had it come off nearer home. The

inducement to the men to go so far afield seems to have been a sum of

£100 subscribed for them by the inhabitants of Ludlow.

Neale, it may be remembered, had but once found his master, and that in

the never-flinching Baldwin (White-headed Bob); and Sam, although not

quite so old a member of the pugilistic corps, had at this time never

been beaten.

Strong apprehensions were entertained that Neale, by reducing himself so

much below his fighting-weight, would weaken his frame, and give his

more youthful antagonist an advantage over him (apprehensions which were

fully justified by the result). Neale, however, did not participate in

this feeling, and, after a sparring tour, he set out for his training

quarters, at Milford, where, by constant labour, he gradually got off

his superfluous flesh, and, a few days before fighting, was five pounds

under the stipulated weight. This was certainly carrying the point too

far, and although Ned himself said he never was in better health, he was

forced to confess he did not feel so strong as when his weight was

greater. In point of spirits and confidence, it was impossible that he

could have been in better form, and he booked winning as a certainty. He

left Milford on Saturday, and proceeded direct by mail to Ludlow, where

he arrived on Sunday afternoon, under the convoy of a gallant Captain,

and the Portsmouth Dragsman, the well-known Will Scarlett. It is

needless to observe that such a journey so near upon the approaching

struggle was not consistent with strict prudence, but such was Neale’s

estimate of his opponent, and such his reliance on his own physical

powers, that he treated the remarks on this subject with levity, and

fancied the laurels of victory already entwining his brow. Young Sam,

who trained first at Staines, was not less attentive to his duties. He

was known to be in tip-top condition, and as sleek and active as a deer;

showing at the same time a confidence in his carriage not less obvious

than that of Neale. He said his game had been doubted, but the

approaching combat would show whether these doubts were well or ill

founded. He, more wisely than Neale, left London with his backers and

friends on Friday, slept at Worcester, and reached Bromfield, near

Ludlow, on Saturday, and there remained till the morning of fighting. He

was attended by Dick Curtis and some of his favourite pals, who lost no

opportunity of reminding him of those qualifications which he had so

often shown to advantage, and which, in fact, had obtained for him the

character of one of the prettiest fighters of the day. In point of age

there was but little difference, Sam being twenty-two, and Neale

twenty-five. In the course of Monday the town of Ludlow was all bustle

and gaiety, and the certainty that no apprehensions were to be

entertained from the officiousness of the beaks gave universal

satisfaction.

The ground chosen for the lists was admirably suited for the purpose,

and was situated upon the top of a hill, in Ludford Park, within a

hundred yards of the adjoining county of Hereford. The ring was formed

under the direction of Tom Oliver and his secretary, Frosty-faced Fogo,

in their very best style, and was encompassed by an extensive circle of

wagons, which were liberally contributed by the farmers in the

neighbourhood, who behaved like trumps on this occasion, and were heart

and hand in favour of the game.

On Tuesday morning the men were “up with the lark,” and having taken

their customary walks, laid in a few strata of mutton chops, and other

belly furniture, after which they submitted to the titivation of their

respective barbers, who turned them out as blooming as a couple of

primroses, and looking as well as the most sanguine hopes of their

friends could have desired. As the day advanced, the crowd thickened,

and all betook themselves to the ring-side. By twelve o’clock upwards of

5,000 persons were assembled. The weather partook of the varied

character of April—alternate showers and sunshine—but, on the whole, was

favourable.

At half-past eleven o’clock the men went to scale, and were both found

within their weight, Sam about 2lbs., and Neale full 4lbs., but neither

was weighed to a nicety. Neale, when stripped, looked extremely thin,

and excited the surprise of many who had seen him in the same town a few

weeks before in the full proportion of thirteen stone, and it was

evident that his admirers became less sweet upon his chances, for the

odds of two to one, which had been freely offered on the night before,

received a sudden check, and few were found to offer them.

Immediately after the weighing had taken place, the £100 promised to the

men was placed in the hands of a gentleman chosen by both, and thus the

good folks of Ludlow honourably performed their part of the contract.

Soon after twelve o’clock Neale and his friends set out for the ground

in a barouche and four, all sporting the blue bird’s-eye; while Sam,

also in a carriage and four, displaying a bright yellowman, with a

scarlet border, and a garter in the centre, surrounding the letters

D.S., and bearing the Latin inscription, “_Nil desperandum_,” was close

at his heels.

At ten minutes before one Sam entered the lists, attended by his backer

and Phil. Simpson and Dick Curtis, who was very lame, as his second and

bottle-holder. He was as gay as a lambkin, and remarked, as he paced

backwards and forwards, “It has been said that I am not game, but the

issue of this battle will prove whether this imputation is well or

ill-founded. I have made up my mind to take a bellyful, and let him who

first says ‘hold!’ be written down a coward.” There was nothing of

foolish bravado in his manner, but his demeanour was such as betokened a

man who felt the importance of the stake he had to play for, and the

consciousness that he should have his work to do. His friends

immediately offered to take £100 to £50, but there was no “done” in the

case. Sam was loudly cheered on his arrival, and a similar compliment

was paid to Neale, who soon approached, attended by Tom Spring and Harry

Holt. He was the picture of health and good humour, and it was pretty

clear that the last thought which found place in his breast was the

apprehension of defeat. He shook hands with Sam, and offered to bet £5

each on first blood, first knock-down, and the battle, but this was no

go. All was now fixed attention. The ring was admirably kept throughout

under the superintendence of the Fair-play Club Whipsters. The toss for

choice of position was won by Curtis for Sam.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On coming to the scratch, the frames of the men were open

to general criticism. Sam was admirably proportioned and had a

decided advantage in height and length of arm over his opponent. His

muscles, too, were well developed, and we must say that a finer

looking young fellow of his weight, age, and inches, has never

entered the ring. Neale also looked well, and his broad shoulders

and muscular arms betokened strength and vigour; but, taking him

downwards from the waist, he was much thinner than he appeared in

his former battles. Each threw his arms up, ready for attack or

defence. Mutual feints were made for an opening, but both were on

the alert. Sam poised himself on his left foot ready for a shoot,

and kept working for mischief, but Ned stood well to his guard. At

last Sam broke ground and planted his left slightly. Ned was with

him, right and left, and rushed to a close. Sam stepped a little

back, and jobbed him right and left as he came in. Ned grappled for

the throw, when Sam caught him round the neck, and fibbed with great

quickness. Ned stopped this game by seizing his arm, and endeavoured

to get his favourite lock, and give him a cross-buttock, but Sam was

too much on the _qui vive_, kept his legs well away, and at last

both went down at the ropes, Ned under.

2.—Again did each manœuvre for an opening, and show his readiness

for defence by throwing up his guard when assault was offered. At

length Ned rushed in, and planted his right on Sam’s head. Sam

returned as quick as lightning, when Ned rushed to the close, and

another trial for the fall took place, during which Sam fibbed

slightly, and at last got Ned down.

3.—Sam, elated, dodged on his left leg three or four times, and

tried to pop in his left, but was prettily stopped. Ned broke away.

Both sparred cautiously. Good stopping, right and left, by both men.

Ned now finding that nothing was to be done at long bowls, rushed

in, planted one of his right-handed slashers on Sam’s left cheek,

and then, boring Sam to the ropes, shoved him across them, chopping

with his fists as he lay, and this he continued till Sam fell on the

ground, amidst cries of “foul,” and “fair,” but no exception was

taken.

4.—Sam came up rather flushed in the physog, and looked serious.

Sam, steady, tried again for his favourite plunge with the left, but

Ned stopped him in good style, and then rushing in, hit Sam down

with a left-hander on his bird-call. (First knock-down blow for Ned;

and a cry of first blood, but none was forthcoming from Sam’s

dominoes, although pointed at.)

5.—Ned again bored, and planted a blow on Sam’s mouth, but had it

beautifully, right and left, in return. Ned now closed, and tried

once more for the fall. Sam, ready, fibbed prettily, and in the end,

Ned, finding it would not do, slipped down.

6.—Both their mugs flushed from hitting, and both looked serious.

Ned stopped Sam’s left, when Sam tried left and right in succession,

both hitting away in a beautiful rally, and each receiving pepper,

but the balance against Ned. Sam delivered a stinging upper-cut as

Ned got away. After a pause, both again fought to a rally, in which

the nobbing was heavy. In the close, Sam hit up, and Ned got down.

7.—Little time was lost in going to work, and a beautiful rally was

fought, in which hit followed hit in rapid succession. Sam’s blows

were delivered with most precision, and Ned’s right ogle began to

swell, while first blood was visible on his nose. Sam looked wild,

and a swelling on his temple showed that Ned’s operations had not

been without effect. Sam’s upper-cuts in this round were excellent,

and Ned went down weak; he had clearly reduced his ordinary

strength, and was altogether out in his wrestling calculations, as

Sam was too quick, and, when seized, too firm on his pins for a

clear throw.

8.—Ned’s face much altered and swollen, and Sam’s jowl puffy. Sam

dodged for his left, and planted it neatly on Ned’s smeller. Ned

rushed in, and forced back Sam to the ropes. Sam caught him round

the neck, and hit up. Ned slipped down.

9.—Ned distilling claret from his snuffler, and rather abroad. Sam,

ready, jumped in and jobbed him right and left, and Ned was down,

bleeding at all points. Sam decidedly the best out-fighter, and

betting even.

10.—Sam steady to his guard. Ned finding no chance at out-fighting,

rushed in, his right hand passing over Sam’s shoulder. Sam grasped

him round the neck, and hit up with great severity. Ned went down.

11.—Ned rushed in, planted left and right-hand round hits, and, in

getting back, fell.

12.—Ned rattled in with his left, but received a heavy counter-hit

on the nose. In the trial for the fall, both went down, Ned on his

back, Sam on him.

13.—Ned again rushed in, and planted his left on Sam’s throat, but

in return, Sam jobbed him right and left, with dreadful effect and

precision, and in the end Ned fell.

14.—Sam put in a left-handed snorter. Ned fought wildly, and, in

coming in, received the upper-cut, and fell.

15.—The odds were now in favour of Sam and the fight had lasted half

an hour. Ned hit short with his left, when good counter-hits with

the right were exchanged; both had it heavily, and Ned got down.

16.—Sam tried to plant his left, but was stopped; the blow was not

well home. Ned retreated, Sam following him rapidly, and Ned

stopping right and left. Ned at last fell, weak.

17.—Ned came up a little fresher, and well on his legs, but Sam was

too quick for him, and popped in his left and right. He then

retreated, Ned following him up, when Sam gave him a severe

upper-cut. Ned seized his arm to prevent repetition, and after a

struggle at the ropes, both went down, Sam uppermost.

18.—Ned stopped Sam’s left very scientifically, and planted his

right in exchange. Sam, not dismayed, drew back a step, and then

plunging in, caught Ned left and right as he approached, and hitting

up very heavily, Ned got down.

19.—Good stops on both sides. Ned closed for the fall, and after a

struggle, both went down.

20.—Good counter-hits, right and left. Ned rushed in, when Sam

seized him round the neck, and gave him a couple of heavy

upper-cuts. In the trial for the fall, both down, Ned under.

21.—Ned stopped Sam’s right and left, and after a short spar, Sam

rushed in to work. Ned retreated, and actually turned round and

bolted, to get away from his impetuosity. Sam still persevering, Ned

went down, amidst some grumbling, and cries of “Sam, it’s all your

own.”

22.—Good stopping by both, when Ned planted his right, and, in

retreating, fell.

23.—Ned popped in his right at the body, but had a nobber in return.

Good scientific stopping on both sides, when Ned popped in his right

on Sam’s muzzle. Sam rushed in to deliver tit for tat, but Ned got

down.

24.—Ned made his left on Sam’s mouth, but received a severe return

on the right eye. Hits were then exchanged, rather in favour of Sam,

who hit Ned down with a right-hander. Ned lay at full length on his

back till picked up by his seconds, and his face exhibited severe

marks of punishment, both eyes black, and his right all but closed.

25.—Ned stopped Sam’s left, and fought on the retreat. Sam followed

him up, jobbing him right and left, and Ned soon went down at the

ropes any how.

26.—Sam stopped Ned’s right and left, and, retreating, met Ned with

the upper-cut as he followed with his head inclined. Sam’s style of

fighting was the admiration of the ring; he was ready at all points.

Ned went down.

27.—Sam jobbed with his left. In a second effort his left was

stopped, but he planted his right on Ned’s jaw. Ned, in getting

away, fell, amidst cries of “foul,” but again the umpires saw

nothing to grumble at; indeed, there never was less disposition to

take frivolous advantage.

28.—Ned stopped Sam’s first attack, but in a weaving bout which

followed he had the worst of it, and went down.

29.—Ned showed his scientific powers of defence, stopping as he

retreated. Sam, however, pursued his assault, planted his right and

left, and hit Ned out of the ring. Two to one on Sam.

30.—Sam rushed in to punish, when Ned slipped on his knees.

31.—Heavy hits exchanged, right and left. In the close, both down.

32.—Right-handed hits exchanged. Sam retreated, but met Ned with the

upper-cut as he came in, and, in the close, Ned pulled him down.

33.—Ned rushed in rather wild. Sam again gave him the upper-cut, and

Ned went down.

34.—Ned rushed in wildly. Sam retreated, and met him with the

upper-cut right and left. Ned, still game, would not be denied, and

hit out desperately with his right, but it went over Sam’s shoulder.

His hits were not straight, and consequently, did not tell with half

the effect of Sam’s. In the close, he went down.

35.—Ned, still game as a pebble, though woefully punished, rushed in

to fight, and caught Sam a nasty one with his left on the mouth.

Sam, ready, returned left and right, and hit Ned down with his left.

36.—It was now evident that nothing but an accident could deprive

Sam of victory; but still Ned was not beaten in spirit. In this

round counter-hits with the right were exchanged, and Ned went down,

thereby avoiding a severe slap from Sam’s right.

37.—Ned, still resolved to do his best, jobbed prettily with his

left on Sam’s mouth. Counter-hitting. Sam had it again on the

whistler, which began to pout most uncouthly, while the left side of

his face was considerably swollen. He was not idle, planted his

left, and Ned went down.

38.—Sam came up rather stupefied from the hits on his mouth in the

last round, and was bleeding freely from his grinder-case. Ned went

to work right and left, but was well stopped. He would not be

denied, but rushed in, when Sam gave him his favourite upper-cut,

and Ned went down bleeding and dark in the right ogle, the left

greatly swollen.

39.—Sam kept a respectful distance, and hit short. Ned rattled in,

but hit open-handed. Sam planted a couple of good nobbers. Ned down.

40.—A good peppering rally, both had it, but Ned went down.

41.—Ned, still trying his utmost, made an admirable delivery on

Sam’s left eye, with a cross-hit from his left. Sam winked and

blinked unutterable things, and Ned’s friends were again shouting

for victory. A reprieve to a trembling culprit could not have been

more welcome. Ned followed up this with a right-handed smack on the

mouth, receiving the left in return, and going down.

42.—A good rally, Ned stopped uncommonly well, though dreadfully

punished, and was still good on his pins. Spirited fighting on both

sides, which ended in Ned going down. The fight had now lasted one

hour, and the hopes of Ned’s friends were kept alive that he would

ultimately wear Sam out, which was clearly the game he was playing,

although Sam had the best of the fighting.

43.—Ned’s right hand was much puffed, but his left was still sound,

as he proved to Sam by planting another cross-hit on his mouth. Sam

returned the compliment by a terrific job with his right, and

another with his left. He then gave the upper-cut with his right,

then with his left, as Ned was going down. Sam’s style of fighting

was still the admiration of the throng, while Neale’s determined

game was equally the theme of praise.

44.—Counter-hitting, and a rally, in which Ned got more pepper, and

went down weak.

45.—Ned popped in two excellent jobs with his left on Sam’s mouth,

and went down.

46.—Sam was awake to the renewed energies of Ned’s left, and stopped

it neatly. Ned rattled away. Sam retired, tried the upper-hit, but

missed, most fortunately for Ned, who fell.

47.—Sam caught another poser from Ned’s left on the conversational,

and looked more than surprised. Sam again missed his upper-hit,

being out of distance, and Ned went down.

48.—Sam rather abroad, though still steady on his pins. He bled

considerably at the mouth. Ned cautious, when Sam, after a short

pause, rushed in and delivered his one two heavily on Ned’s

canister, who dropped almost stupefied, and many thought it was all

up; but not so, Sam had yet much to do.

49.—Ned went in to hit with his left, and that was stopped, and he

went down.

50.—Ned planted his left, while Sam missed his upper-cut, and Ned

dropped.

51.—Sam jobbed with his left, and, rushing in, hit up. In the close,

both down, Sam uppermost.

52.—Ned popped in his left once more. In retreating, Sam rushed to

punish, and Ned got down.

53 and 54.—Counter-hitting in both rounds. Ned down.

55.—From this to the 62nd round, Ned always commenced fighting, but

Sam was quick in his returns, and Ned invariably went down. Nothing

but a miracle, it was thought, could save Ned, and, indeed, the

severity of his punishment, and the fast closing of his left eye,

seemed to forbid even the shadow of a hope; still his heart was

good, and he continued to come up.

63.—Sam jobbed right and left. Ned did not shrink, but, boring in,

delivered another heavy smack on Sam’s mouth, and drew more crimson.

Renewed shouts for Ned. Sam rushed in, and Ned went down.

64.—The long exposure to the cold air, as well as the profuse use of

cold water, seemed now considerably to affect Sam, and he trembled

violently. Ned seeing this, rushed in and delivered right and left.

Sam was quick in his return, but Ned fell, and Sam tumbled over him.

65.—Ned popped in his right, but got a severe upper-cut in return,

and went down.

66.—Sam, ready, though cold, met Ned as he came in, caught his head

in chancery, and fibbed till he got down. From this to the 71st

round, although Ned tried every manœuvre in his power, Sam had the

best of the hitting, and Ned always got down. Still these exertions

seemed to be exhausting Sam, and although every care was taken of

him by his seconds, he got rather groggy at this point. It was

remarked that chance might yet turn the scale in Ned’s favour. Sam,

however, rallied himself, and, though apparently weak when on his

second’s knee, on being placed at the scratch, resumed his

self-command, met his man bravely, and planted several severe hits.

To the last Ned stopped well, but in the 78th round received a

finishing jobbing hit with the right on his left eye, and fell in a

state of stupefaction. Every effort was made to restore him, but in

vain, and when time was called, Sam was pronounced the victor,

amidst the most triumphant shouts. Ned was totally blind, while Sam

was enabled to walk to his carriage, but his punishment was severe

on the left side of his head. There were scarcely any body blows

during the fight, which lasted one hour and forty-one minutes.

REMARKS.—We have been thus minute in detailing the rounds of this

fight as it excited an extraordinary degree of interest among the

betting circles. Neale was such a favourite on Monday and Tuesday

evening that he was actually backed at three and four to one; a

degree of confidence in his merits to be ascribed, we think, rather

to a supposed want of pluck in Sam, than to any superior fighting

points on the part of Ned, who, although a game man, and known to

possess a good deal of ready resource in the ring, has no

pretensions to be what is called a fine fighter. Whatever might have

been the grounds for want of confidence in Sam, however, they seemed

to have been strangely out of character, for he not only showed

himself a quicker and more scientific fighter than Ned, but proved

that he was equally possessed of courageous qualities; in fact, he

never showed the slightest inclination to say “Nay.” When before his

man he was ready at all points, and, by the quickness with which he

took advantage of every opening, showed that he was perfectly cool

and collected, and even when most punished would not throw a chance

away. Of his weight there is not a man in the country who can cope

with him, and, by his victory over Neale he has ranked himself

deservedly high in the list of pugilists of the age, while he proved

himself to be a true “chip of the old block.” Of Neale too much

cannot be said in favour of his bravery and perseverance. It was

clear, from the very first round, that the reduction of his weight,

and especially so much below the necessary standard, had also

brought down his strength, and that those closes, which with Cannon,

Baldwin, Jem Burn, and Nicholls, were so effective, with Sam were of

no avail. In fact, in Sam he found a man as strong as, and certainly

more active, than himself, and the only chance which was left him to

save his honour, and his friends’ money, was by endeavouring to take

advantage of that chapter of accidents, which, in the course of a

protracted fight, are often found to produce a fatal change where

victory seems most inclined to rest. Neale was blamed for going down

so often, but it was his only game, and we need not say he fought to

win. It was admitted on all hands that a better fight has not been

witnessed for many years.

Neale did not appear at all satisfied with this first defeat by Sam, and

therefore issued a challenge for a fresh trial. A good deal of disputing

took place as to terms, but after many angry meetings a match was at

length made, which it was determined should come off on the 1st of

December, 1829, Sam staking £220 to £200. Previous to the eventful day,

however, Sam was grabbed and bound over to keep the peace. There was an

immense deal of fending and proving, recrimination and abuse, on both

sides. A postponement was, however, inevitable, and it was at length

agreed that the fight should take place on the 18th of January, 1831, on

which day, accordingly, the gallant battle, of which the following is an

account, came off at Bumpstead, in Essex.

Sam’s victory in the first battle was by Neale’s friends attributed to

the fact of Neale being reduced twelve pounds below his natural weight,

while Sam’s friends, on the contrary, claimed all the credit of superior

science and generalship, persuaded as they were that on the day of

battle Sam was by no means up to the mark in point of condition. In

order to set these doubts at rest, there were no restrictions on either

side in making the second match, and thus the respective qualifications

of the men were fairly brought to the test, the extra weight of Neale

being placed in the scale against the superior science of Sam. Thus

balanced, the general opinion of the sporting world was that a more

equal match could not have been made, and of this feeling the betting

throughout was characteristic, for with slight fluctuations, in which

Sam was the favourite at guineas to pounds, the betting was even. It was

thought, from the friends of Sam being members of high Society, and his

following including several noble and aristocratic backers, that the

odds on him would have advanced to five and six to four; but they were

steady to their point, and rather than advance beyond the nice limits of

their calculation they remained stationary. In point of stakes Neale had

a decided advantage, for what between forfeits from Sam’s apprehension

and _laches_, and a hundred guineas given on one occasion by Sam for a

postponement, he had received back £165 of the original stakes of £220

put down, so that in point of fact Sam was fighting £365 to £55.

Sam won the toss which entitled him to choose the place of fighting; he

named Newmarket as “headquarters,” and proceeded thither himself on the

Wednesday before the mill, taking up his residence at the “White Hart.”

Neale, who had been training at the Isle of Wight, on the Monday before

fighting proceeded to the “Swan,” at Balsham, within six miles of

headquarters, where he pitched his tent till the next day.

The road down to Newmarket, both on Sunday and Monday, exhibited

considerable bustle, but the Londoners were by no means so numerous as

might have been expected; still the town was crowded, and all the inns

had a fair proportion of visitors. The “White Hart” especially was

thronged to overflow, the friends of Sam being decidedly more numerous

than those of Neale, and the display of his colours (the bright

yellowman) gave a lively finish to the scene.

On Monday evening it was arranged that the ring should be formed in a

field a short distance beyond Burrough Green, about seven miles from

Newmarket, whither the Commissary and his assistants proceeded to make

the necessary arrangements.

On Tuesday morning the rapid arrivals of swells and commoners from all

parts of the surrounding country gave additional life to Newmarket; many

had travelled 100 miles, and the towns of Birmingham, Nottingham,

Norwich, and even Liverpool and Manchester, had numerous

representatives. All the post-horses were in requisition, and the

turn-out of drags was highly respectable, but the equestrians were by

far the most numerous. At an early hour Sam, accompanied by Holt and

Curtis, set out for a farmhouse close to the ring, where they met with

the most hospitable reception. Thither they were followed by the

toddlers in great force, and as the day advanced a general move took

place in the same direction. Neale and his friends were seen in the

cavalcade, and by 12 o’clock the approaches to Burrough Green were

occupied by a dense mass of spectators, the distant view of the ring,

surrounded as it was by thousands, filling them with happy anticipations

of the sport. A sudden stop, however, of the advanced guard produced a

general feeling of alarm, which was confirmed by the report that a beak

was abroad; and in truth it was soon announced that Mr. Eaton, a

magistrate of the Quorum, had appeared, and declared his fixed

determination to prevent hostilities, either in Cambridgeshire or in the

adjoining county of Suffolk. This was, indeed, a damper, and the cry of

“no fight” became general. Every effort was made to soften the heart of

his worship, but in vain; he had determined to do his duty. At length,

finding resistance to such a mandate would be not only absurd but

dangerous, it was resolved that a move should take place into the county

of Essex, a farmer at Bumpstead having kindly offered a field for the

accommodation of the belligerents. This resolution was soon communicated

to the multitude, and a simultaneous advance of horse and foot was

commenced amidst a general feeling of mortification, which was increased

by a change in the weather for the worse, the bright rays of the sun

having given way to the gloomy influence of murky and dark clouds. The

vicissitudes attending the march were numerous and characteristic, many

of the toddlers were bowled out, and some of the cattle which had come

from long distances were completely knocked up, so that the throng, on

reaching the given goal, although still immense, was stripped of much of

its original proportions.

The Commissary lost no time in fixing the lists afresh, which were soon

surrounded by a larger circle of horsemen than we ever remember on

former occasions, behind which were ranged the carriages and gigs, the

wagon train being, of course, completely thrown out. The men arrived by

the time everything was ready, Sam attended by Dick Curtis and Harry

Holt, and Ned waited on by Tom Spring and Tom Oliver. Sam first entered

the mystic quadrangle miscalled “the ring,” and was quickly followed by

Ned.

At half-past three both were stripped. Neale looked uncommonly well, his

skin clear and healthful, his eye brilliant, and his weight 12st. 4lbs.

Take him for all in all, we think it impossible a man could have been in

better trim. With respect to Sam, he looked as fine as a racehorse;

every muscle showed to advantage, and the symmetry of his frame and fine

proportions of his bust were particularly conspicuous. In height and

length of arm he had an evident advantage over Neale, although his

weight was but 11st. 2lb. The important moment for commencing operations

at length arrived; the ring had been beaten out, and was in excellent

order, and at thirty-two minutes after three business commenced.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On coming to the scratch both looked serious; there was

nothing of idle bravado on either side. The position of each was the

defensive—the hands well up, and the manner confident. Each seemed

desirous for his antagonist to commence, and a long pause followed.

Sam made one or two of his dodging feints, but Ned simply threw up

his guard. Absolute silence prevailed round the ring. Sam at last

hit slightly at Ned’s body, and Neale sprang back. Sam tried his

left short, but Neale again threw up his right, and was well on his

guard. At last Sam let fly his left, catching Ned slightly on his

nob. Ned countered with his right, and this brought them to a rally,

in which facers were exchanged right and left. Neale bored in; Sam

retreated, fighting, to the ropes, against which he was forced.

Neale then closed, and a struggle took place for the fall, which

Neale obtained, falling heavily on Sam in a cross-buttock. Neale’s

friends were loud in their cheers, but on rising the marks of Sam’s

right on Ned’s left eye were obvious from a slight swelling, while

Sam showed a blushing tinge also on each cheek. In the hitting Sam

had the best, and while in fibbed prettily.

2.—Both men again assumed the defensive, Ned waiting for Sam, and

Sam trying to get an opening, but for some time in vain. At last Sam

let fly with his left, and Neale countered, but not effectually. A

smart rally followed, in which Neale was hit heavily left and right.

Good fighting on both sides. Sam fought to the ropes, but got well

out, and again went to the attack with quickness and precision. Ned

hit with him, but not so much at points. All head-work. At last Sam

planted his left well on Neale’s mug as he was on the move, and

dropped him prettily on his nether end, amidst loud shouts of

applause, thus winning the first knock-down. Neale, on coming up

showed a flushed phiz, and Sam exhibited trifling marks of

additional hitting on the face.

3.—Again both cautious. Neale stopped Sam’s left with neatness, but

had it in a second effort. He returned with his right. Neale popped

in his left cleverly on Sam’s mouth. Good counter-hitting followed,

left and right. Sam had it on the left ear, and Neale on the left

eye, which increased in swelling. A spirited and determined rally,

in which Sam swung round on his leg, and then renewed the attack.

Neale rushed to the charge. Sam endeavoured to get from his grasp,

and fibbed at his nob. Neale, however, seized him round the waist,

lifted him from the ground, and threw him heavily. The exertion on

both sides was great. Neale, though most punished, was loudly

cheered by his friends, and was now the favourite from his superior

strength; he however, showed first blood, giving Sam the second

point.

4.—Sam on coming up began to blow a little and was clearly on the

pipe, from the exertion in the last round; he was steady, however,

and both kept on the defensive. Neale tried his left, but was short,

catching Sam under the right eye. Sam, ready returned with his left,

but Neale jumped away. Each tried to plant his left, but without

success. The stopping was excellent. Long sparring. Sam popped in

his left, and Neale countered. A rally, in which Sam shook the

pepper-box in good style. Both were rather wild, and in the end fell

from their own exertions on their hands and knees. Ned in this round

tried his right-handed chopper, but hitting round it went over Sam’s

shoulder.

5.—Sam having caught it on the nose in the last round, came up with

his eye watering and blinking. Neale tried to pop in his right but

was beautifully stopped. Ned put in a left-handed nobber, but had it

in return on the neck. Ned stopped the left of Sam with the effect

of a brick wall, and caught him on the shoulder with his left. Both

awake, and the slaps and returns excellent. A pause. Sam put in his

left on Ned’s body and made him curtsey. The blow was rather short.

Ned stopped right and left and made a chopping return with his

right, which caught Sam on the right side of his mouth. Had he been

an inch nearer, the effect would have been severe, and as it was it

made Sam look serious. Both again on their guard, and each waiting

for the attack. Ned again stopped the left and tried his return, but

his blow shot over Sam’s shoulder, and his arm caught him on the

neck. Sam put in his right, and a spirited rally followed. Neale

bored him to the ropes, but Sam hit as he retreated, and broke away.

Ned, after him, closed, and tried for the fall. He could not succeed

in getting the lock. Sam kept his pins wide apart, and each grasped

the other’s neck. Holt cried to Sam to go down, and Sam at last fell

on his knees, Neale falling over him.

6.—Neale again on the waiting system stopped Sam’s left-handed lunge

with great precision. Ned hit out with his left, and in a rally

heavy blows were exchanged. Neale again missed his right-handed

lugger, which went over Sam’s shoulder. He then rushed to the close,

but Sam began to fib. Neale pinioned his arms, and at last, finding

he was wasting his strength, went down himself, Sam upon him. On

getting up Neale exclaimed, “You may punch me as much as you like,

but don’t put your finger in my eye;” alluding to Sam’s touching his

eye when on the ground.

7.—Neale again kept his hands well up, and waited for the attack. He

stopped a slashing hit from Sam’s left. Sam tried his left again,

but did not get home. Neale dashed in right and left, and a terrific

rally followed. Severe counter-hitting took place, Sam catching it

on the nose, from which blood was drawn, and the side of the head

and neck, and Neale on the nose, mouth, and both eyes. Sam retreated

to the ropes, but still hit with vigour, and ultimately shifted his

ground and got away. Neale rushed after him, and the flush-hitting

was repeated. Both men strained every nerve. At last Neale jumped in

to catch Sam for the fall; Sam received him in his arms and fibbed.

Neale pinioned him, and finding he could not gain the throw, fell.

On getting up both showed additional marks of punishment as well as

distress. The fighting had been extremely fast, and the wind of both

was touched. Sam, especially, piped; but was still steady and

collected. Neale’s left eye was nearly closed, a slight glimmer only

being open.

8.—Ned pursued his system of waiting, and again stopped Sam’s

left-handed lunge beautifully, and almost immediately caught Sam a

left-handed chop on the mouth, which he repeated. Sam looked

serious, but shortly after put in his left on Ned’s body. A severe

rally followed. The hitting on both sides was quick and effective.

Sam caught a desperate hit on the neck from Ned’s arm, which almost

put it awry. Nevertheless, he fought fearlessly, gave Ned a smasher

on the mouth, and closed. After a struggle, both went down, and Sam,

being raised on his second’s knee, was faint and sick; his colour

changed, and he was clearly in a ticklish state. Ned’s friends

called out he was going, and urged Ned, in the next round, to go in

and finish. Ned was himself, however, piping, and distressed from

punishment.

9.—On being brought to the scratch, Sam was weak and groggy on his

legs. “Go in,” cried Ned’s friends, but he did not obey the call. He

was himself in such a state as to be incapable of making this effort

with safety. At last Ned rushed in, hitting with his right, which

went over Sam’s shoulder, and caught him on the back of the head.

Sam retreated to the ropes, Ned after him, but here Sam showed his

quickness, even in distress. He hit away with precision, right and

left, catching Ned flush in the mug. At last both got from the

ropes, and after a sharp rally and close, Neale went down.

10.—Ned made himself up for mischief, and after stopping Sam’s left,

got into a desperate rally. The hitting was severe on both sides,

but Sam’s muzzlers told most. The men got on the ropes, where a hard

struggle took place, Ned leaning heavily on Sam, and Sam hitting

away, while Neale was not idle. At last both went down, Ned

uppermost. Sam was now more distressed than ever, and all hands were

very busy in fanning him with their hats.

11.—Sam came up evidently weak. Ned pushed in and hit right and

left. Sam was bored to the ropes, and Ned kept hitting away, but

wild. Sam, though distressed, jobbed with vigour, left and right.

Ned got away, and Sam was after him. A spirited rally, and both

fought boldly, but Sam had the best of the hitting. In the close,

Sam fibbed, and Ned, finding he could do no good, got down, heavily

punished, his left eye quite gone, and his right fast closing, while

the claret trickled from a tap on the top of his head.

12.—Ned came up steady, but cautious; and Sam, though somewhat

groggy, was well on his guard. Ned put in his right on Sam’s body,

and succeeded in jobbing him twice on the mouth with his left. A

rally, in which both caught nobbers, but Ned the worst of it, from

Sam’s strength. At last Ned caught a flush hit on the mouth and,

falling on the ground, rolled over, weak.

13.—Sam came up more collected, and commenced the attack with his

left, which Ned stopped. Sam, after trying a feint to bring Ned out,

gave him a tremendous hit on the swollen eye, drawing more of the

ruby, and the light was again partially restored. After a slight

rally, Ned closed for the fall, but could not get his lock. He at

last pulled Sam down, and fell himself.

14, and last.—Both weak, but steady. Ned tried his right, but his

hand opened, and no damage was done. Sam countered beautifully with

his left, and put in his right at the body. Good fighting on both

sides. Ned again put in his right at the body. A pause; both on

their guard. Neale distilling claret from many points. Another short

rally, and both away; Sam getting more steady and collected, but

still disinclined to throw a chance away by trying too much. He hit

short at the body to see whether Ned could return, and Ned returned

weak with his right, and his hand open. Another pause, in which

neither seemed capable of doing much. Ned kept his hands well up for

some time, but appeared too cautious for a rush. At last Sam hit out

left and right, catching Ned on the phiz. This was the finisher. Ned

dropped, and, on being again picked up, his head fell, and he

slipped from his second’s knee. He was stupefied by the repeated

hits on his head, and could not be again brought to the scratch. Sam

was now well on his legs, and the welcome sound of victory restored

all his vigour. The shouts of his friends were deafening. He was

borne off in triumph, after shaking hands with his vanquished but

gallant antagonist, whose tie-up was quicker than had been

anticipated, but it was clear that he had received enough to satisfy

an ordinary glutton, even before the last round, and he had not

strength enough to make a turn in his favour. The ring was instantly

broken and it was some minutes before Ned could be brought to his

carriage. The fight concluded at 24 minutes after 4 o’clock, thus

making its duration 52 minutes.

REMARKS.—This was decidedly one of the best styles of fights for

science and good generalship. It was admitted that Neale never

fought so well before, but the superior length and tact of Sam gave

him every advantage. It was remarked in counter-hitting, that Sam

always caught Neale first, so that the force of Neale’s blows was

diminished; added to this, all Neale’s heavy lunging hits at Sam’s

ear passed over his shoulder, and this saved him from certain

destruction. Had the return in the fifth round been an inch nearer,

it was thought Sam’s jaw would have been broken. In the 9th round,

too, could Neale have summoned strength to make an impression, his

chances would have been certain, but what Sam had lost by exertions,

Neale wanted in hitting. The precision and straightness of Sam’s

blows told with unerring certainty; even when piping, and in

distress, his presence of mind never left him. He was always ready

for opportunities, and invariably seized them with success.

Throughout, the battle was fair and honourable. There was no

wrangling or dispute, with the exception of Holt once having thrown

himself in the way of Sam to prevent his falling; and even those who

lost their blunt could not but confess that Neale did all that his

natural powers permitted. Neale was himself dreadfully mortified by

the result of this battle. Sam fully confirmed his claim to the

title of the Young Phenomenon, and, of his weight, was considered

without a rival.

Two years now elapsed, during which Sam was chiefly heard of as a “man

about town,” and the boon companion of a clique of young swells noted

for their exploits in the night-houses of the Haymarket and the saloons

of Piccadilly, then in all their rank, riot, and disorder. He was then

pitted against Harry Preston, but owing to magisterial interference, was

apprehended and bound over to keep the peace for six months, and

Preston’s friends being unwilling to wait so long, a draw took place.

In the interim, Ned Neale, his last opponent, had been defeated by Tom

Gaynor (_See_ life of NEALE, _ante_, p. 325), and that boxer,

immediately on the expiry of Sam’s recognisances, challenged him for

£100 a-side. This Sam’s friends declared insufficient, but proposed that

Sam should fight the Bond Street carpenter for £300 to £200. The offer

was closed with, and the mill came off, after several attempts made by

the authorities to put a stop to it, on the 24th of June, 1834, near

Andover, Wilts. It appeared that a warrant was obtained from Sir John

Gibbon, to apprehend both men. This came to their ears, and they each

had to make several moves, the persevering constable who held the

warrant contriving on several occasions to find them out, and get his

warrant backed by the magistrates in the neighbourhood of their places

of retirement. The men, however, on the day before fighting, cautiously

approached the trysting-place (Hurstbourne Green, near Andover). Here

they were pursued by the constable with his warrant, which he again got

backed; but by some “unfortunate accident” (?) he fell into bad company,

got drunk, and lost his warrant, a fact he did not discover until he

became sober the following morning, when he went off to obtain a fresh

warrant. This he succeeded in doing, but owing to the secrecy which had

been observed as to the place of fighting, he did not discover it until

the men had been fighting some time; and then, after making a vain

effort to interfere, he judged discretion the better part of valour, and

having done his duty so far as he was able, he retired from the

ring-side, and did not again endeavour to spoil sport.

The men and their friends set off from Andover at an early hour for the

scene of action, but owing to the caution it was found necessary to

exert to keep things dark, the heroes of the day did not reach their

tilting ground till 12 o’clock, when Sam entered the ring attended by

Dick Curtis and Frank Redmond, Gaynor being seconded by Jem Ward and

Deaf Burke. The ring was preserved admirably throughout the day, and

nothing was left to be desired by the men or their friends.

On stripping, Sam looked uncommonly well, although his friends said he

might have been better had not his presence in town for a few days when

at his best, become necessary, in consequence of an action-at-law in

which he was engaged. To the casual observer this was not visible, and

his fine muscular and symmetrical form never appeared to better

advantage, while his countenance displayed the utmost self-possession

and personal confidence. His weight was about 11st. Gaynor also appeared

in admirable trim, and was not less confident than Sam, although there

was more solidity in his manner. His round shoulders offered a striking

contrast to the elegant proportions of Sam, and gave him the appearance

of a natural stoop, but in all other respects his shape was faultless,

and his condition of the first character. He did not seem to have a

superfluous ounce of flesh on his body, and weighed as nearly as

possible 12st. In length of arm, Sam had the advantage, and the

discrepancy in years (Gaynor having the disadvantage of ten years) was

sufficiently obvious. So “nutty” were Sam’s friends on their man at this

moment, that the odds rose from two to one to five to two, and at this

price much business was done.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Precisely at 7 minutes to 1 the men commenced business.

Both put up their hands in a defensive position, and eyed each other

with scrutinising looks. Each was ready, and appeared to wait for

his antagonist to commence. Sam made two or three slight dodges, and

Gaynor drew back. Each moved to the right and to the left, but still

no opening was offered. The movements on a chess-board could not

have been more scientific. At last Gaynor hit out at the body with

his left, and got away. Sam stopped the compliment, and smiled.

After a long pause, they both made themselves up for mischief, and

at last ended suspense by slashing out their counter-hits with the

left, Gaynor planting on Sam’s jaw, and Sam on Gaynor’s mouth, which

showed a prominent mark. The blows were heavy, and while first blood

was drawn from Gaynor, Sam licked his lips, but certainly not with

the _goût_ of a cat over a pat of butter. Another pause, when

counter-hits with the right were exchanged. Sam stopped Gaynor’s

left with great neatness, but in a second effort with the same

hands, in the counter-hitting, Sam caught it over the mouth, while

Gaynor had it on the left cheek. “How do you like that?” cried

Gaynor, laughing. Sam looked serious. Gaynor dodged, but found Sam

ready for a fly, and drew back. Gaynor stopped Sam’s left, and tried

his right at the body, but was short. Sam hit out with his left, but

was short. A long spar, in which each seemed determined not to throw

a chance away. Gaynor hit short with his right, open-handed. Sam

smiled. Tom again stopped a nasty one from the left, and popped in

his right slightly at the body. Sam played a steady game, and drew

on his man. Gaynor on the look-out, retired to the side of the ring.

Both extremely cautious. At last Sam saw his opportunity, and with

great quickness sent in his left, with plenty of elbow grease, on

Gaynor’s nob, and dropped him as if shot, thus giving first

knock-down, amidst the shouts of his friends. This round, which was

admirable, from the exquisite science of the men, lasted ten

minutes.

2.—On being called to the scratch, Gaynor came up bleeding at the

mouth, and Sam showing symptoms of receiving on his lips and cheek.

After long and cautious sparring, neither giving a chance, Gaynor

suddenly planted his right on the side of Sam’s head. Cheers for

Gaynor, who thus stole a successful march. Sam was not behind in

returning the compliment, and after a short time for reflection,

popped in a tremendous slap on Gaynor’s mouth with his left.

Gaynor’s blow, in countering, passed over Sam’s shoulder. Another

cautious spar, when Gaynor hit short with his left. Heavy

counter-hits, Sam on the mouth, Gaynor on the left eye. Sam dropped

his left on Gaynor’s ribs, and got away. Sam in left and right, but

rather out of distance. Gaynor stopped his left in another shy, as

well as a hit at his body. Another pause, each on the look-out, when

terrific counter-hits with the left were exchanged. Gaynor pointed

at Sam’s mouth, which had tasted his knuckles, but he had it heavily

himself on the cheek. Excellent stops on both sides, Gaynor planted

a round blow on the side of Sam’s head, but it was with the front of

his knuckles, and seemed to make no impression. Counter-hitting with

the left, Sam’s blow falling heaviest. A pretty rally, in which some

wicked blows were exchanged. Both broke away, and sparred for a

fresh opening, Gaynor showing most punishment. Sam planted his left

three times in succession, hitting first, and Gaynor’s counters

non-effective. Gaynor hit short with his left, and fought on the

retreat. Counter-hits with the left. Gaynor had now got in the

corner, and was so covered by Sam that he could not escape. He

waited for the assault, when Sam jumped in with his left, and caught

him on the eye. Gaynor returned, and in the close, after some

in-fighting, Sam got the fall, and fell heavily on Gaynor, who fell

out of the ropes. This round lasted twelve minutes and a half, and

it was admitted that Sam had not the easy customer that his admirers

anticipated.

3.—Gaynor looking the worse for wear, but strong as a horse, and gay

as a lark. Sparring for an opening, when Gaynor caught Sam slightly

with his left on the mouth. Sam tried a lunge with his left, but was

beautifully stopped. In a second attempt he was more successful, for

he planted left and right, cutting Gaynor’s left cheek with the

latter. Gaynor countered, and the men closed for the fall, which

Gaynor obtained, giving Sam a cross-buttock, and falling heavily

upon him. Sam’s right shoulder came heavily against the ground.

Cheers for Gaynor. The round lasted four minutes.

4.—Both cautious, and sparring for an opening. Gaynor hit short with

his left. Another pause. Counter-hits with the left. Sam caught his

man first and hit him heavily. Gaynor’s blow was not so effective.

Sam popped in a tremendous muzzler with his left, and Gaynor bled

profusely; his old wounds were opened, and his mouth became much

swollen. Gaynor again planted his right on Sam’s head heavily.

Shouts for Gaynor, and Sam seemed puzzled, but preserved his

steadiness. A pause, during which Sam recovered himself.

Counter-hits with the left, and a brisk rally, in which heavy hits

were exchanged. The men broke away. Long sparring; both ready, and

no opening offered. Good stopping on both sides, and the game played

with matchless skill. Mutual dodging, but no chance. Sam tried his

feint, but it would not do. At last Sam crept well in, and delivered

a heavy left-handed jobber. Gaynor countered, and in the close,

after a severe struggle, Sam threw Gaynor a beautiful cross-buttock.

Cheers for Sam; his friends up in the stirrups. The fight had now

lasted forty-five minutes.

5.—Gaynor, on coming up, showed a little distress, and heavy marks

of punishment on the mouth and left eye. Sam dodged, but Gaynor was

well on his guard. Both stopped by consent, put their hands down,

and looked at each other. At it again. Gaynor hit short with his

left, and got away. Sam again dropped his left on Gaynor’s eye, and

followed this up by a hit with the same hand on the body. Gaynor

went in with his one two, catching Sam with his left on the cheek,

and his right on the side of the head. Sam returned with his left,

and after a short rally, the men closed, and went down. Sam had the

best of the round.

6.—Gaynor’s left eye shutting up shop, and he was otherwise much

damaged in the frontispiece. “Sam will win it without a black eye,”

cried Curtis. Sam made himself up for mischief, and kept stealing on

his man, but Gaynor got away. A rally, and exchange of hits.

Gaynor’s leg tripped Sam, and he fell upon him. Fifty minutes had

now elapsed.

7.—Curtis chaffed on time, and said, as the hour was nearly up, on

which he had been betting, Sam might go in to finish. Gaynor,

distressed, tried his left, but was out of distance. Sam rushed in

to hit with his left, but was cleverly stopped. Gaynor rushed to

in-fighting; Sam hit up cleverly with his left, but in the close was

thrown a cross-buttock, which gave him a serious shake.

8.—The men had now fought fifty-four minutes, and both were

distressed, while it did not seem so safe to Sam as had been booked.

Both steady on their guard, and waiting for an opening. Sam’s left

well stopped. Gaynor away. Heavy counter-hits with the left; both

received stingers, but Sam hit hardest. In the close, both down.

9.—Gaynor’s left eye quite closed, but he was still strong on his

legs, and resolute. He again stole a march on Sam, popped in his

left, and got away. Both fatigued, but a fine breeze blew over the

common, and gave them fresh vigour. Gaynor’s left stopped, and he

napped it severely on the nose in return. Gaynor made some admirable

stops, and popped his right heavily on Sam’s ear. Gaynor on the

defensive, and retreating to the ropes. Sam thought he had him, but

Gaynor broke away. Sam followed him, dodged, and popped in with his

left. Gaynor closed, caught him round the neck with his left, and

hit up with his right. In the scuffle, both fell.

10.—“Not so safe as if it was over,” cried Gaynor’s friends; and it

was clear Sam had yet his work to do, as Gaynor got up strong and

confident. On going to the scratch, after a short spar, both again

put their hands down for a short time. Beautiful fighting followed,

and the stopping on both sides was first-rate. The fight had now

lasted one hour and five minutes. “Tom can fight another hour,”

cried Ward. Mutual dodging. Gaynor planted his left slightly, but

there was not sufficient pepper in his blows. A rally, close to the

ropes, with hard hitting, when Sam in getting away fell. Shouts for

Gaynor.

11.—Both came up steady and serious. Gaynor gave Sam a heavy slap on

the mug with his left. Sam was full of self-possession, and looked

out for an opening. Gaynor was steady on his guard. Sam popped in a

left-handed teaser, and hit at the body with his right. Gaynor made

his one two on Sam’s face. Counter-hitting with the left. A body hit

with the right from Gaynor. Hard counter-hits with the left;

heaviest from Sam. Sam now delivered his right on Gaynor’s ribs; the

latter hit short with the left. Some excellent generalship on both

sides. Sam dropped his arms as if fatigued. Sam now popped in a

slight left-hander, but had it heavily in return on the phiz.

Gaynor, whose conk was bleeding, now put both hands down, and

beckoned Sam to come to him. Sam approached him, and, after a sharp

spar, received a touch on the bread-basket. Gaynor stopped a

tremendous left-hander, intended for his good eye. Sam also stopped,

and got away. Gaynor tried at the body with his right, but was

stopped. Sam got away from a heavy lunge from Gaynor’s left. Sam in

with the left; Gaynor returned. Sam dodging, and Gaynor, in getting

away, fell.

12.—Gaynor came up steady. Sam waited for him. Gaynor tried his

left, but was stopped, and got away. Sam then, throwing his head

back, saved himself from a heavy delivery from Tom’s right. Gaynor

stopped a left-hander, and popped in his right at the back of Sam’s

head, but was heavily hit with the left in return. Both covering

themselves well. Sam in with his left on the body. Tom got back, and

put his hands down. Counter-hits with the left, and Gaynor short at

the body with his right. Both men with their hands down. On again

getting into position, Gaynor seized one of Sam’s hands with his

left, intending to give him a swinger with his right, but Sam pulled

his mauly away, and smiled. Gaynor stopped a left-handed job with

the utmost precision. Heavy counter-hits with the left; Sam first

in. Gaynor hit out with his left, but his hand was open; he,

however, planted a right-hander on Sam’s nob. Sam gave him a

tremendous smasher on the gob. Gaynor looked a painful spectacle,

though still full of pluck. Some heavy exchanges with the left. In

the close, Sam, at in-fighting, gave his antagonist some severe

punishment on the ropes, and Gaynor, in pulling himself away, fell

over Sam.

13.—Gaynor showed weakness, and Sam seemed now to think he had got

him safe. Gaynor hit short with his left. Sam tried his left, but

was stopped. A close, and severe struggle for the fall, at the

ropes. Sam gave an upper-cut with great force, while Gaynor was not

idle. Both down.

14.—Gaynor made play, but was short with his left. Sam steady, and

jumping in, delivered his left heavily on Tom’s altered mazzard. A

close, and some good in-fighting. A tough struggle for the fall;

both down. This effort was exhausting to both. In the close, Sam hit

up well.

15.—Gaynor piping, and Sam not fresh. Gaynor in with his left; tried

his right, but was stopped. Heavy counter-hits. Both again paused by

mutual consent, and put their hands down. Again to work. Good

exchanges; Sam at the head, Gaynor at the body. Both cautious.

Gaynor on the retreat. Sam got close to him, and hit out viciously,

but Gaynor ducked his head, got away, and fell.

16.—Gaynor’s friends were still very confident, as he seemed strong,

and Sam appeared fatigued. Counter-hitting with the left, but Sam

hitting out first, got home the heaviest. He put in a tremendous

left-hander on Tom’s left ogle. Again did both take breath, and drop

their arms. Sam steady, and both well on their guard. Mutual

stopping. Gaynor short at the body with his right. Counter-hits with

the left, terrific from Sam. Two hours were now completed, and the

men walked about for wind. Gaynor hit out of distance with his left,

but Sam measured him with more precision, and dropped in one of his

left-handed chops with full force. Gaynor, after a short pause,

seized Sam’s right, while Sam seized his left, each holding the

other down. Sam looked at his man for a moment, and then dashed his

head into his face with great force. (This, as our readers are

aware, is now foul.) Gaynor staggered back, while Sam rushed after

him, and jobbed him severely on the nose with the left, and,

repeating the dose in the same spot, hit him down as clean as a

whistle, being the second knock-down blow in the fight.

17, and last.—Gaynor came up groggy, when Sam popped in his terrific

left, and downed him. This was the finisher. The butt, followed by

such polishing hits, reduced poor Gaynor to a state of

insensibility, and on being raised on his second’s knee it was at

once seen that it was all U. P. “Time” was called, and Sam was

proclaimed the conqueror with triumphant shouts. The fight lasted

two hours and five minutes. Sam was immediately taken to his

carriage, much exhausted, but soon became himself again. Gaynor was

in a complete state of stupor, and was carried away in a helpless

condition.

REMARKS.—This was decidedly one of the finest displays of courage

and science combined which had been witnessed for many years, and

was acknowledged to be so by the oldest patrons of the Ring who were

present. The courage exhibited by both men was unquestionable, and

considering the disadvantages under which Gaynor fought, he earned

for himself a reputation that placed him in the first class of game

men. There is no doubt that the butt in the last round but one

proved his _coup de grace_, or he would have prolonged the contest

for many more rounds—with what chance of success we cannot say. The

reader should be informed that this manœuvre, though seldom

practised, was not at this time against the rules of the Ring, and

the position, Gaynor holding both Sam’s hands with an iron grip, was

peculiar. The “chapter of accidents” might have produced

alterations, and as it was Sam, during the fight, showed great

weakness, which was not surprising, as it was afterwards ascertained

that in the cross-buttock in the third round his right shoulder was

so much injured as to deprive him of the use of his right hand, so

far as hitting was concerned, for the remainder of the battle.

During the fight, many expressed surprise that he should have kept

that hand so idle, and that Gaynor was so repeatedly enabled to job

him with his left. Sam could not, in truth, lift it above his head,

and but for throwing his head back when the blows were coming in,

his punishment would have been much more severe. Although Gaynor had

clearly the gift of hitting with equal force, it is considered that

but for this accident Sam’s labours would have been considerably

curtailed. At one time it was thought to be anybody’s fight, and

Sam’s friends were by no means jolly as to the result. His fine

generalship, however, enabled him to overcome every difficulty, and

the quickness with which he took advantage of Gaynor’s ill-judged

seizure of his hand, in the last round but one, while it showed his

self-possession, proved him to be a thorough master of the art as

then practised. The account of the rounds will show that in point of

science Gaynor was little behind Sam, but it must be confessed his

powers of punishment were very inferior, while the force of his

blows was greatly diminished by Sam’s generally hitting first in the

counters. From first to last the combat was conducted with the

utmost fairness and good humour; and while all sympathised in the

fall of a brave man, they could not but admit that he had honourably

sunk before the superior power of his younger and more expert

opponent. Such was the impression made in Gaynor’s favour that £17

7s. was collected round the ring, and other sums afterwards

contributed. This was the last appearance of either Sam or Gaynor in

the P.R.

Sam’s last match in the Ring was with Reuben Martin, for £100,

subsequently made into £180 a-side; it was fixed to come off in June,

1838, but an unfortunate occurrence occasioned a forfeit of £80 on the

part of Sam. He had volunteered to second his friend Owen Swift in his

battle with Phelps (Brighton Bill), and officiated in that capacity on

the fatal 13th of March, 1838, at Royston. The details of this unlucky

encounter will be found in our memoir of OWEN SWIFT, in Vol. III.

The coroner’s jury having found a verdict of manslaughter against Owen

Swift, as principal, and Samuel Evans, Richard Curtis, Frank Redmond,

and Edward Brown, as seconds aiding and abetting the same, Sam, Curtis,

and Swift at once gave “leg-bail” to the law and departed for the

Continent, where they remained until the time for surrendering to take

their trial at the Hertford Assizes. Frank Redmond,[52] whose business

as a licensed victualler at the “George and Dragon,” in Greek Street,

Soho, was suffering ruinously from his enforced absence, alone

surrendered. He was defended by Mr. Dowling (who was also a barrister),

and acquitted on the 10th July, at the summer assizes. Thereupon Curtis

and Brown, who were awaiting the result, surrendered themselves and took

their trial. They were not so fortunate as their predecessor in trouble,

for the jury convicted them of manslaughter in the second degree, as

“present, aiding, and abetting,” when the judge passed the lenient

sentence of three months’ imprisonment.

Young Sam and Swift, alarmed at this result, did not return at once.

Besides, they found their stay in the French capital, where some of

Sam’s aristocratic patrons were also residing, both pleasant and

profitable, of which further details will be found in our Life of OWEN

SWIFT. Some violent newspaper attacks upon the Ring, and denunciations

of prize-fighters and their backers, in the now defunct _Morning Herald_

(a renegade sporting paper) and other publications, made it advisable to

await the blowing over of the storm.

Sam’s residence in France, however, found in its result the adage of

“out of the frying-pan into the fire.”

Jack Adams was in Paris teaching the art of boxing. Adams, a ten stone

man, was twice matched with Swift, and on the second occasion the French

law, which deals so leniently with murderous duels and homicide in

general, was scandalised and outraged by a duel with fists; so Young Sam

and Swift were tried (in their absence), convicted, _par contumace_, and

sentenced to _thirteen months of imprisonment and a fine_!

Soon after his return to England Sam was arrested and conveyed to

Hertford Gaol, and on February 28th, 1839, at the spring assizes, Swift

took his place beside his friend Sam, and the trial proceeded. From a

failure of evidence a verdict of “Not Guilty” was recorded, and the

friends quitted the dock amid the congratulations of the crowd.

Owen Swift arrived in London the same night, but not so his companion in

misfortune; Sam’s exit was stopped by a detainer from London, for a

forfeiture of bail, incurred in this wise.

A short time previous to the battle of Swift and Phelps, Sam, in company

with a “noble earl” and some aristocratic friends, had been engaged in a

fracas at a public-house in Piccadilly. This was the disgraceful period

when, fired by a vulgar emulation of the worst characteristics of Pierce

Egan’s vulgar, vicious, and silly caricatures of two town and country

sporting gentlemen, whom he named “Tom and Jerry;” and whom he made the

heroes of his wretched, grammarless galimatia called “Life in London,”

clerks, apprentices, prigs, pugilists, and peers played the blackguard

and ruffian on the stage of real life. The great and beneficial changes

which have taken place in our police and street Acts, as well as in the

hours and regulations of refreshment rooms and all licensed houses in

the Metropolis, make it almost impossible for the present generation to

realise the scenes of disorder, profligacy, and ruffianism with which

“the West or worst End of the city” nightly abounded. From Temple Bar

westward, through Drury Lane, Covent Garden, St. Martin’s Lane,

Leicester Square, and its surroundings, to the Haymarket and Piccadilly,

“night-houses” admitted the drunkard (when not too drunk), the night

prowler, the debauchee, the gambler, the thief, and the prostitute of

every grade—the only distinction being the higher or lower tariff. From

the swell supper-room, saloon, elysium, or “finish,” of “Goody Levy,”

“Goodered,” “Rowbotham,” “Mother H.,” or the “Brunswick,” through the

musical and more respectable chop-and-kidney-grilling “Evans’s,” the

“Garrick,” the “Cider Cellars,” “Coal Hole,” or “Shades,” down to the

common dramshop kept open on the plea of the neighbouring cabstand or

theatre until the small hours of the morning grew large, all appealed to

those who sought “recreation and refreshment _after the theatres_.”

In one of these houses, the “Royal Standard,” in Piccadilly, on the

morning of the 17th of February, 1838, there appear to have been

assembled after a night’s debauch a number of loose characters. Among

them were the Earl of Waldegrave and several “Corinthians.” According to

the evidence of Mr. Mackenzie, the prosecutor, he, after leaving duty,

entered the house in question, where “he saw the prisoner (Young Dutch

Sam) and several gentlemen, some of whom he certainly had interfered

with in their nocturnal sprees; indeed, he had been instrumental in

introducing them to the magistrate at Marlborough Street.” We think

nowadays this policeman’s conduct would be strictly canvassed. “Whilst

he was standing before the bar,” we copy the report, “the prisoner

whispered to Lord Waldegrave, and immediately afterwards, addressing the

company, he said, ‘Gentlemen, do you care to see a policeman laid on his

back?’ He then seized him (the prosecutor) and threw him on his back,

falling upon him with all his weight. He was so much injured as to be

under the doctor’s hands for some time, and unfit for duty. The prisoner

was held to bail by the magistrates at Marlborough Street, and had

forfeited his recognisances.”

Mr. Ballantine addressed the Court on the part of the prisoner in

mitigation of punishment. The prisoner had been made the tool of certain

parties with whom he had been drinking on the night before the assault

was committed, and although they had urged him to the commission of the

offence which led to his present position, not one of them had been to

visit him, or render him the least assistance during his

incarceration.—Mr. Doane, having addressed the Court for the

prosecution, described the defendant as a pugilist, but added “that he

did not say this to create a prejudice against him on that account, for

he felt convinced that the unmanly and terrible crime of stabbing was

increasing in this country, in consequence of the absurd and mischievous

interference of the county magistracy with the sports of the Ring. Those

sports (the learned gentleman observed) had some disadvantages, but they

were amply counterbalanced by the habit they engendered of fighting in a

fair and manly manner, and by the universal indignation with which

anything unfair was regarded in a pugilistic contest.” The Court

sentenced the prisoner to three months’ imprisonment.

A motion was subsequently made that the estreat on the recognisances

might be taken off, but was refused, on the ground that the Court had no

power to interfere.

We have been the more particular in the narration of this case as the

facts were known to the writer, and as a most false and exaggerated

report of the affair was subsequently published in the _Morning Herald_,

in an attack upon the Prize Ring, penned by an Irish sporting reporter

who had been discharged by the editor of _Bell’s Life_. The conduct of

the policeman, to our thinking, more resembled that of a French _agent

provocateur_ than a guardian of the peace; and, without defending the

assailant, we may remark that the fact that Young Sam so carefully

avoided using his unquestionable pugilistic skill, although under the

excitement of champagne and provocation, is a sufficient answer to the

charge of “ruffianism” and “ferocity” cast upon him for this foolish

escapade.

Shortly after this fracas a new police Act, and increased vigilance in

the stipendiary magistrates, checked effectually these disgraceful

excesses, by substituting imprisonment for fine, at the discretion of

the justices, whereupon we find, in a contemporary “daily,” the ironical

“Lament” of which the subjoined are a few of the leading stanzas:—

LAMENT OF THE “DISORDERLY GENTLEMEN.”

A plague on the new law! bad luck to the beaks,

Opposed as they are to “disorderly” freaks;

Ye pinks of high rank, let your sorrows have vent,

And join with your pals in a doleful lament.

No longer at midnight, when coming it strong,

Ripe for riot and row, shall we stagger along;

No more of brave acts shall we “gentlemen” chaff,

Nor floor a raw lobster and fracture his staff.

Till lately, when liquor got up in the nob,

A fine of five shillings would settle the job;

And none will deny who has starr’d on the town,

A frolic or spree wasn’t cheap at a crown.

But now we’re informed by the beak, _Mr. Grove_

(Whoever could seat on the Bench such a cove?),

That if with strong liquors our tempers get hot,

He’ll send us at once on the treadmill to trot—

That the pastime of wrenching off knockers and bells

Must no longer be practis’d by high-minded swells;

Or he’ll send us, to settle each paltry dispute,

For a month to the treadmill our health to recruit.

O haste, brother pinks, such disgrace to prevent,

Before this vile Bill has the Royal Assent;

For herself it is certain Her Majesty thinks,

And I’m sure she’ll attend to a prayer from the “pinks.”

What, never again be permitted at dark

To insult modest females by way of a lark!

Gone for ever our joys, and our gay occupation?

Must we now like vile felons be marched to the station?

Forbid, ye proud nobs, any steps so degrading—

The swells’ charter’d rights they are basely invading;

Let us stand up for sprees and our leisure amuse,

And still act as blackguards whenever we choose.

Young Sam, though occasionally exhibiting his skill with the gloves at

the sets-to of the “Pugilistic Association” established about this

period at the Westminster (now the Lambeth) Swimming Baths, by Tom

Spring, Cribb, Crawley, the editor of _Bell’s Life_, and other leading

friends of the P.R., was not popular with his brethren of the Ring, and

did not care to associate with them. He became a publican first in

Castle Street, Leicester Square, and then at the “Coach and Horses,” St.

Martin’s Lane; but in both he was unsuccessful—it was said from

inattention to business, which we can well believe. At length, in 1840,

Sam wedded the daughter of a respected publican, and with her as a

helpmeet he became landlord of the “Black Lion,” in Vinegar Yard, Drury

Lane. From this house he migrated to the Old Drury Tavern, in Brydges

Street, Covent Garden, and here his wife’s experience and management,

together with her influence over his erratic disposition, seemed to be

fast maturing the “Young ’Un” into a respectable and steady Boniface.

For some time, however, the effects of early dissipation were visible in

recurrences of inflammation of the lungs at the approach of winter or

exposure to cold. In 1842 a severe relapse, accompanied by spitting of

blood, reduced him almost to a shadow, and on the 4th of November, 1843,

he died of decline, at the early age of thirty-six. The following

appeared in an obituary notice in the leading sporting journal of the

day:—

“In the sparring schools Sam was a master of his art to an extent

but seldom seen and rarely equalled by professors. He often showed,

and remarkably so when in conversation with his ‘betters (?),’ that

his acquaintance with ‘letters’ was not merely of a mechanical

description. He spoke well, and when he chose could ‘do the

agreeable’ with a suavity highly creditable to his class, securing

to himself throughout his career the patronage of many noblemen and

gentlemen of the highest distinction. His temper was cheerful, and

he possessed a flow of natural humour which rendered him an

agreeable companion in social circles. A reckless disregard to his

own interests, and an unhappy disposition to mix in those scenes

which constitute what is called ‘Life in London,’ and in which he

was often the companion of sprigs of nobility, to whose wild

vagaries he was but too much inclined to pander, led him into

scrapes from which he had some difficulty in escaping. It is not our

wish, however, to speak ill of the dead; and knowing as we do that

there are those of a higher grade whose example he was but too prone

to follow, equally deserving of censure, we shall throw a veil over

the past, and let the recollection of his faults lie hidden in the

grave. As a pugilist he was always successful, for he never lost a

fight, and as a skilful sparrer he has left no equal of his years.

It was not till he married a woman who was his faithful and attached

companion till the moment of his death that the foundation of

prosperity was laid. She, luckily, was a woman of good sense, and

considerable experience in the public line, which enabled her to

‘carry on the war’ with success. Throughout his last illness he was

attended with exemplary kindness by his wife, who spared neither

pains nor expense to alleviate his disease. He died calm and

collected, surrounded by several of his friends, who while they

pitied could not but condemn the headlong folly which had

distinguished his passage through his short but eventful existence.

Many of his faults and follies may be fairly ascribed to the nature

of the associations into which the deceased, from his earliest

outset in life, was accidently thrown. He was ‘a spoilt child’ of

the Fancy, and like all spoilt children was wayward.”

Sam lies buried in the vault of his wife’s family in Kensal Green

Cemetery.

MONODY ON THE DEATH OF YOUNG DUTCH SAM.

Scarce the illustrious Pet[53] his eyes had clos’d,

When in Death’s cold embrace Dutch Sam repos’d;

As brave a fellow from life’s scenes dismiss’d

As ever faced a foe or clench’d a fist;

Brave without bounce, and resolute as bold,

And ever first fair fighting to uphold;

Dauntless as honest, with unequalled game

He dar’d defeat, and fought his way to fame;

And burning still with pugilistic fire,

Prov’d Young Dutch Sam was worthy of his sire,

Made of the same unyielding sort of stuff,

Ready at all times for the scratch and rough,

Delighting in the Ring at contest tough,

And proudly scorning to sing out, “Enough!”