VOLUME III.

PERIOD VII.—1835 to 1845.—From the appearance of Bendigo to his last battle with Caunt.

PERIOD VIII.—1845 to 1857.—The interregnum. Bill Perry (the Tipton Slasher), Harry Broome, Tom Paddock, &c.

PERIOD IX.—1856 to 1863.—From the appearance of Tom Sayers to the last Championship battle of King and Heenan, December, 1863.

In “the Introduction” I have dealt with the “Classic” pugilism of Greece and Rome. The darkness of the middle ages is as barren of record of “the art of self-defence” as of other arts. With their revival in Italy we have an amusing coincidence in the “Memoirs of Benvenuto Cellini,” in which a triumvirate of renowned names are associated with the common-place event of “un grande punzone del naso”—a mighty punch on the nose.

“Michael-Angelo (Buonarotti’s) nose was flat from a blow which he received in his youth from Torrigiano,[1] a brother artist and countryman, who gave me the following account of the occurrence: ‘I was,’ said Torrigiano, ‘extremely irritated, and, doubling my fist, gave him such a violent blow on the nose that I felt the cartilages yield as if they had been made of paste, and the mark I then gave him he will carry to the grave.’” Cellini adds: “Torrigiano was a handsome man, of consummate audacity, having rather the air of a bravo than a sculptor: above all, his strange gestures,” [were they boxing attitudes?] “his enormous voice, with a manner of knitting his brows, enough to frighten any man who faced him, gave him a tremendous aspect, and he was continually talking of his great feats among ‘those bears of Englishmen,’ whose country he had lately quitted.”

Who knows—_sempre il mal non vien par nocuere_—but we have to thank the now-neglected art, whose precepts and practice inculcated the use of Nature’s weapon, that the clenched hand of Torrigiano did not grasp a stiletto? What then would have been the world’s loss? The majestic cupola of St. Peter’s, the wondrous frescoes of the Sistine Chapel, “The Last Judgment,” the “Sleeping Cupid” of Mautua, the “Bacchus” of Rome, and all the mighty works of the greatest painter, sculptor, and architect of the 16th century, had probably been uncreated had not Michael-Angelo’s fellow-student learned among “those bears of Englishmen,” the art of administering a “mighty punch on the nose” in lieu of the then ready stab of a lethal weapon.

The testimony of St. Bernard to the merits of boxing as a substitute for the deadly combats of his time, with an extract from Forsyth’s “Excursion in Italy,” will be found at page xv. of the Introduction to this volume; and these may bring us to the period when the first Stuart ascended the throne of “Merrie Englande.”

In Dr. Noble’s “History of the Cromwell Family,” we find the following interesting notice of the fistic prowess of the statesman-warrior who, in after-times, “made the sovereigns of Europe court the alliance and dread the might of England’s arm.” At p. 94 vol. i., we read:—

“They have a tradition at Huntingdon, that when King Charles I. (then Duke of York), in his journey from Scotland to London, in the year 1604, rested in his way at Hinchenbrooke, the seat of Sir Oliver Cromwell; the knight, to divert the young prince, sent for his nephew Oliver, that he, with his own sons, might play with his Royal Highness. It so chanced that the boys had not long been together before Charles and Oliver disagreed, and came to blows. As the former was a somewhat weakly boy, and the latter strong, it was no wonder the royal visitor was worsted. Oliver, even at this age, so little regarded dignity that he made the royal blood flow copiously from the Prince’s nose. This was looked upon by many as a bad presage for the King when the civil war had commenced.” The probability of this incident has been flippantly questioned. The writer has lighted on the following in the dry pages of “Toone’s Chronology,” under James I. “1603. April 27th. The King, arriving at Hinchenbrooke, was magnificently entertained by Sir Oliver Cromwell, where also the Cambridge Doctors waited upon his Majesty. May 3. The King arrived at Theobalds, in Hertfordshire, the seat of Mr. Secretary Cecil’s. He made 200 Knights on his arrival in London and on his journey thither from Edinburgh.” And in the next page we read: “1604. Jan. 4. Prince Charles came into England (from Scotland) and was created Duke of York. He had forty pounds per annum settled on him that he might more honourably maintain that dignity.” It may be as well to observe that Charles I. and Cromwell were of an age (both born in 1599), and each of them five years old in 1604‒5; so that this juvenile encounter is highly probable, exemplifying that “the child is father of the man.”

Again in Malcolm’s “Manners and Customs of London,” vol. i., p. 425, we find the subjoined extract from _The Protestant Mercury_, of January, 1681, which we take to be the first prize-fight on newspaper record.

“Yesterday a match of boxing was performed before his Grace the Duke of Albemarle, between the Duke’s footman and a butcher. The latter won the prize, as he hath done many before, being accounted, though but a little man, the best at that exercise in England.”

“Here be proofs”: 1, of ducal patronage; 2, of a stake of money; 3, of the custom of public boxing; 4, of the skill of the victor, “he being but a little man;” and all in a five-line paragraph. The names of the Champions are unwritten.

This brings us to the period at which our first volume opens, in which will be found the deeds and incidents of the Pugilists, the Prize-ring, and its patrons, detailed from contemporary and authentic sources, down to the opening of the present century. We cannot, however, close this somewhat gossiping preface without an extract from a pleasant paper which has just fallen under our notice, in which some of the notable men who admired and upheld the now-fallen fortunes of boxing are vividly introduced by one whose reminiscences of bygone men and manners are given in a sketch called “The Last of Limmer’s.” To the younger reader it may be necessary to premise, that from the days when the Prince Regent, Sheridan, and Beau Brummel imbibed their beeswing—when the nineteenth century was in its infancy—down to the year of grace 1860, the name of “Limmer’s Hotel” was “familiar in sporting men’s mouths as household words,” and co-extensive in celebrity with “Tattersall’s” and “Weatherby’s.”

My name is John Collins, head-waiter at “Limmer’s,” Corner of Conduit Street, Hanover Square; My chief occupation is filling of brimmers, For spicy young gentlemen frequenting there.

Said “brimmers,” _hodie_ “bumpers,” being a compound of gin, soda-water, ice lemon, and sugar, said to have been invented by John Collins, but recently re-imported as a Yankee novelty. This per parenthesis, and we return to our author.

“In that little tunnelled recess at the bottom of the dark, low-browed coffee-oom, the preliminaries of more prize-fights have been arranged by Sir St. Vincent Cotton, Parson Ambrose, the late Lord Queensberry, Colonel Berkeley, his son, the Marquis Drumlanrig, Sir Edward Kent, the famous Marquis of Waterford, Tom Crommelin, the two Jack Myttons, the late Lord Longford, and the committee of the Fair-play Club, than in the parlour of No. 5, Norfolk Street (the sanctum of Vincent Dowling, Editor of _Bell’s Life_), in Tom Spring’s parlour, or Jem Burn’s ‘snuggery.’

“Let it not be imagined that any apology is needed, nor will be here vouchsafed in defence of those to whom, whatever may have been their station in life, the prize-ring was formerly dear. The once well-known and well-liked Tom Crommelin, for instance, is the only survivor among those whom we chance to have named, but in his far-distant Australian home he will have no cause to remember with regret that he has often taken part in the promotion of pugilistic encounters.

“During the present century Great Britain has produced no more manly, no honester, or more thoroughly English statesman than the uncle of the present Earl Spencer, better known in political history under the name of Lord Althorp. The late Sir Denis Le Marchant, in his delightful memoir of the nobleman who led the House of Commons when the great Reform Bill was passed, tells us that ‘Lord Althorp made a real study of boxing, taking lessons from the best instructors, whilst practising most assiduously, and, as he boasted, with great success. He had many matches with his school-fellow, Lord Byron, and those who witnessed his exploits with the gloves, and observed his cool, steady eye, his broad chest and muscular limbs, and, above all, felt his hard blows, would have been justified in saying that he was born to be a prize-fighter rather than a Minister of State.’ Long after the retirement of Lord Althorp from office, Mr. Evelyn Denison, who died as Lord Ossington, paid him a visit at Wiseton, ‘The _pros_ and _cons_ of boxing were discussed,’ writes the late Speaker, ‘and Lord Althorp became eloquent. He said that his conviction of the advantages of pugilism was so strong that he had been seriously considering whether it was not a duty that he owed to the public to go and attend every prize-fight which took place, and thus to encourage the noble science to the extent of his power. He gave us an account of prize-fights which he had attended—how he had seen Mendoza knocked down for the first five or six rounds by Humphries, and seeming almost beaten until the Jews got their money on, when, a hint being given, he began in earnest and soon turned the tables. He described the fight between Gully and the Chicken—how he rode down to Brickhill himself, and was loitering about the inn door, when a barouche and four drove up with Lord Byron and a party, and Jackson, the trainer—how they all dined together, and how pleasant it had been. Next day came the fight, and he described the men stripping, the intense excitement, the sparring, then the first round, and the attitudes of the men—it was really worthy of Homer.’

“A pursuit which was enthusiastically supported and believed in by William Windham, Charles James Fox, Lord Althorp, and Lord Byron, stands in little need of modern excuse on behalf of its promoters when Limmer’s was at its apogee. Full many a well-known pugilist, with Michael-Angelo nose and square-cut jaw, has stood, cap in hand, at the door of that historical coffee-room within which Lord Queensberry—then Lord Drumlanrig—and Captain William Peel and the late Lord Strathmore were taking their meals. In one window stands Colonel Ouseley Higgins, Captain Little, and Major Hope Johnstone. A servant of the major’s, with an unmistakable fighting face, enters with a note for his master. It is from Lord Longford and Sir St. Vincent Cotton asking him to allow his valet to be trained by Johnny Walker for a proximate prize fight. The servant, who is no other than William Nelson, the breeder (before his death) of Plebeian, winner of the Middle Park Plate, however, firmly declines the pugilistic honours his aristocratic patrons design for him, so the fight is off. Hard by maybe seen the stately Lord George Bentinck, in conference with his chief-commissioner, Harry Hill,” &c., &c. We here break off the reminiscences of Limmer’s, as the rest of this most readable paper deals solely with the celebrities of the turf.

The last time the writer saw the late Sir Robert Peel, was at Willis’s Rooms, in King Street, on the occasion of an Assault of Arms, given by the Officers of the Household Brigade, whereat the art of self-defence was illustrated by the non-commissioned officers of the Life Guards, Grenadier Guards, and Royal Artillery. Corporal-Majors Limbert and Gray, Sergeants Dean and Venn, Corporal Toohig (Royal Artillery), with Professors Gillemand, Shury, and Arnold, displayed their skill with broadsword, foil, single-stick, and sabre against bayonet. The gloves, too, were put on, and some sharp and manly bouts played by the stalwart Guardsmen. The lamented Minister watched these with approving attention. Then came a glove display in which Alec Keene put on the mittens with Arnold, the “Professor of the Bond Street Gymnasium.” The sparring was admirable, and sir Robert, who was in the midst of an aristocratic group, pressed forward to the woollen boundary-rope. His eyes lighted up with the memories of Harrow school-days and he clapped his hands in hearty applause of each well-delivered left or right and each neat stop or parry. The bout was over, and neither was best man. The writer perceived the deep interest of Sir Robert, and conveyed to the friendly antagonists the desire of several gentlemen for “one round more.” It was complied with, and closed with a pretty rally, in which a clean cross-counter and first and sharpest home from Keene’s left proved the finale amid a round of applause. The practised pugilist was too many for the professor of “mimic warfare.” Next came another clever demonstration of the arts of attack and defence by Johnny Walker and Ned Donnelly. Sir Robert was as hilarious as a schoolboy cricketer when the winning run is got on the second innings. Turning to Mr. C. C. Greville and the Hon. Robert Grimstone, he exclaimed, “There is nothing that interests me like good boxing. It asks more steadiness, self-control, aye, and manly courage than any other combat. You must take as well as give—eye to eye, toe to toe, and arm to arm. Give my thanks to both the men, they are brave and clever fellows, and I hope we shall never want such among our countrymen.” It is gratifying to add that, to our knowledge, these sentiments are the inheritance of the third Sir Robert, whose manly and patriotic speech, at Exeter Hall, on the 17th of February, 1878, rings in our ears as we write these lines.

With such patrons of pugilism as those who faded away in “the last days of Limmer’s,” departed the fair play, the spirit, and the very honesty, often tainted, of the Ring. A few exceptional struggles—due rather to the uncompromising honesty and courage of the men, or the absence of the blacklegs, low gamblers, Hebrews, and flash publicans from the finding of the stakes, or making the market odds—occurred from time to time; but these were mere flickerings of the expiring flame. The Ring was doomed, not less by the misconduct of its professors than by the discord and dishonest doings of its so-called patrons and their ruffianly followers, unchecked by the saving salt of sporting gentlemen and men of honour, courage, and standing in society. Down, deeper down, and ever downward it went, till in its last days it became merely a ticket-selling swindle in the hands of keepers of Haymarket night-houses, and slowly perished in infamy and indigence. Yet, cannot the writer, looking back through a long vista of memorable battles, and with the personal recollection of such men as Cribb (in his latter days), Tom Spring, Jem Ward (still living), Painter, Neale, Jem Burn, John Martin, Frank Redmond, Owen Swift, Alec Keene, with Tom Sayers, his opponent John Heenan, and Tom King, the _Ultimus Romanorum_ (now—1878—taking prizes as a floriculturist at horticultural shows), believe that the art which was practised by such men was without redeeming qualities. He would not seek to revive the “glory of the Ring,” that is past, but he has thought it a worthy task to collect and preserve its memories and its deeds of fortitude, skill, courage, and forbearance, of which these pages will be found to contain memorable, spirit-stirring, and honourable examples.

A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF BOXING.

The curious reader may find some interest in a few paragraphs on the Bibliography of Boxing; for the Ring had a contemporary literature, contributed to by the ablest pens; and to this, in the earlier periods of its history, the author would be an ingrate were he not to acknowledge his indebtedness.

The earliest monograph is a neatly printed small quarto volume, entitled, _A Treatise on the Useful Art of Self-Defence_. By Captain Godfrey. The copy in the British Museum (bearing date 1740) appears to be a second edition. It has for its title _Characters of the Masters_. There is also a handsomely bound copy of the work in the Royal Library, presented to the nation by George III. The volume is dedicated to H.R.H. William, Duke of Cumberland. Frequent quotations are made from this book.

_The Gymnasiud, or Boxing Match._ A Poem. By the Champion and Bard of Leicester House, the Poet Laureate (Paul Whitehead), 1757. See page 19 of this volume.

In _Dodsley’s Collections_, 1777, &c., are various poetic pieces by Dr. John Byrom, Bramston (_Man of Taste_), and others, containing sketches of pugilism and allusions to the “fashionable art” of boxing, “or self-defence.”

During this period, _The Gentleman’s Magazine_, _The Carlton House Magazine_, _The Flying Post_, _The Daily News Letter_, _The World_, _The Mercury_, _The Daily Advertiser_ (Woodfall’s), and other periodical publications, contained reports of the principal battles in the Ring.

_Recollections of Pugilism and Sketches of the Ring._ By an Amateur. 8vo. London, 1801.

_Recollections of an Octogenarian._ By J. C. 8vo. London, 1805. (See pp 29, 30.)

_Lives of the Boxers._ By Jon Bee, author of the “Lexicon Balatronium,” and “The Like o’ That.” 8vo. London, 1811.

_Pancratia: a History of Pugilism._ 1 vol. 8vo. 1811. By J. B. London: George Smeeton, St. Martin’s Lane.

_Training for Pedestrianism and Boxing._ 8vo. 1816. By Captain Robert Barclay (Allardyce of Ury).

This pamphlet contains an account of the Captain’s training of Cribb for his fight with Molineaux.

_The Fancy: A Selection_ from the poetical remains of Peter Corcoran, Esq., student of Law (Pseudonymous). London: 1820. Quoted p. 313 of this volume.

_Boxiana: Sketches of Antient and Modern Pugilism._ Vol. I. 8vo. London: G. Smeeton, 139, St. Martin’s Lane, Charing Cross, July, 1812.

This very scarce volume, which was the production of George Smeeton, a well known sporting printer and engraver, was the basis of the larger work _Boxiana_, subsequently written and edited by Pierce Egan, and of which _five_ volumes, appeared between 1818 and 1828. The well-written “Introduction,” much disfigured by the illiterate editor, were incorporated, and the handsome copperplate title-page will be found bound into the later work published by Sherwoods, Jones & Co. Pierce Egan was, at one time, a compositor in Smeeton’s office, and continued the work for Sherwoods.

_Boxiana. Sketches of Ancient and Modern Pugilism, from the days of the renowned Broughton and Slack to the Championship of Crib._ By Pierce Egan. In two volumes. London: Sherwood, Neely, and Jones, Paternoster Row, 1818.

This was the first complete book. A third volume followed in 1825. There are _two_ fourth volumes owing to a circumstance which requires explanation. That published by George Virtue, and bearing the name of Pierce Egan, has for its title _New Series of Boxiana: the only Original and Complete Lives of the Boxers_. By Pierce Egan. London: George Virtue, Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row. Vol. I., 1828. Vol. II., 1829. These are generally bound as Vols. IV. and V., in sets of _Boxiana_. The other volume, IV., is identical in title, but not in contents, with Pierce Egan’s first volume of the “new series,” omitting those words. It was written by Jon Bee, for Messrs. Sherwoods, who moved an injunction against Pierce Egan for selling his fourth volume to another publisher. Lord Chancellor Eldon merely compelled Pierce Egan to prefix the words “new series” to his book, and the matter ended.

_A Lecture on Pugilism_: Delivered at the Society for Mutual Improvement, established by Jeremy Bentham, Esq., at No. 52, Great Marlborough Street, Oxford Street, April 14th, 1820. By S[eptimus] M[iles]. 8vo., 24 pp., White, 1820. This curious and elaborate defence of pugilism seems rather to have been a rhetorical exercitation for discussion at a debating society than a defence. It is printed at the end of the third volume of Boxiana.

_Boxing; with a Chronology of the Ring, and a Memoir of Owen Swift._ By Renton Nicholson. London: Published at 163, Fleet Street. 1837.

_Owen Swift’s Handbook of Boxing._ 1840. With Steel Portrait by Henning. This was also written by the facetious Renton Nicholson—styled “Chief-Baron Nicholson,” and originator of the once-famous “Judge and Jury” Society.

_The Handbook of Boxing and Training for Athletic Sports._ By H. D. M[iles]. London: W. M. Clark, Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row, 1838.

_Fistiana; or, the Oracle of the Ring. By the Editor of Bell’s Life in London._ This pocket volume, containing a Chronology of the Ring, the revised rules, forms of articles, duties of seconds, umpires, and referee, reached its 24th and last edition in 1864, and expired only with the ring itself. Its author, Mr. Vincent George Dowling, the “Nestor of the Ring,” a gentleman and a scholar, also contributed the article “Boxing” to Blaine’s “Cyclopædia of Rural Sports,” Longmans, 1840.

_Fights for the Championship._ 1 vol., 8vo. By the Editor of _Bell’s Life in London_. London: published at 170, Strand, 1858.

_Championship Sketches_, with Portraits. By Alfred Henry Holt. London: Newbold, Strand, 1862.

_The Life of Tom Sayers._ By Philopugilis. 8vo., with Portrait. London: S. O. Beeton, 248, Strand, 1864. [By the author of the present work.]

Among the authors of the early years of the present century, whose pens illustrated the current events of boxers and boxing, we may note, Tom Moore the poet, who contributed occasional squibs to the columns of the _Morning Chronicle_, and in 1818 published the humorous versicles, _Tom Cribb’s Memorial to Congress_, quoted at p. 306 of this volume. Lord Byron. See Moore’s “Life and Letters,” “Memoir of Jackson,” pp. 97, 98.

Christopher North (Professor Wilson) the Editor of Blackwood’s Magazine in the _Noctes Ambrosiane_, puts into the mouth of the Ettrick Shepherd (James Hogg) an eloquent defence of pugilism, while he takes opportunity, through Sir Morgan O’Doherty, to praise the manliness, fair play, and bravery of contemporary professors of boxing. Several sonnets and other extracts from Blackwood will be found scattered in these volumes.

Dr. Maginn (the Editor of Frazer’s Magazine), also exercised his pen in classic imitations apropos of our brave boxers.

Last, but not least, the gifted author of _Pendennis_, _The Virginians_, _Esmond_, _Vanity Fair_, _Jeames’s Diary_, &c., &c., has perpetuated the greatness of our latest champions in a paraphrase, rather than a parody of Macaulay’s “Lays of Ancient Rome,” entitled “Sayerinus and Henanus; a Lay of Ancient London,” which contains lines of power to make the blood of your Englishmen stir in days to come, should the preachers of peace-at-any-price, pump water, parsimonious pusillanimity, puritanic precision and propriety have left our youth any blood to stir. See “Life of Sayers,” in vol. iii. Volumes cannot better express the contempt which this keen observer of human nature and satirist of shams entertained for the mawworms, who “compound for sins they are inclined to by damning those they have no mind to,” than the subjoined brief extract:—

“Fighting, of course, is wrong; but there are occasions when.... I mean that one-handed fight of Sayers is one of the most spirit-stirring little stories; and with every love and respect for Morality, my spirit says to her, ‘Do, for goodness’ sake, my dear madam, keep your true, and pure, and womanly, and gentle remarks for another day. Have the great kindness to stand a _leetle_ aside, and just let us see one or two more rounds between the men. That little man with the one hand powerless on his breast facing yonder giant for hours, and felling him, too, every now and then! It is the little Java and the Constitution over again.’”—W. M. THACKERAY.

Or the following “happy thought,” to which Leech furnished an illustrative sketch:—

“SERIOUS GOVERNOR.—‘I am surprised, Charles, that you can take any interest in these repulsive details! How many rounds (I believe you term them) do you say these ruffians fought? Um, disgraceful! the Legislature ought to interfere; and it appears that this Benicia Man did not gain the—hem—best of it? I’ll take the paper when you have done with it, Charles.’”—_Punch Illustration, April 8, 1860._

CHAMPIONS OF ENGLAND FROM 1719 TO 1863.

1719. James Fig, of Thame, Oxfordshire.

1730‒1733. Pipes and Gretting (with alternate success).

1734. George Taylor.

1740. Jack Broughton, the waterman.

1750. Jack Slack, of Norfolk.

1760. Bill Stevens, the nailer.

1761. George Meggs, of Bristol.

1762. George Millsom, the baker.

1764. Tom Juchau, the paviour.

1765‒9. Bill Darts.

1769. Lyons, the waterman.

1771. Peter Corcoran (doubtful). He beat Bill Darts, who had previously been defeated by Lyons.

1777. Harry Sellers.

1780. Jack Harris (doubtful).

1783‒91. Tom Johnson (Jackling), of York.

1791. Benjamin Brain (Big Ben), of Bristol.

1792. Daniel Mendoza.

1795. John Jackson. (Retired.)

1800‒5. Jem Belcher, of Bristol.

1805. Henry Pearce, the “Game Chicken.”

1808. (Retired). John Gully (afterwards M.P. for Pontefract).

1809. Tom Cribb, received a belt and cup, and retired.

1824. Tom Spring, received four cups, and retired.

1825. Jem Ward, received the belt.

1833. Jem Burke (the Deaf ’un), claimed the title.

1839. Bendigo (Wm. Thompson), of Nottingham, beat Burke, and received the belt from Ward.

1841. Benjamin Caunt, of Hucknall, beat Nick Ward, and received belt (transferable).

1845. Bendigo beat Caunt, and received the belt.

1850. Wm. Perry (Tipton Slasher), claimed belt, Bendigo declining his challenge.

1851. Harry Broome beat Perry, and claimed the title.

1853. Perry again challenged the title, and Broome retired from the ring.

1857. Tom Sayers beat Perry, and received the belt.

1860. Tom Sayers retired after his battle with Heenan, and left belt for competition.

1860. Samuel Hurst (the Staleybridge Infant), beat Paddock, the claimant, and received the belt.

1861. Jem Mace, of Norwich, beat Hurst, and claimed the title.

1863. Tom King beat Mace, and claimed the belt, but retired, and Mace claimed the trophy.

1863. Tom King beat J. C. Heenan for £1,000 a-side at Wadhurst, December 10th.

INTRODUCTION.

BOXING AND BOXERS AMONG THE ANCIENTS.

The origin of boxing has been assumed by some superficial writers as coeval with the earliest contests of man. This view appears to the writer both crude and unphilosophical. It might be argued with equal probability that the foil was antecedent to the sword, the sword to the dagger, or the singlestick to the club with which the first murder was perpetrated. The clumsiest and, so far as rude and blood-thirsty attack could contrive them, the most deadly weapons were the first used; the sudden destruction of life, not the art of defence, being the brutal instinct of the vengeful, cunning, and cowardly savage, or the treacherous manslayer. This, too, would lead us fairly to infer—as the most dangerous forms of the cæstus are the most ancient, and the naked fist in combat appears nowhere to have been used in the gladiatorial combats of Greece or Rome—that to England and her Anglo-Saxon race is due this fairest and least dangerous of all forms of the duel; and to attribute to a recent period the padded boxing-glove (at present the air or pneumatic glove), by means of which the truly noble art of self-defence can be safely and healthfully practised and illustrated.

The most polished people of antiquity included boxing among their sports. With them it was also a _discipline_, an _exercise_, and an _art_. A discipline, inasmuch as it was taught to pupils; an exercise, as followed in the public games; and an art, on account of the previous trainings and studies it presupposed in those who professed and practised it. Plutarch indeed asserts that the “pugilate” was the most ancient of the three gymnic games performed by the athletæ, who were divided into three classes—the BOXERS, the WRESTLERS, and the RUNNERS. And thus Homer views the subject, and generally follows this order in his descriptions of public celebrations. This, too, is the natural sequence, in what philosopher Square would call “the eternal fitness of things.” First, the man attacks (or defends himself) with the fist; secondly, he closes or wrestles; and should fear, inferior skill, or deficient strength tell him he had better avoid the conflict, he resorts to the third course, and _runs_.

A word on the derivation of our words, pugilism, pugilist, and boxing, all of which have a common origin. _Pugilism_ comes to us through the Latin _pugilatus_, the art of fighting with the fist, as also does _pugnus_, a fight. The Latin again took these words from the Greek πυγμὴ (_pugmè_), the fist doubled for fighting; whence also they had πύγμάχος (_pugmachos_), a fist-fighter, and πύγμαχια (_pugmachia_), a fist-fight. They had also πυγδον (_pugdon_), a measure of length from the elbow (_cubitus_) to the end of the hand _with the fingers clenched_. Another form of the word, the Greek adverb πυξ (_pux_), _pugno vel pugnis_, gives us πυξος (_puxos_, Lat. _buxus_), in English, BOX; and it is remarkable that this form of the closed hand is the Greek synonyme for anything in the shape of a closed _box_ or receptacle, and so it has passed to the moderns. The πυξ, _box_ or _pyx_, is the chest in which the sacramental vessels are contained. Thus mine Ancient Pistol pleads for his red-nosed comrade:—

“Fortune is Bardolph’s foe, and frowns on him; For he hath stolen a PYX, and hanged must ’a be. Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free, But Exeter hath given the doom of death, For PYX of little price.” HENRY V., act iii., sc. vi.

The French have also imported _le boxe_ into their dictionaries, where the Germans had it already, as _buchs_, a box. But enough of etymology; wherever we got the word, the thing itself—fair boxing, as we practise it—is of pure English origin. The Greeks, however, cultivated the science in their fashion, confined it by strict rules, and selected experienced masters and professors, who, by public lessons, delivered gratis in Palestræ and Gymnasiæ, instructed youth in the theory and practice of the art. Kings and princes, as we learn from the poets, laid aside their dignity for a few hours, and exchanged the sceptre for the cæstus; indeed, in Greece, boxing, as a liberal art, was cultivated with ardour, and when (once in three years) the whole nation assembled at Corinth to celebrate their Isthmian games, in honour of Neptune, the generous admiration of an applauding people placed the crown on the brow of the successful pugilist, who, on his return home, was hailed as the supporter of his country’s fame. Even Horace places the pugilist _before_ the poet:—

“Quem tu, Melpomene, semel Nascentem placido lumine videris, Illum non labor Isthmius Clarabit pugilem.” Lib. iv., Ode 3, l. 1‒4.

And in another place:—

“Musa debit fidibus divos, puerosque deorum, Et PUGILEM victorem, et equum certamine primum.” _De Arte Poet._, l. 83‒84.

The sententious Cicero also says:—“It is certainly a glorious thing to _do_ well for the republic, but also to _speak_ well is not contemptible.”

Having alluded to the poets who have celebrated pugilism, we will take a hasty glance at the demigods and heroes by whom boxing has been illustrated. POLLUX, the twin brother of Castor—sprung from the intrigue of Jupiter with the beauteous Leda, wife of Tyndarus, King of Sparta, and mother of the fair Helen of Troy—presents us with a lofty pedigree as the tutelary deity of the boxers. The twins fought their way to a seat on Mount Olympus, as also did Hercules himself:—

“_Hac arte_ Pollux, et vagus Hercules Innixus arces attigit igneas;”

the sign Gemini in our zodiac representing this pair of “pugs.” As one of the unsuccessful competitors with Pollux, we may here mention AMYCUS. He was a son of Neptune, by Melia, and was king of the Bebryces. When the Argonauts touched at his port, on their voyage to Colchis, he received them with much hospitality. Amycus was renowned for his skill with the cæstus, and he kept up a standing challenge to all strangers for a trial of skill. Pollux accepted his challenge; but we learn from Apollonius that Amycus did not fight fair, and tried by a trick to beat Pollux, whereupon that “out-and-outer” killed him, _pour encourager les autres_, we presume.[2] There were two other pugilists of the same name among the “school” taken by Æneas into Italy as we shall presently see.

ERYX, also, figures among the heaven-descended pugilists. He was the son of Venus, by Butes, a descendant of Amycus, and very skilful in the use of the cæstus. He, too, kept up a standing challenge to all comers, and so came to grief. For Hercules, who “barred neither weight, country, nor colour,” coming that way, took up the gauntlet, and knocked poor Eryx clean out of time; so they buried him on a hill where he had, like a pious son, built a beautiful temple in honour of his rather too easy mamma. It is but fair, however, in this instance, to state that there is another version of the parentage of Eryx, not quite so lofty, but, to our poor thinking, quite as creditable. It runs thus:—Butes, being on a Mediterranean voyage, touched at the three-cornered island of Sicily (Trinacria), and there, sailor fashion, was hooked by one Lycaste, a beautiful harlot, who was called by the islanders “Venus.” She was the mother of Eryx, and so he was called the son of Venus. (See Virgil, Æneid, b. v., l. 372.) However this may be, the temple of Eryx and the “Erycinian Venus” were most renowned, and Diodorus, the Sicilian, tells us that the Carthaginians revered Venus Erycina as much as the Sicilians themselves, identifying her with the Phœnician Astarte. So much for the genealogy of the fourth boxer.

ANTÆUS here claims a place. We have had a couple from heaven (by Jupiter), and one from the sea (by Neptune), our next shall be from earth and ocean combined. Antæus, though principally renowned as a wrestler, is represented with the cæstus. He was the son of Terra, by Neptune; or, as the stud-book would put it, by Neptune out of Terra. He was certainly dreadfully given to “bounce,” for he threatened to erect a temple to his father with the skulls of his conquered antagonists; but he planned his house before he had procured the materials. The story runs, that whenever he kissed his “mother earth” she renewed his strength, from which we may fairly infer that he was an adept in the art of “getting down,” like many of our modern pugilists. Hercules, however, found out the dodge by which the artful Antæus got “second wind” and renewed strength. He accordingly put on “the squeeze,” and giving him a cross-lift, held him off the ground till he expired, which we take to have been foul play on the part of his Herculean godship.[3] There was another Antæus, a friend of Turnus, killed by Æneas in the Latin wars.

Of the Homeric boxers, EPEUS and EURYALUS are the most renowned. Epeus was king of the Epei, a people of the Peloponnesus; he was son of Endymion, and brother to Pæon and Æolus. As his papa was the paramour of the goddess of chastity, Diana, the family may be said to have moved in high society. The story of Endymion and the goddess of the moon has been a favourite with poets. Epeus was a “big one,” and, like others of Homer’s heroes, a bit of a bully.

In the twenty-third book of the Iliad we find the father of poetry places the games at the funeral of Patroclus in this order:—1, The chariot race; 2, the cæstus fight; 3, the wrestling; 4, the foot race. As it is with the second of these only that Epeus and Euryalus are concerned, we shall confine ourselves to the Homeric description.

“The prizes next are ordered to the field, For the bold champions who the cæstus wield; A stately mule, as yet by toil unbroke, Of six years’ age, unconscious of the yoke, Is to the circus led and firmly bound: Next stands a goblet, massive, large, and round. Achilles, rising, thus: ‘Let Greece excite Two heroes equal to this hardy fight; Who dares the foe with lifted arms provoke, And rush beneath the swift descending stroke, On whom Apollo shall the palm bestow, And whom the Greeks supreme by conquest know, This mule his dauntless labours shall repay: The vanquished bear the massy bowl away.’ This dreadful combat great Epeus chose. High o’er the crowd, enormous bulk! he rose, And seized the beast, and thus began to say: ‘Stand forth some man to bear the bowl away! Price of his ruin; for who dares deny This mule my right, the undoubted victor I? Others, ’tis owned, in fields of battle shine, But the first honours of this fight are mine. For who excels in all? Then let my foe Draw near, but first his certain fortune know, Secure, this hand shall his whole frame confound, Mash all his bones, and all his body pound: So let his friends be nigh, a needful train, To heave the battered carcase off the plain.’ The giant spoke; and in a stupid gaze The host beheld him, silent with amaze! ’Twas thou, Euryalus! who durst aspire To meet his might, and emulate thy sire, The great Megestheus, who, in days of yore, In Theban games the noblest trophy bore— (The games ordain’d dead Œdipus to grace), And singly vanquished the Cadmæan race. Him great Tydides urges to contend, Warm with the hopes of conquest for his friend: Officious with the cincture girds him round; And to his wrists _the gloves of death_ are bound. Amid the circle now each champion stands, And poises high in air his iron hands: With clashing gauntlets now they fiercely close, Their crackling jaws re-echo to the blows, And painful sweat from all their members flows. At length Epeus dealt a weighty blow Full on the cheek of his unwary foe; Beneath the ponderous arm’s resistless sway Down dropp’d he nerveless, and extended lay. As a large fish, when winds and waters roar, By some huge billow dash’d against the shore, Lies panting: not less battered with the wound The bleeding hero pants upon the ground. To rear his fallen foe the victor lends, Scornful, his hand, and gives him to his friends. Whose arms support him reeling through the throng, And dragging his disabled legs along, Nodding, his head hangs down his shoulders o’er; His mouth and nostrils pour the clotted gore: Wrapped round in mists he lies, and lost to thought— His friends receive the bowl too dearly bought.”

So far the first report of a prize fight, which came off 1184 years B.C., in the last year of the siege of Troy, anno mundi, 3530.

There was another EPEUS, son of Panopæus, who was a skilful carpenter, and made the Greek mare, commonly but erroneously called the Trojan horse,[4] in the womb of which the Argive warriors were introduced to the ruin of beleaguered Troy, as related in the second book of the “Æneid.”

EURYALUS will be known by name to newspaper readers of the present day as having given name to the steam frigate in which our sailor Prince Alfred took his earliest voyages to sea: to the scholar he is known as a valiant Greek prince, who went to the Trojan war with eighty ships, at least so says Homer, “Iliad,” b. ii.

“Next move to war the generous Argive train, From high Trœzenè and Maseta’s plain; And fair Ægina circled by the main, Whom strong Tyrinthe’s lofty walls surround, And Epidaure with viny harvest crowned, And where fair Asinen and Hermion show Their cliffs above and ample bay below. These by the brave EURYALUS were led, Great Sthenelus and greater Diomed. But chief Tydides bore the sovereign sway; In fourscore barks they plough their watery way.”

We may here note that Tydides (the family name of Diomed, as the son of Tydeus) was Euryalus’s second in the mill with Epeus, wherein we have just seen him so soundly thrashed by the big and bounceable Epeus. As Virgil generally invents a “continuation” or counterpart of the Homeric heroes for his “Æneid,” we find Euryalus made the hero of an episode, and celebrated for his immortal friendship with Nisus: with him he had a partnership in fighting, and they died together in a night encounter with the troops of the Rutulians, whose camp they had plundered, but were overtaken and slain. (Virg. Æneid, ix., 176.) We will now therefore shift the scene from Greece, and come to Sicily and Italy, and the early boxing matches there.

Æneas’ companions were a “school” of boxers, and met with the like in Italy, among whom ENTELLUS, ERYX, and ANTÆUS (already mentioned), DARES, CLOANTHUS, GYGES, GYAS, etc., may be numbered.

ENTELLUS, the intimate of Eryx, and who conquered Dares at the funeral games of Anchises (father of Æneas) in Sicily, deserves first mention. He was even then an “old ’un,” but, unlike most who have “trusted a battle to a waning age,” comes off gloriously in the encounter; which, as we shall presently see, under Dares, gives an occasion for the second ring report of antiquity, as well as a minute description of the cæstus itself. The lines from the fifth book of the “Æneid” need no preface. After the rowing match (with galleys), in which Cloanthus (see _post_) is the victor, Æneas thus addresses his assembled companions:—

“‘If there be here whose dauntless courage dare In gauntlet-fight, with back and body bare, His opposite sustain in open view, Stand forth thou, champion, and the games renew: Two prizes I propose, and thus divide— A bull with gilded horns and fillets tied, Shall be the portion of the conq’ring chief; A sword and helm shall cheer the loser’s grief.’ Then haughty Dares in the lists appears; Stalking he strides, his head erected bears; His nervous arms the weighty gauntlets wield And loud applauses echo through the field. Dares alone in combat sued to stand, The match of mighty Paris, hand to hand; The same at Hector’s funerals undertook Gigantic Butes of the Amycian stock, And by the stroke of his resistless hand, Stretched his vast bulk along the yellow sand. Such Dares was, and such he strode along, And drew the wonder of the gazing throng. His brawny bulk and ample breast he shows, His lifted arms around his head he throws, And deals, in whistling air, his empty blows. His match is sought; but through the trembling band Not one dares answer to his proud demand. Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes, Already he devours the promised prize. He claims the bull with lawless insolence, And, having seized his horns, addressed the prince: ‘If none my matchless valour dares oppose, How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes? Permit me, chief, permit without delay, To lead this uncontested gift away.’ The crowd assents, and, with redoubled cries, For the proud challenger demands the prize.”

Acestes then reproaches Entellus for allowing the prize to be carried off uncontested. Entellus pleads “staleness” and “want of condition,” but accepts the challenge.

“Acestes fired with just disdain to see A plain usurped without a victory, Reproached Entellus thus, who sate beside, And heard and saw, unmoved, the Trojan’s pride. ‘Once, but in vain, a champion of renown, So tamely can you bear the ravished crown, The prize in triumph borne before your sight, And shun for fear the danger of the fight. Where is your Eryx now, the boasted name, The god who taught your thundering arm the game? Where now your baffled honour? where the spoil That filled your house, and fame that filled our isle?’ Entellus thus: ‘My soul is still the same, Unmoved with fears, and moved with martial fame; But my chill blood is curdled in my veins, And scarce the shadow of a man remains. Oh! could I turn to that fair prime again, That prime of which this boaster is so vain, The brave, who this decrepit age defies, Should feel my force without the promised prize.’”

Entellus then throws down the gauntlets of Eryx (engraved under Cæstus, pp. xiii., xiv.), but Dares, declining the ponderous weapons, old Entellus offers to accommodate him, by permission of the umpires, with a round or two with a lighter pair.

“‘But if the challenger these arms refuse, And cannot wield their weight, or dare not use; If great Æneas and Acestes join In his request, these gauntlets I resign: Let us with equal arms perform the fight, And let him learn to fear since I forego my right. This said, Entellus for the fight prepares, Stripped of his quilted coat, his body bares: Composed of mighty bones and brawn he stands, A goodly towering object on the sands. Then just Æneas equal arms supplied, Which round their shoulders to their wrists they tied. Both on the tiptoe stand, at full extent, Their arms aloft, their bodies inly bent; Their heads from aiming blows they bear afar, With clashing gauntlets then provoke the war. One on his youth and pliant limbs relies, One on his sinews and his giant size. This last is stiff with age, his motion slow; He heaves for breath, he staggers to and fro, And clouds of issuing smoke his nostrils loudly blow Yet equal in success, they ward, they strike, Their ways are different, but their art alike. Before, behind, the blows are dealt; around Their hollow sides the rattling thumps resound; A storm of strokes, well meant, with fury flies, And errs about their temples, ears, and eyes— Nor always errs, for oft the gauntlet draws A sweeping stroke along the crackling jaws. Hoary with age Entellus stands his ground, But with his warping body wards the wound. His hand and watchful eye keep even pace, While Dares traverses and shifts his place, And, like a captain who beleaguers round Some strong-built castle on a rising ground, Views all the approaches with observing eyes; This and that other part in vain he tries, And more on industry than force relies. With hands on high Entellus threats the foe; But Dares watched the motion from below, And slipped a-side, and shunned the long-descending blow. Entellus wastes his forces on the wind, And, thus deluded of the stroke designed, Headlong and heavy fell, his ample breast And weighty limbs his ancient mother pressed. So falls a hollow pine that long had stood On Ida’s height or Erymanthus’ wood, Torn from the roots. The differing nations rise, And shouts, with mingled murmurs, rend the skies. Acestes runs with eager haste to raise The fallen companion of his youthful days. Dauntless he rose, and to the fight returned; With shame his glowing cheeks, his eyes with fury burned Disdain and conscious virtue filled his breast, And with redoubled force his foe he pressed. He lays on load with either hand amain And headlong drives the Trojan o’er the plain; Nor stops nor stays nor rests nor breath allows But storms of strokes descend about his brows, A rattling tempest and a hail of blows.”

At this point of the combat—when, after what ought to have closed round 1, by the fall of old Entellus, the latter jumps up and renews the fight, driving Dares in confusion before him—we find that the referee and stakeholder had a judicial discretionary power to stop the fight, the more necessary on account of the deadly gloves in use. Some such power, in cases of closing and attempts at garotting (such as occurred at Farnham and at Wadhurst in 1860 and 1863, and numerous minor battles), should be vested in the referee; but then where is the man who in modern times would be efficiently supported or obeyed in this judicial exercise of authority?

“But now the prince, who saw the wild increase Of wounds, commands the combatants to cease, And bounds Entellus’ wrath, and bids the peace. First to the Trojan, spent with toil, he came, And soothed his sorrow for the suffered shame. ‘What fury seized my friend? The gods,’ said he, ‘To him propitions, are averse to thee, Have given his arm superior force to thine, ’Tis madness to contend with strength divine.’ The gauntlet fight thus ended, from the shore His faithful friends the unhappy Dares bore: His mouth and nostrils poured a purple flood, And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood. Faintly he staggered through the hissing throng, And hung his head and trailed his legs along. The sword and casque are carried by his train, But with his foe the palm and ox remain.”

The reader will doubtless be forcibly struck with the close imitation of Homer by the later epic poet. The length of this account—given, as are those in the ensuing pages, under the name of the winner—will render superfluous a lengthy notice of the vanquished—

DARES, another of the companions of Æneas, who also, like St. Patrick, was “a jontleman, and came of dacent people.” Indeed, we see that he claimed to be descended from King Amycus. Your ancient pugilists seem to have been as anxious about “blood” as a modern horse-breeder. Dares was afterwards slain by Turnus in Italy. See Virg. Æneid, v. 369, xii. 363.

CLOANTHUS, too, fought some good battles; and from him the noble Roman family of the Cluentii boasted their descent. In “Æneid,” v. 122, he wins the rowing match.

Of GYGES’ match we merely learn that Turnus also slew him; and of GYAS, that he greatly distinguished himself by his prowess in the funeral games of Anchises in Sicily. As to the “pious” ÆNEAS himself, another son of Venus, by Anchises, he was a fighting man all his days. First, in the Trojan war, where he engaged in combat with Diomed and with Achilles himself, and afterwards, on his various voyagings in Sicily, Africa, and Italy, where he fought for a wife and a kingdom, and won both by killing his rival Turnus, marrying Lavinia, and succeeding his father-in-law, Latinus. Despite his “piety” in carrying off his old father Anchises from the flames of Troy, and giving him such a grand funeral, Æneas seems to have been a filibustering sort of vagrant; and after getting rid of poor Turnus, not without suspicions of foul play, he was drowned in crossing a river in Etruria, which territory he had invaded on a marauding expedition. We cannot say much against him on the score of “cruelty and desertion” in the matter of Queen Dido, seeing that chronology proves that the Carthaginian Queen was not born until about three hundred years after the fall of Troy, and therefore the whole story is the pure fabrication of the Roman poets, Virgil and Ovid. This, however, is by the way, so we will proceed to give a short account of the implements used in ancient boxing.

These were the CÆSTUS, a formidable gauntlet composed of thongs of raw hide, with the woollen glove covering the hand with its vellus or fringe; and the AMPHOTIDES, a kind of helmet or defensive armour for the head. Four principal forms of the cæstus are known by extant representations. The first is the most tremendous, and was found in bronze at Herculaneum. The original hand is somewhat above the natural size, and appears to have been part of the statue of some armed gladiator. It is formed of several thicknesses of raw hide strongly fastened together, and cut into a circular form. These have holes to admit the four fingers, the thumb being closed on the outer edge to secure the hold, while the whole is bound by thongs round the wrist and forearm, with its inner side on the palm of the hand and its outer edge projecting in front of the knuckles. Our Yankee friends have a small imitation in their modern “knuckle-dusters.” A glove of thick worsted was worn beneath the gauntlet, ending in a fringe or bunch of wool, called _vellus_. Lactantius says: “Pentedactylos laneos sub cæstibus habent.” The figure given in the Abbé St. Non’s, “Voyage Pittoresque de Naples et de Sicile,” is here copied.

The second form of cæstus, though less deadly at first aspect, is capable of administering the most fatal blows. This sort is represented in a bronze group, engraved in the first volume of the “Bronzi del Museo Kircheriano,” which represents the battle between Amycus and Pollux, already noticed.

This (or the fourth form of glove) would also seem to have been that offered by Entellus to Dares in the fifth book of the Æneid, though the “knobs of brass,” “blunt points of iron,” “plummets of lead,” and other superfluities of barbarity, are not visible. Virgil’s description of the cæstus being the best, we here quote it:—

“He (Entellus) threw Two pond’rous gauntlets down, in open view; Gauntlets, which Eryx wont in fight to wield, And sheathe his hands within the listed field. With fear and wonder seiz’d the crowd beholds The gloves of death,—with sev’n distinguish’d folds Of tough bull’s hides; the space within is spread With iron or with loads of heavy lead. Dares himself was daunted at the sight, Renounc’d his challenge, and refused to fight. Astonish’d at their weight, the hero stands, And pois’d the pond’rous engines in his hands.”

In Smith’s “Antiquities of Greece and Rome,” and in Lenu’s “Costumes des Peuples de l’Antiquité,” are other patterns. The subjoined is from the last named work.

The last form (No. 4) we shall give is also from a bas-relief found at Herculaneum. It is certainly of a less destructive form, the knuckles and back of the hand being covered by the leather, held in its place by a thumbhole, and further secured by two crossed straps to the vellus, which ends half way up the forearm. A similar engraving forms the tail-piece to the fifty-first page of the second volume of the Abbé St. Non’s “Voyage Pittoresque,” already quoted.

The AMPHOTIDES, a helmet or head-guard, to secure the temporal bones and arteries, encompassed the ears with thongs and ligatures, which were buckled either under the chin or behind the head. They bore some resemblance to the head guards used in modern broadsword and stick play, but seem to have fitted close. They were made of hides of bulls, studded with knobs of iron, and thickly quilted inside to dull the concussion of the blows. Though it may be doubted whether the amphotides were introduced until a later period of the pugilistic era, yet as their representation would prevent the faces or heads of the combatants being seen, sculptors and fresco painters would leave them out unhesitatingly, as they do head-dresses, belts, reins, horses’ harness, etc., regardless of reality, and seeking only what they deemed high art in their representations.

The search after traces of boxing among the barbarism of the Middle Ages, with their iron cruelty and deadly warfare—not unredeemed, however, by rude codes of honour, knightly courtesy, and chivalrous gallantry, in defence of the weak and in honour of the fair—would not be worth the while. The higher orders jousted and tilted with lance, mace, and sword, the lower fought with sand-bags and the quarter-staff.

Wrestling, as an art, seems to have only survived among Gothic or Scandinavian peoples. A “punch on the head,” advocated by Mr. Grantley Berkeley as a poacher’s punishment, is, however, spoken of by Ariosto as the result of his romantic hero’s wrath, who gives the offender “un gran punzone sulla testa,” by way of caution. That there were “men before their time,” who saw the best remedy for the fatal abuse of deadly weapons in popular brawls, we have the testimony of no less an authority than St. Bernard. That holy and peace-loving father of the Church, as we are told by Forsyth, and numerous other writers, established boxing as a safety-valve for the pugnacious propensities of the people. He tells us: “The strongest bond of union among the Italians is only a coincidence of hatred. Never were the Tuscans so unanimous as in hating the other States of Italy. The Senesi agreed best in hating all the other Tuscans; the citizens of Siena in hating the rest of the Senesi; and in the city itself the same amiable passion was subdivided among the different wards.

“This last ramification of hatred had formerly exposed the town to very fatal conflicts, till at length, in the year 1200, St. Bernardine instituted BOXING as a more innocent vent to their hot blood, and laid the bruisers under certain laws, which are sacredly observed to this day. As they improved in prowess and skill, the pugilists came forward on every point of national honour: they were sung by poets and recorded in inscriptions. The elegant Savini ranks boxing among the holiday pleasures of Siena.”[5]

These desultory jottings must suffice to bring the history of boxing among the ancients down to the period of its gradual extinction as an art and its public and authorised practice. A few sentences from the pen of the late V. G. Dowling, Esq.[6] will appropriately close this introductory chapter.

“Both among the Greeks and Romans the practice of pugilism, although differing in its main features from our modern and less dangerous combats, was considered essential in the education of their youth, from its manifest utility in ‘strengthening the body, dissipating all fear, and infusing a manly courage into the system.’ The power of punishment, rather than the ‘art of self-defence,’ however, seems to have been the main object of the ancients; and he who dealt the heaviest blow, without regard to protecting his own person, stood foremost in the list of heroes. Not so in modern times; for while the quantum of punishment in the end must decide the question of victory or defeat, yet the true British boxer gains most applause by the degree of science which he displays in defending his own person, while with quickness and precision he returns the intended compliments of his antagonist, and like a skilful chess-player, takes advantage of every opening which chance presents, thereby illustrating the value of coolness and self-possession at the moment when danger is most imminent. The annals of our country from the invasion of the Romans downwards sufficiently demonstrates that the native Briton trusted more to the strength of his arm, the muscular vigour of his frame, and the fearless attributes of his mind in the hour of danger, than to any artificial expedients; and that, whether in attack or defence, the combination of those qualities rendered him at all times formidable in the eyes of his assailants, however skilled in the science or practice of warfare. If illustrations were required to establish this proposition, they are to be found in every page of our history, from the days of Alfred to the battle of Waterloo; and if it be asked how it is that Englishmen stand thus pre-eminent in the eyes of the world, it may be answered that it is to be ascribed to the encouragement given to those manly games (boxing more especially) which are characteristic of their country, and which, while they invigorate the system, sustain and induce that moral courage which experience has shown us to be the result as much of education as of constitution, perhaps more of the former than of the latter. The truth of this conclusion was so strongly impressed on the feelings of our forefathers, even in the most barbarous ages, that we find all their pastimes were tinctured with a desire to acquire superiority in their athletic recreations, thus in peace inculcating those principles which in war became their safest reliance.” _Esto perpetua!_

PUGILISTICA:

THE HISTORY OF BRITISH BOXING.

PERIOD I.—1719 TO 1791. FROM THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF FIG TO THE APPEARANCE OF DANIEL MENDOZA.