CHAPTER VIII., PERIOD V.), was made in a very quiet manner, without any
parade of newspaper letter-writing, or the sporting-crib “chaff” too prevalent in those days. Articles were entered into at the “Ship,” in Great Turnstile, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and the day fixed for July 12th, 1825. Now, as the “Ship” was not a “sporting-crib,” and Mr. Pierce Egan was not duly advertised of the proceedings—indeed, was told nothing about what was going on—Tom Brown’s battle ran a very good chance of not being reported at all—so far as Pierce Egan was concerned. Had this occurred, poor Brown, like “the brave men who lived before Agamemnon,” might have gone down to oblivion; “Carent quia vates sacro.” But there was another reason. Pierce Egan and all the amateurs were “full” of the fight for the following Tuesday (the 19th July, 1825), between Jem Ward and Tom Cannon; which accounts for “the historian” nodding, like another Homer, and leaving to a rival paper the only report that week of the battle, which took place at Plumbe Park, six miles from Stony Stratford, and about sixty miles from London, on the 12th of July, 1825.
The attendance was not numerous, nor was it desired by Brown’s backers; but the Londoners who were there backed Shelton, as against “a countryman,” five to four, on the ground of the old ’un’s tried game and capabilities. Brown, beyond his Shropshire and Worcestershire conquests over stalwart yokels, was unknown to public fame. True, he had been heard of in a forfeit of £20 to Phil Sampson, of Birmingham. Brown, however, had a high character from those who knew him for activity as a jumper and runner, unusual with men of his weight and inches; and above all Tom Spring, the native of an adjoining county, had reported his quality to the swells in the terse and graphic style already cited.
Shelton, who trained anywhere and anyhow, had arrived at Stony Stratford on the previous day, putting up at the “Cock.” Late on Monday night Spring and Brown arrived, and took quarters at the same well-known hostelrie. The men here met each other, and in true English style exchanged greetings and shook hands. Peter Crawley and Josh Hudson also arrived from London as the appointed seconds of Shelton.
Brown, a good-looking, gentleman-farmer sort of man, was a general object of interest as he walked about the town in the early morning; his stature, six feet one inch, and his weight, a solid fifteen stone of bone and muscle, seemed big enough and heavy enough for anything. The friends of the countryman became yet more confident when they saw Shelton, who certainly was not above twelve stone, and whose height wanted quite four inches of that of his opponent. Among the rurals Brown was now at the odds of five and six to four. At twelve o’clock the men and their seconds and friends started in four post-chaises for Plumbe Park, the general public making their way in the best style they could. Brown, attended by Tom Cribb and Tom Spring, was first to throw his hat within the ropes; Josh and Peter followed quickly. “Come, Spring, get ready,” cried Josh; “my man is dressed and waiting in the chaise.” Shelton now made his appearance, but threw his hat so far that it went over on the farther side of the ring, where it was picked up by Young Gas (Jonathan Bissell), who dropped it within the ropes. “That’s a bad omen,” said a bystander. The colours were now tied to the stakes—blue for Shelton, by Hudson, and crimson and white for the Bridgnorth giant, by Tom Spring. “Never mind how you tie them, Josh,” said Shelton, “I shall want you to take them down for me.” “Of course,” replied the John Bull Fighter, “so I have fastened them with a reef-knot.” The men now stood up for
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On getting rid of their togs Brown looked like Hercules without his club. Shelton had trained off; his face was thin—his neck did not appear to possess that strength which characterises a fighting man; his frame was not so robust as heretofore; and his calves, in the phrase of the Ring, had “gone to grass.” Nevertheless, Tom’s heart was in the right place; and like a good “ould one,” he thought of nothing but winning, in spite of the ravages which Master Time had made. “A countryman lick me, indeed!” exclaimed Tom, early in the morning; “I’ll be carried out of the ring first—I will never live to see that day!” On preparing for the attack, Brown stood over Shelton, and the latter, aware that he had a good deal of work to perform, set about it with pluck. Tom’s right hand was stopped by the novice; and in return Brown put a “little one in” on Shelton’s mug, which dropped him. (The milling coves looked blue, while the Chawbacons were outrageous in their manifestations of joy at the success of the countryman. Spring said, “First blood!” but Josh said, “No!” Six to four on Brown; but no fanciers of the odds.)
2.—In this early stage of the fight, the sporting men were satisfied that Shelton had his master before him. Tom measured his opponent, and tried all he knew to plant a heavy topper; but the countryman was too cautious, and parried steadily. Shelton, not dismayed, again went to work; but Brown was up to his manœuvres, and put in a severe blow on his head. A rally occurred, which was brisk for a short time, but Tom had the worst of it, and got away. Brown took the lead in a determined manner, planting two blows on Shelton’s head. Shelton, with the courage of a lion, boldly stood up to his man, till a body blow sent him down. (The friends of Brown shouted for joy, offered two to one, and declared it was “as safe as the Bank.”)
3.—The position of Shelton was awkward—his legs were too wide apart; but his anxiety to punish his adversary was visible, and he left no manœuvre untried to obtain an opening. “Be ready,” said Josh, “he’s coming!” Brown smiled, and with the utmost ease not only stopped Shelton, but in return, gave him a hit on his canister weighty enough to put his upper works in confusion. Tom countered his adversary on his sensitive plant so sharply that the claret was plentiful. (“Well done, Tom,” said Josh; “you have made the young one a member of the Vintners’ Company; go and draw his cork again.”) The countryman felt a little warm—rushed in to his work—caught Shelton in his arms like a baby, and spite of the struggling of poor Tom, he went down. (“The countryman for £100!” all round the ring.)
4.—Tom was piping a little, and it was evident he was overmatched. Shelton hit his adversary on the cheek; but he could not stop the overwhelming power of Brown, who went in and caught Shelton at the ropes. After a little toppering on both sides, the strength of the countryman enabled him to hold up his adversary, as he was dangling on the ropes, but, in the most generous and humane manner, he let Tom down, and walked away. (“Bravo! handsome! Englishman-like!” were the expressions all over the ring.)
5.—Short. It was now clear that the countryman was nothing like a novice, and also that he had been under good tuition. He stopped Shelton with ease, and aimed a terrific right-handed blow at Tom’s head, which, had it told, might have proved Shelton’s quietus. Tom, in bobbing his nob aside, slipped down.
6.—This was a fighting round; but Shelton could not reduce Brown’s pluck or strength, although he made several good hits. “His right hand is gone,” said Josh. “It is, by gosh!” echoed Oliver, whose face was full of anxiety for the fate of poor Shelton, and who had also backed the Ould One at five to four previous to the battle. Shelton planted a body blow; but Brown returned the favour on the head of his adversary. Tom retreated, and endeavoured to mill; but Brown followed him, and sent him completely out of the ropes. (“A countryman, do you call him? He stands a good chance to be Champion!” said Spring.)
7.—Brown’s ivory box received a rattler, but the countryman shook it off with a smile. A little pricked, he followed Shelton, with a quick step, who turned round to avoid a flush hit. Tom slipped down in getting away. Shelton made play, and Brown missed in return.
8.—After some heavy exchanges at the ropes, Shelton put in a back-handed hit so sharply that Brown napped it on his mouth, and went down. (This event put the fighting men and backers of Shelton into spirits—it was a ray of hope. “The Ould One will win it! He has changed it a little!” and “Master Brown does not like it!” with lots of chaffing, till “time” was called.)
9.—This was a round within a round, or two fights for the same stake. The age of Shelton told against him; and it was clear that he could not win. Tom came to the scratch much distressed, but nevertheless commenced milling. Brown followed him resolutely over the ring, when Shelton retreated to the ropes; but the nob of Tom got entangled, and the fibbing system was adopted by both combatants. It was rather against Shelton, when the John Bull Fighter tried to remove the rope from his man’s nob, which Spring said was not fair, and shoved Josh off. Hudson persisted, and shoved Spring roughly; Spring then struck him. “I will not take a blow from any one,” said Josh, and let fly at the late Champion’s head, catching him under the left eye. A scramble ensued; Spring and Josh were both down, and only Cribb waiting upon his man. Brown in the interim had floored Shelton by a heavy body blow. The time-keepers had also a trifling dispute; and Tom Oliver and Young Gas placed themselves in fighting attitudes. At length the row subsided, order was restored, and when time was called for round.
10.—both men appeared at the scratch. Shelton exerted himself to do mischief, but he was stopped, received several hits, and was sent down by a ribber that was heard all over the ring. Shouting by the friends of Brown.
11.—Shelton with considerable dexterity put in a sharp facer; the men afterwards had a severe rally. Brown endeavoured (but we think unintentionally) to lay hold of Shelton’s thigh, in order to obtain the throw; but on “foul” being vociferated, he let go his hold. Shelton went down by a heavy body blow.
12.—Tom did everything in his power to win; but his blows were nothing like finishing ones, and Brown had the best of it. Shelton received an ugly visitation to his victualling office, and went down exhausted. Any odds, but no takers.
13.—The fight was drawing to a close, Brown taking the lead in every round. Shelton put in a nobber, but Brown seemed to say, “If you cannot hit me harder, it is no go.” Tom received such a tremendous one in his mouth that he went down as if shot. Five to one; in fact, it was a hundred to one that Brown must now win off-hand.
14.—The old story, so often told, but so little heeded by fighting men, was evident. Shelton was full of pluck, as to mind and heart, but his legs trembled, and he staggered like a drunken man; he made play with his right, planted a facer, and got away. The danger was out of Shelton, and Brown, in order to put an end to the battle, went to work. Tom opposed him like a trump, till he napped a shutter-up-shop on his throat, which floored him. The head of Shelton reached the ground so violently that it bounded like a ball. (“It’s all over,” was the cry; the brandy was administered, but it was of no use.)
15, and last.—Shelton answered the call of “time.” On toeing the mark, Brown let fly on the side of Tom’s head, and he measured his length on the ground. Shelton was “hit out of time,” and Josh gave in for him. Tom, on recovering himself a little, said, “No, I will fight!” He, however, was so weak and exhausted that nature would not second his efforts. Time, fifteen minutes.
REMARKS.—Shelton, on coming to himself, said “he was ashamed of having been licked in so short a time”—fifteen minutes. Shelton was not disgraced by the defeat. He showed himself a brave man, and never flinched from his opponent; but overmatched by strength and youth, he found it out too late. Brown fought better than was expected. His confidence increased. Spring offered to back him against any one for £500 a-side. Brown, for a big one, was extremely active on his legs, stopped well, hit hard, and did not want for courage or science.
Brown lost no time in claiming the belt, as may be seen by the subjoined:—
“BROWN’S CHALLENGE AND CLAIM TO THE CHAMPIONSHIP.
“_To the Editor of the_ ‘WEEKLY DISPATCH.’
“SIR,—Permit me to announce, through the medium of your paper, that my benefit will take place on Tuesday, the 28th of March, when I shall be prepared to make a match with any man in England for from three to five hundred pounds a-side, or as much more as may be desired. Jem Ward, or his friends, will probably avail themselves of this opportunity to prove their sincerity when they did me the favour of soliciting my attendance in London; but should their courage have been cooled I shall be glad to make a match with Peter Crawley or Tom Cannon. Should the London Ring decline the challenge, I beg leave to say that I shall lay claim to the title of Champion, which has so long remained in doubt.
“I am, Sir, yours respectfully, “THOS. BROWN.
“Bridgnorth, March 1st, 1826.”
On Tuesday, March 28th, 1826, the Tennis Court overflowed, as at the period when Jem Belcher was the pride of the Ring, and Tom Cribb the hero of the tale. The produce of the Court, after deducting expenses, amounted to £127 10s. One thousand persons were present.
After the first set-to between Raines and Wallace, Sampson appeared on the stage, and said that he had been matched against Brown five years since, and had received a forfeit of £20. A second match had been proposed, but Brown had not come forward. He would now fight him for £100, and put down a deposit. If that did not suit Mr. Brown he would set to with him there and then for a “bellyful.” (Laughter and applause.)
Jem Ward showed, and came to the point at once. “I am ready,” said Jem, “to fight Brown for £300, and no chaffing. I will put down a deposit immediately.” “Well done, Jem!”
Tom Spring mounted the stage, and was flatteringly received. He said Brown was under his protection, and it was not worth his while to fight for £100. He was in business, and would require at least a month’s training under his (Spring’s) care, and then if he won the battle the expenses would be greater than the gain. As to putting on the gloves with Sampson it was quite out of the question; Brown was under his management, and he would not let him do wrong to his friends and backers. Sampson had come forward in an angry manner to challenge. Here the oratory of the ex-Champion was lost in a roar of applause and disapprobation, and calls for “Sampson and Brown.”
Sampson said, “The thing spoke for itself—it was too plain; Spring did not like to let the cat out of the bag.” He would not let Brown set to with him because it would tell tales. It would show Brown’s talents, and Spring was determined to keep Brown all to himself. He (Sampson) thought that the company present ought to witness the set-to between him and Brown, as in that case the Fancy would form a judgment as to the laying out their money. (Great applause; and “He ought to set to,” from some; while others, “Spring is not such a flat as to show off Brown; it would betray a want of judgment, and not the caution of a sporting man.”)
Jem Ward rushed on the stage, and flashing a £50 note stated “he would post it immediately towards making a match for £300 with any man in England.” (“Go it, Jem! You can beat any chawbacon, let him be as big as Goliah!”)
Spring, in reply, said he would make a match that night, at Cribb’s, for Brown to fight Ward the first week in August. (Applause.)
Sampson also observed for £100 a-side he would fight any man in England, and would make the match immediately.
As a wind-up to the sports Brown and Spring appeared on the stage, followed by Sampson, who stripped himself, seized hold of a pair of gloves, and appeared determined to set to with Brown. To describe the row which ensued would be impossible. Spring would not let Brown spar with Sampson. The latter asked Brown personally, but he declined, as he said he must be guided by his friends. Sampson then left the stage, observing “it was of no use.” Here another uproar occurred, and Spring and Brown left the stage. After some time had passed in glorious confusion Spring again made his appearance on the stage, and solicited a hearing. Silence being procured Spring observed, that Brown had been placed under his protection, and he was determined that he should receive no foul play. In the bills of the day it had been expressed that he and Brown would put on the gloves together, but he would not let Brown set to with Sampson. “Yet do not mistake me, gentlemen,” said he, “not from any fear respecting Sampson, but it would be wrong, as Brown was about being matched, and more especially on account of the anger displayed by Sampson.” A mixture of applause and hisses, and cries for Sampson. “Brown, gentlemen, is here, ready to set to if you wish it.” “Bravo!” Brown ascended the stage, but the mixed reception must have proved unpleasant to his feelings. “Hats off!” was the cry, and Brown and Spring were opposed to each other.
It was curious to hear the different opinions respecting the abilities of Brown. “He is of no use,” said a retired boxer, one of the first heroes in the P.R. of his day. “He can beat any one in the list,” observed another milling cove. “What an impostor!” “The £500 would be a gift to Ward!” “He would be nothing in the hands of Peter Crawley!” “He is a rare punisher with his right hand, one of his blows would floor an ox”—&c., &c. The set-to did not give satisfaction, and the public verdict was that Brown, after all, was nothing else but a strong countryman, yet a hard hitter with his right hand. Brown returned thanks, and challenged any man in England for £500 a-side, but would accommodate Mr. Sampson for £300 a-side.
Sampson informed the audience that he was to have a benefit on Monday next; and if he, who had been long known to the Ring, met with such patronage as Brown had done, he would not only fight Brown for £100 a-side, but the whole of the money taken at the doors in addition.
At nine o’clock in the evening, after a sporting dinner at which Brown and his friends were the guests, Jem Ward and Sampson arrived at Tom Cribb’s, in Panton Street, and the latter proposed to accede to Brown’s challenge on the part of Ward, and to make a match for £500 a-side. Sampson then said that Ward had not been able to see his friends, and had only £10 to put down; but he should be prepared to make that sum £50 at his (Sampson’s) benefit on Monday next. Some surprise was expressed at the smallness of the deposit for so important a match. Brown at once said that he would throw no impediment in Ward’s way, but would meet him in any reasonable manner he might suggest.
A gentleman present then proceeded to draw up the articles, in which it was proposed and agreed to by Sampson, on the part of Ward, that the fight should take place on a stage similar to that on which Ward and Cannon fought at Warwick; that the place of fighting should be named by Spring, upon the condition that he gave Ward one hundred guineas for that privilege; and that it should not exceed one hundred and fifty miles from London. On coming to the discussion of the distance, however, a difficulty arose. Ward said his friends would not consent to his fighting beyond a hundred miles from London, and therefore if he fought at all it must be within that distance. To this Brown objected. During considerable argument, in which Sampson, still labouring under feelings of irritation against Brown, gave way to a spirit of hostility altogether misplaced, he repeatedly offered to fight Brown for a hundred himself within a month, which Brown declined. At last Sampson said he would fight him for £10 in a room that night. To such a ridiculous offer Spring would not suffer Brown to accede; but at last Brown, in order to prove that he had no personal fears for Sampson, said he would fight him next morning for love. This proffer was hailed with cheers by his friends, but was not agreeable to Sampson, who reverted to his old proposition to fight for a hundred in a month, and this not being accepted he retired.
As an impartial historian we must state that about this period the nuisance of newspaper challenges, correspondence, defiance, chaff, scurrility, and braggadocio had reached an unendurable height. Three rival sporting papers opened their columns, or rather their reporters and editors lent their pens, to indite all sorts of epistles from pugilists, each striving to make itself the special channel by which the hero of the hour proclaimed in “Ezcles’ vein” and braggart buncombe his fearful intentions and outraged feelings, and scattered furious cartels among his foes or rivals. Columns of letters purporting to be from Ward, Phil Sampson, Brown, and a host of minor celebrities—most of them in unmistakable Eganian slang—adorned the columns of the journals throughout 1826 and 1827. Ward’s affair went off in smoke; but early in 1828 the newspaper controversy with Phil Sampson culminated in a match with Brown, for £500. This was decided on the 8th of April, 1828, near Wolverhampton, and resulted in the defeat of our hero in forty-two minutes and forty-nine rounds. The preliminaries to this defeat and the battle itself will be found in our Life of PHIL SAMPSON, in the next Chapter.
Brown’s defeat, though manifestly owing to the serious accident to his shoulder in the fourth round, had the effect of “an occultation of a star of the first magnitude” in the fistic firmament. But there was another big Boanerges, of fifteen stone, who kept the “Black Bull,” in Smithfield; who, having doffed his white apron on the provocation of Stephen Bailey, and twice beaten the blue-aproned butcher, fancied that he could win further laurels by a tourney with the defeated, but not daunted, Champion of Bridgnorth. The public were accordingly edified by a challenge from Isaac Dobell, which was promptly answered by Brown’s retort of the “Black Bull’s” defiance.
The stakes agreed on were £300 on the part of Shropshire to £250 on behalf of Smithfield, in consideration of the battle coming off within five miles of “the cloud-capped towers” of Bridgnorth. Tuesday, the 24th of March, 1829, was the day appointed, and on the Saturday morning previous Dobell, who had trained at Hendon, Middlesex, under the care of Harry Lancaster, set out by the “Wonder” coach for Towcester, where he sojourned on the Saturday night. Here he excited the wonder of the yokels by his wonderful bulk, and the wonderful amount of the stakes which he declared his confidence of winning. On Sunday he reached Birmingham, and took up his quarters at the “Crown,” awakening the curiosity of the natives of the “hardware village” by promenading through the streets. On Monday he arrived in Bridgnorth, and there patronised the “Royal Oak.”
Brown had trained at Shipley, and had named Bridgnorth for two reasons—first, to oblige his fellow-townsmen and backers, and secondly, to exhibit to them how he would wipe out the defeat he had sustained at the hands of the “Birmingham Youth,” which he maintained was solely owing to the accident hereafter mentioned. On Monday evening he returned to Bridgnorth, and put up at his brother’s house, the “King’s Head,” where he was joined by Tom Spring, Tom Cribb, Ned Neale, and Harry Holt, with several other celebrated men of the London P.R. A rumour of a warrant, however, induced him to make a retreat from the town in a post-chaise, together with his seconds, and sojourn in a neighbouring village for the night. Deux Hill Farm being named as the rendezvous, thither the Commissary repaired with the ropes and stakes of the F.P.C. (Fair Play Club), and there in due time an excellent ring, with an outer circle of wagons and carriages, was formed. Some bets of seven to four and six to four were taken by the friends of Dobell, who, however, was reported to be feverish and unwell from a cold caught on his long journey. An attempt to arrest Brown was cleverly frustrated by Spring, who drove over the Severn Bridge in a post-chaise, accompanied by a portly friend well wrapped up. An order to halt was given at the tollgate; the door of the chaise was opened, but Brown was not there, having meantime crossed the river in a boat some distance higher up. At half-past twelve, after Dobell and friends had waited more than half an hour, Brown and his party appeared, and were heartily cheered. The £50 to be paid to Dobell for choice of place were duly handed over, and the colours—crimson and white for Brown and a blue bird’s-eye for Dobell—tied to the stakes. The men shook hands heartily at meeting, and the ceremony of peeling forthwith began; Lancaster and Jem Burn attending on Dobell, Spring and Neale waiting on Brown.
On stripping, Brown looked thinner than when he fought Sampson, and had altogether an aged and worn appearance, but his eye was bright and his look confident. His arms were longer and his height superior to that of Dobell. Mine host of the “Black Bull” displayed a pair of brawny arms and most substantial understandings, which, with his round and portly body, gave him anything but the look of an active boxer. At three minutes to one all was in readiness. The men toed the mark and began
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Brown covered his front well, and throwing his arms across his face, looked smiling through them at his antagonist. Dobell seemed serious. He made first play with his left, but was out of distance, and was stopped. He tried the same hand again, but was again too far off to make an impression. Brown, seeing that nothing was to be done by acting on the defensive, made up his mind to begin. After a feint with his left, he popped in his right slightly on Dobell’s mouth; he then drew back, but again advancing, quickly delivered his left on Dobell’s eye, and his right on his cheek. The former blow filled Dobell’s eye with water. Both now made quick play, and slight hits were followed by a tremendous smack on Dobell’s nose, which drew claret, and dropped him like a sack of malt. (First blood and fast knock-down blow announced for Brown, amidst the shouts of his friends, who offered ten to one in his favour. Neale, too, was in high glee, as it made him the winner of two fives, which he had bet on these events.)
2.—Dobell came up serious, but ready for the affray; and Brown smiled good-humouredly, as if it were all his own. After a short spar Dobell tried his right, but Brown jumped actively away. Brown returned again to his man, and with great quickness planted his left and right on his phiz, and broke away. Dobell, somewhat annoyed, rushed in and delivered his right on Brown’s cheek, and his left on the body, but did not seem to make much impression. Both now got to a rally, in which some heavy blows were exchanged. Brown then drew back, and Dobell, rushing after him, received two flush hits in the face, right and left. Dobell would not be denied, but rattled in, while Brown retreated, stopping and hitting with severity. Dobell was not idle, but his blows fell short, and at last Brown caught him a terrific hit over the right eye with his left, making a deep incision. Dobell stood it like bricks, and rushed to a close, when Brown slipped down rather questionably.
3.—Brown came up playfully, while Dobell’s dexter ogle had an ugly appearance. Both stood quiet for a time; but at length Brown, seeing his man inclined for reflection, rushed in with great rapidity, and catching poor Dobell a heavy slap on the left jaw with his right, dropped him again, amidst shouts and encouraging exclamations from Sampson. Few, in fact, seemed to think that the poor Londoner deserved any quarter. (Any odds on Brown.)
4.—Dobell found there was no use in out-fighting, and therefore determined to rush to business. Brown, however, who was active on his legs, jumped back, and again caught the “Bull’s Head” on the grinders, and downed him again. (“Bravo, Brown—it’s all your own! take him away!”)
5.—Dobell, no way daunted or discouraged by the shouts of victory, rushed to work. Brown missed his right and left as he came in, and Dobell planted his right on his throat. (“Well done, Dobell!”) This he followed with a slap from his right on Brown’s scent-box, and drew blood for the first time from the Pride of Bridgnorth. This seemed to give Dobell new life, and in rushing in Brown went down.
6.—Brown ready—showed the superiority of length, and again jobbed heavily right and left, and broke away. This he repeated, when Dobell charged him courageously; on grappling him, with intent to fib, Brown wouldn’t have it, and went down—Dobell on him.
7.—Brown planted his left on the canister and his right on the body of the publican. Dobell took it bravely, without flinching; he then rushed to in-fighting, but missed several of his blows, and after mutual but ineffectual attempts to fib, Brown got down. (This show of caution did not suit Dobell’s friends, and they cried out, “Fight fair!” Brown’s friends, however, replied, “All right,” “Nothing wrong.” Indeed, Brown did not seem to keep his legs with certainty.)
8.—Dobell on the defensive, but not sufficiently quick to stop his antagonist, who jobbed him twice on the head. This long shooting did not suit Dobell, and he had recourse to his rush, and planted his right on Brown’s jaw, and in the scramble which followed Brown went down.
9.—Dobell popped in his left unexpectedly, but made but little impression. Brown was not long in returning the compliment right and left. This he repeated, when Dobell bored in desperately, as the only chance. Brown retreated, fighting and meeting him as he followed. At last Dobell caught him round the neck, and fibbed slightly; in the tussle which followed Brown fell; and Dobell, in hitting, as Brown was on his knees, caught him with his right on the back. (Brown called “foul,” and it was foul, but was not noticed by the umpires; indeed, the blow was accidental.)
10.—Dobell again rushed in, hitting right and left, but Brown retreated, stopping and jobbing in turn. In the end he was bored down on his knees. (More chaffing from Sampson, and from Brown’s friends.)
11.—Good stopping on both sides, but Brown succeeded in making two jobbing hits. Dobell again had recourse to his desperate rush, and a close followed, when both tried vigorously for the fall, but neither could get the lock, and in the end Dobell dragged Brown down, showing that his strength was still unimpaired.
12.—On getting to their seconds’ knees, both piped a little, but Dobell most. Dobell came up as game as a pebble, and tried his left at Brown’s body, but was out of distance. He then hit with his right, but was stopped. He found that nothing but close contact would do, and pursued the rushing system. Brown retreated round the ring before him, and actually turned round to avoid, but in again meeting his man he caught him with a flush hit with his left, and Dobell fell on his face. (Chaffing now commenced on the part of Stockman for Dobell. He swore that Brown’s shoulder was out, and that all Dobell had to do was to go in and win it.) Brown had certainly hurt the thumb of his right hand, but no material mischief was done.
13.—Both now showed distress, but Dobell was most winded. Brown smiled, and, after a short pause, let fly right and left, planting both blows heavily, and repeating the dose till he hit his man down. Brown fell himself on his knees, showing weakness in the pins.
14.—Dobell now showed additional symptoms of weakness, and was slower than ever. After a short pause Brown rushed in, planted his left and right, and dropped him heavily.
15.—Dobell vindicated his courage by again rushing in; but Brown met him with two terrific jobbing hits right and left, and again floored him all abroad, amidst the triumphant shouts of the Shropshire lads.
16.—Dobell evidently felt that his chance of winning was vanishing; still, summoning all his remaining energies, he rushed to in-fighting. He missed his right-handed hit, and was met with a terrific left-handed job in the muzzle. He would not be denied, however, and fought away gallantly, making some wild hits. Brown was active, and had him at all points, till he fell almost exhausted. (Dobell’s brother now endeavoured to persuade him to give in, but he resolved to have another shy.)
17, and last.—Dobell once more rushed in, but Brown, retreating, met him as he came forward with a flush hit in the mouth, and dropped him for the last time. On again getting up he consented, though reluctantly, to say “enough,” and the hat was thrown up amidst shouts of victory for Brown, who had thus regained the confidence of his Shropshire friends.
The fight lasted twenty-two minutes, and Dobell was taken from the ground much punished about the head. Brown showed but a slight scar under one of his eyes, and was so fresh that he seized a whip with intent to administer it to Stockman for his chaffing, but was prevented by Tom Spring. The chaffing on both sides was bad, and particularly towards Dobell, who, as a stranger in that part of the country, ought to have been protected. It is but just to state, however, that the old ring-goers were most to blame. Dobell was able to help himself to brandy after the battle was over.
REMARKS.—During this fight Brown had it all his own way, and showed the superiority of length and science over mere weight and muscular strength. Dobell, although the first to attack, almost invariably hit short, and was unable to plant his blows well home. At in-fighting neither was clever, and there was not a good throw throughout the contest. Brown, in getting away from Dobell’s rushes, was deemed by some to be over-cautious; but the fact is, he was weak in the legs, and, under Spring’s direction, would not wrestle, lest he might endanger his shoulder, which it may be recollected was put out in his fight with Sampson. With respect to Dobell, if not a good fighter, he has proved himself a game man; and with this praise he must be content, for he can scarcely hope for improvement in the fistic art. It was clear throughout that Brown was not in the best condition; but had he been less fresh, we think he understood his business too well, and was too good an out-fighter to give Dobell much chance. Brown remained at Bridgnorth, showing but slight marks of punishment; and Dobell arrived at his house in St. John Street on Thursday morning. He had a levee of condolence in the evening, at which it was proposed to match him once more against Brown, for £200 a-side; but nothing definite was done. It seems that the knuckle-bone of Brown’s right-hand thumb was broken; and, on reaching home, the hand was dreadfully puffed; the injury was done in the second or third round.
The friends of Dobell attributed his defeat to a severe cold and want of condition, and as mine host himself shared this opinion a second trial was agreed on, this time for £200 a-side. Dobell went at once into training, but for some reason twice forfeited £5 deposit. At length the stakes were made good, and the day named was November 24th, 1829, the place of meeting being near Uckfield, Sussex, on the Crowborough Road. Dobell trained finally at East Grinstead, where he got off much superfluous flesh, but still drew little short of fifteen stone. Brown trained actively among the hills of his native county, and appeared in the ring in far better form than on the previous occasion.
On Monday Brown, accompanied by his brother and some Bridgnorth friends, Tom Spring, and Ned Neale, set out from Streatham for the “Shelley Arms,” at Nutley, close to the residence of Sir John Shelley. On their way they passed through East Grinstead, where Spring had an interview with Dobell, who was surrounded by his friends, and attended by his chosen seconds, Tom Shelton and Peter Crawley. All was good humour, and each man seemed confident of the result of the approaching combat, no doubt booking himself as the victor.
The Commissary, Tom Oliver, and his coadjutor Frosty-faced Fogo, were among the throng at Nutley; and at an early hour in the morning they commenced forming a ring on a piece of the forest close at hand, but before they had commenced their labours orders arrived from Dobell to move to Crowborough, to which place they proceeded, across the country, by a most villanous road, and at the risk of being scattered like chaff before the wind, which blew a perfect hurricane.
In the interim Dobell, with his _cortège_—embracing two carriages and four and sundry chaises and pairs, gigs, horsemen, &c.—started from East Grinstead, and passed the “Shelley Arms” at a rapid pace, being obliged to take a circuitous route through Maresfield and Uckfield to get into the Crowborough Road. Brown’s party were soon in their rear, their carriages being all prepared for the start, and in point of respectability of “turn-out” being upon an equality. The Dobellites, however, having the start by some minutes, reached the scene of action first, and it being then close upon one o’clock proceeded to the ring, which was not yet complete. Brown not having arrived, and one o’clock having passed, Dobell’s party were at once for claiming forfeit, and “to this intent” spoke; but at five minutes after that time Brown and Spring were within the still incomplete arena. The storm at this time raged with unabated fury, and the stakes having been pitched on a hill, for the advantage of a good gate, the crowd and the combatants were exposed to its utmost severity. The consequence was that hats and umbrellas were seen driving across the heath in all directions—their owners in full chase—while those who were preserved from these casualties were only secured by the aid of cords, straps, and handkerchiefs, which were so applied as to resist the furious blasts.
The usual preliminaries of choosing umpires and referees were now arranged, and the men peeled for action, Brown attended by Spring and Tom Oliver, and Dobell by Peter Crawley and Tom Shelton. In point of condition they were, as we have said, much better than at their last meeting, Dobell looking much lighter in weight and firmer in flesh, but still too much of the Bacchus to suit our notions of the necessary activity for a milling hero. His arms were too short, and from the fleshiness at his shoulders he seemed to want that spring which is essential to effective hitting. Brown was thin as a greyhound, and had an obvious advantage in length, while his general appearance showed freshness and vigour. At this interesting moment a few of the friends of Dobell readily accepted some bets at seven to four and two to one.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The men came up cautiously, both covering their points with judgment, and Brown evidently waiting for the attack. Dobell did not keep him long in suspense, but let fly with his right at the head, which was prettily stopped. He then tried with his left at the body, but was again stopped, and Brown jumped away active on his pins. A long pause ensued, neither making play, but both receiving strong pepper from Æolus, which imparted a bluish tint to their mazzards. Dobell once more tried his left at Brown’s body, but was out of distance. Sparring and position changed, when Dobell made a rush and attempted to catch Brown’s right hand with his left, while he drew back his right to hit, but Brown jumped back, and the effort was fruitless as well as injudicious. Another long sparring bout, of which Dobell evidently got tired, for he dropped his hands and looked mortified; but Brown seemed determined to give him the lead, and wait for his assault. Dobell now put in a slight body hit with his left, while Brown made an over-handed chop with his right, but missed. Dobell became impatient, and making up his mind to mischief, tried his one two; but both were stopped, and Brown jumped back. Brown now, in turn, made a dart, and put in his left slightly on Dobell’s collar-bone. Dobell tried to plant his left and right several times, but was stopped; at length he caught Brown slightly with his right on the mark; but the distance was ill-judged, and Brown smiled. Long sparring. Dobell stopped a well-intentioned visit from Brown’s left to his nob. Again did Dobell drop his arms as if fatigued at holding them up so long, for fifteen minutes had now expired. “Go in, and get to work,” cried Dobell’s friends, and after a pause he followed their advice; he rushed to a rally, and delivered a slight tap on Brown’s cheek with his right. This produced a quick return from Brown, who slashed away right and left with great force and quickness on Dobell’s frontispiece, setting his eyes on the twinkle, and ultimately flooring him on his capacious base. (Loud shouts from Brown’s friends, and five to two offered in all directions.) The round lasted seventeen minutes.
2.—Dobell came up considerably flushed in his upper works, but steady. “In to him!” cried Shelton; and obedient to the word of command, he instantly commenced operations; but he found the game not so safe. Brown was ready, and hit away right and left, meeting his man as he came in with stinging severity. Dobell felt the force of these visitations, and turned his back for a moment. Brown saw the advantage, and quick as lightning jumped in, and as Dobell came to the rightabout met him with a flush hit with the right on his mouth, and his left on his nose; this he repeated, and after a very slight return from Dobell, he was floored, the purple stream distilling from his mouth and proboscis. (Four to one on Brown, and no takers.)
3.—Brown now changed his tactics; and seeing that he had it all his own way, he made the beginning with right and left handed chops, but both were stopped; Dobell, however, was too much confused to play the saving game long, and in another second he found Brown’s right and left slap in his physog. The hits were terrific. Dobell made some returns, and caught Brown under the right eye, but the rapidity and force of Brown’s attack were irresistible; he again jobbed well right and left, and at last down went Dobell of his own accord; he found he was at the ropes, and sought refuge by dropping beneath them. (Shouts from Brown’s friends in all directions, while Peter Crawley ran to the umpires and exclaimed “that it was made all right for Brown, and that Dobell wouldn’t fight.”) While he was thus raving, however, his man again got up.
The 4th and last round was fought. Dobell made a short but desperate effort; he tried one or two wild hits with his left, but in return napped it heavily on his canister, and was once more grassed. It was now clear that all was over, and, in fact, Dobell plainly indicated that he would not prolong what he felt was a useless struggle. On “time” being called Brown was proclaimed the conqueror in exactly twenty-one minutes. He was as fresh as when he commenced, and immediately shook hands with his antagonist, and dressed in the ring.
Attention was now paid to Dobell, who complained of considerable pain in his right forearm, which was much swollen and contused. He had evidently lost the use of it, and on being examined by two surgeons on the spot the small bone was pronounced to be fractured, and he was carried out of the ring to receive proper professional attention. Independently of the accident, however, which, it is believed, occurred in the third round, from his arm coming in contact with the point of Brown’s elbow, he had not a chance of winning, nor had he himself a doubt on the subject from the first round, when, from the difficulty he felt at getting at Brown, he said to Crawley he was sure it was of no use—a declaration which naturally excited Crawley’s suspicions, and led to the observations which he had made, and which, from Dobell’s state, he subsequently regretted. He said he thought it was odd that Dobell should want to cut it so soon, and this it was which provoked him to say what he did.
REMARKS.—Considering the distance and the vicissitudes of weather encountered this was one of the most unsatisfactory mills that had been witnessed for some time. There were not above four minutes’ actual fighting, and this all one way—for Dobell never had a chance—a result which all good judges anticipated; and the only surprise was that he could have been so imprudent as to make a match so obviously to his disadvantage. He seems to have been flattered, however, with the idea that had he been in better condition when he fought at Bridgnorth he could have given a better account of himself; and forgetting that Brown at that time was equally out of sorts, and capable of improvement, he resolved upon another trial, the issue of which must have satisfied him that his forte is not prize-fighting, and especially with men superior in length, activity, strength, and science. With a commoner like Bailey, who is an old man, and who possesses little science, his slaughtering powers might tell, but when opposed by science these qualities lose their value, and, as in the present instance, if met by corresponding powers of punishment, are altogether set aside. The very first round, as he confessed to Crawley, evidently satisfied the host of the “Black Bull;” and finding he could do nothing when at his best, he naturally concluded the chances which followed were scarcely worth seeking. Upon the whole, we believe there was very little money won or lost on the match. Brown had greatly improved, both on his legs and in his style of setting-to, and by out-generalling poor Isaac, and fatiguing him in the first round, rendered victory more secure.
Brown and his party returned to the “Castle Tavern,” Holborn, the same night, while Dobell returned to East Grinstead, and was put to bed. His arm was set by Mr. Jones, of East Grinstead, assisted by the two surgeons who attended him on the ground. He arrived at the “Black Bull” on Wednesday night, which, instead of sparkling with illumination, looked as black as an undertaker’s shop.
Brown, although he now announced his retirement from all claim to championship honours, was still from time to time made the subject of attacks and taunts in the newspaper outpourings of the boastful Phil Sampson. At length preliminaries, after nine months of chaffering, were settled, and at Doncaster, on the 19th of September, 1831, they met for the second time in battle array.
A number of disgraceful quibbles were made by the Birmingham party, and there seemed no probability of a fight, unless £50 was conceded to Sampson, and a promise that he should name the place within a certain distance of Birmingham. Finally, on the authority delegated to Mr. Beardsworth, the stakeholder, Doncaster was named as the rendezvous. The Town Moor was talked of, but the authorities intimated their intention of interfering, and Pegbourn Leys, four miles distant, was named as the spot; the fight to commence at the early hour of nine, so as not to interfere with the day’s racing.
On the Monday morning the roads to the appointed spot bore much resemblance to the road to Epsom in the olden time. Thimble-riggers and “prick-in-the-garter” men, gipsies, and all the motley toddlers of a race-meeting were gathered. There was, however, a very poor sprinkling of the upper-crust patrons of the Ring and of racing men.
At half-past eight Tom Oliver and Fogo had pitched their stakes and rove their ropes, and Brown threw in his castor, followed by Tom Oliver and Yorkshire Robinson as his seconds. Sampson, attended by Jem Ward and Harry Holt, followed. Brown was received quietly, with a slight murmur of applause, but the shouts when Sampson showed himself indicated to the observant the mob of partisans he had on the ground. Indeed, continual ruffianly threats towards Brown were uttered by many of these roughs. Brown, on Sampson’s appearance, advanced in a frank manner towards him, holding out his hand, but Sampson, eyeing him with a savage and defiant look, withheld his, shook his head, and walked towards his seconds. The colours, crimson with a white border for Brown, and a deep crimson for Sampson, were tied to the stakes, and the men stood up. Brown’s weight was stated at 14st. 1lb., Sampson’s at 12st. 4lbs. Brown’s age (forty) was a counterpoise, Sampson numbering but thirty summers. At twenty minutes past nine the men were left face to face at the mark, and began
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The attitude of Sampson was graceful—indeed, elegant—that of Brown constrained and stiff. Brown moved his arms about as if intending to strike, Sampson watching him keenly, and never shifting his guard. Brown hit short, and was stopped, Sampson returning with the left, and being stopped in turn. More sparring, when Brown got in his left, but not heavily, on Sampson’s collar-bone. He again hit over with his right, but Sampson shifting, he caught him on the back of the head. Sampson again tried his left, but was stopped neatly. Again he feinted, and then let go, successfully planting a sharp hit on Brown’s head. Brown rushed to a close, and mutual fibbing ensued. Brown succeeded in throwing Sampson, falling on him, and leaving a large red mark on his breast-bone. This round lasted ten minutes.
2.—Brown all anxious to begin; Sampson waiting on the defensive. Sampson’s left stopped, when Brown again hit over with the right, catching Sampson high on the side of the head, no mischief done. Sampson, who had been watching for an opening, got it, and sent in his left a smasher on Brown’s left eye, which instantly swelled in sign of the force of the blow. First blood was claimed for Sampson, who again went in and visited Brown’s left ear heavily. Brown caught Sampson on the side of the head with his right, and in the close threw him. (The Sampsonites were now uproarious, and backing two to one—any odds—on Sampson.)
3.—Brown went in resolutely; Sampson hit up and tried to fib him, but got down quickly in the close.
4.—Sampson on the defensive, and retreating; Brown forcing the fighting. After one or two short exchanges Brown sent a fair hit with the right straight on Sampson’s left ear, and floored him. (Shouts for Brown, but the Sampson party drowned them by cries of “Two to one,” &c.) First knock-down to Brown.
5.—Sampson got in lightly on Brown’s jaw. Brown caught him on the head with the right, and with the left on the breast. A sharp rally followed, in which hits were exchanged. Sampson fell on one knee, but although open to receive a blow, Brown withheld his arm and walked away, in his anxiety to avoid any appearance of unfair advantage.
6.—Sampson, after some sparring, caught Brown a tremendous smack in the right eye, balancing the favour to the left. Brown bored in, a desperate rally followed, and a close. Sampson hit up well, and put in a sharp hit as they were going down together.
7.—Brown’s eyes were both in mourning, but he was strong and active. Seeing he had the worst of out-fighting he worked his way in, nobbing Sampson with some severity. In the close Brown tried to screw up Sampson for the throw, but he slipped through his arms, hitting up, and got down cleverly.
8.—Sampson exhibited signs of distress. He breathed heavily, while Brown, though most punished, was strong and firm on his legs. Sampson popped in his left, but Brown sent in a heavy one on his nob in return. Counter-hits—Brown on Sampson’s throat, Sampson on Brown’s damaged right eye. Brown closed, and threw Sampson a heavy cross-buttock, falling over him.
9.—Brown still forcing the fighting; Sampson on the defensive. Brown reached Sampson’s head with each hand, but got it in return. In the close at the ropes Sampson got down. (Sampson’s friends were ominously silent as he was taken to his corner.)
10.—Sampson’s forehead exhibited a large bump, the effects of the nobber in the last round. In the exchanges which followed, Sampson was active, and several times planted on Brown. In a ding-dong rally Brown caught Sampson such a back-handed slap as he was going down that a spectator said, “A Shelton hit, by Jupiter!” alluding to the finishing touch in the fight of Brown and Shelton.
11.—Brown pursued Sampson vigorously, who hit up, catching him in the eye; Brown persevered, and finally Sampson went down in the hitting.
12.—Sampson popped in a facer, but it did not show. Brown took to weaving; a close. As Sampson was going down, Holt rolled himself down on the grass, so that his man partially fell on him, and was saved direct contact with the ground. (This was a common trick of seconds in old times, but is unfair. The seconds have no right to quit their corners until the end of the round.)
13.—Brown rushed in, and hit Sampson on the crown of his head. Sampson fell, weak.
14.—Brown’s left eye was almost dark, and his right was damaged. A rally, in which Sampson hit straightest, and Brown was down from a slip.
15.—Brown, full of fight, worked away at his man—hit him with his left in the neck, and threw him.
16.—Brown pursued the boring game, giving Sampson no time for sparring. After a short bustle at the ropes, he got Sampson round the neck with the left and threw him a cross-buttock. Sampson, on being lifted, looked queer and stiff. (The outer ring was now broken in, and the inner-ring spectators forced into and on to the ropes; it was, however, beaten out, and the fight proceeded.)
17.—Brown rushed in, hit over with his right, and fell from the overreach. Sampson stood up. (Cheers from the Brums.)
18.—Brown, still taking the initiative, hit Sampson on the head, who gave him, in return, a severe upper-cut with the left, drawing the claret from his mouth and nose. Brown closed, but Sampson got down easy.
19.—Brown hit away right and left; Sampson retreating, exchange of hits; Sampson weak. Brown tried for the fall, but Sampson got down.
20.—Sampson came to the scratch bleeding freely from the olfactory organ. Brown again at work, Sampson popping in an occasional prop, but getting down to avoid a struggle. (Here the ring was again broken in, and great uproar ensued. Several robberies were effected, and the cries and denunciations of Brown were furious.)
21.—The interior of the ring was cleared. On coming to the scratch Sampson showed weakness. Brown lost not a moment in going to work; he hit away without hesitation. Sampson retreated to the ropes. Brown nailed him with the right on the ear; he fell across the ropes, where Brown hit him four or five blows, and he fell stupefied. (The uproar now became tremendous.) A leader of Sampson’s party pressed into the ring with a bottle in his hand; Brown was struck, and three minutes given to Sampson to recover. The referee was appealed to, but he escaped from the crowd and hurried to Doncaster, where he pronounced Brown to be the winner. Sampson’s party bringing up their man, Brown’s seconds allowed him to renew the fight, and the men met for round.
22.—Brown fought Sampson down.
23.—General confusion. Sampson down in a scrambling rally.
24.—No time kept. Sampson brought up to face his man, who immediately fought him down. (The ring was here entirely broken in, and Brown struck more than once. He was kicked in the eye, and received a blow on the head from a stake.)
REMARKS.—Mr. Marshall, Clerk of the Course of Wolverhampton, seeing Brown’s life in danger, withdrew him forcibly from the ring, whereon (after an interval) Sampson was brought to the mark, and proclaimed winner, amidst the shouts of his partisans. The stakeholder, Mr. Beardsworth, was loud in his condemnation of the violence used towards Brown. Yet when he returned to Doncaster he declared that Brown having left the ring, he “had given the money to Sampson. His friends had hunted him up, and there was an end on’t.”
Mr. Beardsworth, however, found that Brown was not so easily disposed of. At the Stafford Assizes in March of the following year was tried the action of Brown _versus_ Beardsworth, in which the plaintiff sought to recover £200 (his own stake) paid into the hands of Mr. Beardsworth, of the Repository, Birmingham, on certain conditions set forth in the declaration. Mr. Campbell (afterwards Chief Justice and Chancellor) was for the plaintiff, Mr. Jarvis (afterwards Judge) for the defendant. Mr. Jarvis’s defence (after an assertion that his client had paid over the money to Sampson) was a tirade against the Ring, gamblers, &c., and an appeal to “scout the case out of Court.” Nevertheless the jury, by direction of Mr. Justice Littledale, were left to consider the “weight of testimony,” and gave a verdict for £200 in favour of the plaintiff.
Brown now betook himself to his vocation as a Boniface in his native town, where he earned the respect of his neighbours and customers, justifying by his good conduct the axiom that “a man’s profession never disgraces him unless his conduct disgraces the profession.”