CHAPTER XIII.

PHIL SAMPSON (“THE BIRMINGHAM YOUTH”)—1819–1831.

Phil Sampson, who was to the full as ready at chaffing and writing as at fighting, occupied at one period an undue share of newspaper space and of the public time. His milling career, though chequered, was not without brilliant gleams of success.

Sampson was born on the 27th of September, 1800, at Snaith, in Yorkshire; but when he was no more than a few months old his parents migrated to Birmingham and settled in the “hardware village,” then rapidly rising in manufacturing prosperity as the metropolis of gun-making, cheap jewellery, and hardware. Pierce Egan tells us that Phil was “intended for a parson,” but that “he preferred thumping nobs to a cushion.” If so, and we remember him well, his acquirements in the _literæ humaniores_ did not say much for his “college.” Indeed, we have seen specimens of Philip’s caligraphy which forbid belief in such a tradition. What we know, however, is that young Phil was a button-maker in a Brummagem factory at fifteen. We shall pass also young Phil’s apocryphal contests, in which he (and almost every other boxer in “Boxiana”) fought and “polished off” men of all sorts, weights, and sizes, and come to his introduction to the Ring.

Gregson being at Birmingham on one of his sparring tours, the proficiency of Sampson, who put on the gloves with several countrymen, attracted the attention of that clumsy practitioner, who observed to him, “I think thee hadst better coom and try thy fortin in Lunnon, lad, ’moongst some o’ t’ loight woights.” Sampson at that time had considerable scruples in his mind about fighting for a prize, although he was very fond of boxing, and declined the offer of Gregson. But, on his trade (button-making) failing badly from change of fashion, he determined to come to London to see his friend Bob. He found a hearty welcome from the latter at the “Mare and Magpie,” St. Catherine’s, but, before Gregson could bring his _protégé_ into the Ring, he left London for Dublin. Sampson was now quite adrift, but owing to the good services of Mr. Baxter (brother to Ned Turner) he found a friend who enabled him to take a turn among the fistic heroes of the Metropolis.

Sampson’s first appearance in the London Prize Ring might be termed little more than a turn-up. He had been witnessing the battle, at Moulsey Hurst, on Tuesday, August 24th, 1819, between Cy. Davis and Boshell, and also Scroggins and Josh Hudson, and had crossed the water, on the point of returning to town, when he was unexpectedly brought into action owing to the following circumstance. In the conversation which took place during dinner at Lawrence’s, the “Red Lion,” Hampton, it was mentioned by Ned Painter that a youth from Birmingham, about eleven stone and a half, had been on the Hurst to offer himself as a candidate, but none of the middle weights, much less the light ones, had fancied him, at which he was much disappointed. An eminent brewer and a gallant captain immediately offered ten pounds if Dolly Smith, who was at hand, and who had fought Tom Cannon and Bill Abbot, would try what the new “piece of hardware” was worth. Phil was sent for, and cheerfully accepted the task.

The combatants were informed that if anything like collusion or division of the stakes occurred not one penny would be paid over, and that the best man must win. A select party thereon returned to the Hurst, and at six o’clock in the evening Smith stripped, seconded by Rolph and Ned Weston, Sampson being waited upon by Josh Hudson and Baxter. The reporters having gone off to town, we are merely told that in fifteen minutes poor Dolly (who was decidedly out of condition) was defeated, being nobbed all over the ring and thrown like a sack by the newcomer. The activity and slashing blows of Sampson astonished the amateurs, some of his right-hand deliveries appearing to completely stupefy Dolly, who behaved gamely and well, but had not even a chance turn throughout.

Phil, being an active, chatty, and certainly fast and bounceable young fellow, was at once in high favour with the “upper crust.”

Accordingly, on Tuesday, October 26th, 1819, he was at Wallingham Common, when, Turner having defeated Martin, ten guineas was announced as a purse, in addition to ten guineas from the Pugilistic Club, for the best of two men of eleven stone and upwards. Josh Hudson, ever ready, offered himself; and Phil Sampson, as the event proved rashly, challenged the prize from the John Bull Fighter. It was a tremendous fight for a short time, but at the end of forty minutes Sampson was defeated. (See Life of HUDSON, _ante_, Chapter IV.)

Sampson, after a short interval, was matched against Abraham Belasco, the scientific Jew, for fifty guineas a-side. This battle took place at Potter’s Street, in Essex, twenty-one miles from London, on Tuesday, February 22nd, 1819. The badness of the day did not deter the Fancy from quitting the Metropolis at an early hour, and the combatants entered the ring, which was well covered with sawdust owing to the wetness of the ground, at one o’clock. Belasco appeared a few minutes before his opponent, attended by Oliver and Josh Hudson; the Birmingham Youth was waited upon by Painter and Shelton. Belasco was the favourite at six to four.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Sparring; Belasco let fly, but was stopped. Sampson put in a sharp hit under the Jew’s arm. Both went in. Exchanges. In struggling Belasco down. (“Go along, my little youth.”)

2.—Counter-hits; a pause; the Birmingham Youth rushed in, and got to the ropes. In the struggle to fib the Jew, he slipped down. (Two to one on Belasco.)

3.—The Birmingham Youth drew first blood, and, in a struggle, the Jew went down from a slip. (Great shouting in favour of the Birmingham Youth.)

4.—Belasco stopped and hit well; a good rally; Sampson received a heavy body blow and went down.

5.—The Jew went to work, bled his opponent, and sent him down on his rump, rather weak. The Jew also went down.

6.—Sparring, and the Birmingham Youth piping. The Jew put in two good hits. Sampson returned, till he was got to the ropes, where he got it sharply, and in the struggle went down, Belasco uppermost.

7.—Belasco slipped down, cunning, and the Youth stood looking at him. (Hissing.)

8.—This was a well-fought round, and Belasco hit Sampson away; but the latter, in game style, returned to the charge, and fought like a hero till both were down, the Jew uppermost.

9.—Sampson commenced this round in gallant style; but Belasco changed it by good fighting, and had Sampson down at the ropes.

10.—After a few exchanges at the ropes, Sampson went down, but a good round altogether. (“Well done, Belasco!”)

11.—After a hit or two, the Jew got Sampson at the ropes, and was fibbing him in good style, till he dropped on one knee. The strength and skill of Belasco enabled him to hold up his opponent, and weave on, till he got Sampson down on both his knees.

In the last two rounds Sampson was getting weak, and, to escape from severe fibbing in the eleventh, he fell to one knee, but Belasco kept holding him up and punishing till he was down on both of his knees. “Foul” and “fair” were instantly cried out, when Painter and Shelton took Sampson out of the ring, put him into a post-chaise, and drove off without appealing to the umpires on the subject. This was certainly wrong; and, owing to this circumstance, a fierce dispute arose. No man should be taken out of the ring till the umpires have decided upon the propriety of such a step. Both sides may dispute, but it is only the umpires that can set it right. The superior science of the Jew prevented the hitherto slashing hitting of Sampson, which was so heavily experienced by Josh Hudson. Belasco stopped many blows in good style, and gave the movements of Sampson the appearance of being slow. It was by no means a decisive fight, such as the “Ould Fanciers” are fond of witnessing; although two to one was betted on Belasco, and even a point further, on the round previous to Sampson’s being taken out of the ring. It was generally asserted that the Birmingham Youth was the best man, owing to his youth, but as to knowledge of milling, Belasco had the advantage.

The decision of the umpires being appealed to, the dispute was finally argued and determined before Mr. Jackson, in presence of several persons of experience. The judgment given was simply as follows—“That as no objection had been made to the umpires on their being appointed to their situations; and also both of them uniting in one opinion that Belasco’s conduct was fair; and, further, no interference of the referee having been called for, their decision must be considered final.” This decided the paying of bets; and as the battle-money was given up to the Jew, it was insisted upon, in sporting phrase, that bets follow the battle-money.

Sampson was not pleased with the termination of the fight, and accidentally meeting the Jew at a house in Bond Street, where some friends were arguing the subject, the men got suddenly in collision; but after fighting a few minutes, during which nothing was the matter, the friends of the Jew took him away, saying “it was no fun to fight for nothing.”

At Richmond’s benefit at the Royal Tennis Court, Windmill Street, Haymarket, on Tuesday, February 29th, 1820, on the announcement of “Belasco and the Birmingham Youth,” curiosity was on the stretch. It was a regular glove-fight for nine rounds, and Sampson appeared so determined to get the better of the Jew that he disdained allowing any time between the rounds, till he not only exhausted himself, but distressed his opponent to a stand-still. The Jew seemed now satisfied, and, while in the act of bowing to the audience and pulling off the gloves, Sampson said he should not leave off, and hit Belasco on the side of his head. The latter immediately returned the compliment, but had the worst of the round, and was thrown. It was considered necessary to part them, and Cribb took Sampson away. It was in fact a discreditable display of bad temper on the part of the Birmingham Youth.

In consequence of a purse of £50 given by the Pugilistic Club, and a private stake of £25 a-side, Sampson entered the lists with Jack Martin, at North Walsham, on the 17th of July, 1820. After a sharp battle Sampson was defeated. (See Life of MARTIN, _ante_.)

Sampson was now certainly “under a cloud.” Chance, however, brought him again into notice. A man of the name of Tom Dye, known as “Di the Table-lifter,” a public exhibitor of feats of strength, who could carry a mahogany dining-table seven or eight feet long with his teeth, tie a pair of tongs round a man’s neck by way of cravat, and break a poker across his arm like a rotten stick, was chaffed about the strength of Sampson. He expressed his opinion that he could dispose of the modern wearer of the name in very summary fashion, to which “the Youth” demurred, and a purse of five sovs. was offered if “Di” would make the experiment. It turned out an easy job for Sampson. In eight minutes, during which six rounds were fought, “Di” was completely _hors de combat_ when time was called. On coming to, the “strong man” declared he was not fairly beaten, on which “the Youth” told him to “take his own time,” and “Di” again put up his hands. He soon repented, for Sampson milled him down so suddenly that poor “Di” forgot for a while all about tables and pokers. Sampson had not a mark, and presented the crestfallen table-lifter with half-a-sovereign “to wash his teeth with.”

The ill feeling of Sampson towards Belasco again broke out, and the latter, it would seem, declared his intention of thrashing his late opponent wherever he met him. In consequence Belasco, at Tom Oliver’s benefit at the Tennis Court, on Monday, December 21st, 1820, mounted the stage, and said that being thus continually threatened he would accommodate Sampson for £100 or £50 a-side. Hereupon Sampson rushed on the stage intemperately and declared his intention to fight “if any gentleman, who is a gentleman, will hold the money. That is necessary,” he added, “as I have been robbed of the last fight. I am also ready to set to with Belasco immediately.” Belasco coolly replied by putting on the mufflers, and at it they went for

A GLOVE-FIGHT.

Round 1.—Both cautious, and eyeing each other. Sampson plunged in, and some exchanges took place, when Belasco slipped down, and Sampson was also on the floor.

2.—Very short work; Sampson’s temper got the mastery of his skill. Belasco caught him as he came in, got his head in the corner of the stage, and fibbed him down. (Hissing from some parts of the court. “Nothing unfair,” was the cry from the other. “Never mind,” said Sampson, “it’s all right, Belasco, come along.”)

3.—Milling without ceremony, till Sampson put in a most tremendous nobber on the Jew’s temple that completely stunned him for the instant, accompanying it with “Where are you now?” If it had been in the ring, it must have proved a winning hit. Belasco caught hold of the rails to prevent going down, and said, “Never mind, I’ll soon be ready for you.” The Birmingham Youth waited till the Jew was ready to commence another round.

4.—Very severe; both down.

5.—The Jew displayed science, but the rush of the Youth was sharp in the extreme, and pepper was the result, till they separated.

6.—Each man appeared anxious to have the “best of it.” This was altogether a fine round, but, in closing, both down, the Youth undermost. In separating, the Jew, on getting up, from the motions he made, seemed as if his shoulder were hurt. Belasco stretched his arm on the rail, and the Youth rubbed his shoulder, amidst much laughter.

7.—Both down again, when the Jew made a similar complaint, and rubbed his arm. Here a surgeon stepped up, examined the shoulder, and said it was not out.

8.—Sampson had the best of it; but in struggling and going down, they both nearly fell through the rails of the stage into the court.

9.—The Jew said his shoulder was now so bad that he could not use it; but, in order to prevent disappointment, he would continue the combat with one hand only, if Sampson would agree to it. The latter said he had no objection, and each of them pulled off one glove, and commenced this _nouvelle_ exhibition. (Loud cries of “Leave off,” “Go on,” &c.) Belasco received some pepper, and went down.

10.—This round was well contested: the Jew, however, used his arm in the rally; indeed, neither of their hands were idle.

11.—Again a rally, and Sampson fought with both hands, Belasco following suit.

12.—This was the finale. Belasco was hit down, or seemed to be so. He sat upon his nether end quietly, and thunders of applause greeted the success of Sampson, who threw his remaining glove on the floor. Belasco rose and immediately addressed the spectators. He said he would fight Sampson that day six weeks for £50. (“Bravo.”)

Mr. Sampson’s skill in letter-writing, and in avoiding making a match, was now in full play for some months, and nothing done _in re_ Belasco. Charley Grantham (alias Gybletts), however, was backed against Sampson for £50 a-side, and on Tuesday, July 17th, 1821, the men met on Moulsey Hurst. At one o’clock Sampson, attended by Tom Spring and Hickman (the Gas-light Man), threw his hat within the ropes. In a few minutes afterwards Gybletts, with Harry Harmer and Bob Purcell, entered the ring. Sampson was the favourite at seven to four.

“The Youth,” who looked in good condition, in his usual thrasonical style informed his friends he should “win in twenty minutes.” It was not, however, the “straight tip,” for Sampson was defeated in one hour and twenty minutes, the “flash side” losing their money, and another “moral certainty” going wrong.

Bill Abbott, whose recent victory over Tom Oliver had given him a high position, offered himself to Sampson, and the men met at Moulsey on December 13th, 1821. Here again Sampson was beaten in forty-seven minutes, forty-three rounds having been fought in that time.

The current of adversity now ran hard against Phil. His nominal townsman (Phil himself was a Yorkshireman), Bill Hall, assuming to himself the title of “the New Birmingham Lad,” challenged “the slashing and scientific Sampson,” as Pierce Egan was wont to call him.

On Tuesday, July 30th, 1822, on Warwick Racecourse, in a roped ring, in front of the grand stand, the “countryman” beat Sampson, after a shifty tumbledown fight of ninety-one rounds; Josh Hudson giving in for him with odds of two to one in his favour. The contemporary reports intimate that Sampson had only “a small amethyst under his eye,” and had hard work to “look like losing it.”

Sampson was pathetically verbose in print and talk about “the cruelty” of charging him with a complicity in his own defeat. He also expressed his desire for another trial with Hall, attributing his failure solely to want of condition. Meanwhile, Bill Hall had been consummately thrashed by Ned Neale (see Life of NEALE), a fact which did not tend to the satisfaction of the backers of the boastful Birmingham Youth, who left London “disgusted at their desertion.”

At length Phil, who had certainly improved in strength and condition, persuaded his Birmingham friends that if they would give him another chance with Hall he would dispose of him with ease and win their money to a certainty. So a second match was made for £50, and on Wednesday, March 19th, 1823, the old Hurst at Moulsey was the arena of encounter, after the ring had been quitted by Arthur Matthewson, who that day polished off Mishter Israel Belasco, brother of Aby of that ilk.

Sampson had good attendants; no other than Tom Spring, champion _in esse_, and Jem Ward, ditto _in posse_. Hall had behind him Josh Hudson and “a friend from Birmingham.” Such, however, was the want of confidence in “the Youth,” that six to four on Hall went begging. “We’ll wait and see,” said those who were asked to speculate. The spectators had not long to wait, as will be seen by our report of

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—No sooner had the men shaken hands than Hall ran at his opponent like a mad bull. Sampson got out of the way of his fury like an agile toreador, and then, by a half-turn, put in so severe a blow on Hall’s nob that he lost his legs in a twinkling. (“Halloo! What’s the matter? Sampson will win this time!”)

2.—Hall seemed furious at his unexpected floorer. He ran after Sampson, pelting away, without any regard to science, and making Sampson fight under the idea of reducing his strength. In a short rally at the ropes Sampson put in a right-handed hit on his opponent’s left eye, after the manner of his agonistic namesake, and Hall fell like a log. On his seconds picking him up he was completely insensible. The battle of course was at an end. A medical man stepped into the ring, bled Hall, and paid him every humane attention requisite, but several minutes elapsed before a return of consciousness could be discerned. Hall was then driven off, nearly in a state of stupor, in a coach, accompanied by the doctor.

REMARKS.—Hall, not the “John,” but the “mad,” bull fighter, to the great surprise and satisfaction of his friends, appeared at the Castle Tavern as early as eight o’clock on the same evening, thus contradicting the alarming rumours of his death. It appears that his recollection did not return to him till after he had been twice bled, and twenty-five minutes had elapsed, and even then his ideas were in a very confused state, so tremendous were the effects of the blow. Hall informed the company he did not feel himself any the worse, except from the sore state of his arm, rendered so by the instruments of the surgeon. The latter thought Hall in fine condition. It was now evident to the amateurs that Sampson was an improved man; and this little slice of fortune increased his confidence so much that he returned to Birmingham with all the honours of war.

In January, 1823, we find Sampson inditing insulting letters on Israelites in general, and Belasco in particular, in the _Weekly Dispatch_, which were responded to in more parliamentary language in the columns of _Bell’s Life_, and “these paper pellets of the brain,” after five months of popping, assumed the form of “Articles of Agreement,” dated June 19th, 1823, whereby Philip Sampson and Abraham Belasco mutually bound themselves to fight in a twenty-four foot ring, half-minute time, for £100 a-side, on Tuesday, the 25th of August, 1823, Mr. Jackson to name the place. “On signing the articles,” says the reporter, “Sampson poured out a couple of glasses of port, and, handing one of them to his opponent, gave the toast, ‘May the best man win.’ ‘I hope he will,’ said Belasco, tossing off his glass.”

Crawley Downs, in Sussex, was the fixture, and such of the Fancy as respected their nags too much to give the animals some sixty-six miles in a day were to be seen on the Monday trotting through Riddlesdown, Reigate, and East Grinstead, stopping to bait, “blow a cloud,” and enjoy a chaff with Boniface, whose jocund countenance bespoke his pleasure at sight of such good customers.

In the morning Crawley Downs were alive with arrivals from all quarters of the compass. Sampson came on the ground in a barouche and four, enveloped in a large blue military cloak; while Belasco trotted over the turf behind eighty guineas’ worth of horseflesh, driven by a well-known East-end sportsman. At a few minutes past one Sampson threw his white nob-cover into the ring, and taking his bright crimson kerchief from his throat handed it to Josh Hudson, who, with Ben Burn, were his chosen seconds. Belasco quickly followed suit, dropping his beaver quietly within the ropes, and his colours, “a yellowman,” were also fixed to the centre stake. Peter Crawley, in a bright green Newmarket and Belcher tie, with Bill Richmond, in West End Corinthian costume, acted as “esquires of the body” to Aby, who said to Josh across the ring, “Now, let’s have a quiet fight, let it go which way it will.” The seconds concurred, and we must say we never saw a mill better conducted, as a whole, by all parties concerned. The betting opened at five to four on Belasco.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Sampson never looked better. The appellation hitherto borne by him of the Birmingham Youth seemed a thing of the past; the gristle had become bone, and the smoothness of limb laced and knotted with hard and well-marked muscle. In fact, he looked a model athlete. Belasco was also a picture of a man in fine health; his bust, a perfect anatomical study, together with his black nob, penetrating eye, and Mosaic countenance, rendered the Jew an interesting object in this ballet of action. Confidence sat on his brow; he was cool, collected, and evidently anticipated victory. Upon shaking hands it was the general opinion that Sampson would have attempted to slaughter Belasco, in order to win off-hand, as a long fight might prove dangerous to him. Not so; Sampson was cautious in the extreme. Belasco placed his hands very high, convinced the spectators he was an adept in science, and appeared armed at all points against the slashing onset of his adversary. Considerable dodging occurred, and several slight offers were made on both sides, but neither of them was to be deceived by the feints of the other. Belasco’s left hand told slightly on Sampson’s body without a return; it was soon after repeated. Both eyeing each other for a short period, when Sampson put down his hands and rubbed them on his drawers. Sampson still cautious. The left hand of Belasco again told slightly on his antagonist’s body. A pause. Each combatant attempted to hit, but their blows fell short. (Four minutes had elapsed.) Sampson at length made himself up for mischief, and let fly at the Jew’s nob with tremendous force, but Belasco stopped it in the most skilful style. (“Beautiful! bravo!”) Sampson again tried it on, when an exchange of blows occurred, and Belasco’s right eye received a little damage. The Jew got away cleverly from another well-aimed nobber; and, in closing at the ropes, Belasco had the best of the fibbing, till Sampson went down on his back, and his opponent upon him. (Applause on both sides. The Sheenies said “it was all right,” and the Brums observed “nothing was the matter.”)

2.—Sampson hit the Jew in the body, but Belasco soon afterwards put in a sharp facer, and followed his opponent to do mischief. Counter-hitters and nobbers were the result. A short rally followed, the left eye of Sampson received a touch. In closing, both down, Sampson undermost. (“First blood,” exclaimed Josh; “look at the side of Belasco’s nose.” The claret was just peeping, as it were, between his ogles.)

3.—The fine science displayed by Belasco, in stopping the heavy hits of his opponent, was the admiration of the spectators. The Jew went sharply towards his antagonist, when, after an exchange of blows, Sampson got down.

4.—This was a pretty round, and fine fighting on both sides was conspicuous. In struggling at the ropes, Sampson went down rather awkwardly, and Belasco, being in the act of hitting, struck his opponent on the nob. “Foul, foul!” by the Sampsonites; “Fair, fair!” by the Sheenies. The referee said “nothing wrong had occurred; but he felt afraid that he had consented to take upon himself a very difficult situation, as the opposite parties did not appear to agree on the true principles of prize-fighting. However, he had not one farthing upon the fight, and he should do his duty if called on to decide.”

5.—This round was decidedly in favour of Belasco. He not only got away from a nobber that might have proved a settler, but in turn gave Sampson so heavy a hit on his head that the latter turned round from the force of it, and went a yard or two away; but he soon returned to fight. In closing at the ropes, pepper was used between them till both were down, Belasco undermost. (The latter was much applauded, and, up to this period of the fight, continued the favourite.)

6.—The Jew was also the hero in this round. Sampson appeared rather distressed. Belasco proved himself a more troublesome customer than his opponent had anticipated; he was indeed very difficult to be got at. Some blows were exchanged, when they closed at the ropes, and ultimately the Jew had the best of it, planting a blow on Sampson’s nob as he was going down.

7.—Sampson was on the look-out to put in a slogger on the nob of the Jew, but the science of the latter prevented him. In fact, Sampson, although rather evil-disposed towards his opponent, which he let escape now and then in words, was nevertheless cool in his conduct. The cunning of the Jew, and the firmness of his guard, pointed out clearly to Sampson that he must be careful to avoid committing mistakes when opposed to so accomplished a boxer as Belasco, which accounts, in a great measure, for the Birmingham hero altering his hitherto smashing mode of fighting. The Jew stopped well; and, after an exchange of blows, Belasco dexterously planted a heavy body hit about an inch and a half below the mark, which sent Sampson down on his latter end. (A great burst of applause from the partisans of Belasco, who now, without hesitation, offered £10 to £5—100 to 50—two to one, all over the ring. “It’s ash right ash the tay, Aby; feel for his vind next time.”)

8.—Sampson, however, did not appear a great deal the worse for his floorer, for he came to the scratch instantly at the call of time. This was a well-fought round on both sides; but the science displayed by Belasco extorted applause from all parts of the ring. He planted a body blow with his left hand, and protected his head so finely with his right as to stop a well-meant heavy hit. Counter-hitting, but Sampson’s blows were most severe, from his length; still in closing at the ropes the Jew fibbed Sampson down and fell upon him.

9.—Sampson went in quickly to do mischief, but Belasco made as usual some excellent stops. The Jew, in making a body blow, hit rather low. “What do you call that?” said Sampson. In closing, Sampson went down.

10.—This round was against Belasco. The Jew stopped delightfully at the commencement, but in counter-hitting Belasco received a terrific blow in the middle of his head, which almost knocked him backwards; but he returned to the attack as game as a pebble, and in closing at the ropes had the best of it while hanging upon them, until Sampson, by a desperate effort, extricated himself, and, strange to say, placed the Jew in his own former situation, fibbing Belasco till he went down, bleeding profusely. (The faces of the Brums, which had hitherto been very grave, now assumed a smile, and “Sampson for ever!” was the cry.)

11.—The face of Belasco exhibited punishment. Sampson had also the lead in this round, but he determined not to give a chance away, and in closing he went down. (Murmuring from the Sheenies.)

12.—Belasco endeavoured to plant a hit, but Sampson got away. In closing, Sampson again went down.

13.—The Jew put in a heavy body blow, but one of Sampson’s hard hits met Belasco in the middle of his head. The battle was now alive, all parties highly interested, and doubts and fears expressed on both sides. The Jew, full of game, tried to get the lead, obtained it, and Sampson went down.

14.—The length and height of Sampson enabled him to stand over his opponent, and this, added to his excellent knowledge of boxing and increased strength, rendered him no easy opponent for Belasco. (The Jew was irritated in this round from the expressions of Sampson, while they were sparring together, who observed, “I have got you now, Belasco, and I’ll not only lick you, but drive your Jew brother out of Birmingham.” “Be quiet,” said Josh; “fight, and don’t talk so.” “You can do neither,” replied Belasco, “but you are an illiberal fellow.” “Keep your temper,” urged Crawley.) Belasco ran in and planted two hits; and, in closing, Sampson went down in the best way he could, and received a hit in consequence, which occasioned cries of “Foul!” and “Fair!”

15.—Belasco displayed superior skill in stopping two blows, but in counter-hitting he received such a tremendous blow near his temple that he fell out of the ropes on his head quite stunned. (“It is all up,” was the cry; and “Ten to one he does not fight again!”) The Sheenies were alarmed, and none but the gamest of the game would ever have come again. Belasco might have left off with honour.

16.—No sailor “three sheets in the wind” appeared more groggy at the scratch when time was called. In fact, Belasco did not know where he was—his eyes had lost their wonted fire, and it really was a pity to see him standing up to a fine, strong young man like Sampson. The latter, very cautious, did not make play, and the Jew had none the worst of the round. Both down, but Sampson undermost. Six to four on Sampson.

17.—Belasco, recovered a little, fought like a brave man till he was hit down.

18.—The Jew seemed better—he exchanged hits, and was again sent down. Two to one on Sampson.

19.—Against Belasco; but he held up his arms well, and, after stopping a hit or two, got down.

20.—The Jew had recovered considerably; and, although he had the worst of it, Sampson thought it prudent to fight cautiously. Belasco made play with great spirit; but, in counter-hitting, received another severe blow on his head, which sent him out of the ropes. If he had not been a truly game man when time was called he would not have paid attention to it. Three to one.

21.—The Jew resolved that “his people” should have no reason to complain. He commenced fighting, although sorely distressed. The result of the round was that Sampson received a hit, and went down on his knees. (“Bravo, Belasco, you are a game fellow,” from Tom Owen, “but you are overmatched.”)

22.—The finish of this round was in favour of Belasco, and he fibbed Sampson down. (“It is anybody’s battle, now,” cried an old sportsman; “a good hit would decide it either way.” “I’ll lay forty to ten,” said Tom Oliver, “Sampson wins!” “Stake,” said a gentleman from Houndsditch, “and I will take it.” Oliver didn’t.)

23.—The face of Belasco was piteous, and his right eye swelled prodigiously; but he came to the scratch determined to dispute every inch of ground while a chance remained. “A little one for Mother Melsom,” said Josh, “and the battle is at an end.” Sampson saw that conquest was within his grasp, and he was determined to win it without risk. He accordingly let Belasco commence fighting before he offered to return. The Jew went down from a straight blow, quite exhausted. (“Take the brave fellow away; he ought not to be suffered to come again.” “I am not licked yet,” said Belasco.)

24, and last.—It was evident the battle must be soon over, but Belasco answered the call of time like a man. The Jew was too distressed to protect himself with his usual skill, and he received a hit in the middle of his face that floored him slap on his back. He was picked up by his seconds, but in a state of stupor. When the half-minute had elapsed Belasco remained insensible, and Sampson was declared the winner. It was over in forty-two minutes.

REMARKS.—Sampson retired from the contest with very trifling marks upon his face. He is altogether an improved man; his frame is set, and his fighting eminently superior to the style he exhibited in his battles with Martin, Gybletts, and Abbott. We think that he ought to have won the last-named fight. Nevertheless, it confers honour upon his milling talents to conquer so accomplished a boxer as Belasco proved himself to be. To speak of the Jew as he deserves, or of one brave man that has surrendered to another, it is thus: It is true Belasco has been defeated, but he stands higher in the estimation of his friends than ever; let no more slurs be thrown upon him as to “a white feather”! He had to contend against height, length, weight, and youth, added to which Sampson was also a good fighter and a high-couraged man. He has not disgraced “his people.” The Jew was brought into the ring in spirited style, but we applaud most the feeling manner in which he was supported out of it. Every attention that humanity could suggest was paid to Belasco. A medical gentleman, of his own persuasion, brought down from London solely for that purpose, had the care of him. We could, if necessary, mention a list of Israelites who were most assiduous on this occasion, but we feel assured the sporting world will appreciate such feeling, generosity, and gentlemanly conduct. The weight of Sampson was said to be twelve stone three pounds; his height, five feet ten-and-a-half inches—Belasco, in his clothes, eleven stone six pounds; his height, five feet seven inches. To the credit of both men it may be stated that they now shook hands and became friends; Belasco, as we shall see, becoming a zealous second to Sampson on several important occasions.

Phil now flew at high game. He challenged Jem Ward, then the most promising of the candidates for the Championship. Jem, nothing loth, accommodated him for £100 a-side, and on Monday, June 21st, 1824, gave Mr. Sampson an indisputable thrashing in fifty minutes, as chronicled in the memoir of WARD (_ante_, p. 206).

One of the peculiarities of Sampson, which he shared with the renowned Blucher, was that of “not knowing when he was beaten.” He had further the remarkable faculty of talking and writing other people over to his own opinion. Thus, in December of the same year, 1824, he got himself backed a second time against Jem Ward, and on this occasion it took “the Black Diamond” only thirty-seven minutes and a half to finally floor “the strong man,” all the circumstances of which will be found fully written in the book of “Pugilistica,” in the Life of WARD (_ante_, p. 207), to which we beg to refer the reader.

Phil’s “vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps the lists and falls on the other side,” had now a temporary check, and “My Uncle Ben,” who was looking out for a job for his “Nevvy,” Jem Burn, proposed a battle with Sampson for £50 a-side. After much ink-spilling the articles were formulated, and Tuesday, June 22nd, 1825, fixed. Mr. Jackson named Harpenden Common, near St. Albans, and thither, on the day appointed, the Fancy repaired. Unfortunately on the previous evening a whisper had gone forth that it was to be a squared fight, in consequence of which unfounded rumour lots of gents made up their minds to turn their backs upon the thing altogether. Burn, of course, as he was to win, and nothing else, according to “the man in the street,” was backed at six to four, seven to four, and sooner than go without a bet those wiseacres (a wonderfully numerous class at all times) who thought they were in possession of the secret laid two to one. A meddlesome man in office, “dressed in a little brief authority,” also turned up, and forbade the mill taking place on the old spot at No Man’s Land. The Fancy, always ready to obey the mandates of the authorities, accordingly toddled on a few miles farther, and the ring was formed at Shere Mere, in Bedfordshire. Sampson declared he had been ill-treated by these sinister reports, and hoped his conduct would soon give the lie to his enemies. Jem Burn, at one o’clock, attended by Randall and Uncle Ben, threw his hat into the Ring, and was received with loud cheers. Sampson soon followed, and planted his topper within the ropes, waited upon by Josh Hudson and Rough Robin.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Young Jem looked well; he was highly fancied, and the general opinion seemed to be that the Young One would win it. The canvas of Sampson appeared to be the tougher, and with the utmost coolness he himself went and tied his colours to the stakes, over his opponent’s, confidently observing, “These belong to me.” The caution displayed by Sampson showed he was anxious to win; and the steadiness of Jem told the fanciers victory was the object he had in view. Two minutes elapsed in eyeing each other, when the Young One let fly, and touched Sampson’s body. Sampson gave a grin. A long pause. (The John Bull Fighter was so tired that he laid himself down in the ring, observing, “We are all right; Phil will win at his leisure.”) Sampson put in a small taste on Jem’s cheek. (“Bravo, Samsy!”) The caution observed on both sides was so tiresome to the spectators that “night caps” were called for. At length Burn went spiritedly to work, but Sampson skilfully stopped him right and left. Sampson planted one on the head of his adversary, which provoked Jem to rush in, when Sampson caught him with an uphanded-hit, and My Nevvy fell on his face. The blow was a stunner, and visible on his forehead; the umpires, however, did not decide this to be a knock-down blow. Thirteen minutes and a half.

2.—Jem appeared to be fighting according to “orders”—he was over cautious. (“Never mind,” said Josh, “let them do as they like; it is the ‘Rising Sun’ against the ‘Half Moon’—the Moon for my money!”) Sampson had decidedly the best of this round, hitting his man right and left. In closing, Burn was hit down. This round decided first blood and the first knock-down blow. Five to four on Sampson.

3.—Jem was not deficient in pluck, and came to the scratch like a good one. Jem planted a nobber, but Sampson countered well. A rally, in which Jem was sent down. Seven to four on Brummagem.

4.—This was a fine round, and good fighting on both sides. Burn was troublesome; but the skill and coolness displayed by Sampson were the admiration of the spectators. Some exchanges that told on both sides, but Jem had the worst of it. The claret made its appearance under Burn’s left ogle, and Sampson, by way of a finish, hit his antagonist down. Two to one on the Brum.

5.—Burn, full of spirit, tried to punish the Brum, but he was stopped, nobbed right and left, and thrown into the bargain.

6.—This was short but sweet to Phil. Sampson stopped capitally, and, in turn, planted two facers—botherers—so much so that Burn staggered, turned round, and fell on his face.

7.—The nob of Jem was changed, but his courage never forsook him. The coolness of Sampson enabled him to plant his blows with effect. Jem lost many hits by being on the blinking system; he rushed in to mill, but Sampson caught him as he came. In a sharp rally, Jem went down.

8.—A tiny bit of a change for Jem—he sent Sampson down at the close of the round. (Loud shouting for Burn. “Do that once more; Phil don’t like it—you’ll soon make his knees tremble.” “Tremble, indeed!” replied the Brum. “Fetch a fiddle, and I’ll bet a pound I dance a hornpipe.”)

9.—Jem was piping, and Sampson a little winded. The latter planted a jobber over the left eye of his opponent, and got away. (Great applause. “Fighting such as this looks like a +, don’t it?” said jolly Josh, rubbing his hands.) Some excellent stops on both sides, and sharp exchanges of blows, till Burn napped an out-and-out one on his nob, which dropped My Nevvy. Three to one on Brummagem.

10.—Forty-eight minutes had elapsed, and Sampson was as fresh as a four-year-old. Burn, notwithstanding the state of his face, was game as a pebble, and stood to his work like a man. Sampson received a note of hand on his conk, without giving the return. Sharp fighting, till Burn went down.

11.—This round was a fine specimen of the art of self-defence; and both combatants displayed great skill. The right eye of Jem was nearly in the dark, and he raised his hand to wipe it. Sampson, quick as lightning, endeavoured to take advantage of the opening, let fly with his left, but to the surprise of the spectators Burn stopped him. This circumstance produced thunders of applause for Jem. Burn again stopped several blows; but at the conclusion of the round he was floored like a shot by a tremendous hit on the mouth. Jem put his hand to his head as he lay on the ground.

12.—This round, by the decided manner in which he took the lead, and also in finishing it by a heavy throw, rendered Sampson the favourite at four to one.

13.—The friends of Jem still stuck to him, and were filled with hopes that, as he had displayed so much real game, he might be able to wear out Sampson; but the latter was cool and collected. Jem was countered, and, in a hard struggle at the ropes, severely fibbed down. (“The ‘Half Moon’ now,” said Josh, “has nearly put the ‘Rising Sun’ into darkness. Very nasty, Mr. Broad Day, eh?”)

14.—Jem went down from a left-handed blow.

15.—Burn was really mischievous, and in close quarters nobbed Sampson heavily. (“Keep off,” said Josh, “don’t give a chance away.”) Sampson measured his distance well, and poor Jem again went down.

16.—It was booked that Jem could not win; but the brave fellow had not the slightest notion of saying “No!” Sampson waited for an opportunity, and by a flush hit nearly took the fight out of Jem by a floorer. (“Take him away!”)

17.—It was now lick or be licked with Jem, and he acted boldly on this determination. Notwithstanding his blinking state, he administered several heavy thumps on Sampson’s nob when in close quarters. In closing, Sampson caught Burn’s nob under his arm, fibbed, and dropped poor Jem with ease.

18.—A little turn in favour of Burn; the latter, by his boldness, planted some heavy hits, one of which made Sampson stagger, and he fell on the ropes. (A tremendous shout from the friends of Burn, who did not give up hopes of victory.)

19.—Jem came to the scratch, but he was nearly blind. He was soon thrown.

20.—It was piteous to see Jem throw his blows away; he could not see his opponent. Burn received a heavy blow on the nose, and fell on his back. Ten to one, but no takers.

21.—It was nearly “all up” with Jem; he appeared like a man groping in the dark. The humanity of Sampson is worthy of record; he scarcely touched him, and only planted a tap to put an end to the battle. Burn was sent down quite exhausted. (“Take him away.”)

22.—Jem, like a drowning man catching at a straw, made a desperate effort, and in a rush at Sampson received another floorer. (“Don’t let the brave fellow fight any more—take him away.”)

23, and last.—It is worse than death to a man of true courage to experience defeat, and Jem had made up his mind not to pronounce the afflicting “No.” Burn had scarcely arrived at the scratch when he was sent down by a trifling touch. (“He shall fight no more,” said Uncle Ben, positively, stepping up to the umpires.) It occupied an hour and ten minutes. Sampson immediately shook hands with his fallen opponent. Burn was severely punished about the head, but scarcely any body blows were given throughout the battle.

REMARKS.—Burn fought according to orders. Had he adopted the milling style which characterised the last seven or eight rounds, even if he had not proved victorious, it might have rendered the fight a more even thing. Sampson in all his battles has proved himself a good fighter. Like Jem Burn, he began his career too young. This battle was a most honourable contest, and reflected credit on both the combatants. Jem Burn is a truly game man. Every person returned home well satisfied with the fairness and honesty of the battle.

Hall, of Birmingham, now declared himself anxious to try his luck in a third battle with Sampson; and Phil, with the utmost politeness, agreed to accommodate him without delay for £50 a-side. This mill was decided on Tuesday, November 22nd, 1825. The fight was booked as a certainty; “if,” as the chaff went, “it was not already made right.” Sampson was the favourite at six to four.

Early on Tuesday morning the Fancy were on the alert at Birmingham, Worcester, Coventry, Lichfield, &c., to arrive at Basset’s Pole, between Birmingham and Tamworth. Few of the London Fancy were present, as their “minds were completely made up,” from the capital fight Sampson made with Ward at Stony Stratford, that Phil must win the battle in a canter; therefore “it would not pay” to undertake so long a trot.

The description of the fight between Sampson and Hall lies in a nutshell, one round having put an end to the contest. Sampson was in prime condition, and certain of winning. Hall was upon equally good terms with himself. Sampson was seconded by Ward and Holland, and Hall by two brothers. On setting-to Sampson did not treat his opponent with indifference, but waited for him cool and collected. Three minutes had nearly elapsed in dodging about, when Hall planted a bodier. (“Bravo!” from his friends.) Sampson returned the compliment with great activity; hit for hit soon took place, and a sharp rally was the result. The men separated, and a trifling pause occurred. Sampson made himself up for mischief, and with his left delivered a heavy blow under his opponent’s ear which gave him the doldrums; by way of quietus he then planted with his right so severe a facer that Hall was floored like a shot. When time was called Hall was insensible, and remained in a state of stupor for several minutes. Thus Sampson was pronounced the conqueror in the short space of four minutes and three-quarters. The backers of Hall looked not a little blue on viewing their man so easily disposed of by Sampson, and the spectators in general were much disappointed at so short a contest. The winners, however, held a contrary opinion, and were in high spirits, observing “the fight was long enough for them;” and Sampson, with a smile upon his face, stated that “he should like to be paid for such another job, as £100 for under five minutes was not to be done every day, even in the highest professions.” The “Sage of the East,” in a discourse upon the event, declared Sampson’s right-hander to be “a golden hit”!

Owing to a quarrel with Josh Hudson at the East End, January 31st, 1826, Josh being by no means _compos_, Sampson beat the “John Bull Fighter” in six rounds, not much to the credit of the former. As a _per contra_, on June 30th, 1826, his bounce and quarrelsomeness got him a _third_ thrashing from Jem Ward, which was administered by the Champion in ten rounds, at Norwich, while on a sporting tour. Sampson also put out at this time a challenge to Brown, of Bridgnorth, to fight for £50 a-side; but the “big one” replied that the price did not suit him, so Sampson wrote again and again to show that Brown _ought_ to fight for that sum!

Paul Spencer, a native of Ireland, elegantly designated the “Mud Island Devil,” having defeated Manning, of Manchester, felt anxious to obtain a higher situation on the pugilistic roll, and challenged Sampson for £50 a-side. Phil approved of this match, observing at the same time, “No Irishman can lick me.” The articles stated that the fight should take place on Tuesday, November 27th, 1827, between Birmingham and Liverpool; and Newcastle-under-Lyme was named as the rallying point. During the Sunday and Monday previous to the battle the above town was filled with visitors from Liverpool, Birmingham, and Manchester. About two miles from Newcastle-under-Lyme the ring was made in front of the grand stand on the race-course. A few minutes before one o’clock the men arrived on the ground. Sampson threw his hat into the ring, attended by Tom Oliver and Young Gas; and Spencer was waited upon by Donovan and Bob Avery. Both combatants were in excellent condition. Spencer was an object of great interest to his Irish friends. He was a fine strong young fellow, in height five feet eleven inches and a half, weighing thirteen stone one pound. The colours were a crimson fogle for Sampson, and a green with a yellow spot for Spencer. Six to four on Sampson.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The men prepared for action in good style, Spencer adopting Ned Neale’s mode of keeping up his left hand. Sampson was also on the alert. After a short time occupied in manœuvring, Spencer endeavoured to make his right and left tell, but Phil got out of danger. A short pause; both on the look-out for an opening, when the Mud Island Devil planted his right hand on Sampson’s nob; the latter boxer returned left and right, and a brisk rally was the result. In closing Phil fell on his knee, and Spencer, in fibbing, hit Sampson as he was down. (“Foul!” “Fair!”) The friends of Sampson claimed the fight, but the umpires ordered the battle to proceed.

2.—Caution on both sides. Spencer held his left still up, and let fly with his right. Sampson stopped him skilfully, and hit out right and left, delivering well on the nob. A desperate rally followed, in which sharp hits were exchanged. Sampson planted his right on Spencer’s mouth as he was rushing in, when Spencer caught him on top of his canister with his right, and made a slight incision. Sampson then closed, and fibbed at the body with his right, while Spencer peppered away at his upper works, but without much effect. At length Spencer got the lock with his right leg, and threw Sampson a cross-buttock, falling heavily upon him. (The Liverpool blades in an uproar; and, “You are sure to win it, Pat.”)

3.—Sampson showed blood from his nob, and Spencer from his mouth. Spencer looked a little flushed and dropped his left. Sampson saw the opening, rushed in, and hit him down with a straight one, two, right and left. (“Sampson for ever!” and “Phil, it’s all your own!”)

4.—Sampson again planted his right and left from the shoulder, cutting Spencer on the left eye. Spencer was not to be shook off, but instantly went to work, hitting out right and left, but wildly. Sampson met Spencer as he rushed in with a few flush hits—a close followed, and some good in-fighting ensued, Sampson feeling for the bread-basket, and Spencer at the nob. Spencer then tried for another cross-buttock, but Sampson was not to be had, and slipped down in time. (Two to one on Sampson.)

The fight was now stopped by the interference of a magistrate. “You cannot fight any longer,” said he; “I will not permit it.” “It won’t be long,” cried Sampson; “I’ll soon finish him, so let us have it out.” “No,” said his worship, “I must not. I should have no objection myself, but I have been applied to in my magisterial capacity, and I am forced to act. I am sorry for it, but ‘needs must.’” Submission was the order of the day; his worship retired, and the men adjourned back to Newcastle, there to deliberate on further proceedings, Sampson proclaiming to his friends that he was sure to win, and offering three to one on the issue. The men had fought just eight minutes.

On reaching Newcastle Spencer was put to bed, while Sampson remained up with his friends. At length it was agreed, according to the “articles,” that the fight should be fought out, and the word was given for taking up new ground at a village called Woore, in Shropshire, on the borders of Cheshire. The moment the signal was given, “The devil take the hindmost!” was the order of the day, and the rush of the motley group to arrive at the scene of action in time beggared description. It was half-past four, and quite dusk, before the cavalcade reached the “Horse and Jockey,” at Woore, in a meadow behind which the ring was again pitched by Tom Oliver.

The best pedestrians were completely knocked up in the run, and several first-rate roadsters beaten to a stand-still. The entire group, owing to the wretched state of the road, were nothing but mudlarks.

No time was lost, both men appearing “eager for the fray,” and each feeling equal confidence. Sampson showed first in the ring.

SECOND FIGHT.

Round 1.—The eagerness of Spencer to go to work delighted his friends. He cut away right and left, but the superior science of Sampson enabled him to stop the Mud Island Devil’s efforts. Still Spencer would not be denied; he bored in so hard and fast that Sampson was a little bothered, turned round, and retreated to prepare himself for the rude attacks of his opponent. The strength of Spencer was so great that he caught hold of Phil by the neck, and, in going down, pulled Sampson on him.

2.—Phil let fly right and left, and produced the claret from Spencer’s domino-box; nevertheless Spencer peppered away with rapidity; but Sampson’s counters were heaviest, and in the close both were down.

3.—Sampson waited for his opponent and popped in his left with terrific force. Spencer was not to be deterred, but rushed to in-fighting, when Sampson hit him up severely. Spencer then closed and delivered some home thrusts, grappled for the fall, and Sampson slipped down.

4.—Sampson planted his left hand on Spencer’s muzzle. Spencer fought wildly, and in closing Sampson went down to avoid being thrown. (Cries of “Foul!” answered by shouts of “Fair!”)

5.—Spencer took the lead, and hit out right and left, making his blows tell. Sampson went to work, but missed a terrific right-handed blow, which went over Spencer’s shoulder. A good rally followed, and Sampson fell on his knees, receiving a hit as he went down.

6.—Neale called to Spencer to keep his left hand up. Sampson waited, and at length popped in his left on the ear. Counter-hits followed, and Spencer, in closing, pulled Sampson down.

7.—Counter-hitting in a spirited rally. Sampson down.

8.—Sampson was mischievous with his left, Spencer rushed in, when Sampson went down cleverly.

9.—Sampson stopped well, and both fought to a rally; heavy hits were exchanged, when Spencer seized Sampson round the waist and threw him.

10.—This was a capital milling round. Counter-hitting, and no flinching. Spencer planted right and left, but Sampson caught him dreadfully on the jaw with his right. In the close, Sampson would not be thrown, and got down.

11.—Sampson delivered heavily on Spencer’s mug with his left, and broke away. Spencer rushed in, and some good in-fighting followed. In closing Sampson was thrown.

12.—Sampson again put in a dangerous nobber with his left. Spencer countered, but again received right and left, and in the close Sampson went down.

13, and last.—Sampson waited for his man and delivered heavily with his left. Spencer would go in vigorously, but Sampson met him right and left with punishing hits, and jobbed him down. Spencer was hit stupid; he rolled about, and could not stand when “time” was called. Sampson was proclaimed the victor. The second mill lasted fifteen minutes, making the fight, in the whole, twenty-three minutes. Spencer was heavily punished about the head, but Sampson was not much hurt. Both men were reconducted to Newcastle the same night.

REMARKS.—Spencer was the right sort of boxer for Sampson. Men that will go and fight with Phil stand a good chance to be polished off-hand. A rushing boxer like Spencer is a sort of gift to him. It is, however, but common justice to observe that Spencer proved himself a game man and a troublesome customer to the Birmingham hero. The amateurs pronounced it a good battle. The right hand of Phil is at all times dangerous, and his experience in the P.R. and his science united render him a fit opponent for any countryman, let him be as strong as Hercules.

After this slice of luck the friends of Sampson rallied round him, and he immediately sent forth all sorts of challenges to all sorts of boxers by means of his editorial amanuensis and his weekly paper. As, however, these epistles, from their bad grammar and attempts at rude wit, do not commend themselves as “elegant extracts,” we pass them by. One, to White-headed Bob (who was under articles to fight Ned Neale), was pure “buncombe;” others, such as those to Jem Ward, proposed ridiculously low stakes, and others were mere “gag.” One to Big Brown, of Bridgnorth, however, had better fortune.

One of Phil’s challenges having taken the form of “Brown giving me (Phil) £20 to make a match for £300 a-side,” the Big ’un thus replied in another weekly journal:—

“_To the Editor of_ ‘BELL’S LIFE IN LONDON.’

“SIR,—I apprehend that addressing Philip Sampson through the medium of your valuable paper will be to little purpose. There seems to have been a little bounce, but I wish I could flatter myself there was any reliance to be placed on what he has sent forth to the public.

“With regard to his proposal of my giving him £20 to fight me for £300, my intention was to propose fighting him £320 to £300; for be it remembered that he once got £20 of my money in a way not very satisfactory to myself; but it is not my intention that he shall have any more of it unless I am fairly beat out of time by him, which, if he should happen to do, he shall be most welcome to.

“I will fight him £320 to £300, half-way between Birmingham and Bridgnorth, and I will attend at the place he appoints—the ‘Woodman,’ Birmingham—on Monday the 24th inst., between the hours of eight and ten p.m., for the purpose of making a deposit and entering into the necessary articles.

“I remain, &c., yours respectfully, “THOMAS BROWN.

“Bottle-in-Hand Inn, Bridgnorth, December 19th, 1827.”

The hero of Bridgnorth in this instance was mistaken about the bounce of the thing; for Sampson’s friends were at the place at the appointed time, at the “Woodman,” and articles were signed without delay, Mr. Beardsworth, of the Birmingham Repository, being stakeholder.

This big affair was decided at Bishop’s Wood, in Shropshire, one hundred and thirty-four miles from London, on Tuesday, April 8th, 1828; and, since the battle between Spring and Langan, no pugilistic event had excited more interest. It appears that Sampson had some difficulty in making up the battle-money, and had it not been for little Arthur Matthewson—who not only stuck to Phil during his training, but procured him the last £70—a forfeit might have been the result of a rash engagement.

The principal patrons of the Ring left London in considerable numbers, on the Sunday and Monday previous, for Birmingham and Wolverhampton. The latter place was overflowing with company of every description, all the inns crowded to excess, and beds not to be had at any price. The towns and villages contiguous to Wolverhampton came in also for their share of visitors.

Wolverhampton Racecourse was named as the scene of action, in front of the grand stand, an erection capable of accommodating upwards of a thousand spectators, which had been pointed out as a most convenient arena; but a magistrate interposed his authority, and Bishop’s Wood was chosen, a lofty eminence, commanding an extensive and delightful prospect. It is situated in Shropshire, on the borders of Staffordshire, twelve miles from Wolverhampton, and about the same distance from Bridgnorth.

On Tuesday morning vast multitudes were _en route_ for the scene of action. Vehicles of all sorts were in motion; equestrians and pedestrians thronged the way from Birmingham, Walsall, Dudley, Wednesbury, Bridgnorth, and Stafford, Lichfield, Shrewsbury, and other towns. Brown cut a dash on his turn-out to the ground; he was seated, with his friend Spring and several others, in a landau, his own property, decorated on the panels with the sign of his house at Bridgnorth (a hand holding a bottle), and drawn by four fine horses, while a great number of well-mounted gentlemen formed, as it were, a body-guard. Both Sampson and Brown waited at the “Bradford Arms” till the time arrived for entering the ring. Arrangements on the ground had been made with much judgment. A circle of wagons, with a stage on a convenient spot, formed the external barrier; in front of these the spectators on foot were kept at a distance of several yards from the twenty-four feet ring by a strong circle of ropes and stakes. The ring itself was formed with posts of great thickness, deeply fixed in the earth, and three ropes (one more than the usual number) were affixed to them. The number of spectators could not have been less than 25,000—some persons guessed their numbers at 30,000; of these, at least 15,000 were unable to see the twenty-four feet ring, and were consequently continually pressing forward.

A few minutes before one o’clock, Brown, leaning on the arm of Tom Spring, threw his hat into the ring. He was received with a loud welcome. The appearance of the Bridgnorth hero was prepossessing; he was dressed in the then country gentleman’s costume, a blue coat, white cord breeches, and top boots. Sampson appeared soon afterwards, and his friends, in their turn, rent the air with applause. Phil was also well got up. On the entrance of the latter boxer, Brown, who was sitting on the hamper containing the bottles, &c., rose up, and, holding out his hand with a good-natured smile, said, “Well, my boy, how are you?” Sampson gave him his hand, but turned another way with an angry scowl, and merely repeated, “How are you?” Harry Holt and Dick Curtis seconded Sampson, and never was man better attended to. Harry had sported his money on Brown, but he communicated that fact to Sampson’s backers, and they at once decided on trusting to his honour to do the best he could for Phil, promising, at the same time, to make up his losses if Sampson won. Brown was seconded by his friend Tom Spring and by Bill Richmond. The toss for sides was won by Sampson, and at about twenty minutes after one the fight commenced. Colours—crimson for Sampson; and crimson with white stripes for Brown. Betting, two to one, and in some parts of the ring five to two, on the latter.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Brown, when divested of his outer garments, looked extremely well, not to say gigantic, weighing, at the least estimate, fifteen stone. A smile of confidence embellished his mug, and he seemed to say to himself, “I shall lick this Sampson like fun.” Phil was equally slap-up in condition—in truth, we never saw him to more advantage in any of his previous encounters; he weighed nearly thirteen stone. His countenance indicated composure, calculation, and perfect preparation for the job he had undertaken. On setting-to, Brown did not appear exactly “at home;” he put up his arms more like a pupil who had been taught the rudiments of the art of self-defence than as a pugilist acting from his own suggestions. He scarcely seemed to know whether he should commence offensive operations or wait for his active adversary to make the onset. The science displayed by Sampson was judicious, correct, and decisive; he crept in, as it were, to measure his distance, and having ascertained he was right, he let fly with both hands. The mug of Brown felt them; when Sampson, in the style of Curtis, stepped backwards, by which means Brown, in returning, did not reach his opponent. (“Well done, Sampson!”) The Birmingham blade again tried on the manœuvre with increased effect, and planted a heavy blow just under the temple of Brown. The latter now attempted to fight first, but his movements were slow, and his right hand did little more than touch the side of Sampson’s nob. Some sharp exchanges occurred, but the hitting of the “big one” was round, while Sampson planted his straight facers with electrifying effect, and had the best of the rally. Brown, by his superior strength, bored his adversary to the ropes, where he held Sampson, and endeavoured to fib him with his right hand but not _à la_ Randall. The “big one” kept pegging at Phil everywhere until he was down. (Great disapprobation, and loud cries of “Foul,” “Fair,” &c.) It was the general opinion that a foul blow had been given by the hero of Bridgnorth, but perhaps not intentionally; therefore the umpires did not notice the transaction. (“First blood!” said Curtis; “that’s an event worth summut to me.”)

2.—The skill of Sampson again was the admiration of the ring. He, as in the previous round, coolly measured his distance so correctly as to plant two facers, and stepped back out of trouble. Sampson repeated the offence without delay by another left-hander on the mug of the “big one,” when the latter returned a blow on the side of Phil’s head. Sampson kept a good look-out; when, at length, he saw an opening, he planted a precious teaser on the left peeper of Brown, which not only damaged it, but placed it on the winking system. (“Go in,” cried the friends of Brown; “don’t stand out to be punished.”) The Bridgnorth hero rushed to a close, laid hold of Phil at the ropes, and would have made mincemeat of him if Sampson had not got down cleverly.

3.—Of no importance. Sparring for a short period, when Brown endeavoured to plant a right-handed hit on the upper works of Sampson, but Phil got away from mischief, and Brown, with the force of the blow, fell on his knees. The “big one” jumped up, ready to renew the contest; Sampson was also on the alert to hit; but Spring, considering the round at an end, drew Brown back, who immediately seated himself on the knee of his second.

4.—Phil took the lead, like a master of the art; his left hand told twice successively on the mug of his adversary, and he retreated from mischief. Sampson put in a tremendous blow with his right on the left cheek of Brown, the claret following profusely. (“He’s winning it nicely,” said the Brums.) The hero of Bridgnorth, rather wild at such unexpected rough treatment, went to work desperately; but Sampson kept milling on the retreat—jobbing Brown, as he followed, with both his hands, until the “big one” closed, got the fall, and dropped on Sampson.

5.—The nob of Brown was considerably damaged; he was also piping. The “big one” made a good stop, but Sampson, undismayed, went to work, and had the best of a short rally. Phil, with a sneer of derision and ill-nature, observed, “You Champion of England!” then, planting a heavy blow on Brown’s left eye, exclaimed, “There’s a small taste for your Championship!” The hero of Bridgnorth, irritated at the taunts, went in to do mischief, but Sampson met his rush with two heavy blows in the front of his head, which floored the _soi-disant_ Champion. (The applause was deafening. “Sampson for ever!” “Sampson for choice!” “He can’t fight at all!” “Send him back to Bridgnorth!”)

6.—Sampson, quick as lightning, went to work, and Brown fought with him; but the former took the lead and had the best of it. Brown, in his anxiety to punish his opponent, stumbled, and his head went against a stake.

7.—The weight of the “big one,” enabled him to drive Sampson against the ropes. The situation was rather dangerous. Brown held him as if he had been screwed in a vice, and kept milling his ribs with his right hand. (The row was immense—applause by the friends of the “big one,” and the Sampsonites hissing and hooting beyond description.) Phil shifted his arm, and changed his position, but still it was most distressing. (“Don’t hang the man, Brown!”) The struggle was terrible on both sides. Phil at length got down, Holt sticking to him closely, and giving him advice how to get out of the clutches of his powerful adversary.

8.—Sampson came to the scratch much better than could be expected after the severe hugging at the ropes in the last round. Phil put in two facers, but received in return a heavy blow on the side of his head. Brown closed, but, failing in a cross-buttock, he dragged Sampson off his legs and fell by the side of him.

9.—The left ogle of Brown was almost in darkness, and one of his listeners and his nasal organ much swelled and out of shape. Sampson, on the sharp look-out, planted another facer with his left. Brown bored in, and caught Phil at the ropes; here the latter not only got out of danger well, but faced his opponent suddenly, and sent in a couple of blows as he went down. (“Well done, Sampson; you are sure to win.”)

10.—Short. Brown was again met in his rush in the middle of his nob; he nevertheless bored in and got Sampson down.

11.—Sampson commenced fighting, and took great liberties with the pimple of Brown, using it for a drum by repeated hits upon the face of the Bridgnorth hero; the latter rallied in the most decisive manner, until they were both down. (Here the outer ring was broken, and thousands of persons rushed forward to the ropes, which were trodden down, in spite of all the opposition of whips, sticks, blows, &c. It was “dangerous to be safe,” and the combatants were compelled to fight in the midst of a mob. Sticks and whips were at work, even to get for the men the space of a yard. No description can be given of the confusion; the heat was intolerable, and the spectators jammed together almost to suffocation.)

12.—Brown could not protect his face from the repeated visits of Sampson’s fists, and went in to bustle him, until they both went down.

13.—The right hand of the Bridgnorth hero told on Sampson’s pimple, but not until the latter had planted two facers. In closing, Sampson down.

14.—Brown was of little use in this round. Sampson hit his nob as if he had a sack of flour before him. It was first a facer—ditto, ditto, and ditto. The hero of Bridgnorth went down covered with claret. (“Sampson for a thousand!” and rounds of applause.)

15.—Brown was distressed beyond measure when he appeared at the scratch, but he recovered and went to work. Sampson again nobbed him, but the strength of Brown obtained him the fall.

16.—The confusion within the ring was dreadful; in fact, it was a mob of persons pushing and hitting each other to keep out of the way of the combatants. The men were suffering severely under the deprivation of air, violent perspiration streaming down their faces. Sampson took the lead as to blows, but he was fought down by his opponent.

17.—The coolness displayed by Tom Spring in this round was the admiration of the spectators, and showed his desire that the battle should be fought out fairly. In all probability, had he returned a blow for the one given to him by Phil, the battle might have been prematurely ended, or at all events brought to a wrangle. In bringing Brown up to the scratch, Spring got before his man, observing Sampson was on the wrong side of the mark. Phil considered the conduct of Spring wrong, and without hesitation gave him a facer, pushed Spring out of his way, and suddenly floored the Bridgnorth hero like a shot.

18.—The “big one” showed game, and came up like a man. But he was of “no use to himself,” and reduced to a bad lot for his friends. He napped it in every way, and a floorer finished the round.

19.—Sampson lost no time, but went to work as soon as he had got his adversary before him. Brown fought wildly, till the punishment was too much for him, when he drew back, and Sampson, catching him with an upright hit, dropped him on his knees, giving him a facer as he was going down. (“If that ain’t doing him brown, I never saw anything like it before,” said a Brum who had taken the long odds.)

20.—The heat of the weather and pressure of the crowd operated terribly on Sampson; so much so that froth came from his lips, and he seemed nearly exhausted; nevertheless he came to his work like a man determined to conquer. Phil only wanted room for the display of his milling capabilities. The Championship was completely out of the grasp of Brown, and he might now be registered as Receiver-General. He was hit to a stand-still, and then dropped. (“It’s all over!” was the cry.)

21.—The customers from Bridgnorth now began to look all manner of colours; the secret was told—Brown was beaten against his will. Sampson sent his adversary down like winking.

22–23.—The weight of Brown, in close quarters, enabled him, in closing, to roll Sampson down in both of these rounds.

24.—It was now clear to every spectator that Sampson must prove the hero of the tale. Brown, as a last effort, exerted himself to overwhelm his adversary, but he napped it right and left as he went in, and was sent down like a sack of sand.

25–28.—Brown down. Ditto. Repeated by Sampson. Of a similar description.

29.—Brown staggering like a drunken sailor three sheets in the wind until Sampson hit him down. (“Take him home—take him away; he’s of no use!”)

30–31.—It is true Brown answered the call of “Time,” yet his appearance at the scratch was only to receive additional unnecessary punishment. Sampson sent him down almost as soon as placed before him.

32–42, and last.—The calls of “time” were obeyed by the “big one” in the whole of these rounds, but he had not the slightest chance in his favour. Indeed, it was a pity he was permitted to contest them. At the conclusion of the forty-second round, when he was down, he complained of his shoulder, and was not able to come again. The battle was over in forty-nine minutes. The “big one” was reduced to a complete state of distress—his left peeper completely in darkness, his right severely damaged, and his face fearfully cut. His left shoulder was afterwards found to have been dislocated. His feelings, we have no doubt, were equally cut up, for he had flattered himself that the Championship was within his grasp. He displayed game of the first quality, and after a short period walked out of the ring to his carriage, assisted by Spring and Richmond. Sampson had scarcely a mark upon his face, except a touch under his left eye; but the same side of his nob was peppered a little, and several other contusions were visible. Sampson left the ring amidst loud and repeated shouts in honour of his victory.

REMARKS.—No person could dispute the bravery and game exhibited by Brown throughout the fight; he was out-fought by the superior skill and tactics of Sampson. The latter entered the ring with a confidence which surprised the oldest ring-goers; his conduct was decisive in every round, and he never lost sight of the idea of conquest during the battle. The broken state of the ring and the very confined space for the men to fight in were certainly great drawbacks to Sampson against so powerful an opponent as Brown. It was evident that Sampson had improved in strength, and he altogether appeared a better man than in any of his former battles; his right-hand blows were tremendous. The hero of Bridgnorth must have suffered severely from the injury to his shoulder, and none but a brave man would have contested the battle after so severe an accident against such precision and straight hitting as met Brown’s repeated efforts to get on to his opponent.

The return was full of bustle and incident. Sampson’s colours were flying in all directions, out of the windows of houses on the road, on the tops of the coaches, and “Sampson for ever!” to the end of the chapter. The roadside houses never experienced such a day for the return of the ready; and “success to milling” was on the tip of the tongue of every landlord in the county.

Sampson left the ground under the patronage of Mr. Beardsworth in style, and during part of his journey on his victorious return to Birmingham the carriage which conveyed Phil and his friend was drawn by eight horses. Through the streets of Birmingham his reception was enthusiastic; Sampson was loudly cheered by crowds, and drawn by six fresh horses, until he reached the house of Arthur Matthewson. Every room in Arthur’s crib was crowded to excess, and the anxiety of the persons in the street to gain admittance, to get a peep at the conqueror of “Big Brown,” defied description.

The Shropshire folks looked upon their champion as invincible, and accordingly dropped their money heavily. In no previous instance of a big fight was there such an unanimity on the side of the “talent” and the “professionals.” Careful betting men laid rash odds and suffered the proper penalty, as the “knowing ones” were thrown out. This battle was followed by an epidemic of letter-writing in the newspapers, provincial and metropolitan. First came our old friend Thomas Winter Spring, who, favoured by the ablest writer who ever devoted his talents to ring reporting (we mean Vincent George Dowling, Esq., Editor of _Bell’s Life_ for upwards of thirty years), gave a graphic account of poor Brown’s dislocated shoulder, which took place in the _fourth round_, and which fully accounts for Brown’s incapacity to ward off Sampson’s “nobbers.” Spring was justly indignant at Sampson’s blow, and thus, after commenting warmly on the “ruffianism” of Sampson’s friends, he wound up with a formal challenge to Sampson to meet him for £200 a-side, “as it is not my principle to submit to a blow without wishing, like a man, to return it.” Sampson’s reply was characteristic of the man and his wordy amanuensis—full of boasting, bombast, and scurrility. Spring was taunted with “not daring to fight Ward,” beating “stale old men,” Oliver and Painter to wit, &c., &c. Attack, reply, and rejoinder stuffed the columns of the _Dispatch_, Pierce Egan’s short-lived weekly paper, _Life in London_, and _Bell’s Life_. Spring was at last provoked by the repeated threats of Sampson, who boasted in all company how he would serve the “old woman,” to retort with a promise of chastisement. He says:—

“Sampson accuses me of acting wrong in the ring, but he forgets to say in what respect. I defy him or any person to say I did wrong. He also says I wanted to bring it to a wrangle. If that had been my object, I had a very good chance when he struck me—not once nor twice, but thrice; had I returned the blows, it must have put a stop to the fight.

“I think, Mr. Editor, I have answered quite enough of Mr. Sampson’s scurrilous language; but when he speaks of chastising me I pity his weakness, and would have him take care that chastisement does not fall upon himself; for, the first time I meet him, I will put the toe of my boot against his seat—not of honour, Mr. Editor, he has none about him—but where his sense of feeling may be readily reached.

“I hope, Mr. Editor, you will pardon me for taking up so much room in your valuable paper, but unless Mr. Sampson chooses to come forward with his money I shall not condescend to take the least notice of anything he may say after this.

“I am, Sir, your obliged, “THOMAS WINTER SPRING.

“Hereford, April 24th, 1828.”

All this gasconading, so foreign to Spring’s character, came to a “most lame and impotent conclusion.” Sampson could not get backed, and the affair fell through. Spring, meeting Sampson soon after at Epsom races, in Merryweather’s booth, declared his intention to fulfil his promise, made under sore provocation, to have satisfaction or an apology for the blow received by him at the fight with Brown. Sampson began to argue the matter, but Spring threw off his coat and called upon Sampson to defend himself. Sampson set to with his coat and hat on. “The crowd and confusion,” says _Bell’s Life_, “were so great that we have not been able to learn who gave the first blow.” The rally was, however, a determined one, and after being separated the belligerents got together again and fought four sharp rounds. Spring, it is well known, required room to show off his fine fighting, and thus Sampson had the best of the tussle, for such it was. The combatants were of course soon parted by their friends, neither having fulfilled his intent of giving the other “the value of a bating.” Spring, it was stated, was struck by other persons besides Sampson. It ought to be mentioned that Spring proposed to Sampson to come out of the booth and meet him on the course in the open, but the latter declined the offer. The next evening, at the Castle Tavern, Holborn, Sampson declared himself ready to fight Spring for £300 a-side, half-way between London and Bridgnorth. Spring accepted the challenge at Tom Cannon’s benefit, at the Tennis Court, the very next day.

A meeting was appointed to take place at Harry Holt’s, where the battle-money in Neale’s fight with Baldwin was to be given up. Here, after some argument, mutual explanations took place. Sampson said that when he “challenged Spring for £300 he was rather fresh; that he would retract it, and declare he had no animosity against Spring.” The latter said he would have an apology for the blows he had received, and Sampson, persuaded by his friends, expressed his regret. Finally Spring offered his hand to Sampson, who accepted it; and over a cheerful glass it was agreed to bury the past in oblivion.

Phil’s next encounter was with Simon Byrne, the Irish champion, for £200 a-side. The battle was fought on a stage at Albrighton, on the 30th June, 1829, when Sampson succumbed after a severe fight of forty-five rounds, occupying one hour forty-three and a half minutes. This, with the disgraceful draw with Big Brown, at Doncaster, in 1831, the details of which will be found in our memoir of BROWN (Chapter XII., p. 451), closed the chequered pugilistic career of Phil Sampson, “the Birmingham Youth.”

APPENDIX TO PERIOD VI.

TOM REYNOLDS—1817–1825.

As a connecting link of two generations of pugilists and of the Irish and English P.R., Tom Reynolds deserves a niche in our gallery. He was best known in his latter days as the mentor of Jack Langan and Simon Byrne, as a sound adviser, a professor of the _ars pugnandi_, a patron of aspiring talent, and a jolly Boniface in the “swate city of Dublin,” where he died on the 15th of May, 1832, much respected.

Tom was born on the 20th of January, 1792, at Middleton, in the county of Armagh, and early in life came to London as salesman to a relative, with whom he some time lived in James Street, Covent Garden, until, being grown to man’s estate, he became a “murphy-dealer” on his own account.

Tom was decidedly, with the single exception of Henry Josiah Holt, the most erudite pugilist of his day. He had received a good education, possessed a strong mind, and could write as good a letter as any of the “scribes” of the time. Of this he was not a little proud, and the _cacoethes scribendi_ with which he was occasionally afflicted often led him into epistolary contentions in the sporting papers, in which he invariably had the best of his competitors. His “Defence of Pugilism” proves him to have been a writer of no mean pretensions, and the view which he takes of his own profession affords the best apology for its adoption as well as for its encouragement.

About the close of the great Napoleonic wars Reynolds fell into difficulties and was arrested. Reverses in trade, combined with a love of company, at length led to his introduction to the once well-known “College” in what is now Farringdon Street, then called “The Fleet.” Here he had time and opportunity for study, and, having long had a predilection for the science of milling, he attended a regular course of lectures, and became a perfect adept at the practice of fives, tennis, and the gloves, and a great favourite with his brother “Collegians.” Being at the top of his class, and rising in fame, it was determined by some envious opponent to take the shine out of him, and for this purpose the celebrated George Head, one of the most scientific sparrers of the day, was introduced as a stranger, and, in a set-to which followed, Head found it necessary to try his best before he could convince Tom that there was a superior to himself. The trial ended in a friendly manner, but both having afterwards partaken rather freely of the “rum puncheon,” some wag insinuated to Reynolds that Head had spoken contemptuously of his fistic talents. This roused Tom’s ire, and he at once challenged Head to combat. Head, nothing loth, accepted the invitation, and a battle commenced on the “College Green” (so called upon the Horatian principle of there being nothing _green_ on or around it), in which the “murphy-dealer” was down in every round. The “janitors,” at length, interfered, and Head was expelled from the “College,” but not till he had received a crack on the listener which considerably confused his senses.

Shortly after his emancipation from the thraldom of “College” duties, Tom commenced business as a professional pugilist, and on the 23rd of July, 1817, entered the lists on Moulsey Hurst with Aby Belasco, the Jew, whom he beat by his determined game in sixty-six rounds and one hour and twenty minutes. In September in the same year (the 9th) he fought and beat Church on the same ground; and on the 11th of November following beat the _Broom-Dasher_ (Johnson), in Lord Cowper’s Park, near Canterbury. Subsequent to these “slices of good fortune,” he became a publican in Drury Lane, but having fallen through a trap-door his health became impaired, and he determined on a sparring tour in the country for the benefit of his health. He was accompanied by Jack Carter and Sutton the Black, and was well received in Manchester, Liverpool, and Dublin. While in the latter city he was matched against John Dunn, a novice, for £50 a-side, and fought him on the 4th of July, 1820, in Donnelly’s Valley, on the Curragh of Kildare. In twelve rounds and fifty-four minutes Dunn was completely done up, being hit to a state of insensibility, while Reynolds had scarcely a scratch.

In his way back to London our hero took Macclesfield in his course, where he was matched against Sammons, who had beaten all the Lancashire pugilists who had been opposed to him. On August 21st, 1820, the match came off within a mile of Macclesfield, and the Lancashire hero was disposed of in seven rounds. Tom now proceeded to London, but shortly after returned to Ireland to fight Cummins, but that fight went off in consequence of a forfeit.

Tom next took Jack Langan under his tuition and care, and was his mentor when he fought Tom Spring; acting the part of his secretary, and dipping his pen in gall, then much used in the composition of ink, in the course of his correspondence. His next _protégé_ was Simon Byrne, to whom he afforded the most friendly assistance, and seconded him in his fights with Sampson, M’Kay, and Jem Ward. Previous to the last affair, which ended in the defeat of Simon, he opened a public-house in Abbey Street, Dublin, which he conducted with great regularity until “his sand was run out.” He was decidedly a brave man and a scientific boxer, and left a wife and two children to lament his loss.

As a specimen of Tom’s talent in the use of the pen we append his

DEFENCE OF PUGILISM.

“I must acknowledge the gentlemen of the Press are favourable to the cause of pugilism; and it is not surprising when we consider that the persons conducting it are men, in general, possessing a liberal education, and blessed with a greater share of brains than the average of the community. Yet there is no rule without an exception; for two or three of the London journalists, imitated by a few country flats, occasionally give us a ‘facer;’ though I am confident it is not from conviction, but because they think a little opposition to generally received opinions may suit their pockets better than following the tide, where the brightness of their genius would not make them conspicuous. One of these worthies speaks of us as monsters that brutalise the country; another describes our poor little twenty-four foot ring as the only place in the three kingdoms where rogues and blacklegs spring up like mushrooms; a third says a pair of boxing-gloves debase the mind, and recommends the use of the foils as a preferable exercise; and a fourth, after a most violent philippic against the Ring, blames Government for not immediately putting an end to pugilism, and recommends, as a substitute, that Government should take into their wise consideration the propriety of giving greater encouragement to dancing assemblies. This idea is ridiculous. Certainly, if the editor does fill up his leisure hours as a hop-merchant, I do not blame him for putting in a good word for the shop, but what the devil has dancing to do with fighting? Can two men decide a mill by ‘tripping on the light fantastic toe’? The French dance every night in the week, and all day on Sunday, and what are they the better for that? Are they better men? Can they boast nobler feelings than Britons? They certainly make graceful bows, and there is no doubt dancing has an effect on the heels, for Wellington has often scratched his head, and given them a left-handed blessing, for their quickness in giving leg-bail.

“Because the English are not considered a dancing nation, that is no reason they are brutalised. The most savage people dance; the American Indian dances round his captive while he is roasting him alive; the Italians dance, fiddle, and sing; and, if they consider themselves offended, employ ruffians to assassinate the offender. The dancing Frenchman would shudder with horror at the sight of two London porters giving each other a black eye or a bloody nose, and say ’twas a brutal practice; yet the same fellow, in his own country, would take snuff, grin like a monkey, and cry ‘Bravo!’ at seeing two poor devils boring holes in each other’s hide with a yard of steel. So much for the consistency of the ‘Grande Nation,’ and the sense of the men who recommend dancing as a substitute for pugilism.

“I am no enemy to dancing; in fact, I am passionately fond of music; but there is a time for all things. With every inclination in the world to let every one ride his own hobby in his own way, I see no reason why a poor pugilist should take a facer from the wielder of the foil. Two hundred years ago, when the sword was worn, and decided quarrels in the streets, fencing was, without doubt, a necessary part of every man’s education; but, at the present day, though the foils may be very good exercise, I consider it the height of folly for any man to throw away his money and time in the attainment of an art that can never be of use. But we will suppose two pupils taking their lessons, the one with the gloves attaining a graceful method of drawing a cork, painting the margin of an ogle with some of the most beauteous tints of the rainbow, or directing a customer to the victualling-office; the other, with the foil, passes away his hours in attaining precision to pierce the centre of the heart, or in transfixing the ball of the eye, to cause instant death by perforating the brain. Let me ask in this mimic warfare which man’s mind was most debased? Blacklegs are not the peculiar growth of our Ring. Wherever men will sport on chance events, there Mr. Blackshanks will be found walking, and that, too, on shores where the fist is never used except by our brave tars, who often make them scamper by the mere flourish of their bunch of fives. Thieves may be found in the mob that surrounds our Ring; but where are they not to be found? A Radical assembly or Bible meeting is not exempt from their visits; and they will even be found at a charity sermon, praying they may have good luck when the jostling comes on, and may be considered as instruments of divine mercy, sent to deliver good men from the sinful dross of the earth.

“The only charge that can be brought against the Ring is crossing fights; and though the members of the Press growl, and very justly too, whenever a x takes place, yet none of them attempt to point out the cause or remedy. Fighting men are not all alike, neither are kings; for who would compare the British Sovereign with the scoundrel Ferdinand of Spain? There are men in our Ring with integrity that would adorn a more elevated situation: men that would sooner drop senseless under punishment, though fighting for little more than the colours that are tied to the stakes, than receive five hundred pounds to lose wilfully. I do deny most positively that pugilistic exhibitions debase, demoralise, or brutalise us as a nation; on the reverse, I am confident they introduce chivalrous (they may be rude) notions of honour, courage, fortitude, and love of manly fair play—characteristics so strongly indented in the British character that they are known and acknowledged from pole to pole. And who will be hardy enough to say the excitement to those feelings does not originate in the very same cause which our enemies say brutalises the feelings of the country?

“Even on the score of humanity pugilism ought to be encouraged; for, wherever it does not exist, murder, by violence and treachery, more frequently takes place. Without going to foreign countries for proof, a single glance at home will strike the blindest with the necessity of its encouragement. The men of Lancashire, twenty years ago, were up-and-down fighters: then murder was almost an every-day occurrence. Indeed, some of the old ones of that day took no little pride to themselves if they could boast of having stopped the ‘smoke of a chimney’ (choked a man), after the manner of Virginius. Since pugilism has been introduced, though the population is fourfold, yet murder seldom or never takes place. Compare the population of Ireland, where the stick has been thrown aside, and the fist used, to the other parts: the difference in the number of deaths by violence will strike conviction on the dullest. In fact, though chivalry did much to smooth down the roughness of the darker ages, ’tis only the boxing-gloves can give the true polish of civilisation to the world. And, I am confident, if Adam had been a Briton, he would have taught his sons to box; then the club would not have been used, and the first murder prevented. Cain would have given Abel a good milling instead of crushing his skull: and the brothers would have been found next morning supping porridge as comfortable as the Lord Mayor’s sons on a more recent occasion.

“Greece, the birthplace of the arts and sciences, encouraged pugilism; and the first man of the day considered not only himself, but his family, honoured, if lucky enough to mill his man at the Olympic Games. Look at the effeminate beings that now parade the streets of Rome, once trod by the conquerors of England and the world; with them a boxing or a milling match would have had more charms than the finest strains of a Rossini. The Government knew the advantage of exhibitions that would excite an admiration of courage and fortitude. ’Twas this reason induced the Athenian General to stop his army, that they might look at a cock-fight—’tis this that has secured our Ring the patronage of the noblest blood, rank, and talent in the country; and long may we deserve the support of men that soar above the braying of asses or the cant of hypocrites!

“With all due submission and thanks to the ancients, as the inventors of boxing, I cannot help feeling pride at the vast superiority our Ring possesses over theirs; for death was too frequently the result, in consequence of the metal braced to their arms. When our Ring is formed the combatants are left to themselves without fear of interruption from a third person. Temperate, manly courage is loudly applauded—passion, cowardice or foul play as loudly blamed; and should either of the men display any little act of humanity to his sinking opponent (of which I could state numberless instances), his gallantry is cordially praised; but the moment the dreadful word “ENOUGH” is uttered, hostilities cease and the conqueror, shaking hands with his fallen antagonist, wishes him better luck next time, and, in a kindly voice, expresses a wish that he may soon recover.

“Man is the creature of habit, and of the force of example; and, I again repeat, exhibitions of this kind have their good effects, which can be traced to us as a nation, and, independent of fighting, influence other actions of life. Show me the man completely opposed to pugilism, and you will find his character to be a bad neighbour and a tyrant under his own roof. The immortal Wyndham was the staunch advocate and patron of our Ring, and champion for the abolition of the slave trade. Have dealings with any other country—will you find them, in the mass, so honest or so honourable as Britons? In every part of the known world, who are more welcome than our merchants? What flag more respected or feared? Quarrel in the streets of any other country, you will have more than one to contend with. If an object of distress is pointed out, who is more ready to assist than a Briton? In other countries murder and robbery go hand-in-hand; in ours the most desperate men never dip their hands in blood, unless to protect themselves from ill-judged resistance. And who can boast an army or a navy so gallantly brave, or so ready to extend the hand to save, as Britons? Tell me a nation that could meet our brave sons on equal terms in the field or on the wave; yet, if conquered, which of them but would sooner become a prisoner to a British sailor or soldier than any other? Theirs is not the frenzied courage like that inspired by fanaticism, ferocity, or brandy, which, after the first gust of passion, leaves its helpless, hopeless, panting possessor; no, ’tis that kind of round-after-round courage which will admit of thinking and command, and knows no abatement till wearied nature or death closes the scene. Fair play is a Briton’s motto; we would extend it to the extremities of the earth, no consequence what country, religion, or colour. The sable African, throwing aside the chains that levelled him with the beast, now walks erect, in the majesty of freedom and liberty, calling down blessings on the country that, in spite of all the world, burst his bonds asunder. If these are the symptoms that the country is brutalised by pugilism, long may she continue so! Long may she be the home for the exile—the defender of the oppressed—the best boxer—and the fairest arbiter of the world!

“TOM REYNOLDS.”

With hearty approval we commend “Old Tom’s” spirited “defence” to the careful perusal of Sir Wilfrid Lawson, Messrs. Bright, Agnew, Richard, the Stigginses, the saints and sinners of Exeter and St. James’s Halls, and the Peace (at-any-price) Preservation Society.

DICK CURTIS (“THE PET”)—1820–1828.

For skill, neatness, finish, straight, and therefore swift, hitting, no such boxer as Dick Curtis has appeared in the present century. His weight, nine stone, and his height, five foot six, as a matter of course precluded his appearance among the Champions; but, as Champion of the Light Weights, Richard Curtis has had no superior, if any equal, in the annals of pugilism.

He was decidedly the most perfect specimen of a miniature fighting man of modern times. His science was, we might almost say, intuitive, his judgment of time and distance extraordinary, his readiness in difficulty most remarkable, his change from a position of defence to that of attack instantaneous and astonishing, and his power of punishment, for so light a man, unparalleled. Curtis was patronised by the most distinguished admirers of pugilism of the period in which he lived, and throughout his long career was never defeated, with the single exception of his last battle, when with Perkins, of Oxford, to whom he was inferior by a stone and two pounds in weight, as well as in length and height, he fell before youth and stamina.

Richard Curtis was born in Southwark, on the 1st of February, 1802. He came of a fighting family, his brothers John and George having both figured in the ring. Young Dick’s first public appearance was at the age of eighteen, on the well-known battle-field of Moulsey Hurst, where on Tuesday, June 27th, 1820, in the same ring in which George Cooper had just defeated Shelton, he entered the lists with Watson, a Westminster boxer, of about ten stone. Watson was game, and fought desperately for twenty-five minutes, when he cried “Enough!” and Curtis was hailed the conqueror, almost without a mark. Curtis’s skill was so remarkable in this _rencontre_ that two months afterwards some Corinthians, previously to leaving town for the shooting season—which was then September—as railroads had not brought grouse and the Scottish moors within hail of the Metropolis, determined to see the smart young Bermondsey lad again show his prowess. A match for £40 was accordingly made for him with a well-known light weight, Ned Brown (the Sprig of Myrtle); and on Monday, the 28th of August, 1820, Brown, waited on by Jack Martin and Paddington Jones, tried to throw his hat into the ring on Wimbledon Common, in such a smart gale that it blew it over, and away across the heath. Shortly after, Curtis, attended by Josh Hudson and Tom Belcher, approached the ropes; but his lily-white beaver shared the same fate, so that the omen was negative. Both men were in good condition. The colours—a canary yellow for Curtis, and a blue bird’s-eye for Brown—being tied to the stakes, the men shook hands and began

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Brown, full of confidence, made an offer to hit, but Curtis was awake, and nothing was done. A long pause took place, each endeavouring to get an opening, when Brown rushed in to work; a change took place in the struggle to fib each other, when both went down, Brown undermost. (Great shouting; and Curtis for a trifle.)

2.—This round occupied thirteen minutes, and the amateurs were delighted with the science and manliness displayed on both sides. Curtis hit at a longer distance, and nobbed Brown in great style. Both of these little ones displayed as much caution as if a million of money depended upon the event. To describe the stop-hits and getting away would occupy a page: suffice it to say that Brown’s right eye was nearly closed, and, after some desperate milling, Brown went down undermost. The great length of this round showed the good condition of both the combatants. Curtis appeared the weaker man.

3.—Brown proved himself a fine and game fighter, but Curtis out-fought him, put in nobbers with the utmost dexterity, and also damaged his other eye. (Tom Owen sung out, “Go it, my white topper; it’s as right as the day.”) Both went down, Brown undermost. Two to one on Curtis.

4.—This was a short round; in closing, Brown endeavoured to fib his opponent, but Curtis got down. (Any odds upon the latter.)

5.—Brown displayed good tactics, and at in-fighting was quite clever. Curtis made some good nobbing hits, and Brown went staggering away; but the latter returned to the charge, and, in struggling for the throw, Brown dragged Curtis over the ring and downed him. (Brown for £20. Curtis seemed weak.)

6.—This was rather a long round. Fibbing on both sides. Both down, Brown undermost.

7.—Curtis not only stopped in good style, but nobbed Brown away. After some exchanges at the ropes, Curtis dropped Brown by a blow on the side of the latter’s head.

8.—This was a famous round; and, in closing, Brown broke away twice with great activity. The punishment was severe on both sides. Brown was ultimately hit down, as if shot, from a tremendous blow on his forehead. (Great shouting. The “Sprigs of Myrtle” all drooping, and the denizens of Caleb Baldwin’s dominions upon the fret. “It’s all over.”)

9.—Brown, however, came first to the scratch. A severe struggle took place at the ropes, each too game to go down. (“Go down, Curtis,” from all parts of the ring.) Both at length fell, but Brown was undermost. (Here a near relative of Brown came close to the ropes, and told the seconds they were not doing right in not letting Brown “go in.”)

10.—Brown recovered a little, made a rush, and the change was considered in his favour. Curtis got down cleverly.

11, 12.—Both combatants excited the admiration of the ring by their fine fighting. In the last round Brown was hit down from a severe hit in the ribs. (Two and three to one.)

13 to 15, and last.—Brown was floored in all these rounds on coming to the scratch; he was terribly punished, but the game he displayed was of the first quality. Here the patron of Brown stepped forward (a more gentlemanly, liberal, or distinguished character for humanity of disposition does not exist, nor a greater admirer of true courage is not to be found) and said, “My man shall not fight any more.”

REMARKS.—A better battle has not been seen for many years; 57 minutes of complete good fighting. Brown has fought eight prize battles, and proved the conqueror in the majority of them. Curtis, although a mere boy, bids fair to prove a teaser to any of his weight; he is a cautious boxer and a severe hitter. The amateurs never expressed greater satisfaction at any fight. It was the general opinion that although Curtis appeared weak two or three times in the conflict, yet the scale of victory was always on his side. It is true that Brown had no other chance to win but “going in;” yet the clever defence of Curtis rendered that plan equally dangerous.

Curtis’s next match was with Lenney, at Moulsey Hurst, on the 24th of October, 1821. “At one o’clock,” says the reporter, “young Curtis, in a white upper-benjamin, which would have set off a Regent-street ‘pink,’ a brilliant canary round his throat, and a white beaver of the most fashionable mould, showed arm-in-arm with the President of the Daffy Club,[55] and threw his natty castor into the ring.” Lenney soon after appeared, with the Gas-light man and Curtis’s old opponent, the Sprig of Myrtle, and replied to the signal of defiance. Spring and Hickman seconded Lenney; Tom Belcher and Harry Harmer officiated for Curtis. The odds, within the previous two or three days, had changed in favour of Lenney, on whom five to four was laid. The colours were tied to the stakes by Spring and the President, who observed to the former, “I’ll bet you a trifle that I take them down.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The condition of Curtis was that of the finest racehorse; blood and bone were conspicuous, and he appeared as confident as if the battle were over. Lenney was equally fine; he commenced the fight with the most determined resolution of being declared the conqueror. Curtis was in no hurry to make play: Lenney was also on his guard. After some little manœuvring, Curtis let fly on the nob of his opponent, without return. This hit operated as a sort of stopper, and some little sparring occurred. Lenney endeavoured to go to work, and some blows were exchanged. The science displayed by Curtis was fine in the extreme, and he planted two sharp facers, right and left, that floored Lenney on his face, and the claret trickled down his cheek. (Loud shouting, and two to one all round the ring.)

2.—Lenney came to the scratch with a severe cut under his right eye. Curtis planted a severe body hit without a return; he also put in two severe facers. It was evident that Lenney could not protect his face from the out-fighting of his opponent, and to go in seemed equally dangerous. Curtis kept nobbing his man, and getting away with the utmost ease. In closing, Lenney was fibbed down, and Curtis fell upon him. (Thunders of applause, and “You’re a pretty boy, Curtis.”)

3.—This was a short round; a close took place, and the fibbing tactics went on till Lenney went down.

4.—The coolness of Curtis was the theme of the ring. He measured his distances with the accuracy of a mathematician, and nobbed his opponent with the severity of a hammer-man at an anvil. Lenney could make no impression on the mode adopted by Curtis. The latter followed Lenney up to the ropes, and, with his right hand, planted such a tremendous facer that it was heard all over the ring. In the struggle for the throw both combatants were hanging on the ropes; Curtis’s nose touched them, as they both came to the ground; but previous to this he put in some heavy blows on his opponent’s loins.

5.—Lenney came like a gamecock to the scratch; but his nob had undergone a strange alteration. Some exchanges occurred. Curtis, by a dreadful right-handed blow, sent down his adversary like a shot. (Three to one. “What a beautiful fighter!” exclaimed Randall.)

6, 7, 8.—Lenney stopped several blows with considerable skill; but his head was completely at the service of his opponent. Oliver made so sure of the event that he asked if any gentleman would oblige him by taking ten to two.

9, 10.—The fine fighting of Curtis now rendered the battle quite safe to him; so much so, that he could take his time about it without danger. Curtis astonished the ring with his execution as well as his science: he put such a tremendous blow on Lenney’s mouth that his ivories were on the chatter like dice in a box, and he felt it so seriously that his left arm dropped for an instant. (“It’s all safe now—it’s the Bank of England to a screen,” was the chaffing throughout the crowd.)

11, 12.—Lenney received so much punishment about the nob that he was quite groggy. Twenty to one was offered.

13, 14, 15, 16, 17.—All these rounds were nearly similar to the preceding ones. Any odds.

18 to 29, and last.—Lenney was game to the backbone, but he had not a shadow of chance. He ought to have been taken away several rounds previous to the last. He was hit out of time; and remained in a state of stupor for a short period. The battle occupied thirty-eight minutes and a half.

REMARKS.—A more elegant or scientific fighter than Curtis was never seen in the Prize Ring. He could have won in half the time if he had wished, but he was determined not to give half a chance away, consequently no long rally took place in the battle. Curtis also proved the stronger man, and left the ring without a scratch upon his face; but his hands were much bruised from the severe punishment he had administered to his opponent. Lenney was carried out of the ring and put to bed. The attitude of the latter was not a judicious one; he leaned too far back, not only to do execution, but such a position must have distressed him much: in fact, Lenney could not reach Curtis with any degree of certainty. It seemed to be the general opinion of the Fancy that no one on the list of Curtis’s weight can beat him.

DICK AT EPSOM RACES.—Although it was nearly five o’clock before the last race—the Maiden Stakes—was over, on Thursday, May 26th, 1822, and most excellent sport had been afforded, yet numbers of the sporting fraternity seemed to think the day was not exactly complete—that it wanted a sort of finish. As some of the lads from the Metropolis were upon the look-out for a little job, a mill was proposed by way of dessert, and a subscription purse of £16 was collected in a very short time. Little Dick Curtis, with as much blood as any horse upon the course, made his bow to the amateurs, and said he had not the least objection to peel, more especially as he had been cleaned out of all his loose rag by backing Deaf Davis on the previous Tuesday. “You’re a good lad,” replied a swell; “and it is a thousand pities you should be suffered to remain idle.” A gipsy pricked up his ears upon hearing these remarks, and offered himself to the notice of the “Pink of Society,” just to have a small taste, for the amusement of the company, if his honour had no objection. “Why,” said the pink, “you seem to have been a little bit about the hedges lately. By your looks you are a gipsy. What set do you belong to?” The brown-visaged hero, with pride, answered, “The Coopers.” “That will do,” replied the swell; “show yourself at the scratch without delay.” Dick Curtis was seconded by Ould Tom Jones and Harry Holt; and Cooper was handled by Gipsy Cooper and another “traveller.” Seven to four on Dick.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The Gipsy stripped well, and was what the fair sex term rather a handsome young man. He seemed, by the attitude he placed himself in, to meet his opponent as if he knew something about milling. Dick measured the Gipsy from head to foot with much confidence; but he was in no hurry to go to work. The Gipsy at length let fly, and missed, when Dick, lively as a dancing-master, put in some telling hits, and in the struggle the Bohemian went down amidst thunders of applause. (“Two to one!” lustily roared out.)

2.—Dick came laughing to the scratch, as keen as a stockbroker and cunning as a fox, giving the wink to his friends it was all right. Still he would not hit first. The Gipsy was again gammoned to make play, when his domino box got as much slashing as if seven had been the main. The rattling of the ivories was repeated, and the Gipsy floored. (Five to one, and no takers.)

3.—This round took the conceit out of the Gipsy, who ran furiously at Curtis, but the latter, with the utmost ease, stopped him, by giving him the pepper-box on his sensitive plant. Dick now commenced fighting, and put in four such complete facers that they made the Gipsy all abroad; he went down like a log. (Ten to one, and the multitude chevying from one end of the ring to the other, “What a prime little fellow Dick is!”)

4.—This was short and sweet to Curtis; he sent the Gipsy down to cool himself on the turf for half a minute. (Any odds, but no takers.)

5.—It was clear to the judges that it must be soon over, and that the Gipsy must be milled off-hand. Curtis again drew his cork, and the hero of the bush once more embraced his mother earth. It was all stuff to offer odds, for no person seemed inclined to take ten to one.

6.—The pepper-box and vinegar cruet were again made use of by Dick, till the Gipsy had nearly let it escape out of his mouth that it was no go. Gipsy down.

7, and last.—The Gipsy napped a rum one on his canister, and he went down immediately, saying “he would not fight any more, as he had not room enough for his strength.” Curtis gave a jump, and pocketed the purse almost without receiving a hit, exclaiming, “Success to Epsom Races!”

REMARKS.—It is true it was a very bad ring, owing to the vast multitude that pressed in upon the boxers from all sides; but if the Gipsy had had the whole of Epsom Downs to shift in he would never have been able to defeat Curtis. The latter is decidedly one of the best boxers of the day; no commoners must think of having a turn with him, and first-rate fighters must make a pause before they enter the lists with Dick. Two bystanders gave Dick a sovereign each for winning, which he generously made a present of to the Gipsy.

It would unnecessarily swell the bulk of the present volume to reproduce the numerous ring encounters in which Curtis was engaged during the succeeding years, in which time he fought with Peter Warren no less than five times, defeating that boxer on four occasions, and on the second the contest terminating in a drawn battle. The dates and duration of these are here given:—

1. Beat Peter Warren, 20 min., 10 rounds, £30 a-side, at Colnbrook, July 23rd, 1822.

2. Draw with Peter Warren, £25 a-side, 16 min., Moulsey, April 16th, 1823. On this occasion a wrangle and riot ended in the stakeholder returning the stakes to each party’s backers. A third contest was therefore arranged, for £50 a-side.

3. The third battle was decided at Crawley Hurst, July 8th, 1823. On this occasion Warren was defeated in one round, occupying nine minutes only, having sprained his kneecap so severely as to put him at once _hors de combat_.

4. After defeating Dick Hares, as we shall presently detail, Curtis beat Warren (£20 a-side) on Epsom Downs, in six sharp rounds, occupying eight minutes only, and finally—

5. Defeated his pertinacious opponent at Warwick, in 7 rounds, time 16 minutes, for a stake of £100 to £90, on July 19th, 1825.

Dick Hares was in the interim matched with Curtis, for £50 a-side, to come off April 13th, 1824, but the affair was prevented by an information laid at Bow Street, and two officers were sent down to Moulsey to stop the fight. It will perhaps raise a smile if we state the “reason” assigned for this prompting of the magisterial energy. The information of the “impending breach of the peace” was laid by a theatrical manager, who, his house being shut up because it was “Passion week,” did not see “why other public amusements should be tolerated”! _Hinc illæ lachrymæ_, the laying of the information, and the disappointment of the Fancy.

A new match was accordingly made, as neither party desired a “draw;” and on Tuesday, July 8th, 1823, on Moulsey Hurst, on the ring being cleared after Ned Neale had defeated Gaynor (see _ante_, Life of NEALE, PERIOD IV., CHAP. V.), Hares, attended by Peter Crawley and Tom Shelton, threw his hat within the ropes. Curtis followed, waited on by Josh Hudson and Tom Owen, the Sage of the East, whose admiration of Curtis as a boxer had been long loudly expressed. Curtis’s hat was about to go over the ropes with the wind, when Bill Moss caught it cleverly in both hands, and dropped it within the enclosure. Curtis fought under a yellowman, and Hares sported an emerald green flag. Six to four on Curtis.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On stripping, the condition of Hares was the admiration of every amateur present. He looked like a new man, instead of an old one. Such are the advantages of training, if an athlete is not absolutely used up. “Curtis must be licked to-day; he has not stamina enough to get rid of Hares,” was the cry. We also heard Jack Randall express the same opinion. On setting-to, Curtis appeared well in health; but he looked thin, boyish, and little compared to his opponent. The attitudes of both men were pretty, and the anxiety of Curtis to get the first advantage remarkable. Hares too was eager to let fly, but he could not get an opening. Not so with the Pet; he embraced the first opportunity that presented itself, and his left hand alighted very heavily on the nose of Hares. An exchange of blows followed, in which Curtis received a small grain of pepper on his left cheek; but Hares napped a full dose. Standing still for a minute, nothing to be done. Curtis again let fly his left hand, which nearly sent Hares’s teeth on a journey down his throat. The men closed soon afterwards at the ropes, when the fibbing of Curtis was terrific—he spoiled the look of his man, got Hares down, and fell upon him. A deafening shout for Curtis, the “Bermondseys” nearly out of their senses with joy. Two to one on the Pet.

2.—Hares was bleeding at the nose, his face much disfigured, and Curtis a little distressed and winking. Hares made an excellent stop. (“Well done, Hares!”) Dick put in another nobber, the claret following. Counter-hits, and Curtis received a heavy blow on his cheek. An exchange of blows, and no light play. Hares made another good stop. Curtis slipped a little near the ropes, when Hares ran up to him, and planted a heavy body hit; the Pet endeavoured to retreat, when his opponent stuck close to him, and put in another blow. Curtis recovered himself, and let fly his left hand in the middle of his opponent’s head. Counter-hits. Two more terrific, stupefying facers by Curtis, and no return. In closing, the fibbing administered by the Pet was tremendous, and Hares went down, Curtis uppermost. (“What an extraordinary little fellow! He hits as hard as Cribb. The other man has no chance; take him away.”)

3, and last.—Hares came up game as a pebble; but his head was quite altered; and his seconds, with all their industry and attention, could not keep his face clean. Both offering, but nothing done. Hares stopped a tremendous nobber. Rather a long pause. “Go to work, Hares.” The latter made a second and also a third attempt with great skill; but after this time the execution was so decisive on the part of Curtis that it was positively one hundred pounds to a farthing. The left hand of Curtis went flush into the middle of Hares’s head; a profusion of claret followed. (“What a limner this Pet is!” said the Sage of the East to Josh. “I never saw such a painter before. Why, he is a master of colour! What an artist!”) The succession of hits planted by Curtis in the middle of Hares’s head, without return, was surprising. It was a nobber, and claret—ditto—ditto—ditto. “Take the brave fellow away,” said his backer—“I will not suffer him to fight any more. He has no chance.” But Hares, regardless of the humane entreaties of his friends, stood up to receive punishment till Nature deserted him, when he fell in a state of stupor. Curtis jumped for joy, but immediately ran up to shake the hand of the fainting Hares. He was at once carried off the ground, and medical advice procured. It is but justice to say that Shelton and Crawley deserve great praise for the humanity and attention they paid to the brave but fallen little man.

REMARKS.—We have no hesitation in pronouncing the execution of Curtis the most decisive thing we ever witnessed in the Prize Ring. He won the fight with his left hand only, as he never made but two blows with his right hand during the battle. The Pet is the very first of boxers, and we think all pugilists will accede to the remark. He won the fight in twenty minutes, but did not prove the conqueror without receiving some heavy blows. Three or four tremendous hits were made by Hares. Although Curtis won the fight in such superior style he was certainly overmatched in weight and strength. The position of Curtis was so extremely fine that he was guarded at all points. Curtis dressed himself immediately, and walked about the ring receiving compliments from his friends. His left hand, however, if not quite gone, was terribly damaged.

Barney Aaron, whose weight was 10st., and who had beaten in succession Ned Stockman, Lenney, Frank Redmond, and Peter Warren, now challenged Curtis, and articles were signed for £100 a-side. The battle was to have been decided on Tuesday, November 23rd, 1824, on the stage at Warwick, after Josh Hudson and Cannon had settled their differences; but on this occasion Curtis received forfeit of the battle-money, under very suspicious circumstances as regarded some of the Israelitish speculators, who had calculated on “getting at Curtis” in such a way as to secure what was then called “a slice of ready-made luck.”

Soon after the match was made, Curtis being the favourite, such eagerness was shown in certain quarters to take the odds, and subsequently to lay even as much as six to four on the Jew “rather than not do bishnesh,” that strong suspicions were excited, and a x, in which Curtis was to “chuck the fight,” was publicly talked of. Alarm spread at the sporting houses, and on inquiry Curtis came forward and declared “that he had rather lose his life than his fame.” Upon this declaration the odds veered about, and Curtis was the favourite at five to four, giving chance, at any rate, of hedging. Then the assertions of dishonest intentions became stronger, and Barney was declared a safe winner. Thus matters stood when, some days previous to the big fight, Barney Aaron and his backers left London for Leamington, and made their headquarters at the “Crown.” In due time, also, Curtis and his friends arrived at Warwick. Still such doubts existed that betting was at an end, until some heavy stakes were sported on the night before the fight, at the “George,” at Warwick, and Barney again taken for choice. At an early hour in the day a report was circulated through the Race Stand that “the fight was off.” This circumstance created regret among the true sporting men. However, in a few minutes after Hudson and Cannon had left the stage, Curtis appeared, attended by Tom Belcher and his backers, and threw up his hat amidst loud cheers. Aaron was called for, but not showing himself, Curtis addressed the multitude. He said, “I attended here according to the articles, and I call upon Barney Aaron to face me according to articles.” He repeated the challenge twice without reply being made. Curtis then declared that “he would wait one quarter of an hour, and if Aaron did not appear, he should claim the stakes, £100, as a forfeit.” Previous to the quarter of an hour having elapsed, Curtis wished it to be known that he would fight any man of his weight in the world, for £200 a-side, and give half a stone.

Tom Belcher said he was the stakeholder, and the forfeit being claimed, he considered it his duty to give the £100 to Curtis, according to the rules of sporting. (“Perfectly correct, Tom,” from the spectators.) Belcher then presented Curtis with a new £100 Bank of England note, which the Pet smilingly deposited in his pocket. Belcher then took the nattily shaped “Pet” on his back, and lightly carried him, amidst laughter and applause, through the mud to the Grand Stand, where his health was drunk in sparkling “cham” by his friends, backers, and the admirers of straight-forward honesty.

At Ned Neale’s benefit at the Fives Court, two days after this fiasco, Curtis and Aaron met in the most friendly manner. Curtis said: “I would rather have fought for the money; but I am sure, Barney, it was not your fault.”

Aaron then proceeded to explain. He said he was told the place was Oxford, and there he was taken by his backers in a post-chaise, contrary to his intention, which had been to meet Curtis. He had with him his drawers and shoes. “Had I been licked,” said he, “which I don’t think I should have been” (a laugh from Curtis), “I should have got some blunt; but I have been regularly dished.” “I hope you will get backed,” replied Curtis; “I know you’re a brave man, and I hope next time we shall have a _comfortable_ fight!”

Some chaffering about the amount of stakes followed this interview; Curtis proposing to fight for £200, and Aaron’s backers modestly suggesting that Curtis (in consideration of the forfeit of £100—the forfeit was only £50) should fight Barney £200 to £100. The subjoined stanzas, conveying the challenge, seem of sufficient merit to deserve snatching from oblivion:—

THE PET’S INVITATION.

_Richard Curtis to Barney Aaron—Greeting._

Come, Barney, ’tis Curtis, the Pet, who invites thee; No longer to fight for two hundred refuse; For while all the pride of “the Peoplesh” excites thee, You can’t need the needful, my star of the Jews!

Remember the glories of ancient Mendoza, And hard-drinking, hard-hitting, shifting Dutch Sam; Think on old Ikey Pig, and Big Bittoon, who knows thee, With the rush of a lion, yet mild as a lamb.

What though Mrs. Aaron thy mug may delight in, And thinking of black eyes, turns fretful and wan? She’ll say, when convinced that you really mean fighting, “Mine husband, Cot plesh him, ’s a brave little man.”

I’ll own that as good as e’er pulled off a shirt is The lad I now call to the old milling game; And remember, friend Barney, though challenged by Curtis, No _Cur_-’tis invites to combat for fame.

Then try all the good ones who live in the Minories, Kick the shins of the dwellers in Petticoat Lane— Get blunt, which of all sorts of milling the sinew is; Drop chaffing, and take to fair fighting again.

_August 28th, 1825._

THE STAR’S ANSWER.

_Barney Aaron to Richard Curtis—Greeting._

I come, Mr. _Cur_-’tis the Star of the Sheenies Who advances to pluck from thy brow the high crest, With a _sufficit quantum_ of courage—and guineas— To lower thy _caput_, my Flower of the West.

You fought Peter Warren a hundred to ninety, Then why not fight me for the first-mention’d name? But being all bounce you the scratch will not come to, To show your much-vaunted pretensions to fame.

You say that the ochre—the metal—the rhino, Is flush ’mong the Sheenies of Petticoat Lane; ’Tish more scarsh nor you think—I vish it vash mine, oh! I’d fight for my losht reputation again.

Now hear! For one hundred, I’m ready to fight you, Surely, out of mere fairness, you cannot refuse; You’ll have to contend with no Warren, my _Cur_-tis, But with brave Barney Aaron, the Star of the Jews!

DUKE’S PLACE, _September 3rd, 1825_.

These poetic effusions, with a dozen prosy letters to boot, failed to bring the men to terms.

Curtis was now indeed “the Pet of the Fancy;” no sparring exhibition of any pretension was perfect in its programme without the Light weight Champion displayed his skill in the art of which he was such a consummate master; and as Dick never hesitated to put on the gloves, and give away a stone or two and a few inches, the disparity of his opponents added a keener interest than usual to his demonstrations. The newspapers of the period are full of them. Curtis was now perforce idle, for there was no boxer near his weight who could get matched against him. Of course he was the object of envy to many of the fraternity, and as

“Envy doth merit like its shade pursue, And by the shadow proves the substance true,”

so with one Mister Edward Savage, whose anger at the want of appreciation of his own merits, and the favour lavished on “the Pet,” carried him beyond all bounds of common civility. Edward Savage, an eleven stone man, was one of three Savages, the others named William and Cab. (or Jack) Savage, who were professed boxers. Ned Savage, on the evening of the 5th of August, 1825, entered the parlour of Tom Belcher’s, the “Castle,” Holborn, where Curtis and other friends were taking their whiff and their wet. The conversation turning upon pugilistic affairs, Mister Savage made some most insulting remarks upon the diminutive size of Curtis, coupled with regrets that he (Savage) could not get himself down to ten stone (Dick had challenged all comers and to give a stone), and concluded with a ruffianly threat of what he would do if Curtis would “give him a chance.” The Pet was about to leave when Savage, true to his name, struck him severely in the eye. The return on Mister Savage’s optic was made with lightning celerity, and the next instant the little one had his man round the neck, and delivered a succession of left-handers of such cutting severity that when Savage got down his head was a piteous spectacle. The company now interfered, but Curtis declared that he “must teach this Savage a lesson.” Savage rushed in blind with rage, and it is charity to suppose somewhat upset by liquor, when he was met by one, two, three steadiers in the head, his returns being parried, until he fairly staggered down. The affair now became a regular battle. Curtis threw off his upper garments, and Savage did the same. Savage rushed at his man so fiercely that Dick, stepping aside, delivered his blow on the ear of a bystander, to the man’s great astonishment and the amusement of the company, while Curtis simultaneously delivered alternately with both hands in such style that Savage turned away from the punishment. He was, however, game, if nothing else, and came up as receiver-general until the sixteenth round, when he was so completely cut up and beaten that he cried, “Enough!” Not more than sixteen minutes elapsed from the first assault to the close of this unexpected performance, the description of which by a few of the scientific spectators raised the fame of Curtis to a height hardly exceeded by that attained by his victories in the twenty-four foot. Tom Belcher’s concluding remark when narrating this little episode used to be—“It wouldn’t be lucky for some of us if Dick was twelve stone. There wouldn’t be much chaff about who would be Champion then”—a remark in which the heavy weights present usually coincided, some of them perhaps with a slight mental reservation in favour of his own brave self.

A ridiculous encounter with Ned Stockman, on the day of the fight between Gaynor and Bishop Sharpe (Tuesday, May 16th, 1826) is recorded. In this affair Stockman, after challenging Curtis and offering to fight him, laid down like a cur after a single round, as recorded in the reports of the time.

This brings us to the match at length arranged, by the concession of Curtis, for £100 a-side, with Barney Aaron. The battle came off on Tuesday, February 27th, 1827, at Andover, Hants, upon a stage erected in a field at the back of the “Queen Charlotte” public-house, opposite that where Spring defeated Neale, in 1823, one mile from the town. The stage was erected by the townspeople free of expense, and upwards of forty wagons were sent to form an outer ring by the jolly Hampshire farmers of the neighbourhood. The pugilistic division from London was in great force. Jem Ward, Tom Oliver, Ben Burn, Young Gas (Jonathan Bissell), Harry Holt, Ned Neale, with Fogo the Laureate and Joe Fishwick the Commissary, had joined the wagon-train. Curtis, valeted by Young Dutch Sam, took up his quarters at the “White Hart,” and Barney Aaron and Gipsy Cooper at the “Catherine Wheel,” opposite. Curtis was the favourite, at five to four. At one o’clock Barney, accompanied by Mr. Nathan and Jem Ward, ascended the stage amidst loud cheering. Curtis, attended by his backer, and Josh Hudson with Ben Burn, soon followed, and were welcomed with acclamation. The men then shook hands, and the colours were tied to the stakes; a bright yellow for Curtis and a deep red with yellow spots for the Israelite; and the battle commenced.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The Pet, as he exhibited in buff, gave great delight and satisfaction to his numerous friends. His condition was acknowledged to be quite tip-top. He might have been compared to the finest racehorse for blood, game, and bone; in fact, the _tout ensemble_ of the Pet was the picture of a fine-framed man in miniature. His arms were beautiful. The Star of the East was equally bright; he had done everything to improve his strength during his preparation, and he appeared at the scratch a robust, vigorous, athletic young man. In elegance, ease, and grace, Angelo, O’Shaughnessy, or Roland, with the foils, could not have exhibited more taste in the polite accomplishment of fencing than did the attitudes and arms of Curtis and Aaron exhibit in the art of self-defence. Both combatants were armed _cap-à-pie_; it was an eye against an eye, toe for toe, arm opposed to arm, caution matched with caution; if one was “down” the other was “up”—it was, “I won’t have it!” on both sides; in short, it was diamond cut diamond. Such were the boxers opposed to each other in this great trial of skill. Barney, unlike the character of his milling in his previous battles, preferred the “look-out” to the rush; he being well aware of the great talent, judgment, and finishing qualities of his opponent, and determined not to give the slightest chance away. The Pet, like an accomplished general, soon perceived that his adversary was nothing else but a difficult one, and not to be gammoned upon old suits: indeed, that nothing but the utmost skill was necessary to be with him upon any point. For several minutes the spectators were delighted with the extreme caution displayed on both sides, and at the same time the readiness which Curtis and Aaron displayed should any opening offer for the exercise of their fists. Curtis looked as it were into the “very soul” of his adversary, and the richness of the “Jew’s eye” was of an equally penetrating description. Barney waited for the Pet to commence offensive operations, but Curtis, finding that nothing could be done without great danger to himself, retreated slowly towards the corner of the stage, the Star of the East following him leisurely. The interest of the scene was intense, and every peeper on the stretch to witness mischief. Barney, with great spirit and tact, went in, and gave Dick pepper with his right and left hands on his face. (“Beautiful!” from the Sheenies.) The Pet countered slightly. Barney, in closing, endeavoured to fib his opponent, but Dick bolted (“Hallo! what’s the matter?”) and cleverly got out of trouble. The Pet turned quickly, and again met his man; an exchange of blows followed, and in closing they tried each other’s strength severely, when both went down, Curtis undermost. (Loud shouting for Barney, and “Where’s your two to one?”) The claret was seen on Dick’s mouth. “First blood” was declared in favour of Aaron.

2.—Curtis had always entertained a good opinion of the milling qualities of his opponent, but he was now completely satisfied that he was not only a troublesome customer, but a better man than any who had previously stood before him. Slow and sure appeared the order of the day on both sides. Aaron was not to be had by any stratagem practised by Curtis. The latter, however, gradually retired to the end of the stage, Barney in attendance upon him. Counter-hits were given, and both told. The Jew went to work in the most manly style, and the counter-hits were admirable. In closing Barney endeavoured to fib his opponent, but the Pet returned hard and fast, and it was difficult to say which had the best of it. Barney was ultimately thrown, but Dick also went down. The Pet-ites now began to let loose their red rags, and Curtis was hailed with shouts of applause.

3.—This round was “as long as Paterson’s Road Book.” Each of their mugs exhibited the handiwork of the other, and Barney’s peepers had been measured for a “suit of mourning.” The Pet was cautious, and his face bespoke that he had all his work to do to change the battle in his favour. Barney was equally shy, and kept a good look-out. Curtis, finding that he could not make an impression, tried once more the retreating system, but Barney was after him, though his blows were skilfully stopped by the Pet. Counter-hitting, and Jack as good as his master. Curtis’s right eye received a sharp taste, but the Jew had the favour returned with interest. A pause, and nothing like mischief for a short period. Barney at length let fly on the Pet’s chaffing-box, and the claret followed, which appeared rather troublesome to Curtis. The admirers of scientific fighting had a perfect treat, both men being prepared at every point. Curtis seemed rather fatigued, put down his hands for an instant, and the Jew followed his example. The truth is, the conduct of Barney in not availing himself of his weight and length not only surprised all his friends, but astonished the backers of Curtis. The disinterested part of the audience viewed it as a doubtful thing. Barney at last went to work, and planted two successful hits. Some sharp exchanges. In closing, fibbing was the order of the day, and the pepper-box changed hands in rapid succession. The men broke ground, and Dick adopted his skilful mode of retreating. The Star of the East went after him, and in the corner of the stage planted a severe blow on his throat, which made Dick gulp again. In closing, after a severe struggle, Curtis went down undermost, and Barney upon one knee. (“Vell done, Barney!” from the Sheenies.) The backers of Curtis, although not positively afraid, yet candidly acknowledged they had hitherto thought too little of Aaron.

4.—The face of Dick did not exhibit his usual gaiety of expression. His mind was at work to attack his opponent upon a new system. In short, we never saw him so puzzled before in any of his contests. The pause was long, and nothing done. Jem Ward, who had hitherto been silent, now exclaimed, “It will be—‘who’d ha’ thought it?’ We shall win!” Barney cleverly hit the Pet away, and some little workmanship took place between them, when the left mauly of Dick caught Barney’s nob, and he went down partly on his knees. It could scarcely be considered a knock-down blow. The Pet-ites were again liberal with their applause, and seven to four offered.

5.—Those persons who had witnessed the severity of execution done by Dick in his fights with gloves expected that he would have nobbed the Jew off-hand. But the science and caution of Barney astonished the ring-goers. Sharp counter-hits. The fighting was good on both sides, and both nobs were damaged. The right cheek of the Star of the East napped a severe cut. In closing the struggle was great to obtain the throw, when the Pet, by a sudden impulse, gave Barney a hoist between the ropes. He would have fallen at least six feet to the ground, but fortunately for the Star of the East a wagon had been placed near the stage for the accommodation of the reporters, umpires, and referee. Pierce Egan and another scribbler caught hold of Barney by the arm and his leg, and rescued the Jew from his perilous situation. Like one of the gamest of the game Barney jumped up and exclaimed, “I am not hurt, it’s all right,” and reascended the stage amidst thunders of applause.

6.—Of course the agitation and shock sustained by the above accident, added to the shortness of the time, only half a minute, to return to the scratch, were considerably against him. Yet he set to in the most manly way, and gave Dick not a very light one on his pimple. The latter countered as quick as lightning. Milling on both sides for a short period, until they separated. Both careful, and upon the look-out for an opening. A rally occurred, in which Dick rather took the lead, and Barney’s head received severe punishment. The Jew at length went down upon his hands. (“You have got him now, Curtis, only go to work!” said the boys of the Borough. “He knows better,” answered a Sheeny; “Curtis will be in trouble if he does!”)

7.—The countenance of Curtis now became cheerful, and he gave the “office” to his friends that the fight was his own. Dick was evidently improved, but Barney, game as a pebble, commenced fighting. The Pet retreated with advantage, and as Barney followed him he planted one, two, and a third facer in succession. The Jew, good as gold, would not be denied, went in to work, caught hold of Dick, and fibbed with all his strength; Curtis was not behindhand. In struggling for the throw Curtis went down easy, but was undermost. Two to one on Curtis, and lots of shouting.

8.—The Pet was decidedly getting the best of it, yet the strength of Barney was by no means so reduced as to indicate that the fight would soon be over. Barney went to work, and a sharp rally was the result. Some hard hits passed between them, and Curtis received a teaser on his jaw. In closing both went down. The Sheenies did not desert their man, and cheered him with applause.

9, and last.—Dick, though quite satisfied in his own mind he was now winning the fight, was as cautious as if he had yet all his work to do. The head of Barney was rather out of shape, and the nob of Curtis was a little changed. Sparring for a short time, when Dick made himself up for mischief, and mischievous he certainly was. With his left he put in a tremendous blow upon his opponent’s throat. Barney went down like a shot—flat upon his back—his heels up, and was utterly insensible when time was called. Curtis so well knew that he had settled the business that he went up immediately to the time-keepers to wait for their decision. The Pet jumped for joy, and was proclaimed the victor, amidst the shouts of the surrounding populace. Josh Hudson hoisted the Pet upon his shoulders and carried him to his post-chaise, huzzaing all the way. The fight lasted fifty minutes.

REMARKS.—Such a real, scientific battle on both sides has not been seen for many a long day: indeed, no lover of the Fancy would have thought two hundred miles any distance to have witnessed the superior tactics displayed by Curtis and Aaron. The Pet, high as he stood before on the roll of pugilists, raised himself to the top of the tree by this victory. Curtis has now proved the conqueror in eleven prize battles. As we have already said, we never saw Dick so puzzled before, and until he had reduced the Jew to his weight the first four rounds were of a doubtful character. Without exception the Pet must be pronounced the most efficient boxer in the pugilistic world. We cannot say more. At the same time it is equally true that Barney Aaron, if not exactly at the top of the tree, is very near to it. That is to say, if Curtis ranks as number one, number two of the light weights belongs to the brave little Sheeny. He is still the Star of the East, and instead of having fallen in the estimation of his friends by this defeat, his fine fighting, manly conduct, and fair play must raise him in the eyes of the sporting world. Curtis did not weigh nine stone, and Barney just drew ten. The severity of the blow which Aaron received on his throat operated so strongly that he did not come to himself for nearly an hour. To use Barney’s own words, he said, “I do not know that I could have won the battle, but had I not received that blow on my throat, which fairly hit me out of time, I am certain I could have fought for half an hour longer.” Curtis, before he left Andover, called upon his fallen and brave opponent and presented him with a guinea, and acknowledged that he was the best man he had ever fought with. A subscription of six pounds was also made on the ground, collected by one of the backers of Curtis.

Curtis was next backed to fight Jack Tisdale for £120 to £100.

Staines, on the Windsor road, was the great rallying point, and Shirley’s, the “New Inn,” the house of call upon the above occasion. Every room was full of milling visitors. In the stables, although extensive, the prads were riding over one another, the yard filled with drags of all sorts, and lots of customers could not find the slightest accommodation. Such were the attractions of the two heroes, the Pet of the Fancy and Jack Tisdale.

Between nine and ten in the morning of Tuesday, October 9th, 1827, the men met according to appointment to ascertain their weight, as required by the articles. Curtis proved to be no more than eight stone nine pounds and three-quarters, and Tisdale eight stone eight pounds. Curtis, in the most confident style, betted two sovereigns to one with Tisdale, after which the men retired to their inns, Curtis to Shirley’s and Tisdale to the Swan Inn, near the bridge, at Staines.

Curtis was decidedly the favourite throughout the whole of the match, at seven to four, two to one, and higher odds. Tisdale was always viewed as a good little man, but it was considered he had entirely left the ring, five years having elapsed since his last battle with Lenney. Tisdale was highly respected by his numerous friends. He had made up his mind to win and nothing else, and assured his backers that if he could but get at Dick, and he thought he could, victory would crown his efforts.

The heavy rain did not damp the ardour of the visitors, and the ring was surrounded by thousands of spectators. Within a mile and a half of the town of Staines, in a meadow in the county of Bucks, almost opposite the race-course at Egham, was the spot of ground selected for action.

At the appointed time Tisdale made his appearance, and threw his castor into the ring, followed by two good ould ones, Jack Randall and Bill Cropley, as his seconds. He was well received. In a few minutes afterwards the Pet, in a military cloak, repeated the token of defiance, waited upon by the John Bull Fighter and Young Dutch Sam. Lots of applause for Curtis. Tisdale and Curtis shook hands together in the most hearty style. The colours, yellow for Curtis and blue for Tisdale, had been tied to the stakes by Hudson and Cropley. The hands were crossed together by all parties and the battle commenced.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On peeling Curtis looked extremely thin, nevertheless he was quite well. He had reduced himself during his training nearly fourteen pounds, but he was lively, strong, and well to all intents and purposes. It was a dangerous experiment for a light man like Curtis, but to use his own words, he assured his friends he was never better in the whole course of his life. Tisdale was as good as he could be made by the wholesome effects of training, and also inspired with the highest confidence that success would crown his efforts. In point of youth the Pet had the best of it. The attitude of Curtis was a picture, and he appeared to the spectators a master of the art of boxing. The style of Tisdale was not so imposing as his accomplished fistic rival, but it was firm, calculated to receive the attack, and formed an excellent outline of a scientific pugilist. Dick measured his opponent from head to foot, keeping a good look-out for squalls, anxious to give, but not to receive. Tisdale was also leary, but his guard was low. The Pet viewed his rival as a dangerous customer, and like a skilful general was determined not to give half a chance away; he not only worked hard with his hands, but he was likewise perpetually on the move with his feet. Plenty of caution was exhibited on both sides. “Do not be gammoned,” was the advice of Randall and Cropley to Tisdale. The interest was intense amongst the spectators to witness the lead taken on either side. Tisdale attempted to plant a blow, but Dick got away like a dancing-master. Tisdale repeated the attempt twice, when ditto, ditto, on the part of the Pet was the time of day. A sort of stand-still followed, both keeping prime lookouts, like experienced pilots. Curtis made an offer, but Tisdale was awake. The Pet, after manœuvring in his best style, at length let fly his right and left, when Tisdale, with admirable skill, parried both hits, amidst loud applause from the surrounding crowd. A short pause. “It will be a long fight,” said the amateurs. Tisdale made another neat parry. Dick, as if it appeared to his mind he had got his opponent, hit out one, two, reached the canister of Tisdale, then rushed in to his work and fibbed away. Tisdale endeavoured to return the compliment, but without effect, was ultimately thrown, and undermost. (It might be said not much was the matter, but the Bermondsey boys let loose their red rags, and odds to any amount were offered. This round occupied nearly nine minutes.)

2.—Tisdale wished to go to work, but Dick would not have it. Curtis with great force put in a facer without return. (“Beautiful!” from his friends.) Tisdale slightly touched the body of his adversary. Both made themselves up for mischief, and two prime counter-hits were the result. The Pet planted a ribber, which made Tisdale blow for breath. Both on the look-out. Curtis hit out right and left with effect, but in return he napped a rum one on his ear. Some exchanges occurred, when Dick, with great impetuosity, planted two blows that were heard all over the ring, and Tisdale went down. The effect was so heavy that Tisdale for the instant scarcely knew where he was, and he put up his hand to keep Dick off.

3.—The handiwork of the Pet was visible to all the ring—a lump on Tisdale’s forehead, and his left eye damaged. Dick soon planted a nobber. A pause. Dick got away from mischief. Tisdale endeavoured to plant some hits, but Dick retreated in the most masterly style. Tisdale again missed several hits, owing to the retreating jumps of Curtis. Dick also made some beautiful stops. Tisdale satisfied his friends that he was a brave little man, although he could not get the lead. The skill evinced by Curtis was much admired. He gammoned his opponent to come and fight, and then punished him for his temerity. Dick again made his one, two, good, which produced some severe in-fighting, decidedly in favour of the Pet. In closing, both down, Tisdale undermost. (“Odds?” cried Josh; “why, you may bet anything, and no mistake! It’s one hundred to a rump steak, and I’ll lay the hundred pounds.”)

4.—The Bermondseys were all in high spirits. Tisdale made play without effect, Dick being ready for his opponent at all points. Tisdale, rather wild from the one, two, of his opponent, hit at random. In closing Dick got the best of the fibbing, and Tisdale was again thrown. (“Meat in Newgate Market must rise to-morrow,” said the John Bull Fighter, “to cover the losses of the kill-bulls.”)

5.—Upwards of a minute elapsed before anything was attempted between the combatants, so much caution was observed on both sides. Tisdale was on the alert to effect a turn, but Dick was up to his movements. The latter also neatly, and with great force, planted two hits without return. Tisdale at length got into work, and some sharp blows were exchanged. Tisdale showed “first blood,” from the mouth, which was announced to the ring by Josh Hudson. In closing Tisdale went down.

6.—The steadiness displayed by Tisdale was much admired. He came cheerfully to the scratch, and tried to punish the Pet, but the latter stopped him with ease. The right hand of Curtis made a smashing hit on Tisdale’s left ogle, but the Newgate Market hero quick as lightning countered, and produced the claret from Dick’s ear. (“My eye,” said Cropley to Randall, “that was a teaser!”) Dick tried all his skill to draw Tisdale again into his clutches, but Jack was not to be had, and a long pause ensued. Curtis jobbed with his left hand, nevertheless Tisdale returned the charge like nothing but a good one. The men fought their way into a rally, and pepper on both sides was the order of the day, until they broke away. This round was decidedly the best that had taken place; and although it was the general opinion that Dick would prove the conqueror, it was admitted at the same time that he would have his work to do. Tisdale could not plant his hits effectually, the Pet was so good upon his legs. Curtis in great style stopped a rib-roaster, and patted his arm, laughing at Tisdale. A rally was the tie-up of this round, to the advantage of Curtis, and Tisdale fell with his back upon the ropes. Several bets were now lost that Dick won the battle in half an hour.

7.—This round was a touch of the polish. Dick had it all his own way. He jobbed and jobbed again, without any return, and closed the round by throwing the hero of Newgate Market.

8.—Dick, although so much in his favour, was still cautious, determined to make his conquest complete. The left hand of the Pet in numerous instances operated like the kick of a horse on the nob of Tisdale. The latter retreated to the ropes, followed by Curtis, when Dick took the lead in weaving, and a severe struggle for the throw took place. During the time Tisdale was balancing upon the ropes, and apprehensive of the punishment he was about to receive from Curtis, he said, “Dick, don’t hit me now.” “I will not,” replied Dick, and laying hold of Tisdale’s hand he pulled him up, and led him into the middle of the ring, amidst tumultuous applause. The battle was now severe indeed, and Tisdale hit wide and wild; the Pet planted a facer, when they both went to work like out-and-outers. Give and take, and summat the matter on both sides; the nose of Curtis appeared as if it had been scraped with a knife. The face of Tisdale had now assumed an altered aspect, and, according to the phrase of the Ring, his uncles and aunts would have doubted his relationship, his frontispiece was so completely altered. To add to Tisdale’s already damaged head, Dick again planted two jobbers, and Tisdale was floored. (Hats were thrown up, the Bermondsey coves shouting and dancing, and odds as extravagant as St. Paul’s to a cockle-shell offered.)

9.—Short. Tisdale suffering under the severity of punishment hit at random. This sort of conduct suited Curtis; he took advantage of the mistake, and by a hit on the domino box sent Tisdale to his mother earth.

10.—A brave man will always claim admiration, and a braver or better little man was never seen in the twenty-four foot than Jack Tisdale. But his superior in tactics stood before him. The coolness which had previously distinguished the conduct of Tisdale was gone by, and the repeated irritating blows had excited his passion; at all events, he threw several blows away. He would not be denied, and he bored Dick nearly to the ropes. In stopping a sort of kill-bull blow Dick slipped down on his latter end. This circumstance gave a little bit of new life to his friends, and Tisdale was loudly cheered.

11.—A few persons seemed to think that Dick was weak, but he soon convinced his partisans to the contrary. Dick got away from mischief, but was exceedingly mischievous in the return, and the nose of the hero of Newgate Market received a hit enough to have satisfied any common glutton. Tisdale, undismayed, never flinched, and returned sharply on Curtis’s chin. (“Hallo!” cried Cropley, “Master Dick, you have napped it.”) Dick, waiting for a turn, tried every move on the board to have the best of it; he planted a facer, repeated the dose, then tried it a third time with success. (“Blow my dickey!” said Josh; “why, I never saw a footman knock at a door half so stylish as Dick is paying his respects to Mr. Tisdale!”) The hero of Newgate Market stood up with the firmness of a brick, counter-hitting, and exerting himself to win, until Dick punished him in all directions at the ropes. In struggling for the throw Dick had the best of it, and Tisdale was undermost. (Curtis, during the time he was sitting upon the knee of his second, informed his backer he could put on the polish and win it in a canter. “No,” was the reply, “take your time; it is all your own; win at your leisure.”)

12.—This round had hardly commenced when a facer was planted by Curtis. Tisdale, quite wild, followed Dick over the ring, but Curtis put on another opera step, and nothing was the matter. Tisdale again went to work, but the skipping back of Curtis made him all right. The Pet put in a jobber, ditto, and ditto, repeated. The gluttony displayed by Tisdale called forth not only admiration, but pity. The Newgate Market hero made himself up for mischief, tremendous counter-hits occurred, and the claret was seen from the nose of Curtis. Yet nothing could take the fight out of the Pet. Tisdale wildly following him received punishment at every step. In closing Tisdale underwent fibbing, and was also thrown.

13.—This round had nearly proved a _finale_. Tisdale now became desperate, and plunged headlong to work, regardless of consequences. Dick stopped him, got away with ease, and punished his opponent severely. A pause ensued, Dick as cautious as when he commenced the battle. The appearance of Tisdale was really piteous, but he still kept the game alive, and did his best for himself and friends to obtain victory. The Pet soon got an opening, and hit poor Tisdale to a perfect stand-still; his hands dropped, he staggered, and fell down. (“Take him away,” said Josh; “it is a shame to let such a brave fellow be punished without the shadow of a chance to win.”)

14.—When time was called Tisdale answered it, but he was as groggy as a sailor three sheets in the wind—“yes, and worse than that ’ere,” as the John Bull Fighter observed, Tisdale scarcely knowing what he was about—in fact, he was quite abroad, dealing his blows at random. Dick hopped out of the way of mischief, then planted a facer, which gave his opponent the staggers. Tisdale fell on his hand and knee, but being too game to consider the round at end, immediately got up to renew the fight, when the Pet ran up to him and sent him down. “Foul!” and “Fair!” were the cries—the umpires disagreed, but the referee considered it fair. The conduct of Curtis might have been censured as not exactly polite or gentlemanly, as Scroggins said, nevertheless it was perfectly fair, as Tisdale rose upon his legs to renew the battle. In the first instance Tisdale was about leaving the ring, but upon hearing the referee’s decision he returned to renew the fight.

15.—The time gained by the wrangle was good for Tisdale. He put up his hands at the scratch, then recollecting himself said it was “foul conduct,” left Curtis, went up to the umpires, and asked “what he was to do?” “Why, fight on,” replied the referee, “if you do not mean to lose the fight.” It is worthy of remark that Curtis never took any advantage of Tisdale’s movements, which he might have done. Some of the spectators had now left their places in the outer ring, and all was glorious confusion.

16.—This round was all upon the bustle, and whips and sticks were at work to keep the ring clear. The battle was now reduced a horse to a hen; Tisdale was of no use, and Curtis hit him down. (“Don’t leave the ring, Dick, till you finish the fight properly,” observed his friends.)

17, and last.—Tisdale again appeared at the scratch, but it was only to receive additional punishment. Dick was at him without delay, and Tisdale was again down at the ropes. On time being called Tisdale did not appear at the scratch. Curtis went up to him, when Randall said, “It is all over,” and Tisdale also added that “he would not fight any more.” The John Bull Fighter, after putting the colours, the fruits of victory, round the neck of the Pet, hoisted him on his shoulders, and carried him in triumph to his drag, amidst loud shouting. The fight was over in fifty-eight minutes.

REMARKS.—From the beginning to the end of the mill it never appeared to us that Tisdale had a chance of winning. In observing thus much it is not meant to convey an opinion to our readers that Tisdale is not a good boxer—the contrary is the fact. He is one of the best little men of his weight in the kingdom; he stands well upon his legs; he can stop like a tactician, hits hard, and possesses a capital knowledge of boxing. His courage is of the highest order, and his game unquestionable. He is not disgraced in surrendering to Curtis, the irresistible Champion of the Light Weights. Many spectators felt disappointed that Curtis did not do more with Tisdale at the beginning of the battle, as the friends of Curtis declared that Tisdale would be polished off _sans cérémonie_. But Curtis was not to be led away by the high praises of his backers, and like a skilful general he treated his adversary as a dangerous opponent. Curtis did not escape without some sharp punishment about the head, but in comparison with Tisdale’s it was trifling in the extreme.

Curtis, from his unbroken career of conquest in the Prize Ring, might now be compared to the celebrated Eclipse, who, having won all the King’s Plates he went for, was “cried down;” for the Pet was so decidedly excellent in his tactics that he was left without an opponent.

Some injudicious persons at this period began an idle newspaper controversy on the comparative merits of Curtis and Jack Randall, full of vulgar personalities; and the latter boxer, in the month of October, 1827, allowed a letter to appear with his signature in _Pierce Egan’s Life in London_, in which he offered to fight Curtis “in _four months_ from the time of making the match, for £300 to £1,000 (!) either on a stage or the turf,” “money always ready at the Hole in the Wall, Chancery Lane.” To which Curtis replied that “his weight was nine stone,” but he would “give half a stone, and fight Mr. Randall, or any other man, for £100 to £300.” This buncombe of course meant nothing. Indeed, poor Jack was already doing battle with the universal conqueror, who gave him the finishing blow within six months of this ridiculous challenge.

Curtis took his leave of the Prize Ring at a benefit at the Fives Court, in November, 1827, by an open challenge for a month to any man in England, half a stone above his weight. No boxer had the temerity to come forward and “pick up the glove;” and Curtis in consequence retired from the scene of active pugilism. But although the Pet had given up prize milling, he had not given up the use of his hands to protect himself from insult. On Wednesday afternoon, January 2nd, 1828, as the Pet and his pal, Young Dutch Sam, were walking along Blackfriars Road, they passed a couple of sturdy coalheavers, one of whom, in swinging his whip round, struck Dick. The latter asked Coaly what he meant by striking him. The exact reply we must not mention—suffice it to say that Dick threatened to kick the offender on that part of his person to which he was referred for an explanation. Coaly, not knowing the Pet, threw a brave defiance in his teeth, and a set-to commenced, Sam seconding the Pet, and Coaly having his own companion to pick him up. Dick found himself engaged with a very strong fellow, who knew a little about fighting, and was moreover fully a stone and a half the heavier man. Coaly rushed in to bring his strength to bear, and Dick, as his custom was, broke ground—jobbing and retreating. One of the black diamond’s eyes was soon in darkness, but he did not take without giving; almost at the very commencement of the fight, he planted a nobber that severely damaged the Pet’s neat countenance, besides sending him back against a cart, with a force that raised a peal of bells in Dick’s cranium. The spectators of all sorts were, of course, numerous, and some of them expressed considerable disapprobation at Dick’s mode of getting away. Encouraged by this, the second coalheaver went behind Curtis and stopped him as he retreated; Young Dutch Sam instantly floored him, which at once took all conceit of either fighting or interfering out of that gentleman. A bystander soon after received a topper from Sam for placing his carcass where it ought not to be; he soon after came up behind the young Dutchman, returned the hit on the sly, and retreated among the mob; but Sam quickly pulled him forth and gave him three or four facers, whereupon he cried for quarter. During these proceedings the Pet was still engaged with his first antagonist, who proved himself a game man, and though told that he was fighting with the celebrated Dick Curtis, he refused to give in, but declared that he knew he could beat his man, saying, “let him be Dick or Devil, he’d sarve him out.” At length a gentleman, not liking to see a good man cut up where he had little or no chance, took Coaly by the arm, and after literally begging him to leave off, strengthened his counsel by a _douceur_ of half-a-crown, upon sight of which the brave, though saucy, coalheaver consented to say “enough.” He was severely punished about the head—nor did Curtis escape scot-free; his nob was visibly marked.

A long letter professing to come from the coalheaver and signed “George Phillips” appeared the following week in the _Dispatch_, in which the writer, denying his defeat, and offering to fight Curtis for £5 (!), hoped that the Pet would meet him “for love, and the £5 as a sweetener.” Mr. Whittaker, an oilman and ex-pugilist, its supposed writer, also went about offering to back “his man” against “the Pet.”

Curtis now went on a sparring tour to Manchester and Liverpool; at the latter place, at the Circus, he was enthusiastically received. Young Sam, Jem Ward, and Ned Stockman were also of the party.

All doubts respecting the milling capabilities of Coaly were completely put to rest at Joe Fishwick’s benefit at the Tennis Court, on Monday, March 17th, 1828. The sturdy black diamond having declared, in opposition to all the statements published of that affair, that he had the “best of it,” Curtis chivalrously volunteered to put on the gloves with him. He had not the slightest chance with Curtis, who nobbed him at pleasure, drew blood from his razor-shaped nose, and knocked him down no less than six times. All he could do was, when not hit off his legs, to bore Dick against the rail by superior weight and strength; but in everything that belongs to fighting it was “all the world to nothing” on the Pet. The latter seemed at length ashamed to hit the man, and offered to cut it, but Coaly was foolhardy enough to wish for more, saying “he was not hurt.” Curtis therefore accommodated him with additional punishment. On pulling off the gloves the coalheaver appeared quite chapfallen. Dick was so completely armed at all points that the violent attacks of Coaly were utterly frustrated, and it might almost be said that Curtis left the stage without receiving a hit.

Though retired as a principal, Dick’s talents as a second were in constant requisition, and his name will be found, in that capacity, in many pages of our volumes. It would have been well indeed for Curtis had he adhered to his resolution of retirement; but it was not to be. A ten stone man, Perkins, of Oxford, who had received the title of “the Oxford Pet,” had so raised his name by rapid victories over Wakelin, Jem Raines, and Dick Price, in one year (1827), that a battle for £100 was proposed and accepted. In this overmatched contest Curtis was defeated on December 30th, 1828, at Hurley Bottom, Berks, as detailed under our notice of Perkins in an after-page of this Appendix.

From the period of his first and only defeat Curtis did not enter the Prize Ring again as a principal. As a second he was constantly called upon to exercise his talents, as our pages will show. On these occasions he displayed incomparable tact and judgment, often winning fights “out of the fire,” where all hope of success had been abandoned. He was second to Owen Swift in the unfortunate battle between that accomplished master of the art and Brighton Bill, as is fully set forth in the memoir of YOUNG DUTCH SAM. For this he was tried at the Hertford Assizes on July 14th, 1838, and was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment. In the later period of his life he was a martyr to the rheumatic gout, and was frequently laid up for weeks together. The life of the Pet shows no exception to that of other public favourites, theatrical or otherwise—chequered by vicissitudes, at one time in “full feather and fine song,” and at another penniless—a state of things to be ascribed to his propensity to “a hand at crib,” and other gambling practices. For a short period he was a publican, keeping the “Star,” in Blackman Street, Borough; but he had not then “sown his wild oats,” and the eccentricity of his disposition soon caused him to “retire from the business,” or more correctly the business retired from him. Notwithstanding his temporary acquaintance with the interior of Hertford Gaol, he continued to be sought as a “trump card” at all fights, and those who succeeded in securing his services had never any reason to regret their confidence. A contemporary, the late Vincent George Dowling, Esq., thus bore testimony to his worth in an editorial obituary notice in _Bell’s Life_, and the writer, from personal knowledge, can well endorse that testimony: “Long as we have known Curtis, we never heard of his having deceived a friend, and he was one of the few of his class upon whom reliance in matters of opinion could be implicitly placed. He was always grateful for obligations conferred, and in the hour of need had never-failing sources of relief, when his pride would permit him to confess his necessities. His last and fatal illness is attributable to having burst a blood-vessel, from which he never thoroughly rallied, and it has been our lot to hear him speak in terms of deep gratitude for the kindnesses he experienced whilst an inmate of Guy’s Hospital, as well from his medical attendants as from those numerous old acquaintances who sympathised in his sufferings, among whom we may rank his early pupil and _protégé_, Owen Swift, who was enabled to raise and contribute to his wants within the last six weeks upwards of eighteen pounds, while we know from other sources that sum was doubled during the same period. This is the best refutation of a tissue of gross falsehoods foisted upon the editor of the _Morning Herald_, unfortunately but too ready to adopt any statement, however absurd, which he deems calculated to throw discredit on the manly art of boxing or its professors. Young Dutch Sam, who was also introduced to the Ring by the deceased, contributed his mite, and we can say, from the best authority, that the expiring ‘King Richard,’ while he died in peace with all mankind, was surrounded with every comfort his situation required, and in homely terms testified his perfect satisfaction with all that had been done for him. ’Tis true he left no ‘stock purse’ behind, but that circumstance did not restrain those who knew and respected him in life from taking the necessary steps to secure a becoming attention to the last sad ceremonies of the grave.”

To this spontaneous testimony of the “Nestor of the Ring,” we may add that Curtis breathed his last at his own house in Dover Street, Southwark, on Saturday, September 16th, 1843. We have been more precise on this point because an eminent sporting writer, misled by the paper once known as “My Grandmother,” has left it on record, “And the once caressed Pet of the Fancy breathed his last unfriended and unattended, save by the hireling servitors of a public hospital.” “King Dick,” as his companions were wont to call him, was sensible to the last, and perfectly conscious of the approaching close of his career.

His memory and his widow he bequeathed to his friends, feelingly deploring the reduced state of his exchequer, and hoping that his old “pals” would liberally come forward to contribute something towards alleviating the sorrows and distresses of his widow, who had been to him a careful and kindly nurse throughout a long and painful illness. For some days previous to the final flicker of the vital spark, Dick had been occasionally wandering, and the scenes of his former pursuits seemed to pass before his mental vision. He talked of battles won and lost, of the merits of his compeers, and of the qualifications requisite for his profession. When visited by Owen Swift, and others his “companions in arms,” he was cheerful, although he occasionally mistook one for another, and on reference to coming events gave his opinion pretty freely about those modern pretenders who stickled for half a stone. Turning to a friend, he observed, “My last round is come!” and sinking into a state of insensibility, shortly afterwards expired.

The remains of the departed pugilist were carried to their “narrow home” in St. George’s Churchyard, Southwark, on the Thursday next after his decease, in a manner suitable to the respect felt by his family and friends. Among the mourners who followed were his brother, a well-known veterinary surgeon, the Champion of England, Peter Crawley, Jem Burn, Owen Swift, Alec Reid, Young Reed, Ned Turner, Johnny Hannan, Johnny Walker, Reidie, Deaf Burke, _cum multis aliis_. His friend Young Dutch Sam was absent from illness (he died in six weeks afterwards), and such was the sympathy and public curiosity on the occasion that quite ten thousand persons lined the route of the funeral procession. While upon this subject, we may add that the proceeds of a sparring benefit at Jem Burn’s, £25, were handed over to the widow by the editor of _Bell’s Life in London_, with more than £50 of subscriptions from other sources, with which she was placed in a humble but profitable business in Fetter Lane, and where the factory was known as that of “Curtis’s Premier Blacking.” We therefore consider the rhetorical flourish of “Nimrod” as completely “polished off” as “King Richard” during his reign himself polished off those who disputed his “fistic” supremacy.

MONODY ON THE DEATH OF DICK CURTIS.

FAREWELL! a long farewell! renowned King Dick! Well may we mourn that thou hast cut thy stick; Victorious still in many a sharp attack, Stern Champion, Death, hath laid thee on thy back; Exhausted all thy bottom and thy pluck, Thine arm lies powerless, and thy colours struck; Rigid thine elasticity of limb, Deaf are thy listeners, and thine ogles dim; Pale are those lips from which rich humour rush’d; Spun are thy spicy yarns, thy tongue is hush’d; Stripped are the laurels bright that girt thy brow And dust to dust is all that waits thee now.

Yet long the Fancy’s tears thy grave shall wet, Star of the Light Weights, all-accomplished Pet! For thy bold spirit soared on eagle’s wing, And shed a halo round the fighting Ring— Acknowledged there the bravest and the best, For craven fear ne’er harboured in thy breast; Conquest, proud conquest, was thine only aim, Unrivall’d still in gallantry and game. As lightning quick to dart upon thy foe, And in the dust to lay his glories low, The palm of victory forcing him to yield, And sing “Peccavi” on the battle-field; Adieu, thou pride and wonder of the age, The brightest star on Fistiana’s page, Where records of your manly deeds are stor’d, The pinks you’ve pepper’d, and the trumps you’ve floored! Why should we mourn of Perkins the sad tale, O’er which sad memory fain would draw a veil, And while unfading thy brave deeds shall bloom, Consign thine errors with thee to the tomb!

Well may we weep for these degenerate days, As a sad trophy to thy fame we raise, And mourn, since boxing hath become a trade, Its honour tarnished and its flowers decay’d! No hardy Cribb now throws the gauntlet down, Nor brave Tom Spring, of unalloyed renown; No brawny Belcher now for victory strives, Nor tough Game Chicken flourishes his fives; No Molyneux now rears his sable nob, Nor rough-and-ready stout White-headed Bob. Well may we grieve, as we thy fate deplore, The golden days of milling are no more, Exclaiming, as fresh candidates appear, “Oh, what a woeful falling-off is here!”

But Curtis prov’d a trump, and no mistake, } To every move upon the board awake, } And staunch as e’er tied colours to a stake! } When a mere boy, by two good men assail’d, Beneath his prowess Brown and Watson quail’d; And after combat resolute and tough, Lenney and Cooper, sorrowing, cried, “Enough!” Thrice Peter Warren tried to do the trick, But found his master in triumphant Dick; In a turn-up, from momentary heat, Ned Savage was made savage by defeat; And bouncing Barney Aaron, Hebrew stout, Look’d all abroad when Richard sarv’d him out; Tisdale our Monarch ventur’d to attack, But all the shine was taken out of Jack; And lastly Dick, urg’d on by insult’s goad, Whack’d a coalheaver in the Surrey Road.

But his last fight is fought, and clos’d his reign, And time is call’d to poor King Dick in vain; For Death, that ruthless monarch, gaunt and grim, } Hath cruelly hit out and finished him, } Sent him to earth, and stiffened every limb. } Flower of the Fancy, yet one more adieu! Where shall we look to find a “Pet” like you? Sound be thy sleep, receive my last good night, And may the turf upon thy breast be light, For though in manhood’s prime by fate unshipp’d, Thou wert a boy as brave as ever stripp’d; Time shall fly forward, years shall wax and wane, Ere “we shall look upon thy like again.”

=M.=

BARNEY AARON (“THE STAR OF THE EAST”)—1819–1834.

The subject of this biography first opened his eyes on the bustling world in the populous Goshen of Duke’s Place, Aldgate, on the 21st of November, 1800.

At an early age, as we are told by “Boxiana,” Master Barney distinguished himself by taking his own part, and milling with the utmost impartiality either Jew or Christian boy who might forget the law of _meum_ and _tuum_ in the matter of marbles, tops, kites, balls, or such other personal property as to boyhood appertaineth.

In the year 1819 one Bill Connelly (whose nationality we may suspect to be Hibernian), having assumed the title of the Rosemary Lane Champion, we presume in virtue of his talent, promised the young Israelite a thrashing. To the execution of this promise the juvenile Maccabeus put in a demurrer, and to sustain it hurled defiance in the teeth of Paddy. They met, and after sixteen rounds occupying thirty-three minutes the Philistine was routed, and the children of Israel sang “See the Conquering Hero Comes” in honour of the youthful Jewish warrior.

Aaron next laid hands very heavily on one of “the tribesh,” Manny Lyons, a heavier man by two stone, and superior in length. It was a hard battle for an hour and a quarter, when Barney, worn out by his own exertions rather than the hitting of his adversary, lost the battle from exhaustion, but not his character as a pugilist of high pretensions.

In a second battle with Lyons, Barney in half an hour got his opponent “down to his own weight,” beat him in fifty minutes, and refreshed his laurels, scarcely tarnished by his first defeat.

Ely Bendon, a good fighter and a game man, challenged Barney, and they met on Bow Common. As the P.C. ropes and stakes were not there the fight is not reported. Barney defeated Bendon in three-quarters of an hour.

Samuel Belasco, a brother of Aby and of Israel Belasco, and therefore of the family of “the fighting Belascos,” tried the quality of young Barney at the cost of defeat, as did Angel Hyams, a nephew of the celebrated Dan Mendoza. But the latter affair being interrupted by a magistrate at the seventh round was never brought to a conclusion.

Barney was now “somebody,” and anxious to earn a name, fame, and “monish,” so he went down to see the fights between Arthur Matthewson, of Birmingham, and Israel Belasco, and of Phil Sampson and Birmingham Hall, which took place on Moulsey Hurst on Wednesday, March 19th, 1823.

A purse was announced for a third battle, when Tom Collins (a 10st. 7lbs. pugilist, who afterwards fought Harry Jones) offered himself. There was a pause, when young Barney modestly stepped into the ropes as a candidate. The fighting was all in favour of Barney, who took astonishing liberties with the nob of Collins, so much so as to turn the odds from six to four against him to five to four in his favour. After half an hour’s sharp work Barney’s left hand was injured, and he was reluctantly compelled to discontinue the fight.

The exhibition however gained him immediate friends, and he was at once matched against Ned Stockman for £25 a-side. The battle was decided on the 6th of May, 1823, at Blindlow Heath, Sussex, after Peter Crawley had conquered Dick Acton. Stockman had for his seconds Eales and Dick Curtis; Barney was attended by Jem Ward and Rogers. The battle was gallantly contested for forty minutes and as many rounds, when Stockman gave in severely punished. He could not resist the resolute and heavy hitting of the Jew, and declared he had never met so good a man of his weight. This victory at once stamped Barney as a boxer of talent.

He was now backed against Lenney, who had seen some service in the P.R., and was known as a good and game trial horse, for £50. Their difference of opinion was decided on the 5th of August, 1823, on Harpenden Common, near St. Albans. Barney threw his castor into the ring under the care of Josh Hudson and Peter Crawley, for he had already gained the favour of the big ’uns. Lenney was advised by the learned and eloquent Harry Holt, while Davy Hudson followed on the same side.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The attitude of Lenney was interesting; and he displayed himself to better advantage than usual. The Jew was in a great hurry to feel for his opponent’s nob; but Lenney said, “Wait a bit!” However, they soon went to work; Lenney had the worst of the milling, and also went down. (Six to four on Barney.)

2.—Lenney put in two such severe blows on the Jew’s head that for an instant he was quite abroad, and turned round; but he recovered himself before the end of the round, and Lenney again went down.

3.—It was a horse to a hen, in this early stage of the fight. Lenney received six distinct nobbers on the middle of his head, and went down helpless.

4.—Lenney succeeded in drawing the Jew after him, by which means he was enabled to give Aaron two or three sharp facers. Lenney at the conclusion of the round was on the turf. Ten to one.

5.—The Jew slipped, and went down from a slight blow.

6.—Lenney put in a couple of facers; but nothing could stop the Jew’s eagerness to be milling. (“Stand still,” said Josh; “do not give your opponent an opportunity by drawing you off your ground.”) Both down.

7.—The nob of Lenney was a complete drum for his adversary to beat. Three successive facers were got in, and Lenney floored.

8.—Nothing could be more decisive; Lenney received three facers, and was hit down.

9.—“Take him away; he has no chance.” The Jew boy had it all his own way. Lenney, it is true, did not want for courage, and now and then put in some good blows; but the stamina and courage of the Jew were too good for him. The jobbing of Aaron spoiled Lenney till he went down. Any odds.

10.—It was a pity to see Lenney continue the battle. He was punished all over the ring, and ultimately measured his length on the turf. (“Take him away; it is too bad to let him fight any longer.”)

11, and last.—It was ditto and ditto, repeated till poor Lenney was again on the grass. His backer, we are informed, who betted fifty pounds that he would not be defeated in half an hour, urged him to continue the battle for a few more rounds, as the chance might turn in his favour; but the answer of Lenney was, “I will not fight longer for any man.” It was over in fifteen minutes.

Lenney was not exactly satisfied in his own mind as to his defeat, therefore another match was made, for £20 a-side. This was decided on Moulsey Hurst, on Tuesday, November 11th, 1823, after Josh Hudson had defeated Jem Ward. Aaron, followed by Aby Belasco and Bill Gibbons, threw his hat into the ring; but a quarter of an hour elapsed before Lenney appeared, attended by Harry Holt and Peter Crawley as his seconds. Aaron five and six to four the favourite.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Both the “little ones” appeared to have too much pride in their composition to throw away any time in stopping, so went to work like blacksmiths, till Lenney found himself hanging on the ropes, where he was milled down. Seven to four on Aaron.

2.—Full of pluck, and both pelting away _sans cérémonie_. At this instant, the outer ring was broken, and the confusion was so great that the battle was stopped until order was restored. The Jew napped a heavy hit on the head, but in return Lenney was punished down.

3–8.—Lenney was not deficient in pluck or science, but was evidently overmatched. He was severely milled in all these rounds. (“Foul, foul!” frequently occurred, during the time Lenney was balancing on the ropes, but the latter kept fighting all the while he was in such situations.)

9–11.—These were all fighting rounds, but Lenney had so much the worst of it that ten pounds to one were offered on the Jew.

12–18.—Aaron was so full of gaiety that he bored his man down with the utmost ease. Here some words occurred between Belasco and Lenney. The latter kicked Belasco violently on his leg, and also gave him a blow on his mouth, and said loud enough to be heard by the spectators, “I will not fight any more.” Belasco, with much propriety and forbearance, did not meddle with Lenney, which otherwise might have produced a wrangle. Aaron left the ring instantly, thinking he had won the battle. A great disturbance arose, and the umpire considered the battle at an end; but in consequence of Lenney’s asserting “that what he had said was from passion, declaring that he would not fight any more if Belasco remained in the ring, who acted foul towards him,” the umpire consented the battle should go on again. Aaron observed he did not wish to take advantage of a slip of the tongue made by his opponent, and would most readily fight it out. Order being restored, the boxers recommenced.

19.—It was all up with Lenney; after being milled all over the ring, and his face covered with claret, he was ultimately floored. Any odds.

20.—Aaron punished his adversary in all directions; and in closing at the ropes Barney fibbed Lenney till he went down quite exhausted. (“Take him away; he has no chance.”)

21, and last.—Lenney had scarcely put up his hands at the scratch when Barney floored him like a shot. This was a finisher; and Lenney found it was of no use to continue the contest any longer. Making deductions for the loss of time, the battle occupied about twenty minutes.

REMARKS.—The remarks we have to make on this fight are short, but we are compelled to be severe. Great praise is due to the Jew for not throwing his “own people” over, and likewise in firmly refusing to sell those who had laid money upon him. Thirty pounds, he asserted, were offered him at Hampton to lose the battle, on the morning of fighting, and his backers were well assured of the fact.

Frank Redmond, a brave little man (see note on Redmond, Life of EVANS, _ante_, page 392) under the patronage of Dick Curtis, was backed against Barney Aaron for £25 a-side. The battle was decided on Moulsey Hurst, on Tuesday, December 30th, 1823.

The amateurs were not so numerous as usual (in consequence of the fight between Abraham Belasco and Neale being postponed till the 7th of January); however, those out-and-outers who never miss anything in the shape of a fight were present. At two o’clock Barney, attended by “one of his own peoplesh” and Maurice Delay, threw his hat into the ring; about five minutes afterwards Redmond, genteelly dressed, arm-in-arm with Curtis and Harry Holt, threw his hat out of the ring. The president of the Daffy Club was the stakeholder; and in order to make “all right,” fresh articles were drawn up at Lawrence’s, the “Red Lion,” at Hampton, to obviate the difficulty of fighting in the same ring with Belasco and Neale, as expressed in the original agreement.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Redmond, a tight, well-made man, weighing ten stone, when stripped and in attitude, looked as if he could “do something,” more especially under the guidance of the Pet of the Fancy and the eloquent and elegant _aide-de-camp_ of the Commissary-General, by which he had the advantage of the combined knowledge of the West and East Ends. He was the favourite, five to four. Mister Barney came out of the scale nine stone twelve pounds, as lively as an eel and as spirited as a young colt; with a face full of confidence, in rare condition, with sparkling ogles (each “worth a Jew’s eye”), and with a firm step, he was eager to commence the attack. Redmond faced him smilingly, fresh as a daisy and gay as a lark. Barney surveyed his opponent from head to foot with coolness, and Redmond likewise took measure of Aaron. At length Mister Barney, by way of the compliments of the season, a kind of late Christmas-box, sent his right fist very near Redmond’s head, but Master Frank declined to accept it, and got away. After a short pause, Barney rushed in, caught hold of Redmond, and began the weaving system with some success. Frank endeavoured to fib too, and in the struggle and hammering both went down, Barney undermost. (“Go it, Redmond, never leave him!”)

2–6.—These rounds were full of fibbing, and no lies. Barney the hero in all of them. In the latter round the claret appeared on Redmond’s nose. (Six to four on the Jew.)

7–10.—Redmond proved himself nothing else but a good little man; but he had little chance as yet to win; that is to say, he had not changed the battle in his favour, and the odds had left him. In the last round Barney planted two good nobbing hits, right and left.

11.—Redmond had a little turn here, and gave Mister Barney two out-and-outers upon his Mosaic index. These made his eloquent second exclaim, in Chesterfieldian style: “Elegant! beautiful! and so handsomely done, too. Those were immense hits, ’pon honour. Be so good as to repeat them, Mr. Redmond. About four more such elegant blows will win you the battle. That circumstance accomplished, I will take you under my wing, among the heavy ones, on Sunday next, in Hyde Park.” (“Yes,” said Barney, “so you shall; but I must dress him well before you take him out, Harry.”) The Jew tried the fibbing system, but ultimately was undermost when down.

12.—This was a sharp round altogether; and the finish of it was, Barney down. (“Reddy, my boy,” said the Pet, “he can’t hurt you now; his hands are gone; and if you are only half as game as your dog, you’ll win it in a canter. Why, it’s Bermondsey tan-pits to a leather apron in your favour!”)

13–17.—Barney had decidedly the best of all these rounds. He fibbed his opponent with the nimbleness of a drummer practising the roll-call. The Jew behaved very manly in the last round; he let Redmond down, holding up both his hands, when he might have dealt out punishment. (“Bravo, Barney!” from Christians and Jews; and lots of applause.)

18.—The fight was now drawing to the finish, from the execution done by the Jew. He put in four desperate jobbers on Redmond’s nob, and sent him down. (Seven to four and two to one.)

19–21.—Redmond’s nose was clareted, and his face and right eye exhibited sharp punishment. Barney had it all his own way, driving his man over the ring till down.

22–24.—Redmond fought like a man, but was getting groggy. Both down. (“Vat a peautiful hitter!” said a Sheeny; “it’s as shafe as the Bank. I shall vin my monish to-day. Look, Israel, look how he nicks him, as the man shaid about the jackdaw. Moses, Levy, Benjamin, Ikey, Sholomons, and David, only look at him—so help me, it’s Dutch Sam come to life again!”)

25.—It was three to one against Redmond. Poor Frank had no chance, and was sent down. (“Take him away.”)

26.—Redmond would not listen to surrender, and endeavoured to fight, till he went down.

27.—Barney did as he liked, till Redmond measured his length on the ground. (“Take him away!” was now vociferated from all parts of the ring.)

28.—Redmond down in no time. (Twenty to one. It was now Fonthill Abbey to a cowshed.)

29, and last.—The game of Redmond was so good that he came staggering to the scratch to have another shy, but was floored in a twinkling. It was over in thirty-two minutes.

REMARKS.—Barney did not win without napping it sharply. In the twenty-second round, he exhibited the finishing traits of Randall. Barney, when tired of administering punishment to Redmond with his left hand, changed his adversary in his arms, and fibbed him down with his right. We hope Barney will listen to advice which has been often given to other pugilists who laughed at all cautions in prosperity, but who have had to lament their neglect in the day of trouble. Barney, remember to keep good company, take care of your health, but above all things never show yourself a fighting man, except in the P.R. Let not Mr. Lushington scrape acquaintance with you. Bear the above things in your mind, and if you do not make your fortune by following them you are sure to be respected, and never want a friend.

Mister Barney returned to town in first-rate style, and showed with all the honours of conquest at Howard’s Coffee House, St. James’s Place, Houndsditch. It was crowded to excess, and many West End swells were present. On the Thursday after the fight Frank Redmond, in true English style, offered his hand to Barney as the best man at Howard’s, and they drank to each other’s health, when Barney put his hand into his pocket and presented his brave opponent with a sovereign for “expenses.”

Peter Warren having expressed his anxiety to try his luck with Aaron, a match was made between them for £50 a-side. This trial of skill was decided on Tuesday, April 6th, 1824, at Colnbrook, seventeen miles from London.

The road was rather thin of company; but the Sheenies, who were numerous and full of fun, gave a life to the scene which otherwise it would not have possessed. Barney and his backers got over the ground in gay style, under the patronage of the president of the Daffy Club. An open barouche conveyed the “little Dutch Sam” to the scene of action. When time was called Peter Warren, attended by his backers, showed, and followed by Maurice Delay and Jem Ward as his seconds, in the most polite way introduced his castor within the ropes. Barney in a minute afterwards threw his beaver up, waited upon by Nathan and Aby Belasco. The colours—yellow for Barney and green for Peter—were tied to the stakes. “Let us have a quiet fight,” said Warren to the seconds of Barney. “Certainly,” was the reply. “I shall be as good friends as ever with you, Peter, after the fight is over,” remarked Aaron.

It would be waste of space to report _in extenso_ this and some other battles of the clever light weight, whose claim to a page in the history of pugilism is nevertheless undeniable. The battle was simply a struggle of game, endurance, strength, and obstinacy against skill, straight—and therefore swift—hitting, and a ready recourse to those changes of tactics on the spur of the moment which mark the skilful boxer, and almost reduce such contests to a question of time. On this occasion twenty-three minutes and twenty-nine rounds sufficed to render poor Peter Warren deaf to the call of “time.”

Barney was driven off the ground in style, and arrived at an early hour in London. Warren was brought back to the “Magpies,” at Colnbrook, and put to bed for a few hours. Peter exhibited much punishment about the head. A naval officer, who had lost an arm in the defence of his country, stepped forward, and in the most generous manner ordered a post-chaise at his own expense from Cranford Bridge, in which he had Peter conveyed to his residence in Whitechapel. The gallant tar also visited Warren the next morning and administered a golden solatium to his sores.

A “chant of victory,” indited by “A Singer of Israel,” deserves to be rescued from oblivion:—

BARNEY AARON.

TUNE.—_Rose of Sharon, Rose of Sharon._

HOUNDSDITCH and the Lanes rejoice, Where the mart for clothes is; Hebrew science lifts its voice, Aaron proves a Moses.

Barney Aaron! Barney Aaron! Through the Sin-a-gog and streets, Rabbis, with their oily air on, Shout his name and praise his feats— Milling—fibbing— Muzzling—cribbing— Blood-letting like a doctor’s lance— Setting teeth chattering, Christianity shattering, And, Joshua-like, making the moon-eyes dance.

Cutler Street is like a fair; Barney Aaron! Barney Aaron! All the little Jews declare, Rows his keel like Charon. Old Mendoza—Young Mendoza— Both are known and famed in fight; But Aaron is a priest-like poser, A sacrificing Israelite. Science—defiance— Attitude—latitude— In the _sanctum sanctorum_ he marks the “points;” In sackcloth and ashes, The shewbread he slashes, And to Pentecost sends their uncircumcised joints.

Shibboleth among the tribes Is Barney Aaron! Barney Aaron! Some to bet have taken bribes, And even’d odds to share on: Barney fights _against_ “the Cross,” Like ancient unbelievers; “Flats” are “naturals” by the loss; “Sharps” are gainers and receivers: And sweet Miss Sharon! And nishe Miss Aaron! Eat veal so white in the fistic cause, And with Seager’s Daffy Their tongues are chaffy, For Aceldama’s victory brings monish and applause.

Barney, by his conquests, had made way both in the opinions of the Christians and the Jews, and ranked high in the lists of pugilistic fame, as one of the best “light-weights.” Aaron was matched for £100 a-side against Arthur Matthewson, from Birmingham, a boxer of well-earned provincial celebrity, and no little London fame, from his victory over Israel Belasco. Matthewson had never been defeated.[56] The tourney came off on Monday, June 21st, 1824; Aaron being seconded by a well-known Israelitish sporting man, Mr. Nathan, and Aby Belasco, while Matthewson was seconded by the two Harrys, Holt and Harmer, the host of the “Plough,” in Smithfield. Although the battle was waged with varying success until the fifty-sixth round, and ten to one was several times offered on Aaron, in the fifty-seventh and last round a desperate straight hit in the throat floored poor Barney like a shot, and he was picked up deaf to the call of “time,” at the end of one hour and ten minutes from the first round. In a few minutes Aaron recovered, and could hardly be persuaded he had lost the fight. But, “who can control the uncertain chance of war?” beaten he was, but not disgraced. On his arrival in town he addressed a letter to the editor of _Life in London_, in which, after a quantity of Eganian balderdash, he challenged Arthur Matthewson to meet him “for two hundred sovereigns, to fight on a stage, as I am determined,” he said, “never to subject myself to a repetition of such treatment” (?), &c., &c. A business-sort of P.S. adds, “I shall be happy to meet the friends of Richard Curtis at my benefit on the 6th of July, to make an agreement to fight.”

Nothing came of this at that time, as has been seen already in the Life of CURTIS. However, the gallant Dick Hares determined to try the mettle of Barney Aaron; £50 a-side was posted. On Tuesday, March 21st, 1826, No Man’s Land, near St. Albans, was the chosen battleground, whereon the Israelites mustered strongly in favour of the Star of the East. Hares too was not neglected by his patrons. Hares in all his battles had proved himself a brave man, but the youth of Barney made him the favourite at six and seven to four.

It was nearly two o’clock before the men entered the ropes, in consequence of a mistaken “tip” that the battle would take place on Colney Heath, where several persons had assembled to witness the contest. Barney first threw his hat into the ring, followed by the John Bull Fighter and his friend and patron, Mr. Nathan. Hares was seconded by Peter Crawley and Paddington Jones.

The fight was a one-sided affair. Youth, science, activity, were on the side of the Jew, and after forty-three rounds of lively fighting, in which poor Hares was receiver-general, a claim of a “foul blow” was raised on the part of Hares, who was taken from the ring, but the claim disallowed, and the referee accordingly awarded the stakes to Aaron.

A _jeu d’esprit_ which appeared in the _Morning Chronicle_ bears marks of being the production of a scholar. It is in the form of “An Epistle from Mynheer Van Haagen in London to Mynheer Van Kloppen in Amsterdam,” and shall here find a place:—

“London, March 22nd, 1826.

“DEAR COUSIN,—Agreeably to my promise to write to you whenever I met with anything worth recording, I proceed to give you a description of an English fight, or, as it is here termed, a ‘prize battle,’ I witnessed on Tuesday last; and in order that you may the better understand it, I present you with a few remarks on the system of pugilism as practised here, for which I am indebted to our mutual friend Mr. Boxer. The English are naturally a brave and courageous people, but less sanguinary in its fullest extent than their Continental neighbours; hence nothing is more common than fights between boys of from ten to twelve years of age, and similar exhibitions in the public streets by men of the lower orders. The boy or the man who, from the want of sufficient physical strength, or lacking the appetite for a good beating, is obliged to succumb, soon gets tired of the sport; but he who, possessing a strong, muscular frame, and the courage of a bull-dog, frequently beats his man, becomes vain of his powers, and probably for the want of better or more honourable employment, determines to exhibit himself at a sparring match. Here then we have him in the university pugilistic; and as in a National school boys are taught to mark in sand before they write with a pen, so here the neophytes thump each other with gloves well stuffed before they exercise with their naked fists. It is here where the Fancy (_i.e._, those who have a gusto for smashed faces and broken ribs) judge of their qualifications, and if found worthy some of the Fancy make a match—that is, subscribe a sum of money for the pugilists to contend for. This, Mr. Boxer assures me, is the origin of most of the pugilistic heroes. Having thus prepared you, I shall briefly state the manner of the last fight. The combatants were a Christian and a Jew—the Jew about twenty-six years of age, and the Christian some ten years older. I shall not here trouble you with the art of betting on fights, but bring you at once to the ring, which is a square space kept clear by stakes and ropes for the combatants to engage in. The men appear stripped to their waists, attended each by seconds or assistants, whose business is to encourage the men, and pick them up when they fall; for here, when a man falls in fighting, his adversary immediately leaves him till he rises and puts himself in an attitude of defence, the time allowed for which is half a minute, at the expiration of which, if the man be not ready, he loses the fight. The Jew from the commencement had the decided advantage; it was also evident he felt confident of success; he hit his man with amazing force, and absolutely spoilt (for the time) every feature of his countenance, while he himself escaped with scarce a mark. My greatest surprise is how it was possible for a man to receive so much beating and still be inclined to renew the combat. Such was, however, the case; and after fighting three-quarters of an hour, a cry was raised of ‘foul,’ meaning that the Jew had struck his man when he was on the ground. The ring was immediately broken into; the combatants moved from the arena, each party claiming the victory; an appeal was, however, made to the judges, who decided the Jew was entitled to the stakes—viz., fifty pounds. Having thus given you a narrative of the fight, I shall, at my earliest leisure, send you my reflections thereon, and whether, in a moral point of view as well as national, these contests ought to be tolerated or suppressed.

“Believe me to be, dear Cousin, “Sincerely yours, “JAN VAN HAAGEN.”

A match, at length arranged for £100 a-side, was made between Barney Aaron and Dick Curtis. This scientific battle was decided upon a stage, at Andover, on Tuesday, February 27th, 1827. Curtis was declared the winner in fifty minutes, Barney, by a blow in his throat, being again hit out of “time,” for the details of which we refer our readers to the Memoir of CURTIS, _ante_, p. 492.

The friends of Barney after this defeat rallied round him, and his benefit, at the Coburg Theatre, on Saturday, March 18th, 1827, was a bumper. The set-to between Curtis and Barney was pronounced one of the finest things ever witnessed in the art of self-defence.

Frank Redmond was not satisfied as to his former defeat, and solicited another trial with Barney Aaron. This battle, for £50 a-side, was to have been decided on Tuesday, August 21st, 1827. It however turned out no fight. Chertsey, twenty miles from London, was named as the rallying point. At Moulsey Hurst the “beaks” were in sight, and prudence suggested it would be unwise to form a ring. The ring was made in a field near Fordwater Bridge, about a mile from Chertsey. About half-past twelve o’clock a violent storm of thunder and lightning, accompanied by sheets of water, compelled the people round the ring to seek shelter from the effects of the “pitiless pelting shower.” The storm having abated, and the time of peeling arrived, Barney, followed by Mr. Nathan and Josh Hudson as his seconds, threw his hat into the ring. After waiting about ten minutes, and Mr. Redmond having been called for several times, Barney claimed the blunt, and retired from the ropes. Dick Curtis now came galloping up out of breath, and informed the disappointed assemblage that Redmond had been stopped by an officer with a warrant. The lads who had got over twenty miles of ground, and many of them received a precious wetting into the bargain, felt themselves not a little vexed at such treatment, but there was no help for it. The lads however would not be disappointed.

Redmond’s friends refused to forfeit, on the plea that an officer, by the order of a magistrate, had prevented Redmond meeting Barney Aaron in the ring, which in the absence of evidence of collusion was a valid objection to forfeiture.

The stakes however were given up to Barney Aaron, which so displeased Redmond that he threw up his hat and offered Barney to fight upon the spot.

To put the question of mastery to rest, a third match for £50 a-side was made. This battle was decided on Tuesday, October 23rd, 1827, at No Man’s Land. Redmond entered the ring amidst loud applause. Barney was the favourite, at five to four; but Redmond was considered altogether a better man than at the period mentioned, and several of his friends not only took him for choice, but laid the odds upon him. Barney was attended by Josh Hudson and Nathan, and Redmond by Dick Curtis and Ned Neale.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Both combatants appeared in excellent condition, and determined not to give half a chance away. The attitudes of the men were interesting—the _tout ensemble_ of Redmond capital, and his friends strongly anticipated victory. Redmond tried to draw the Jew to work, but the Star of the East was not to be had. Barney at length perceived an opening, and hit out, but Redmond stopped him cleverly. (“Bravo!”) The Jew went to work in right earnest, and planted some nobbers in excellent style. Redmond with the most determined courage fought his way into a rally; and give and take was the criterion, until they both went down, Barney undermost.

2.—Barney’s frontispiece showed punishment. (“First blood!” exclaimed Jack Randall.) The nob of Redmond looked flushed and peppered. Cautious, but both ready to administer mischief. Redmond with considerable science stopped the efforts of Barney, and also put in a tremendous nozzler. The Jew never flinched, but returned like a good one. Hit for hit for a short period. In struggling at the ropes, Barney endeavoured to fib his adversary. Both down.

3.—A long pause. Dangerous customers to each other, therefore a look-out necessary. (“You hold your arms too low,” said Josh to Barney.) Each made offers in turn, and then retreated. Redmond stopped a rum one in capital style. Barney crept in, as it were, and put in a noser. Barney took the lead, and bored Redmond to the ropes, and tried to fib, until his adversary went down on his knees.

4.—A pause. Barney went to work, but received a precious stopper on his dial. (“That’s the way to do it,” said Neale.) A short rally against the ropes, until both down.

5.—Redmond’s face was red, and he was rather on the piping system. Barney went in on the bustle; but Redmond jobbed and jobbed again with great success. (“Frank will win!” was the cry.) Barney, on his mettle, did not seem “to like it at the price,” and went resolutely in to his work; smashing on both sides, until the combatants were down.

6.—Redmond had now a little the best of it; at all events Jack was as good as his master. Redmond with his left hand planted a bodier. Barney careful; and Redmond put down his hands. (“To set the thing a-going,” said Josh, “I’ll bet £20 to £10.”) The fight had now become extremely interesting—the attitudes of the men pretty, and both confident of success. A long pause, counter-hits. Barney caught hold of Redmond and fibbed him down. Redmond, with great gaiety, jumped up again as if nothing was the matter, receiving great applause from Curtis and his friends.

7.—Two minutes nearly elapsed, and no blow, so great was the caution on both sides. Redmond’s left hand touched the body of Barney, but the latter returned it with interest on the left peeper of Redmond. Frank planted two heavy blows right and left on Barney’s face (immense applause by the boys from Bermondsey), and got away in style. Barney did not like this treatment, and went in to do mischief, but again napped it on the dial. In closing Barney was undermost. This round was decidedly in favour of Redmond, and six to four was betted on his winning.

8.—Frank was a little out of wind by his exertions in the last round. Barney made an excellent stop. Redmond, not to be denied, was as active as a dancing-master, hopping all over the ring, and putting his antagonist a little on the fret, until he planted a severe facer. The Jew rather severely felt for Redmond’s listener in return. Barney kept close to his work, and paid Redmond on his canister as he was going down. (The Sheenies began now to open their chaffing-boxes, and sing out, “Vat a peautiful hitter! Barney’s ash good ash gold!”)

9.—This was a short round, but peppery, both giving and receiving punishment. In struggling both were down.

10.—Frank was the hero of the round. He jobbed his opponent, and got away like a first-rate miller. (“The Jew’s napping it in style,” said the friends of Curtis.) Both went down.

11.—The Jew’s head showed the handiwork of Redmond, but in this round the Star of the East took the lead. Some sharp counter-hitting; Redmond napped it in his ear, and the round was finished by Franky finding himself on the grass.

12.—Good fighting on both sides. Redmond went down to avoid punishment.

13.—The Sheenies were now all alive, and began to sport their blunt. Barney took great liberties with the head of his opponent, and followed Redmond close to the ropes, the latter fighting at points like a clever little fellow, but nevertheless he had the worst of it, until he was thrown.

14.—Barney now showed himself to advantage, as Redmond was a little bit winded. The Jew planted his blows right and left, yet Frank was determined to be with him. At the finish of the round Redmond became weak, and went down.

15.—Cut away, hit for hit, give and take, as fast as any brave fellows could, on both sides. Barney at length got the turn, put in a teaser, and also hit Franky down.

16.—The Jew, gay as a lark, commenced offensive operations, and cut away. Redmond, equally gay, was not behindhand. Barney napped one on his canister, but he still kept to his work, until Redmond got down at the ropes.

17.—Frank endeavoured to get out of mischief, but the Star of the East would not be denied. Fighting like fun, until Redmond was sent on the grass.

18.—This was a fine fighting round; and if Barney showed pluck, the courage displayed by Redmond was equal to his adversary. Counter-hits. In closing Redmond broke away. Milling was soon afterwards resumed, and Frank was hit down.

19.—Barney kept the lead. He planted his blows successfully, and also bored Redmond to the ropes. Here Frank caught it severely, but the Jew did not get off without summat. Redmond down.

20.—Weakness on both sides; in fact, the pepper-box had been handed from one to the other without any mistake. Barney had been considerably punished, and Redmond had taken lots of milling. Barney appeared the stronger man of the two, and Redmond retreated before his opponent to the ropes. In a struggle both were down.

21–37.—Merry milling, with varying success. The hitting in favour of Aaron, the throws occasionally to Redmond, making the superiority doubtful. In the 31st round, and again in the 35th, Aaron fought Redmond down on to his knees. In the 36th Redmond sent down Aaron. In the 37th Redmond, exhausted by his exertions, went down weak.

38.—Aaron was deliberate and cautious, although Frank was evidently on the totter. Redmond was ultimately sent down.

39.—(Frank would not allow his seconds to give in for him. Mr. Nathan crossed the ring to Redmond, as the latter was sitting on Josh Hudson’s knee, and advised Redmond to leave off—a most improper proceeding. Frank rose indignantly to his feet and pushed him aside.) Exchanges, and Redmond down, amid great confusion.

40, 41.—Redmond game, but unable to stop his adversary or return with precision; was down.

42, and last.—Frank would not say “No!” There was a short bustle, and Redmond was pushed rather than hit down. Time, one hour and ten minutes.

REMARKS.—This was not only a game, but in several rounds a scientific mill; and in the opinion of most of the admirers of boxing present, Redmond had profited much by his lessons from Curtis. His style of fighting was evidently improved, and for a long time the contest was considered doubtful; indeed, by several persons Redmond was chosen as the conqueror. Barney is a cool and determined boxer; and after Curtis we place him next on the list of light weights. Barney exhibited terrible marks of punishment about his head—much more than when he fought Curtis. Redmond received several heavy body blows, and was carried out of the ring; but Barney did not quit the ropes in a very lively state. Upon the whole, we never witnessed a more manly fight. Aaron’s forbearance when his man was helpless, and Redmond’s game, were alike conspicuous.

Aaron’s next subsequent battles were with Marsh Bateman, for £40, whom he beat on Landsdowne Racecourse, July 4th, 1828, and with Harry Jones, by whom he was beaten, November 21st, 1828, at the “Old Barge House,” Woolwich, in fifteen minutes, eighteen rounds, being much overmatched. He afterwards, May 26th, 1829, beat Jem Raines, at Navestock Green, Essex, in thirteen rounds, occupying twenty-eight minutes. His last battle was with Tom Smith, the East End Sailor Boy, by whom he was defeated, at Greenstreet Green, Kent, April 1st, 1834, in twenty rounds, twenty-six minutes—youth against age, Smith being twenty-seven, Aaron thirty-four.

From this period Aaron retired from the arena, but for many years was an attendant at the ring-side. He followed his trade of an East End dealer in fish, and was a frequent purveyor of edibles to the voyagers down the river on the then frequent pugilistic excursions. Barney died in Whitechapel, in 1850, being up to his last days an authority in all fistic matters among “the peoplesh” of Houndsditch.

HARRY JONES (“THE SAILOR BOY”). 1822–1834.

The claim of Harry Jones to a niche in our gallery of pugilistic celebrities is in a great degree of a negative character, from the eminence of some of the men whom he contended with and did _not_ beat, rather than the number of second-raters whose pretensions he disposed of. Ned Stockman (three times), Young Dutch Sam, Barney Aaron, Frank Redmond, and Perkins (the last three of whom he beat), entitle him to a place; we shall not, however, occupy space by the reports of his minor battles.

Harry Jones was born on the 4th of April, 1804, in Meadow Street, Bristol, a city eminent in fistic annals for the boxers it has given birth to. At an early age Harry chose a sea life, and was apprenticed on board the “Staunton,” East-Indiaman, Captain Harris, with whom he made three voyages. The traditions of his birthplace, and the fame and profit which had been achieved by the Belchers, Pearce, and other champions, were among the Sailor Boy’s early memories, and he determined to try his fortune in the P.R. This was in his eighteenth year, and bidding adieu to the service of the Hon. E. I. C., he made his way to Moulsey Hurst, on the day when Oliver and Abbot settled their differences, November 6th, 1821. Jones had already shown his skill with the gloves at the Fives Court, and when a subscription purse had been made for a second fight, the Sailor Boy threw in his hat, and was opposed by Latham, also known as a sparrer in the schools. Belasco and Tom Jones picked up the Sailor Boy; Dolly Smith and Phil Sampson did the like for Latham. It was an interesting battle for twenty-six rounds, occupying thirty-three minutes, when Latham floored Jones by a hit in the short ribs. Jones tried three more rounds, but he was unable to recover his wind, and gave in.

Undeterred by this stumble on the threshold, the Sailor Boy went in for a purse against Ned Stockman, then called “Bill Eales’s Chicken.” The fight was at Rutledge Common, Edgeware Road, on 29th January, 1822. It was a remarkable battle on the part of Stockman, who, in thirty-eight rounds and forty minutes, compelled the Sailor Boy to haul down his colours.

Harry Jones could not consider that his defeat by Stockman was a real trial of his quality, and, on June 12th, 1822, after Jem Ward had defeated Acton at Moulsey, he entered the ring for a new trial. Peter Crawley and Ned Turner were counsel for Stockman, and Jones’s interests were looked after by Jack O’Donnel and Abbot. After a few minutes’ sparring Jones rushed in and endeavoured to fib his opponent, but in the struggle to obtain the throw Jones sprained his ankle so severely as to be unable to continue the fight.

After these unfortunate ring exhibitions Jones fought several by-battles with commoners. Watts (a butcher) and Riley (a Westminster boxer) were beaten by him, and Peter Brookery, the Fishmonger, beat him in three-quarters of an hour.

In consequence of some chaffing at Tom Cribb’s benefit at the Fives Court, on Tuesday, June 1st, 1824, a match was made between Jones and Brown (the Sprig of Myrtle). A patron of boxing having offered a purse for the winner, Jones proposed, and Brown snapped at the offer, to fight it out that day. Accordingly, with Jack Randall as time-keeper, Dick Acton and Gipsy Cooper as seconds for Harry, and Tom Oliver and Tisdale for the Sprig, the party started for Paddington Fields, where, in nineteen rounds, lasting thirty-three minutes, the Sailor Boy achieved his first ring victory. This raised the reputation of Jones considerably.

About this time an amusing anecdote of Jones appeared in the newspapers. One Jem Aldridge, known as “the fighting typo,” backed himself for £5 against Jones. The Sailor Boy at this time, as “most people fall in love some time or other,” was engaged to a Miss Evans, and not keeping an exact “note of time,” his diary was in such confusion that he had fixed June 28th, 1824, for both matches. Not seeing how he could honourably put off either his bride or his challenger, he met both; and soon after he had sworn eternal fidelity, and the etceteras connected with the ceremony of “taking this woman to be thy wedded wife,” Harry started off to fulfil the other engagement. It is said that so lightly did he value his opponent that he merely consigned the lady to the gent who had given her away, with the remark, “Take care of my wife, like a good fellow, till I come back,” and bolted off to the field of battle, in Copenhagen Fields, near Pentonville. Arriving on the ground somewhat flushed and out of breath, the Sailor Boy shook hands with the typo, and to work they went. In twelve minutes Mr. Aldridge declined any further favours at the hands of Harry, who, pocketing the fiver, returned to the wedding party, and spent the evening in fun and merriment until “the throwing of the stocking, O!”—thus bringing off the “double event.”

Dick Price, a well-known butcher at Oxford, weighing upwards of eleven stone, and five feet eight inches in height, had given so much offence among his brother kill-bulls by his boasting and quarrelsomeness that they determined to give him a turn. A Mr. Parker, of Oxford, brought down Jones in butcher’s garb, and Price insulting him in the market, “Mr. Parker’s plant,” as he was called, proposed a fight. To this Price, with an expression of pity and contempt for the “Lunnon boy,” consented. At six o’clock in the evening of Wednesday, July 28th, 1824, the ring was pitched in Picksey Meadow, near Oxford. The combatants met first in Port Meadow, but an authority of the University city showed his awful phiz, and the crowd was put to the rout. Jones, after “kidding” his man to come in, played his part so well that in the ninth round he had him down to his own weight, and ten to one was offered by the undergrads and others, but no takers. At the end of the fifteenth round poor Price was at no price, when lo! after turning to avoid, he slung himself round again, and with a chance backhander caught Jones such an almighty whack on the left ear that down he went, and was deaf to time! The affair lasted in all twenty-one minutes. Jones felt immensely mortified, and challenged Price to a second meeting, but the latter had discovered his customer, and refused any further dealings. “I insist upon your giving me another chance,” urged the Sailor Boy. “I will,” said Price, “before the beaks;” so he applied to the Bench for a summons for a threatened assault, and the Sailor Boy was held to bail to keep the peace towards the complainant for twelve calendar months. “It’s lucky,” said the Sailor Boy, “that the bond only extends to Dicky Price. I must bid farewell to Oxford and look elsewhere for a job.”

Tom Reidie, so well known as “the Colonel” for many years afterwards, among the frequenters of the Leicester Square and Coventry Street “hells,” as the gaming-houses were then entitled, was hastily matched with Jones. The men met in the fields at the back of the “Red House,” Battersea (now Battersea Park), on the 4th August, 1824. The affair was a tiresome exhibition. Reidie, nimble as a harlequin, retreated, whereon his man advanced, and would not be forced to a rally, getting down so provokingly that Harry was several times well-nigh irritated into a foul blow. The bystanders, too—many of them West End swells—pulled up the stakes, and the ropes were soon missing. Accordingly, as a reporter says, “the men were fighting out of one field into another, and Jones could not get a chance of planting a successful hit.” “Only stand still,” said the Sailor Boy, “and see what will be the matter.” “I’m not such a fool, although I may look one,” replied the Colonel, and then with his thumb to his nose he executed a backward double shuffle, nobbed Harry slightly, and slipped his heels from under his hams, dropping on his South Pole with a grin. After two hours and three-quarters, in which both men were but slightly punished, Reidie’s tactics triumphed, and Jones was so exhausted and baffled that he resigned the contest!

On September 21st, 1824, Jones, for the third time, entered the lists with Ned Stockman, at the “Old May Pole,” Epping Forest, for £25 a-side. After seventeen rounds, twenty-three minutes, Jones was again defeated.

A week only after this defeat, after the bull-baiting on Old Oak Common, on Tuesday, September 28th, 1824, Frederick Edwards, a coachman, of some pretensions to boxing, offered to meet Jones for a purse that had been subscribed. Stockman seconded Jones, Reuben Martin united upon Edwards. Jones’s skill, combined with caution, enabled him to get over the ground in style, and in an hour and a half the coachman gave in, confessing that even a good amateur must knock under to a professional.

Mike Curtain was matched against Jones for a trifling stake, and in October, 1824, Battersea Fields being again the scene of action, Jones defeated him in seventy-five minutes.

After the disappointment with Young Dutch Sam and Lenney, at the “Old Barge House,” March 25th, 1825, Harry Jones fought a horse-keeper, nicknamed Captain Corduroy. The battle, which is fully reported in “Boxiana,” lasted twenty minutes, when the Sailor Boy was hailed as victor.

The following report, from the pen of a distinguished _littérateur_, then on the staff of the _Morning Chronicle_, gives a lively picture of an extemporised fight of the period:—

“Old Oak Common, six miles from London, on the Harrow Road, and formerly the scene of many a sturdy battle between men of high pugilistic character, was, on Thursday, September 8th, 1825, honoured by the presence of a select assemblage of the mobocracy, to witness a subscription mill between Harry Jones, the Sailor Boy, and a Westminster champion, well known by the poetical appellation of ‘Tommy O’Lynn,’ but whose name in the parish books stands as Jemmy Wilson. Jemmy, it seems, had long been the drake of the walk in Duck Lane; and in the various _rencontres_ in which he happened to be engaged with the heroic youths of that neighbourhood he invariably came off with _éclat_. This circumstance rendered him a great favourite among the ‘donkey dragoons,’ of which he is a member; and they determined, when an opportunity offered, to afford him the means of distinguishing himself in a way which might do honour to the school from which he sprang. This opportunity happily occurred at the ‘Coopers’ Arms,’ in Strutton Ground. A large party being assembled over their ‘pots of heavy’ in that place of social resort, some remarks were made on the want of diversion among the operative classes of society, while the nobs were pickling their carcasses on the seashore. Various proposals were made for a day’s fun. Some were for ‘grabbing a bull,’ and taking him out for an airing, a recreation not then obsolete; others were for a dog-fight, and more for a duck-hunt; but to all these there were objections; and Mr. Martin’s Act was mentioned as an ugly bar to such exhilarating amusements. At last a mill was suggested, as more congenial to all their feelings; and the Sailor Boy being present, it was resolved that he and Tommy O’Lynn should have a ‘shy’ for a subscription purse. Both men were agreeable, and Thursday was fixed for the outing. The hat went round at the moment, and about five pounds were collected, which, with what might be contributed on the ground, was considered a tolerably fair prize. At an early hour on Thursday morning the lads were on the move, and the avenues leading to the Harrow Road presented a lively succession of donkey equipages, while the banks of the Paddington Canal, and the fields from the Uxbridge Road, were covered with groups of motley characters, all directing their steps towards the appointed spot. At one o’clock the assemblage was very numerous. Among the throng we noticed many Westminster celebrities, particularly Bill Gibbons and Caleb Baldwin. The former was present merely as an amateur, while the latter, with a jar of ‘blue ruin’ (copiously diluted from the neighbouring canal), endeavoured to enliven the spirits of his patrons, and to furnish the pockets of his own inexpressibles. A long list of the Boxing School was likewise on the ground, Tom Oliver acting as master of the ceremonies, stakeholder, and otherwise dictator of the day.

“The Sailor Boy was early on the ground, having been brought in prime style by Tom Callas and a couple of his friends in a ‘one-horse shay.’ He looked well, and was confident of winning. Tommy O’Lynn was said to be at a public-house on the Harrow Road, under the care of a ‘gemman’ whose delicacy was such that he did not wish his name to be mentioned, and was therefore described as the ‘Great Unknown.’ At two o’clock notice was sent to the ‘Great Unknown’ to bring his man, and in a short time he arrived with his shay-cart, drawn by his celebrated trotter, and was received with as cordial a cheer as if he were Sir Walter Scott or the Right Honourable George Canning, of which honour he seemed deeply sensible, and ‘blushed like a bone-boiler’—which, we believe, is the profession to which he belongs.

“All being in readiness the ring was beaten out and a commodious area formed.” The men soon made their appearance on opposite sides of the ring, throwing in their ‘castors’ with mutual good humour. On stripping, the Sailor Boy was evidently the heavier and stronger of the two, and the odds were announced at seven to four in his favour. Tommy O’Lynn was regularly got up for the occasion. Unlike his great ancestor, Brian O’Lynn, who, as history informs us, ‘had no breeches to wear,’ he advanced in all the pride of a new pair of tape-bound flannel drawers, high-low shoes, and new cotton ‘calf-covers.’ On pulling down his knowledge-box by the forelock of its thatch, he was rapturously welcomed by the cry of ‘Tommy for ever!’ while the ‘Great Unknown’ whispered in his ear the words of the favourite Scotch song—

‘Now’s the time and now’s the hour, See the front of battle lour.’

Tommy grinned a grin, and prepared for action. He was attended by Charlsy Brennan and Young Gas, while the Sailor Boy claimed the kind offices of Alec Reid, and that bright ornament to gymnastics and lyrics Frosty-faced Fogo.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The positions of both men were good. Tommy especially threw himself into a studied attitude. The Sailor Boy tried to bring him out, and made two feints with his right. Tommy was steady, but at last Jones let fly with his right and caught him on the nob. Tommy was awake, and returned on the cheek, when after a short rally they closed, and went down together, Tommy undermost.

2.—Jones, anxious to begin, made a feint, and then hit out with his left, but was well stopped. Jones, still busy, rattled in, and caught Tommy on the ivories; a spirited rally followed, in which Jones caught his man round the neck, and pegged at his belly with great effect. He at last closed and threw him. (“Vait,” cried a costermonger, “only let Tommy give him a touch of his own, and you’ll see!” “Ve’ll vait,” cried another, “but I’m blowed if I don’t think ve’ll vait long enough!”)

3.—Tommy came up active, but received a jobber in the dexter ogle, and in getting away dropped. The Great Unknown began to look serious, and was seen to scratch his block in a most significant manner.

4.—Jones was now perfectly acquainted with his man, and resolved to finish him without delay. He went in boldly with his left, but was stopped by Tommy throwing up his right and pitching back his head. Jones, however, followed him with his right, and hit him severely over his left guard. A desperate rally followed, in which Jones administered severe punishment, and Tommy went down piping and bleeding. It was now a donkey to a tom-tit in Jones’s favour, but nobody would take the odds.

5, and last.—Tommy planted a body blow, but with little force. Jones returned on his smeller, and another desperate rally followed, in which Tommy had it in all directions, and was at last hit down senseless by a straight right-hander, Jones winning without a scratch in six minutes.

REMARKS.—Tommy may shine among the street heroes in the back slums, but won’t do in the Ring. He was too light, and not sufficiently fed, for Jones. Gibbons recommended, from his greyhound condition, that he should go into training for what he called a “natommy vivante,” and travel the country as “own brother to the living skeleton.”

Jones, who had been gaining ground in the sparring world, and also in the estimation of his friends, was backed against Young Dutch Sam for £25 a-side. This battle was decided at Shere Mere, on the borders of Bedfordshire, on Tuesday, the 18th of October, 1825. Sam was seconded by Dick and George Curtis, and Jones by Alec Reid and Goodman. Jones was signally defeated in eighteen rounds, occupying fifty-three minutes. See Life of YOUNG DUTCH SAM, _ante_, p. 358.

At No Man’s Land, four miles beyond St. Albans, on Tuesday, March 14th, 1826, after Donovan had defeated Jennings, a subscription purse of five pounds was collected, when a man of the name of Knowlan, known as the Tumbler, entered the ring against Harry Jones. Knowlan, as a specimen of his professional agility, threw two summersaults before he began to peel. The Tumbler had also the advantage of Harry Holt for his second. In the course of fifteen minutes the activity of the Tumbler was reduced to a stand-still, Jones proclaimed the winner, and the five pounds in his pocket.

After Barney Aaron had defeated Dick Hares, at No Man’s Land, on Tuesday, March 21st, 1826, a subscription purse of five pounds was collected for Mike Curtain and Harry Jones; and although only seven days had elapsed since his fight with Knowlan, Harry was determined not to let a chance go by him. Curtain was anxious for another shy with the Sailor Boy, having been defeated by him, after a severe struggle of one hour and three-quarters, as stated in a preceding page. Jones, upon this occasion, was seconded by Fogo, and the battle was considered above mediocrity; but at the expiration of half an hour “the Curtain was let down” a second time, and Jones pronounced the conqueror.

After Young Dutch Sam had defeated Tom Cooper, the Gipsy, at Grays, in Essex, on Tuesday, April 25th, 1826, a subscription purse was collected for a second fight, when Jones and Tom Collins entered the ring. Collins was the man who defeated Barney Aaron when the latter boxer was a novice, and was considered a scientific, sharp boxer. He was soon reduced to a mere nobody in the hands of Harry Jones. In the short space of four rounds, occupying only six minutes, Collins was severely punished and defeated, while Jones left the ground with hardly a scratch.

On Tuesday, September 5th, 1826, after Bishop Sharpe had defeated Alec Reid, at No Man’s Land, in Hertfordshire, to make up a third battle, for a subscription purse, Jones, always ready to earn a pound or two, and Pick, a Bristol lad, equally anxious to obtain a small slice, stood up on the shortest notice. Dick Curtis and Young Dutch Sam seconded Harry Jones, and Bayley and Gipsy Cooper acted as seconds for Pick. Twenty-seven rounds were contested. In every round Jones took the lead, and ultimately he was declared the conqueror. Pick had not the slightest chance, and was severely punished. The Sailor Boy had scarcely a mark upon him. Jones won the battle in thirty minutes.

The Sailor Boy at this period was hardly ever out of “action.” At Fidgett Hall, one mile and a half from Newmarket, after Larkins had defeated Abbot, a second fight took place for a purse of five pounds, between Harry Jones and Reuben Howe, on Tuesday, November 28th, 1826—the former well known in the London circles, the latter a bustling, boasting yokel, weighing a stone and a half more than Jones. Howe was seconded by two of his own pals, and Jones by Oliver and Fogo. Thirty-one rounds were fought in thirty-four minutes, during the whole of which Jones took the lead both in hitting and throwing, and won the fight almost without a scratch. No man could have polished off a customer in a more workman-like manner. The defeat of Howe was much relished by the chawbacons, as he was a complete bully among his companions, and being thus “taken down a peg” probably tended to improve his manners.

After Peter Crawley had defeated Jem Ward, at Royston Heath, Cambridgeshire, on Tuesday, January 2nd, 1827, Harry Jones entered the ring with Gybletts for a subscription purse. In the course of ten minutes Jones was defeated. It was considered no match. The blunt was divided between them. Gipsy Cooper seconded Gybletts, and Ned Stockman and a pupil of Israel Belasco’s attended upon the Sailor Boy.

The second battle between Larkins and Abbot, for fifty pounds a-side, according to the articles, was to have been decided on Tuesday, March 13th, 1827, within sixty miles of London; but as many things happen between the “cup and the lip,” the “authorities” interfered, and Larkins and Abbot slept in whole skins that night. After some little murmurings by the disappointed crowd “that there is no certainty in this here life,” Peter Crawley arrived, and added to their discomfiture by avowing it was the intention of Larkins to forfeit on account of illness.

The little fight, as it was termed, now became the interesting topic of the day; and Jones and Raines started for a new piece of ground, followed by a string of vehicles of every description, hundreds of horsemen, and toddlers out of number. The road had a pleasing appearance, by the bustle, life, and activity, for several miles; the turnpikes napped lots of blunt by the change; and the pot-houses met with a variety of unexpected customers. But the principal part of the toddlers who were compelled to ride Shanks’s mare were beaten to a stand-still long before the grand halt took place at Chesterford. During the rapid motion of the “gay throng” several upsets occurred; but the Fancy were too game to complain of broken panels, or being canted over the necks of their horses, contenting themselves with the old saying that “worse accidents occur at sea.” At Chesterford a parley ensued about making the ring, and “Haydon Grange” was named as a place beyond the possibility of an interruption. But the crowd, who had already been over twenty miles of ground, were too much fatigued to undertake another of ten, and preferred chancing it; accordingly the stakes were knocked into the ground without delay, in the parish of Chesterford. An outer ring was immediately formed by the carriages, and the combatants called for. Raines appeared first, and threw up his nob-cover, waited upon by Stockman and a hackney dragsman nicknamed Whipaway, while Peter Crawley and the Poet Laureate officiated as seconds for the Sailor Boy. This time Fogo did not show himself habited as a collegian, although his toggery bespoke the outline of a “Fellow Commoner” who had not decidedly taken his terms, although he was upon “terms” with the ancient tribe of costermongers. He wore his “beaver up” when he was recognised by the M.A.’s, and received the nod from them as a student of _Brasen-nose_. The colours were tied to the stakes—the Sailor Boy the favourite.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The Sailor Boy was in prime twig; in fact, he never was, in any of his preceding mills, anything like in such good condition. His arms were peculiarly fine, and attracted the general notice of the spectators. Raines did not appear so muscular a man as his opponent, but nevertheless his frame was manly, and he exhibited great strength. The Sailor Boy was in no hurry to commence the attack, and some minutes elapsed before any attempt at hitting was made. Jones made play, but Raines stopped well. A pause. The Sailor Boy, rather furious, was going to work, but was again well parried by Raines. It was observed by the London amateurs that Raines had evidently improved in his knowledge of the science. In setting-to with the gloves the Sailor Boy had always had the best of it. Several minutes passed, and the stopping system was adopted by Raines, until the Sailor Boy went in, and slashed away like a new one. In closing fibbing was attempted on both sides. Jones broke away cleverly, and milled his opponent down. “First blood!” from the friends of Jones. Raines was piping a little, and the Sailor Boy received shouts of applause from his “larned” friends belonging to the “Univarsity.”

2.—The claret appeared slightly on Jones’s lips when he arrived at the scratch. The Sailor Boy fought well—that is to say, cautiously. Raines he looked upon as an ugly customer, although a tolerably good-looking fellow in person. The latter made several good parries, but did not try to plant any hits. Jones put in a heavy bodier with his left hand. A pause, “Go to work,” was the cry, and “Why don’t you, Mr. Poet Laureate (Fogo), put them together?” Jones planted a facer. (“Bravo!”) Raines made a blow, but the Sailor Boy was on the alert, and nothing was the matter. Exchange of blows passed between them, and the fighting was rather sharp, until they closed. In struggling for the throw Jones got his man down, but Raines threw him over, and the Sailor Boy rolled out of the ring. The Sailor Boy was decidedly the favourite with the Euclids, the Virgils, and the Homers. But the “drag and tumbler” sort of folk rather fancied Raines, and the odds were offered upon him by a few of them.

3.—The lads were just now upon their mettle, and the fight had become interesting to the whole assembly of Greeks, Latins, and yokels; in fact, all classes of society were in high glee. Raines got away from mischief, but not out of trouble. At this instant a gent stepped into the ring and made his way up to Peter, saying: “If you are the director of this sort of thing, I must insist that you desist. It is a breach of the peace!” Peter, mild as a lamb and polite as a Chesterfield, observed, touching his tile to the man in authority, “I hope, sir, you do not mean to stop the sport? You do not intend to be so cruel? But if it is your wish, why, why, ——. The second degree is now made out,” said Peter; “this interruption, after the fight has commenced, is harder than the first baulk! Such an occurrence has not happened for the last twenty years.” A noble lord, upon a fine prad, in the shape of a beak, in an agitated tone of voice, added: “Do not come into Essex; I will not permit it. You will therefore do it at your peril!” In this dilemma the Greeks, the Roman-y’s, the mathematical admirers of the angle hitting of Harry, put forth all their lexicon of gammon to the unrelenting beaks, not to make three or four thousand gentlemen look like fools; but it was all U-P. “The Fancy,” exclaimed the hero of the _Brasen-nose_, “have now acquired the third degree,” on hearing the member of the Upper House say, “Beware of pitching your tents in Essex.” “It is the hardest thing I ever heard, in my whole history of prose and poetry, not to let the mill be finished anywhere to-day. I shall remember him in my next epic.” Singing psalms to a dead neddy would have been of the same service! The gents belonging to the Bench retired outside of the crowd, and a ring court-martial was held for twelve minutes, upon the propriety of “to mill or not to mill,” when it was unanimously determined “that the fight between Harry Jones and Raines was no go.” Thus, after the “bubble, bubble, toil and trouble,” in the words of Shakespeare, it proved to be “Much Ado about Nothing”—the spectators out of humour and ill-natured, the nags tired, “Home, Sweet Home,” a long way off, and the rain coming down nicely.

The ground was cleared in a few minutes. The stakes were drawn on the part of Raines, but his backer offered to increase the sum to £25 a side, so satisfied was he that Raines would have proved the conqueror.

On Saturday, the 14th of April, 1827, at Bulpham Fenn, Essex, about twenty-two miles from London, in an angle on the right of Brentwood and Romford, Harry Jones and Bob Simmonds, a well-known sporting “clergyman” (_anglicè_, a sweep), entered a twenty-four foot roped ring at one o’clock. Jones was attended by Peter Crawley and Fogo; Simmonds was seconded by Dav Hudson and Gybletts. Crawley won the toss. On setting-to, Simmonds, with great eagerness, attacked the Sailor Boy, but the steadiness of the latter soon gave him the advantage. Jones, cool and collected, waited for an opening, when he planted a rum one on the right eye of Mr. Simmonds, which not only produced confusion of vision, but floored the man of soot. Simmonds wished to appear cheerful on commencing the second round, but the spectators found out that he was of “no service” against a fine young man like Harry Jones. In the sixth round, the poor fellow received so severe a cross-buttock that he puffed like a pair of asthmatic bellows, after this shaking he fell down almost without a blow in every succeeding round. At the expiration of thirty-five minutes, and seventeen rounds, Simmonds acknowledged he was “up the flue.” Jones, he said, was too good for him, and that he could not get at the Sailor Boy. Jones won the battle without a scratch. Crawley and Fogo were extremely attentive to Harry. It was so hollow a thing on the side of Jones that not a sov. was sported upon the event. Upwards of a thousand persons were present.

In consequence of the interruption of the battle between Raines and Jones, a second match was made for £25 a-side, which was decided on Monday, the 4th of June, 1827. Watford, the rallying point, was gained without meeting with any particular objects worthy of note. At this place the office was given for Chipperfield Common, a distance of twenty-two miles from London; thither the disappointed Fancy repaired, but not without “lots of grumbling” at the long trot. However, the ride was delightful, and upon the whole it was pronounced a pleasant journey, and a tidy day’s sport. At ten minutes to two o’clock the Sailor Boy, habited as one of the true blue fraternity, threw his hat into the ring, accompanied by the Poet Laureate Fogo and Jack Clarke; Raines was not long behind him, attended by his seconds, Ned Stockman and a dragsman of the name of Woolley.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The Sailor Boy could not have been better as to condition, and Raines was also in good trim as to his training. It seemed as if the combatants were aware they had a long day before them, as neither Jones nor Raines were in a hurry to go to work. Ten minutes had elapsed in looking and dodging each other about, when Jones let fly with his left hand, whilst Raines cleverly put on the stopper. The latter boxer never commenced offensive operations, but always waited for the attack. Jones also well knew that great danger was to be apprehended by the countering of Raines, and therefore he was extremely cautious, and thus are we enabled to account for this precious long round. The seconds were at the four corners of the ring like hackney coachmen upon a stand waiting for a fare. Several of the spectators proposed to them to accept a cigar, smoke a pipe, take a hand of cards, &c. At length a slight rally, or rather exchanges, occurred, when stopping, dodging, offering, again took place. Jones let fly, but Raines would not have it at any price. Good stopping on both sides. “Go to work,” from all parts of the ring, had not the slightest effect. The Sailor Boy made a hit with his left hand, which was sharply returned by Raines; a little milling took place, and both of them cried out “First blood,” but it was a dead heat in this respect, a slight tinge of the claret appearing on both of their mugs at the same instant. It would be a waste of time to repeat all the stops, &c. The Sailor Boy at length went in like a jolly fellow, and the fibbing system was resorted to, hard and fast, on both sides, until they both went down, Raines undermost. Forty minutes had now passed in sparring.

2.—This round was altogether as short. Some little stopping occurred, until Jones went in as before, and finished the round by tipping it to Raines and placing him undermost.

3.—Little bumps were observed upon the foreheads of both combatants, but nothing like mischief had passed between them. The ear of Raines had napped a little pepper. The latter endeavoured to put in a right-handed blow, and, if it had told, summat might have been the matter. Raines stopped well; but he did not fight until he was compelled to defend himself. In closing, smart hitting on both sides was administered, and the Sailor Boy was thrown out of the ropes. (“Well done, Jem!” and lots of applause.)

4.—The nose of Raines looked red. For why? Jones’s left had given it a sharp tap; he was also a little on the piping suit. At the ropes Raines was fibbed by his opponent, and ultimately thrown.

5.—This was a tidy round, but the wind of Raines was rather troubled; and both cautious in the extreme. Jones planted cleverly a conker without any return, and repeated the dose. Parrying on both sides, until Raines received a slight hit in the body, when he staggered backwards and fell out of the ropes. (Two to one on Jones.)

6.—The Sailor Boy always commenced milling, although cautious. He gave Raines another nose-ender which sent him rather backwards; Jones then went in, and had the best of it until Raines was thrown.

7.—It was clear to the spectators that Jones was now taking the lead; he cleverly put in a jobber that made the nose of Raines not only swell, but spoilt the shape of it. In closing Raines endeavoured to be busy, but the Sailor Boy was the quicker; Raines received the most punishment, and in going down was undermost. (Jones for a trifle; in fact, the friends of Raines began to perceive something was the matter.)

8.—Raines put in a sharp blow on the ear of Jones. (“Well done, Jem!”) The Sailor Boy, however, returned the favour with interest—he nosed his opponent, ditto and ditto. (Laughing by the crowd, and “It is not fair to hit a man twice in one place.”) Raines in the struggle was again down.

9.—This round was decidedly in favour of Jones. All his blows told. The nose of Raines again caught it, and he was ultimately hit down. (The Jonesites had now booked it that the Sailor Boy could win without a scratch upon his face.)

10.—Not last; but interrupted. Jem made play, and slightly touched the cheek of Jones; but the Sailor Boy returned another noser. They closed, when some blows were exchanged; and the Sailor Boy broke away. A long pause—both on the look-out. Counter-hits. Jones was going to repeat the dose, when a gentleman on horseback rode up to the ropes, followed by a constable with a staff in his hand, and proclaimed, “In the same of the King I command you to desist.” The assemblage immediately bowed submission and the combatants instantly “cut their lucky.” The fight had lasted one hour and a quarter, but the yokels were sadly disappointed, and expressed their anger by loud hisses and groans. The motley group were soon in motion, and in less than ten minutes the ground was summat like the “baseless fabric of a vision;” not a cove was left behind. The nags soon felt the persuaders, and the toddlers, puffing and blowing, were compelled to put their best feet foremost in order to keep up with the drags. Watford was once more the rallying point; and after a few minutes’ conversation as to finishing the thing, a gentleman offered his meadow near Bushey Lodge, within a mile and a half of the town, which was gladly accepted. Here the Commissary-General and his pal knocked up the ring almost before you could say “Jack Robinson,” and at a quarter to six the men were again in attitude.

THE FIGHT (PART II.).

Round 1.—The Sailor Boy looked as fresh as a daisy, while Raines appeared none the better for the delay. He was rather stiff, and his right hand was a little swelled. Raines made some good stops; but Jones now seemed determined to finish the thing well, and went up to his man, fought with Raines, had the best of it, and downed him.

2.—The left eye of Raines had napped pepper in the last round; and Jones lost no time in polishing off his opponent. He closed, and fibbed Raines severely until he got him down; but the Sailor Boy held up his hand to show he would not do anything wrong. (“Bravo!” and Jones three to one.)

3.—Short; but all in favour of Jones. Raines down.

4.—The mug of Raines was covered with claret, and Jones again fibbed him off his pins.

5.—Jem was getting abroad, and he hit at random; however, it was a milling round on both sides, and Jones did not get off without some clumsy thumps. Both down, Raines undermost.

6.—Sharp work at the ropes. The Sailor Boy held his antagonist and tipped it him until he went down.

7.—This round decided the fight. Raines was punished all over the ring until he was down.

8–12.—It was as nice as ninepence to Jones. In the ninth round Raines was done, and time was called three times before he was brought to the scratch, and even then he was quite stupid; he, however, recovered, and fought the remaining rounds—or rather stood up to be punished—until Jones was declared the conqueror in twenty minutes.

REMARKS.—Raines never attempted to fight—that is to say, he always waited for the attack. He countered at times well, but showed himself more of a sparrer than a milling cove. The Sailor Boy did everything in his power to win; he fought with capital science, and likewise bravely. By the above battle he has risen in the estimation of his friends. Jones will not stand still for backers; and no doubt the Sailor Boy will soon throw up his hat again in the P.R.

After Reuben Martin had defeated “the Gas,” on Tuesday, October 16th, 1827, at Westbourn Common, Sussex, Harry Jones and Ike Dodd entered the ring. To detail the rounds of this fight would be not only a waste of time but of paper. Dodd stood like a chopping-block, and was completely at the service of the Sailor Boy during thirty-four minutes and eighteen rounds. Jones took the lead, kept it, and finished off Dodd with the utmost ease. He won the battle without a scratch upon his face; while, on the contrary, the mug of Dodd exhibited divers blows in sundry places. Jones was seconded by Curtis and Stockman, and Ike Dodd by Joe Fishwick and Lewellin. The above battle was for only £10 a-side and a trifling subscription purse.

After considerable chaffing, letter-writing, and even blows upon the subject, a match for £25 a-side was made with Bill Savage and Harry Jones. The latter went into training at Shirley’s, New Inn, Staines, and conducted himself like a man desirous to do credit to himself, and likewise to satisfy his backers. This match was decided on Tuesday, March 20th, 1828, in the same field, near Chertsey, in which Barney Aaron and Redmond were to have fought. A few minutes before one o’clock Jones entered the ring, attended by Young Sam and Ned Stockman. Some trifling delay occurred before Savage put in an appearance, during which time Dick Curtis, owing to some misunderstanding with the backer of Jones, turned round and took five to four for a good stake. This circumstance rather alarmed the betting men, it being previously understood that Curtis was to have acted as second to Jones. Savage threw his castor into the ropes, and Curtis and Alec Reid entered as his seconds.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Jones was in tip-top condition, and armed at all points for his antagonist. The appearance of Savage did not indicate so much muscle and strength; nevertheless, he was considered up to the mark. He had also the advantage of a stone in weight and two inches in height. Some little time occurred in sparring, when Jones endeavoured to plant a facer with his left hand, but Savage stopped it skilfully, and got away. The latter retreated to a corner of the ring, and hit out; but it was “no go,” Harry being too cunning. The science on both sides was admired, and the parries were excellent. Jones, eager to go to work, touched Mr. Savage’s _os frontis_ rather “nasty,” when a close took place, and both combatants endeavoured to serve it out, until both were down.

2.—The Sailor Boy was too fast for Savage; the latter retreated, but napped two nobbers. In closing, Savage was bored to the ropes, and Jones tried on the fibbing system with success, until both went down.

3.—The Sailor Boy made good use of his science, but Savage stopped several hits like a pugilist. Jones went in, pelting away, and caught hold of Savage by the neck with one hand, and made some blows tell with the other. Savage was not idle in returning upon the body of Jones. Savage was thrown, and “First blood” called out by Young Sam, which was discovered upon the lip of Savage.

4.—Jones seemed quite confident that he had nothing to fear from his opponent, and commenced milling without delay, but Savage made several good parries. The Sailor Boy slipped down, but jumped up with so much gaiety as to floor his opponent, (“Harry, go it; that’s the time of day—it is winning, and nothing else.”)

5.—Jones, without ceremony, planted two nobbers; he also caught hold of his adversary and gave him a severe cross-buttock, shaking Savage, his nob coming on the grass and his pins in the air. (“There’s a burster!” said the Lively Kid; and the friends of Jones were loud in their marks of approbation. Seven to four.)

6.—Savage showed game to the backbone, and rallying was the result; in closing, both were down.

7.—Jones’s left hand was exceedingly troublesome, but Savage several times made skilful stops. In fact, this was a well-fought round on both sides, until the combatants were upon the ground.

8–10.—The gameness of Savage was the admiration of the ring in all these rounds; and he also satisfied the spectators that he was not deficient in science. Savage’s left eye was in mourning and otherwise damaged, and his face exhibited severe marks of punishment. Jones took the lead, kept it like a master, and finished all the rounds in his favour. The mug of the Sailor Boy was as clear from blows as when he commenced the battle. (Two to one and higher odds on Jones.)

11–13.—All these rounds were decidedly in favour of Jones; and the latter showed himself also the best man in obtaining the falls. Savage was floored by a tremendous hit on his left peeper; and his pimple shook again from the violent effects of the blow.

14.—Savage was under good instruction, having the Pet of the Fancy at his elbow, and Bill endeavoured to profit by his advice; nevertheless, the Sailor Boy could not be reduced, and he, in general, finished the round in his favour.

15.—Counter-hits, but Savage had the worst of the punishment. (“Long bowls,” said Curtis to Savage, “will not answer; you must yard-arm it with your adversary.”) Savage endeavoured to do as Curtis wished him, and he resolutely went in to work; the Sailor Boy hit him right away, enough to floor an ox, but the Welshman was too game to go down. Savage continued the round in the highest style of courage, until he was thrown cleverly. (“Any odds,” and “Jones, it is all your own.”)

Any further detail of the rounds would be useless; enough has been stated to show that the Sailor Boy was completely the hero of the tale, and reduced conquest almost to a certainty. Jones had never lost the lead for a moment, but he now took it most decidedly. If Savage stood out he was jobbed—if he went in he was weaved and thrown. The fine fighting of Jones was the admiration of the whole ring, and the delight of all who had not risked their money against him. But Savage fully supported his character as one of the gamest of the game; though he had not the slightest chance of winning he refused to give in, and continued to obey the call of time, in spite of reiterated cries of “Take him away!” In the twenty-first round Harry planted a left-hander on Bill’s nose, and also threw him heavily. In the thirty-second round Savage fought with amazing spirit, and put in two or three good right-handed bodiers, but Jones finished the round by giving him a tremendous cross-buttock. In the thirty-fifth round Harry was winded and was troubled with sickness, no uncommon occurrence with him in a long fight. Savage, cheered on by Curtis, endeavoured to take advantage of this circumstance and some little alarm was in fact felt by those who were not well acquainted with Harry; but the efforts of Savage were entirely vain. Sick as he was, Harry had the best of the round, and in the half-minute’s respite that followed Jones brought up the troublesome matter, and was soon “all right” again. In the forty-ninth round Jones threw Savage and fell on him, but under the able management of his seconds he recovered sufficiently to obey the call of “Time.” It was clear, however, that Savage could not see his man. Ned Savage entered the ring in the fifty-fourth round and threw up his hat, declaring that his brother should fight no more. Harry capered about the ring for victory, but to the surprise of all present Bill declared he would not give in. He fought or rather groped his way through a couple more rounds, when his seconds, seeing that he had not the “shadow of a shade” of chance took him away, and Harry Jones was declared the victor, after a most gallant fight of fifty-six rounds, in one hour and thirty-five minutes.

REMARKS.—Savage showed himself as brave a man as ever pulled off a shirt, and as being able to stop with considerable skill. His blows did not tell in out-fighting, his distances were incorrect, and when he closed he could not punish. He had hitherto been considered a good wrestler, but Harry almost always threw him. Indeed, poor Bill received more than twenty, perhaps we might say thirty, cross-buttocks, each of which was terribly effective. Harry Jones showed tactics of the very highest order. It is difficult to say which we had most occasion to admire—his out-fighting or in-fighting. He was evidently notwithstanding the disparity in size, much stronger than Savage, and, in fact, so fine was his science that he quitted the ring with hardly a mark on his face, and returned to Staines to dine so little “the worse for wear” that a stranger could not have discovered from his appearance that he had been fighting. His brave but unfortunate antagonist, on the contrary, was borne off the ground to the “Cricketers” public-house, where he was put to bed. The fight would have been brought to a conclusion much sooner had not Jones, in the early part of the action, sprained his left arm in one of the falls. The injury prevented the use of his left hand throughout the rest of the fight. Not the slightest dispute took place during the whole of the fight. Jones was often deservedly applauded for his forbearance in releasing Savage when he was entirely at his mercy, and, upon the whole, it was as fair, clever, and manly a battle as the best well-wishers to honest pugilism would desire to witness.

Jones had now given undeniable proofs of more than ordinary boxing qualifications. In fact by many fanciers he was declared to be the best ten stone man on the list. Ned Stockman, however, “the Lively Kid,” at that time a first favourite in sporting circles, strenuously denied this at all times and places, pointing to his early defeats of Harry, twice for purses (of course impromptu affairs), and later for £25 in the regular P.R., at Epping, in 1824. Mr. Stockman, however, had forgotten that Harry had been improving in bone and stamina (he was only twenty-one), while “the Lively Kid” had been “going the pace” in very fast company. Ned soon got on a match for £25 a-side, and, all going smoothly, articles were signed, and he met Harry Jones at Shere Mere, on the 16th September, 1828. A clever fight on the part of Stockman, not without occasional game rallies, almost uniformly to the advantage of the Sailor Boy, in the forty-third round ended in Stockman’s defeat, his chances being quite out some time before the finale.

Barney Aaron, whose victorious career we have just given, was the Sailor Boy’s next opponent. In weight the men were about equal, but the fame of the “Star of the East” shone so brightly that the £100 staked were already “as good as won,” and so discounted by the denizens of Duke’s Place. But the soundness of Mark Twain’s advice, “never to prophesy unless you know,” received here another illustration. On the 11th of November, 1828, at the Barge House, Woolwich Marshes, the renowned Barney struck his colours to the gallant Sailor Boy, after eighteen sharp fighting rounds, lasting fifteen minutes only.

Tom Reidie, “the Colonel,” conceiting himself upon his shifty performance among the cabbages at Battersea, already noticed, having spoken disparagingly of Harry’s victory as “a fluke,” followed it up by expressing a wish that “somebody” would back him for “half a hundred,” and let him “stand in a tenner of his own.” A patron of the “silver” or “copper hell,” whereof the Colonel was for the time being “groom-porter,” volunteered “the needful,” and, in the short period of seven weeks from his victory over Aaron, the Sailor Boy was face to face with Reidie at Hurley Bottom, Berks, on the 30th of December, 1828, for £15 a-side. This time the Colonel’s “strategic movements to the rear” entirely failed him. The stakes and ropes enclosed him in the limits of twenty-four feet, and in less than that number of minutes (the fight lasted twenty-two, minutes) down went Tom Reidie for the last time, at the close of the sixteenth round, perfectly satisfied that he had quite another “boy” to deal with than the lad he had tired out in Battersea Fields.

Frank Redmond, whose game battles with Barney Aaron we have already chronicled in these pages, proposed to try conclusions with the Sailor Boy for a stake of £100 a-side, which Jones had now little difficulty in getting together. It was a game and, for a few rounds, a tremendous struggle, but Harry had “a little more left in him” in the last three rounds (there were only ten in all), and in thirty-six minutes he was hailed the victor of a well-fought field.

We should unduly extend the bulk of our volumes did we attempt to give the detailed rounds of all the fights of the minor celebrities to whom we have given niches in our gallery of pugilistic pen-portraits. We shall therefore summarise Harry’s other battles by merely enumerating them.

On the 19th May, 1829, at Harpenden Common, he fought and beat George Watson for a stake of £50 a-side. Time, thirty-nine minutes; rounds, thirty.

June 7th, 1831, beat Dick Hill (the Nottingham Champion), for £100 a-side, at Bagthorpe Common, Notts, in sixty-nine rounds, eighty minutes.

Harry next met “the Oxford Pet,” Perkins, whose victory over Dick Curtis had placed him on a pinnacle above his real merits as a boxer. On January 17th, 1832, Harry Jones disposed of “the Pet’s” lofty pretensions in twenty-two rounds, occupying forty-six minutes only. The battle was fought at Hurley Bottom.

On April 2nd, 1833, Jones, who had just recovered from a long illness, fought Gipsy Jack Cooper for £25 a-side, at Chertsey. It was a long and tedious battle, with heavy punishment on both sides, for two hours and ten minutes, twenty-six long rounds, when Jones was hailed as conqueror.

For some time Harry, who was suffering from a chronic disease of the lungs, caused by exposure, earned money by sitting at Somerset House as an artists’ model; and we can well say a finer bust and arms for an athlete, or an exemplar of muscular development and symmetry, could rarely be met with. As poor Harry, too, was a civil-spoken and good-looking fellow, he had a numerous _clientèle_.

Another “Sailor Boy,” with the prefix of the words “The East End,” hight Tom Smith, was now in the field. He was ten stone four pounds; and having disposed of the nine stone lad, Owen Swift, and also Jack Adams and Aaron, he challenged Harry. The match was made for £50 a-side, and the two “Sailor Boys” met at Shrubs Hill, Bucks, on the 17th June, 1834. Harry was no longer the “Gay Sailor Boy.” His heart was sound, but his breathing apparatus was rapidly going out of repair, and in five rounds, occupying only fourteen minutes, down went poor Harry for the last time, and his colours and the £50 were the prize of “the East End Sailor Boy.”

Soon afterwards Jones became an inmate of the Westminster Hospital, where he died on the 14th April, 1835, at the early age of twenty-eight years.

JACK PERKINS (“THE OXFORD PET”). 1827–1830.

Among the ten stone boxers who ran a bright but brief career we note Jack Perkins, “the Oxford Pet,” renowned chiefly for his victory over the theretofore unconquered Dick Curtis.

Perkins’s first recorded battle, at the age of nineteen, with Bailey Wakelin, an Oxonian pugilist nearly a stone his superior in weight, spread his fame among the “gownsmen.” The affair came off at Radley Common, on the 30th January, 1827, for £25 a-side, “the Pet” polishing off his opponent in twenty-three active rounds, occupying thirty-two minutes only.

His next appearance in buff was with Godfrey, an Oxford waterman, at Henson, near the University City, on the 3rd of July, 1827. In the seventh round, after twenty-eight minutes’ fighting, the referee awarded the fight to Godfrey (against whom two and three to one was current), on the ground that Perkins had got down without a blow. Godfrey refused a second trial.

Perkins’s next match was with a well-known London man, Jem Raines.[57] The battle was for £25 a-side, and came off at Penton Hook, near Staines, on the 21st August, 1828. The Londoner’s skill was completely outshone by the provincial professor, who out-fought and in-fought, rallied, and sent down poor Jem for about a dozen of the twenty-five rounds which comprised the battle, lasting forty-four minutes.

Perkins was now voted a don in the “University of Fives,” and was soon matched by some of his “undergrad” admirers with Dick Price, of whose qualifications a slight instance is given in the sketch of Harry Jones, in a previous page of this Appendix. Perkins’s fight with Dick Price, at Wantage, Berks, on October 15th, 1828, in which Price had for seconds Peter Crawley and Dick Curtis, from London, was a one-sided affair, the Oxford Pet knocking down the eleven stone butcher in the second and third rounds, and administering punishment _ad lib._ until the sixteenth and last, when the fight was over. Time sixty-two minutes.

On this occasion some chaffing between Curtis and Perkins produced all ill feeling, and in the very next issue of _Bell’s Life_ we find “a friend from Oxford” was commissioned to stake for a match with Curtis for £100 a side, and articles were signed for a meeting between the two “Pets.” Curtis forfeited on the second deposit, being matched to fight Edwards for £200 a-side in the ensuing February. This match also ending this time in a forfeit to Curtis, the affair with Perkins was resumed. We may here note that Curtis was at this period suffering from an attack of rheumatic gout, and that he stated this fact in reply to a challenge of one Joseph Hudson Gardener to fight for £300, in April, 1829. A “short-notice” battle was eventually agreed upon for £100 a-side, and the day fixed for the 30th December, 1828.

In London and its vicinity, Curtis, who had pursued a long career of glory, and who, in all his battles, had never been beaten, was considered almost invincible; and few, in the first instance, were disposed to lay against him, although seven to four and two to one were repeatedly offered. As the time of fighting approached, however, more minute inquiries were made respecting the merits of his opponent, and those who had had opportunities of judging described him as a customer of no ordinary stamp. He had been, like Dick, successful in all his contests, and was described by those who knew him best as a scientific pugilist—active on his legs, a straight and severe hitter with his left, a good getter away, and distinguished for sound bottom. Independent of this, it was known that he was at least a stone heavier than Curtis, weighing when stripped ten stone four pounds, while Dick was booked at nine stone at most. He was also five years younger than Curtis, being scarcely twenty, while Dick was twenty-five; and those who knew the habits of the latter were perfectly aware that they were not such—since he had been in the habit of “seeing the gas turned off”—as to improve his stamina or increase his muscular powers.

Both men went immediately into active training—Curtis to Hartley Row, and Perkins, first in Oxfordshire, and latterly to Mr. Shirley’s, the New Inn, at Staines, whose system of training and unremitting care of the men entrusted to his charge placed him deservedly high in the estimation of the best judges. It was observed that both men were uncommonly attentive to their exercise, and both were acknowledged to be in excellent condition. These were points to which particular attention was paid as the period of the last deposit approached, and the friends of Perkins exhibited an increasing confidence, many boldly asserting that Curtis would find himself mistaken in his estimate of the talent of his opponent, and others boldly asserting that they thought he was overmatched—a stone being far too much for any man to give away, where it was accompanied by a corresponding proportion of science and game. Still, such was the deep-rooted prejudice in favour of Curtis, and such the confidence in his generalship and cutting severity of punishment, that the great majority of the Metropolitans considered it next to treason to harbour a thought of his defeat. There were those, however, who were not quite so bigoted in their opinions, and who, viewing the merits of the men dispassionately, were disposed to think that Curtis, as well as many of his gallant contemporaries, might find an equal, if not a superior, in the art which he professed. Among this class were found ready takers of the long odds of two to one, and subsequently of seven to four—but on the night of the last deposits the odds were taken to a large amount at six to four.

On the Monday evening the road to Maidenhead, which was appointed headquarters, was crowded with vehicles of all descriptions, and every house which would receive such visitors was crowded to excess. Curtis and his backers cast anchor at the “Sun,” and Perkins, under the auspices of the Oxford Dragsman, brought to at the “Dumb Bell,” on the London side of Maidenhead Bridge. Curtis was accompanied by Tom Reidie, who had trained with him, and Perkins by Harry Jones.

Tuesday morning produced a numerous accession to the multitude, and countless vehicles continued to pour in as the day advanced, embracing some of the most distinguished patrons of the Ring, and giving ample occupation to the postmasters.

At an early hour Tom Oliver and his assistant, Frosty-faced Fogo, proceeded to form the milling arena in the Parish Meadow, at Hurley Bottom, Berks, thirty-four miles from London, and close to the banks of the Thames—in summer no doubt a very desirable spot, but in the winter season, from the marshy state of the soil, anything but eligible, especially for those who had to travel in heavy vehicles. Several of these stuck fast in the yielding soil, and the casualties which followed were of the most ludicrous description—many of the inmates, who till then had escaped the miseries of damp feet, being obliged to alight, and, ankle deep in mud, to scramble to that portion of the turf which was still capable of bearing their weight. Having encountered these dangers “by flood and field,” they reached the ring, which was admirably constructed, and surrounded by an ample supply of wagons, flanked by an immense number of carriages of every denomination. As a proof of the interest excited we may state that the crowd assembled was estimated at more than 5,000 persons.

At one o’clock the men had arrived on the ground, sporting their respective colours—Curtis a bright orange, Perkins a crimson. The bustle of preparation was soon visible. The whips were distributed to the men appointed by the Fair Play Club, and the stragglers were driven back to the outer ring of rope which had been constructed near to the wagons. Shortly after Dick Curtis approached the scene of action, accompanied by Josh Hudson and Young Dutch Sam, and was soon followed by Perkins, under the guidance of Tom Spring and Harry Holt. On meeting within the ring they shook hands, and immediately commenced stripping. Both looked well in health; but it was impossible not to observe that there was a rustic hardiness in the appearance of Perkins, very different from that of Curtis, who, nevertheless, had that sleekness and delicacy in his aspect which one is apt to ascribe to superior breed or higher blood. On stripping this contrast was still more apparent; for while Curtis showed that beautiful symmetry of person for which he was so distinguished, and which would have formed a perfect model for the sculptor, Perkins was rough, square, and muscular in appearance. His head, too, being stripped in patches of its hair, from the effect of ringworm in early life, gave him rather the cut of a ragged colt just caught upon the mountain wilds than the well-groomed nag coming from the stud of an indulgent master. Overcoming first impression, however, on seeing both men stripped, it was impossible not to discover at a glance the great disparity in point of size between the men. Perkins appeared to us to be at least two inches taller than Curtis, and every way larger in proportion. He was well pinned, with substantial thighs, and his shoulders and arms showed powerful muscle, though his loins were thin. His phiz, too, exhibited various scars, which were convincing proofs that he had been engaged in encounters of no trifling character. He evinced a great coolness in his manner, and, as throughout his training, booked victory as certain. Curtis looked to us light, but, nevertheless, in high favour with himself. Many old followers of the stakes did not hesitate on seeing the men for the first time stripped in fair comparison to exclaim, “Dick is overmatched,” an opinion which had often been expressed before, but met with little attention. Everything being in readiness the men were conducted to the scratch and commenced.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The positions of both men were good. Curtis, his head a little advanced, his arms well up, and his eye measuring his man with the piercing look of the eagle. Perkins, his head rather on one side, and thrown a little back, his right hand well up, to stop Dick’s left, and his left ready for a fling. Each manœuvred and changed ground. Dick made several feints with his left, but Perkins was not to be drawn from his caution. (“He’s not to be kidded!” cried one of the Oxonians.) Dick crept in, tried to draw his man once or twice, but it would not do. Perkins stood well to his guard. Five minutes were occupied in this way, and not a blow struck; at last Dick plunged in with his left, which was stopped, but he delivered with his right. Good counter-hits were exchanged in a rally, Dick catching the left between his eyes, which made them twinkle, and the right on the tip of his conk. Perkins instantly stepped back and exclaimed. “First blood!” at the same time pointing to Dick’s nose, and sure enough the purple fluid came gurgling forth. Dick, undismayed, bustled up to his man, and caught him heavily on the mouth with his left. Perkins got well away, but no time was lost in again getting to a rally; Dick would not be denied, and got close to his man. Perkins again put in a left-handed facer, but had a tremendous hit in return from Dick’s right, which cut him over the corner of the left eye, and drew a copious stream of blood. Both again drew back, but Dick suffered no time to elapse, rushed in to deliver, and after two or three exchanges Perkins went down from a slight hit. The round lasted seven minutes, and the fighting on both sides was excellent, and acknowledged by the most sceptical to be better than was expected on the part of the Oxford Pet.

2.—Dick again came up in beautiful position, while Perkins seemed perfectly at home, and nowise dismayed by Dick’s “ocular demonstration.” Perkins waited; and Dick, after two or three feints with his left, made a good hit with his right, but was well countered by Perkins. A sharp and active rally followed, in which Perkins caught it on the nozzle, and was on a par with his opponent, for he too showed abundance of claret. In the end Perkins was down, though not a decided knock-down blow.

3.—Perkins came up fresh as a kitten, while Dick looked deeply intent on his work. Dick hit out with his left, but was cleverly stopped. Perkins made a similar effort, but was likewise stopped. Dick then rushed in to hit, while Perkins retreated and fell back at the ropes, half out of the ring. (Shouts for Dick.)

4.—Dick’s face was now a good deal flushed, and the first hit between the ogles began to show its effects, as his right eye became discoloured. Dick, after a leary feint, rushed in to hit with his left; but Perkins, with great steadiness, parried the compliment, and smiled. Dick finding he could not plant his favourite nobbers, now tried the body, and popped in two or three pretty hits in the bread-basket with his left. Perkins was not idle, and caught him on the side of the head with his right. Both were again cautious, and Perkins covered his upper works in good style; he was always ready to counter with his left as he stopped with his right. Dick saw this, and repeated his body blows, leaving pretty obvious marks from his knuckles; Perkins did not return. Good counter-hits at the nob right and left, and both away. Again to manœuvring, when Dick’s body hit was stopped; he then rushed in and hit Perkins open-handed with his left. Perkins returned with his left, catching him on the mouth, and a few slight exchanges followed. Dick again had him in the body with his left. After a short pause a fine slashing rally followed, and some jobbing hits were delivered on both sides, but little advantage was observable. The punishment received by Dick, however, was more obvious; in the end Perkins fell. This was a fine manly round, and excited general applause; and from Dick’s steadiness, his friends’ confidence increased.

5.—The symmetry of Dick’s more delicate physog. was a good deal altered, while Perkins’s only showed the cut over his right eye, and still preserved his coolness and self-possession. Dick again planted his left-handed body hit, but was idle with his right; in fact, Perkins was so well guarded as to bid defiance to his usual sharp and cutting jobs. A short rally, in which hits were exchanged, and both went down easy, Perkins under.

6.—Dick tried to plant his left on Perkins’s nob, but he got well away, and succeeded in stopping a second attempt at his body. Perkins made two excellent stops right and left at his head, but napped it in the ribs; this did not seem to affect him, and he preserved his steadiness in a manner little expected from a yokel. Good stops on both sides, and an admirable display of science; Perkins stopped right and left, but his returns passed beside Dick’s head, and were rather at random; hits were interchanged, though not of great moment, and in the close Perkins went down.

7.—Dick fought a little open-mouthed, and seemed somewhat crabbed at not being able to reach his man. He took a drop of brandy-and-water and again went to action. Perkins still steady and collected, and evidently as strong as a horse. Dick resumed his feinting system, and caught Perkins cleverly with his left, while he delivered his right heavily on his collar-bone. Had this reached his canister, as was no doubt intended, it would have told tales, but Perkins’s activity on his legs enabled him to step back in time. Dick put in three body blows in succession with his left, but they did not seem to tell on the iron carcass of Perkins. Dick then rushed in to punish, but Perkins, in retreating, fell, and pulled him upon him. (Dick’s friends were still satisfied all was right, and booked winning as certain. But little betting took place, so intense was the interest excited by every move.)

8.—Dick tried his left-handed job, but was stopped, and with equal neatness stopped the counter from Perkins’s left. In a second effort Perkins was more successful, and put in his left cleverly on Dick’s nob, while Dick countered at his body. Perkins again stopped Dick’s left-handed job, and showed great quickness in getting away. A fine spirited rally followed, in which mutual exchanges took place, and the blood flowed from the smellers of both. It was a fine, manly display on both sides, but in the end Perkins hit Dick clean off his legs with his right, catching him heavily on the side of the head. (Immense cheers from the Oxonians, and the Londoners looking blue.)

9.—Dick, a little abroad, popped in his left on Perkins’s body, and then rushed in to fight. Perkins retreated, and got into the corner of the ring, when a desperate rally followed; Perkins jobbed Dick several times right and left, catching him heavily under the ear with his right, thus showing he could use both hands with equal effect. Dick fought with him, but the length of Perkins seemed too great to enable him to hit with effect. Finding himself foiled at this game, he closed, and catching Perkins’s nob under his arm, was about to fib; but Perkins slipped down, by the advice of Spring, and evaded the punishment he would otherwise have received. Dick, on getting to his second’s knee, was covered with blood, and looked all abroad; the right-handed hit under his lug in the last round was evidently a stinger.

10.—Both came up collected, but Dick did not seem disposed to lose much time in reflection; he hit with his left, but had it in return from Perkins on the nob. A lively rally followed, in which both got pepper; Dick rushed in hastily, and Perkins fell, Dick on him.

11, and last.—Dick now came up evidently resolved to make a desperate effort to put aside the coolness of Perkins, but he found his man ready at all points; good counter-hits were exchanged, and both fought with fury; Perkins threw in a heavy hit with his left on Dick’s nob, and then on his body with his right; Dick fought with him boldly, but had no advantage, when Perkins again caught him heavily under the ear with his right, and he fell “all of a heap.” He was immediately picked up, and his seconds tried every expedient to bring him to his senses, but he was completely stupefied, and on time being called was incapable of standing. The hat was immediately thrown up, announcing victory, and Perkins ran out of the ring as strong as ever. He was, however, sent back till the battle was pronounced won or lost. The decision was given in favour of Perkins, and in a short time Dick was conveyed to his carriage, and from the ground to Maidenhead. The fight lasted twenty-three minutes and a half.

REMARKS.-At the conclusion of the fight, which was certainly more quickly ended than we anticipated, most of the persons close to the ring seemed to be satisfied that Curtis had been out-fought, and that, in fact, he had been, as was observed in the first instance, overmatched. The losers, however, soon began to state a different impression, and certain shrugs and twists gave indication of a feeling that all was not right “in the state of Denmark.” It is certain that Dick did not do as much with Perkins as we have seen him do with other men; but then it must be considered that we never saw him opposed to so good a man as Perkins was on this day. In addition to his superior weight and physique, the Oxford man from first to last preserved a coolness and steadiness, and covered his points with a scientific precision, which few men of his age and experience have displayed in the Ring. This was admitted even by those who had most reason to lament his success. In our opinion Dick fought too quickly, and lost that presence of mind which with such an opponent was his only chance of success. From the undiminished strength which Perkins showed at the last, too, we are satisfied he could have continued the fight much longer. We agree with Sam (who seconded Curtis) that he was more of a match for him than for the Pet. It cannot be forgotten that from the first moment the match was made we expressed our fears that Dick was giving away too much weight, and the result has confirmed our judgment.

In a very few minutes after the fight Perkins entered the ring dressed, and little the worse for his engagement, beyond the cut over his left eye and a little puffiness in the mouth and nose; he must, however, have felt for some time the effects of his body blows, which were both heavy and numerous. He expressed a strong desire to second Harry Jones in his fight with Reidie, but this his friends would not permit.

A challenge from Bob Coates procured for that boxer a thrashing in twenty-five rounds, occupying twenty-eight minutes, near Chipping Norton, on the 19th of March, 1830.

The defeat of Curtis, as we have already noted in our Memoirs of ALEC REID and HARRY JONES, rankled in the memory of the London Ring, and consequently a more equal opponent for the fresh and hardy provincial was looked out in the person of Alec Reid, “the Chelsea Snob,” the full details of which may be read in the tenth chapter of this volume, pp. 423–426.

This first defeat took place on the 25th May, 1830, and thenceforward, until 1832, Perkins remained without a customer. Towards the close of 1831 a negotiation with Harry Jones, the Sailor Boy, was concluded. The stakes, £50 a-side, were tabled, and on January 17th, 1832, at Hurley Bottom, the scene of his victory over the London Pet, the Oxford man was defeated, after a gallant defence, in twenty-two rounds, time forty-six minutes.

With this defeat closed the Ring career of “the Oxford Pet,” in three short years.

END OF VOL. II.

INDEX TO VOLUME II.

A

AARON, BARNEY (“the Star of the East”). His birthplace, 504 His early days, 504 His battles with Connelly, Lyons, Ely Bendon, and Sam Belasco, 504–5 Beats Tom Collins for a purse, 504 Beats Ned Stockman, 504 Beats Tom Lenney (twice), 505–6 Beats Frank Redmond, 507 Beats Peter Warren, 508 A gallant tar’s generosity, 509 A “chant of victory”, 509 Beaten by Arthur Matthewson, 510 Arthur Matthewson (note), 510 Challenges Matthewson to a second trial, 511 Battle with Dick Hares, 511 Mynheer Van Haagen’s letter descriptive of the fight, 511 Defeated by Dick Curtis, 512 Set-to with Curtis at the Coburg Theatre, 512 Second battle with Frank Redmond, 512 A disappointment, 513 The stakes awarded to Barney, 513 Third match with Frank Redmond, 513 Beats Frank Redmond, 514 Beats Marsh Bateman, 515 Beaten by Tom Smith, 515 Dies in Whitechapel, 515

ABBOT, BILL. His victories, 182 Beats Dick Hares and Dolly Smith, 183 Beaten by West Country Dick (see Vol. I.), 184 Beats a “Johnny Raw”, 185 Beats a “navvy” at Hampton, 185 Beats Bennyflood, 186 Beats Pitman, 186 Beats Tom Oliver, 186 Beats Phil Sampson, 189 Challenges Josh Hudson, 191 Fights a cross with Jem Ward, 191 Beaten by Larkins, of Cambridge, 191 Beats Search, 191

ACTON, DICK, his battles, note of, 200

B

BROWN, TOM (“Big Brown,” of Bridgnorth). His birthplace, 437 Aspires to the Championship, 437 Matched with Tom Shelton, 437 Patronised by Tom Spring, 437 Beats Tom Shelton, 438 Challenges the Championship, 440 Replies to the challenges by Ward and Sampson, 441 Match with Jem Ward goes off, 443 Defeated by Phil Sampson, 445 Beats Isaac Dobell (first time), 446 Beats Isaac Dobell (second time), 449 Announces his retirement from the P.R., 450 Second match with Sampson, 450 Beats Phil Sampson, 451 Disputed result—Mr. Beardsworth gives up the stakes, 452 Recovers the £200 battle-money of Mr. Beardsworth, 453 Becomes a Boniface in Bridgnorth, 453

BALDWIN, EDWARD (“White-headed Bob”). His birth, 338 First appearance in the Ring, 338 Beats O’Connor, 338 A pupil of Bill Eales, 338 A plant with Jem Ward, 388 Beats Maurice Delay, 339 His patronage by “Pea-green Hayne”, 341 Becomes a “man on town”, 341 Forfeits to Ned Neale £100, 341 Is beaten by Ned Neale, 341 Challenges Langan, the Irish Champion, 342 Beats George Cooper, 342 Opens “Subscription Rooms”, 344 Takes a Provincial tour, 344 Beaten by Jem Burn, 344 Beats Jem Burn, 345 Fights a “draw” with Ned Neale, 350 Beats Ned Neale, 350 Dies at the “Coach and Horses,” St. Martin’s Lane, Oct., 1831, 352

BURN, JEM (“My Nevvy”). His birth at Darlington, 328 Apprenticed at Newcastle, 326 Of a fighting family, 326 Early exploits, 326 Beats O’Neil, 327 Sir Bellingham Graham, 328 Matched with Jack Martin, 328 A draw, 329 Defeated by Ned Neale, 329 And by Phil Sampson, 329 Beats Pat Magee, 330 Marries Miss Watson, of Bristol, 333 Matched with Ned Baldwin (“White-headed Bob”), 333 Beats Baldwin, 334 A second match made, 335 Is defeated by Baldwin, 336 Beaten by Neale (second time), 336 Becomes host of the “Queen’s Head”, 336 An active second, backer, and professor of the art, 336 His character and last illness, 336 A mechanical contrivance, 336 His death, 336

C

CANNON, TOM (“the Great Gun of Windsor”). Appeared too late in the P.R., 248 Born at Eton, 248 Classic associations of youth, 248 A fisherman, “bargee,” and runaway, 249 Cannon defeats Tom Anslow, a Grenadier, 249 Matched with Dolly Smith, 250 Witnesses the fight of Hudson and Ward, 251 Offers to fight either combatant, 251 Matched with Josh Hudson, 251 Beats Josh Hudson, 252 Second match with Hudson, 254 Gamekeeper to Mr. Hayne, 255 Stage and Grand Stand for the fight, 256 “The Squire” (Osbaldeston) referee, 256 Defeats Josh Hudson again, 257 Becomes a publican at Windsor, 259 Challenges the Championship for £1,000, 259 “Pea-green” Hayne’s match at Brighton, 259 Wrestles with Carney the Gambler, 260 Sparring at “Ireland’s Ground”, 260 Is challenged and beaten by Jem Ward, 261 Exhibits at the Coburg Theatre, 261 Is beaten by Ned Neale, 261 Becomes host of the “Castle,” Jermyn Street, 261 Retires, and is a “swan-watcher” to the City Corporation, 262 Commits suicide in his 69th year, in July, 1858, 262

CARTER, JACK (“the Lancashire Hero”). His character as a boxer, 161 His early days, 161 Works as a “navvy”, 162 Pierce Egan’s story of the jackass, 162 Meeting with Bob Gregson, 163 Appears at the Fives Court, 163 Beats Boone, the Soldier, 164 Beaten by Jack Power, 164 Beaten by Molineaux, 164 Travels the Provinces and Ireland, 165 His challenges, 165 His battle with Stephenson, 165 His battle with Sam Robinson, 166 His second battle with Robinson, 168 Matched with Tom Oliver, 170 Defeats Tom Oliver, 171 His pedestrian capabilities, 173 Again challenges Cribb, 173 His puffing announcements, 174 Matched with Spring, 174 His defeat by Spring, 175 Returns to Ireland, 176 And to England, 176 Challenges Shelton and Jem Ward, 176 Is beaten by Jem Ward, 176 Beaten by Deaf Burke, 176 Died at Manchester, 1844, 176

CRAWLEY, PETER, 1818–1827. His introduction to the Ring, 233 His birth and parentage, 233 Apprenticed to a butcher in Clare Market, 233 Juvenile encounters, 234 The “Coal-yard” against “Bloomsbury”, 234 Sundry fistic exploits, 235 A Westminster election and its consequences, 236 Beats Ben Sutliffe in the Ring, 237 Has a severe accident, 237 Glove-fight with Bully Southerns, 238 Defeats Dick Acton, 238 Goes into business as a butcher, 239 Is engaged as a “special” at the Coronation of George IV., 240 Mr. Sullivan’s mistake, 240 Replies to Jem Ward’s challenge, 240 Matched with Ward, 240 Two Commissaries and a _contretemps_, 240 Beats Jem Ward, “the Champion”, 242 Peter at the Tennis Court, 245 His modest speech and retirement from the P.R., 245 Becomes landlord of the “Queen’s Head and French Horn,” Smithfield, 246 An insolent customer, 246 His forbearance and courage, 246 Acts as referee at the fight of Harry Broome and “the Tipton Slasher”, 247 His death in 1865, aged 66, 247

CURTIS, DICK (“the Pet of the Fancy”). His merits as a pugilist, 481 His birth, 482 His first battle with Watson, 482 Beats Ned Brown (“the Sprig of Myrtle”), 482 Beats Lenney, 483 Dick at Epsom Races, 484 Beats Cooper, a Gipsy, 485 Defeats Peter Warren four times, 485 His battle with Hares prevented, 486 Defeats Dick Hares, 487 Receives £100 forfeit from Barney Aaron, 487 Poetical effusions on the match with Aaron, 489 A “turn-up” with Ned Savage, 490 Disposes of Stockman in one round, 491 Matched with Aaron for £100 a-side, 491 Beats Barney Aaron, 492 Matched with Tisdale, 492 An idle controversy with Jack Randall, 498 Takes leave of the Ring, 498 A rencontre with a coalheaver, 498 Goes on a tour in the North, 499 Disposes of Coaly’s pretensions in a glove-fight, 499 Is beaten by Perkins, “the Oxford Pet”, 500 His talent as a second, 500 Testimony to his integrity by a friend, 501 His death and funeral, 501 Monody on Dick Curtis, 501

D

DONNELLY, DAN (“Champion of Ireland”). His birth, 138 Fight with Isle of Wight Hall, 139 Defeats George Cooper, 139 Comes over to Liverpool, 140 Joins Carter in a sparring exhibition, 141 Comes to London—opinions of the amateurs, 142 Appears at the Minor Theatre, Catherine Street, Strand, 142 Challenged by Sutton, the Black, 143 Sets-to at the Fives Court, 143 Challenged by Oliver, 144 Defeats Tom Oliver, 145 Other challenges to Donnelly, 149 His dissipation and loss of money, 149 His arrest, and subsequent departure for Ireland, 150 Donnybrook Fair, 151 Carter’s challenge to Donnelly, 152 The match goes off, 153 His house in Pill Lane, 153 His sudden death, 154 Dan’s humour and training eccentricities, 154 Public and literary honours to Dan’s memory, 155 His funeral, 159 His epitaph, 160

E

EVANS, SAMUEL (“Young Dutch Sam”). His birth and parentage, 353 His early days, 354 Apprenticed as a compositor, 354 A youthful escapade, 355 Becomes a “flying newsman”, 355 Is introduced to Mr. John Jackson, &c., 355 Receives forfeit from Lenney, 356 His friendship with Dick Curtis, “the Pet”, 356 Beats Ned Stockman, 356 Spars at the theatres, 358 Beats Harry Jones, “the Sailor Boy”, 358 Defeats Tom Cooper, “the Gipsy”, 359 Beats Bill Carroll at Ascot, for “a purse” given by the Duke of Wellington, 361 Beats Jack Cooper, “the Gipsy”, 362 Defeats Dick Davis, “the Manchester Pet”, 364 Matched with Bishop Sharpe, 367 Comparison of the men, 367 The fight prevented, 368 Sparring at the Tennis Court, 369 The stakes given up to Sharpe, 370 Challenges Peace Inglis, 370 Receives forfeit from Dan M’Kenzie, 370 Held to bail for twelve months, 371 Beats a big carman for striking Dick Curtis, 371 Challenged by Jack Martin, 372 Preliminaries of the battle, 373 Defeats Jack Martin, 374 Preliminaries of first fight with Ned Neale, 376 Beats Ned Neale (first battle), 379 Renewed challenge by Neale, 382 Contrasted qualifications of the men, 383 The road to Newmarket, 384 Defeats Neale a second time, 385 Sam “a man about town”, 387 The Haymarket and its “night-houses”, 388 Challenged by Tom Gaynor, 388 A drunken constable and a lost “warrant”, 388 Defeats Tom Gaynor, 389 Matched with Reuben Martin, 392 Prevented by the death of “Brighton Bill”, 392 Absconds to Paris, 392 Frank Redmond (note), 392 Adventures in Paris, 393 Returns, is tried at Hertford, and acquitted, 394 “Tom-and-Jerryism” rampant 1836–46, 394 A police fracas and three months’ imprisonment, 395 “Lament of the Disorderly Gentlemen”, 396 Becomes a publican, and marries, 397 Sam’s qualifications as a boxer, 397 His death, and a “Monody” thereon, 398

G

GAYNOR, TOM (“the Bath Carpenter”). His late _début_ in the Ring, 400 Birthplace, 400 Tom’s wonderful uncle “the Zummerzet Champion”, 400 Early skirmishes of the young carpenter, 401 Makes his way to the Metropolis, 401 A glove-bout with Josh Hudson, 402 Sets-to with Ben Burn, 402 Defeated by Ned Neale, 402 Beaten at Epsom Races by “Young Gas”, 402 Matched with Alec Reid, 402 Beats Alec Reid, 403 Matched with “Young Gas”—a draw, 405 Beaten by Bishop Sharpe, 405 Matched with Charles Gybletts, 405 Beats Gybletts, 406 Second match with Neale proposed, 408 Both men publicans, 408 Beats Ned Neale, 409 Challenged by Young Dutch Sam, 411 Beaten by Young Dutch Sam, 411 His death, 411

H

HICKMAN, THOMAS (“the Gasman”). His character as a boxer, 118 His birth, 118 Apprenticed to a boiler maker, 119 Early battles, 120 His battle with Peter Crawley, 121 Beats George Cooper, 122 Receives forfeit from Cooper, 124 Glove battle with Kendrick the Black, 124 Second match with George Cooper, 124 Beats George Cooper second time, 125 Matched with Tom Oliver, 126 Scenes on the road, 126 Defeats Tom Oliver, 127 Matched with Neat, 128 Display at the Fives Court with Shelton, 129 Beaten by Neat, 130 Hickman’s irritability, 131 Turn-up with Rawlinson, 131 Theatrical engagement of Neat and Hickman, by Davidge, 132 His character, 132 His melancholy death, 132 Coroner’s inquest, 133 Funeral of Hickman and Mr. Rowe, 134 Sympathy of brother pugilists, and benefit for his widow, 135

HUDSON, DAVID. His victories, 191 Beats West Country Dick, 192 Beats Harry Holt, 192 Beats Jack Scroggins (Palmer) twice, 194, 195 Beaten by Jack Martin, 195 Beats Green, “Essex Champion”, 195 Beats Jack Steadman, 196 Becomes publican at Chelmsford, 196 Second victory over Green, 196 Beaten by Ned Neale, 197 Beaten by Larkins (the Irishman), 198 Died Nov. 27th, 1835, 198

HUDSON, JOSH (“the John Bull Fighter”). 1816–1826. His birth at Rotherhithe, 263 His good humour, 263 Fight with Jack Payne, the Butcher, 263 Draw with Aby Belasco, 263 Defeats Street and Charles Martin, 263 Beats Thompson, “the Essex Coachman”, 264 Takes a voyage to India, 264 Beaten by Bowen, “the Chatham Caulker”, 264 Beats Williams, “the Waterman”, 264 Defeats Scroggins at Moulsey, 264 Beats Phil Sampson, 265 Beaten by Tom Spring, 267 Turn-up with Aby Belasco at Norwich, 267 Beats “Swell” Williams, 267 Miscalculation of the “knowing ones”, 268 Beaten by Ned Turner in a “turn-up”, 269 Second match with Phil Sampson, 269 Beats Phil Sampson, 270 Fracas with Jack Ford, 270 Challenge to Martin and Garrol, 272 Second match with “the Chatham Caulker”, 272 A stormy day, a beak, and a move, 273 Defeats Bowen, 274 Challenges, 275 Beats Barlow, “the Nottingham Youth”, 275 Matched with Tom Shelton, 277 Receives forfeit from Shelton, 278 Matched with Jem Ward, 278 Remarks on the capabilities of the combatants, 279 Josh’s training costume, 279 Defeats Jem Ward, 280 The return from the fight, 283 A speculation in bandannas, 284 A silver cup voted to Josh, 284 At the Fives Court, Hudson and Ward, 285 Hudson and Sampson, impromptu, 285 Presentation of a silver cup, 286 The “no fight” affair with Sampson, 287 His marriage—the “Half Moon Tap”, 288 Josh’s gallantry—a ruffian punished, 288 Josh, “mine uncle,” and the silver cup, 289 Josh Hudson Junior, 290 Died Oct. 8th, 1838, in Milton Street, Finsbury, 290

J

JONES, HARRY (“the Sailor Boy”). His many battles, 515 His birth in Bristol, 516 Apprenticed on board an Indiaman, 516 Beaten by Latham, 516 Beaten by Ned Stockman (twice), 516 Bye-battles with Watts, Riley, and Peter Brookery, 516 Beats Brown (“Sprig of Myrtle”), 517 The Fighting “Typo,” a bride and a challenge, 517 Beaten by Dick Price, 517 Held to bail at Oxford, 518 Beaten by Tom Reidie, 518 And by Ned Stockman (third time), 518 Beats Fred Edwards, 519 Beats Mike Curtain, 519 Defeats “Captain Corduroy”, 519 The humours of Westminster in by-past times, 519 A day’s outing—Harry Jones and Tommy O’Lynn, 520 Jones defeats Tommy O’Lynn, 521 Is beaten by Young Dutch Sam, 521 Beats Knowlan, the Tumbler, 522 Beats Mike Curtain the second time, 522 Beats Tom Collins, 522 Beats Pick, of Bristol, 522 Beats Reuben Howe, 523 Beaten by Charley Gybletts, 523 Interrupted fight with Jem Raines, 524 Beats Bob Simmonds, 525 Second match with Jem Raines, 526 Beats Ike Dodd, 527 Beats Bill Savage, 528 Matched with Ned Stockman, 529 Beats Ned Stockman, 530 Beats Barney Aaron, 530 Beats Tom Reidie, 530 Beats Frank Redmond, 530 Beats George Watson, 531 Beats Dick Hill, of Nottingham, 531 Beats Perkins, of Oxford, 531 Beats Gipsy Jack Cooper, 531 Beaten by Tom Smith, 531 His death, 531

L

LANGAN, JOHN (the Irish Champion). Birth and early days, 53 Juvenile battles, 53 Goes to sea, and adventure at Lisbon, 53 Apprenticed to a sawyer, 53 Apocryphal battles, 54 Sir Daniel Donnelly on training, 57 Fights with Pat Halton, 59 —— with Carney, 60 —— with Cummins, 60 —— with Owen M’Gowran, 61 Sails for South America as a volunteer in the War of Independence, 62 Death of Langan’s brother—an old sailor of Nelson’s “Victory”, 63 Lands at St. Marguerite—sufferings of the “patriots”, 64 Made Quartermaster-Sergeant, 65 Returns to Cork, and goes to Dublin, 65 Becomes publican, 65 An amatory episode and its consequences, 66 Arrives in England, 66 Battle with Vipond (or Weeping), 67 Returns to Ireland, and imprisoned for damages, 68 Challenged by Rough Robin, 68 Challenges the Championship, 69 Defeated at Worcester by Spring, 69 Defeated a second time near Chichester, 69 “The Black Fogle,” an ode, 70 Langan’s Benefit at the Fives Court, 71 Challenged by Jem Ward—no result, 71 Sails for Ireland, 71 Becomes a publican in Liverpool, 72 His social character, 72 His charities, 73 His death, and eulogy, 73

M

MATTHEWSON, ARTHUR, of Birmingham. Beats Barney Aaron (note), 510

N

NEALE, NED (“the Streatham Youth”). Press penchant for Irish heroes, 291 Born at Streatham, 291 Witnesses fight between Martin and Turner, 291 His patron, Mr. Sant, the brewer, 292 Defeats Deaf Davis, 292 Beats Cribb, of Brighton, 292 Beats Miller, “Pea-soup Gardener”, 293 Beats Hall, of Birmingham, 293 Beats David Hudson (brother of Josh), 294 Beats Tom Gaynor, 296 Matched with Baldwin (“White-headed Bob”), and receives £100 forfeit, 297 Matched a second time, and beats Baldwin, 297 Beats Jem Burn, 299 Visits Ireland, 301 His marriage, 302 Matched with Phil Sampson, 303 Death of Mrs. Neale, and postponement of the match, 303 Second match—defeats Sampson, 303 Defeats Tom Cannon, “the Great Gun,” of Windsor, 308 Matched a second time with Jem Burn, 310 Beats Jem Burn, second time, 311 Challenges any 12st. man, 313 A silver cup proposed, 313 Match with Jem Ward off, 314 Third match with Baldwin, 314 Drawn battle with Baldwin, 316 Beaten by Baldwin, 320 Presented with a silver cup, 320 Matched with John Nicholls, 320 Defeats Nicholls, 321 Matched with Roche, 322 Neale’s honesty—a “cross” defeated, 322 Beats Roche, 323 Retires from the Ring, 325 Is challenged by Young Dutch Sam, and twice defeated, 325 Is beaten by Tom Gaynor, 325 Dies at the “Rose and Crown,” Norwood, 325

NEAT, BILL, of Bristol. His birth, 104 His fight with Churchill, 104 Bristol the pugilistic nursery, 104 Matched with Tom Oliver, 105 Defeats Tom Oliver, 106 Repairs to the Metropolis, 108 Appears at the Fives Court, 108 Matched with Spring, Neat breaks his arm, 109 Challenges Cribb, 109 Matched with Hickman, “the Gasman”, 109 Scenes on the road, 110 Defeats Hickman, 111 Sensation in London, 114 Matched a second time with Spring and defeated, 115 Bristol in mourning, 116 A Quakeress’ remonstrant, 116 Letter from Mr. Joseph Fry, 117 Neat’s character, 117 Death at Bristol, aged 67, 117

O

OLIVER, TOM (Commissary of the P.R.). Born at Breadlow, Bucks, 89 His first ring appearance, 89 Beats Kimber and “Hopping Ned”, 89 Beats Harry Lancaster, 90 Beats Jack Ford, 90 Beats George Cooper, 91 Beats Ned Painter, 92 Aspires to the Championship, 94 Becomes a publican in Westminster, 94 Beaten by Jack Carter, 94 Beaten by Neat, of Bristol, 94 Beats Kendrick, the black, 95 Defeated by Dan Donnelly, 95 Beats Tom Shelton, 96 Beaten by Painter (second fight), 98 Beaten by Spring, 98 Beaten by Hickman, 98 Beaten by Abbott, 99 Becomes Commissary of the P.R., 99 Challenge from Old Ben Burn, 99 Adventures of the Ring-goers, 100 The battle of the veterans, 102 Tom’s victory, 103 His retirement, and death, aged 75, 103

P

PAINTER, NED. His character, 74 Early days at Stratford, Manchester, 74 Sets-to with Carter—his strength, 75 Arrives at Bob Gregson’s, 75 Fight with Coyne, 75 Fight with Alexander, “the Gamekeeper”, 75 Beaten by Tom Oliver, 76 Beaten by Shaw, the Life-Guardsman, 77 Matched with Oliver a second time, 78 Polite pugilistic letter-writing, 78 Oliver arrested during his training, and proposal to fight at Calais, 78 Fight with Sutton, the black, 79 Second fight with Sutton, 79 His foot-racing and athletic capabilities, 80 His defeat by Spring, 82 Painter defeats Spring, 83 His farewell to the Ring, 83 Becomes publican at Norwich, 83 His character vindicated from current slanders, 84 Forfeits to Spring, 84 Matched with Tom Oliver, 85 Defeat of Oliver, 87 His retirement and death, 88

PERKINS, JACK (“the Oxford Pet”). His boxing qualifications, 532 His battles with Wakelin and Godfrey, 532 Beats Dick Price, 532 His victory over Dick Curtis, “the Pet”, 536 Beats Coates, 538 Is beaten by Harry Jones, “the Sailor Boy”, 538 And by Alec Reid, 538 His brief career ended, 538

R

REID, ALEC (“the Chelsea Snob”). Came of a fighting family, 412 Beats Finch, and opens a sparring school, 412 Beats Sam Abbott, 413 Beats Yandell, 413 Beats O’Rafferty, 413 Defeated by Dick Defoe, 413 Beats Harris, the waterman, 414 Beats Underhill, 414 Receives forfeit from Gipsy Cooper, 415 Beats Gipsy Cooper, 415 A “turn-up” with Maurice Delay, 416 A draw with Bill Savage, 416 Matched with Bishop Sharpe, 416 A suspicious “draw”, 417 Matched with Jubb, of Cheltenham, 417 Beats Jubb, 418 Is defeated by Tom Gaynor, 418 Beaten by Bishop Sharpe, 419 Bound in recognisances for twelve months, 419 Third match with Bishop Sharpe, 419 Beats Bishop Sharpe, 420 Matched with Perkins, of Oxford, 423 Beats “the Oxford Pet”, 424 Dies in 1875, aged 73, 427

REDMOND, FRANK (note), 302.

REYNOLDS, TOM. The Mentor of Langan and Byrne, 477 Of Irish birth, 477 Comes to London, 477 His literary ability, 477 Fails in business, 477 Becomes a pugilist, 478 A battle in the “Old Fleet”, 478 Beats Aby Belasco, 479 Beats Church, 479 And Johnson (“the Broom-dasher”), 479 Becomes a publican in Drury Lane, 479 An accident and a tour, 479 Returns to Ireland, 479 Beats John Dunn on the Curragh, 479 Returns to England, 479 Beats Sammons, of Lancashire, 479 Returns to Ireland, 480 Takes Langan under his tuition and care, 480 Becomes patron of Simon Byrne, 480 A publican in Dublin, 480 His “Defence of Pugilism”, 480

S

SAMPSON, PHIL (“the Birmingham Youth”). His birth, in Yorkshire, 454 Migrates in early life to Birmingham, 454 Gregson in Birmingham, 454 An impromptu battle with Dolly Smith, 455 Is beaten by Josh Hudson for “a purse”, 455 A disputed battle with Aby Belasco, 456 A “turn-up” with Aby, 457 A glove-fight at the Tennis Court, 457 Beaten by Jack Martin, 457 Beats Tom Dye, the table-lifter, 457 A second glove-fight with Belasco, 458 Beaten by Charley Grantham (“Gybletts”), 459 Beaten by Bill Abbot, 459 Beaten by Bill Hall, 459 Leaves London, 459 Beats Bill Hall, 460 Matched with Aby Belasco, 460 Beats Belasco, 461 Challenges Jem Ward, and is beaten, 462 Is beaten a second time by Ward, 462 Matched with Jem Burn, 464 Beats Jem Burn, 465 Third match with Hall, 466 Beats Hall, 467 A “turn-up” with Josh Hudson, 467 And a thrashing from Jem Ward, 467 Challenges “Big Brown”, 467 Matched with Paul Spencer, 467 Two fights in one with Spencer, 468 Buncombe challenges, 470 Matched again with “Big Brown”, 470 Beats “Big Brown”, 471 Triumphant return to Birmingham, 474

SHARPE, BISHOP (“the Bold Smuggler”). A seaman in His Majesty’s service, 428 His early career, 428 Beats Jack Cooper, “the Gipsy”, 429 Defeats Cooper a second and third time, 430 Beats Ben Warwick, 430 Draw with Alec Reid, 430 Beats Alec Reid, 431 Matched with Tom Gaynor, 433 Beats Tom Gaynor, 434 Matched with Young Dutch Sam, 435 Receives forfeit from Young Dutch Sam, 436 Is defeated by Alec Reid, 436 His death, 436

SPRING, THOMAS WINTER (Champion). 1814–1824. His birth and early days, 1, 2 His battles with— Stringer, the Yorkshireman, 2 Ned Painter, of Norwich, 4 Ned Painter (second fight), 6 Jack Carter (Championship), 6 Ben Burn, 9 Forfeits to Bob Burn, 9 Beats Bob Burn, 10 Josh Hudson, 12 Tom Oliver, 13 Tom Cribb’s retirement, Spring claims the Championship, 12 His marriage, 12 Forfeits to Neat, 15 Matched with Neat, 17 In custody for attending a fight on Brighton Downs, 18 Fight with Neat, 19 Revisits his native place, and receives the “Hereford” Cup, 23 Jack Langan’s challenge, 23 Matched with Langan, 24 First fight with Langan, at Worcester, 24 Accident at the Worcester Grand Stand, 25 Newspaper correspondence and buncombe, 31 Again matched with Langan, for £500 a-side, 33 Fighting on a stage, 33 Spring’s benefit, and dinner at the “Castle”, 35 The eve of the fight—scenes in Chichester, 36 Second fight with Langan, 38 Spring’s triumph—meeting with Langan, 45 Takes the “Castle” Tavern, Holborn, 45 Reminiscences of the “Castle”, 48 Presentation of “Manchester” Cup (1824), 49 The “Champion Testimonial”, 49 His death, 20th August, 1851, 51 His monument at Norwood Cemetery, 51

SUTTON, HARRY (“the Black”). A native of Baltimore, U.S., 177 Fight with “Cropley’s Black”, 177 Fight with Black Robinson, 178 Beats Ned Painter, 178 Beaten by Ned Painter, 179 Beats Kendrick the Black, 181 Receives forfeit from Larkin, 182 Becomes a sparring exhibitor, 182

W

WARD, JEM (Champion). 1822–1831. Pugilistic reporters and writers of the Period: V. Dowling, George Kent, George Daniels, S. Smith, Pierce Egan, &c., 199 Candidates for the Championship on the retirement of Tom Spring, 200 Birth and parentage of “the Black Diamond”, 200 Beats Dick Acton, 201 Challenges Jack Martin for £150, 202 Beats Burke, of Woolwich, 202 Beaten (?) by Dick Acton, 202 The stakes drawn and bets off, 203 Ward’s letter and apology, 204 Beats Ned Baldwin (“White-headed Bob”), 205 Beats Rickens, of Bath, at Landsdowne, 205 Beats Jemmy the Black, 206 Returns to the London P.R., 206 Beaten by Josh Hudson, 206 Beats Phil Sampson, 206 Challenges Langan, who had retired, 207 Claims the Championship, 207 Second fight with Phil Sampson, 207 Challenges Cannon for £500 a-side, 208 The challenge accepted, 209 Excitement at Warwick, 210 “The Old Squire” (Osbaldeston) referee, 212 Beats Tom Cannon, 213 Receives a belt at the Fives Court, 214 Dispute on giving up the stakes, 215 Challenges all comers, 216 Turn-up with Sampson, 217 Beaten by Peter Crawley, 217 Challenges Peter Crawley, who declines, 217 Brown, of Bridgnorth, declines to fight except on a stage, 218 Accident at the Tennis Court, 219 Challenged by Carter, 219 Beats Carter, 220 Receives forfeit from Simon Byrne, 222 Matched with Simon Byrne, 223 Public disappointment and Ward’s forfeit of the stakes, 225 Renewal of the match with Byrne, 226 Arrest of Byrne for his fight with Alexander Mackay, 226 Byrne’s acquittal and new match, 226 Preliminaries of the fight, 227 Beats Simon Byrne, 229 Receives a second belt, 231 Becomes a publican at Liverpool, 231 Ward’s talent as a painter, 232 Returns to London, 232 Interview with Ward (aged 80 years) in June, 1880, 232

Footnote 1:

This is an error of the reporter’s. Spring has told us he was thirteen stone, nett, when he met Stringer.

Footnote 2:

This resembled the much-discussed round in Heenan and Sayers’ fight at Farnborough, where the Yankees claimed a “foul” because the ropes were lowered when Heenan was throttling the English Champion. The twenty-eighth rule of the P.R., which governs this case, authorises the referee to have the men separated, or the ropes cut, to prevent a fatal result. This the American party ignored or were really ignorant of.—Ed. PUGILISTICA.

Footnote 3:

Though this report is mainly from Pierce Egan’s text, it is not his writing; these “remarks” are from the pen of Mr. Vincent Dowling, and appeared in _Bell’s Life in London_, of January 11, 1824.

Footnote 4:

“FIGHTING UPON A STAGE.—Some little difference of opinion having existed upon the merits of the case between Langan and Spring, the majority of the supporters of pugilism assert, according to milling precedents, that if Spring intended to retain the title of Champion, he could, nay, he ought not to have refused to fight Langan upon a stage, as the following circumstances support the claim of Langan. It appears that Jack Bartholomew thought he had not fair play in the ring when he fought with Jem Belcher; and upon Bartholomew’s soliciting Belcher to give him a chance upon a stage, he replied, “Any where; a saw-pit, if you like.” Again, when Molineaux entertained an opinion that he had not justice done him in a ring with Cribb, the latter veteran answered the request of the man of colour, with a smile upon his face, “Yes, upon a stage, the top of a house, in a ship, or in any place you think proper.” It is likewise insisted upon by the admirers of boxing that the advantages are all upon the side of Spring. He is the tallest, the heaviest, and the longest man, with the addition of his superior science into the bargain. Most of the prize battles formerly were fought upon stages—Tom Johnson with Perrins, Big Ben with Jacombs, and George the brewer with Pickard; Johnson with Ryan, Johnson also with Big Ben, Mendoza with Humphries, Ward with Mendoza, Tom Tyne with Earl, etc. It is also worthy of remark, that none of the above stages were covered with turf. The only instance that bears upon the point respecting “turf,” is the stage which was erected at Newbury, upon which Big Ben and Hooper were to have fought. This was covered with turf, but the magistrates interfered; the fight was removed to some miles distant. Big Ben and Hooper fought on the ground in a ring.”—PIERCE EGAN.

Footnote 5:

See Life of JEM BURN, Period VI., Chapter VI.

Footnote 6:

Mr. John Jackson.

Footnote 7:

So says the reporter. It would, however, be fair, even if intentional, for any man is entitled to hit another “going down,” but of course, not when “down.”—Ed. PUGILISTICA.

Footnote 8:

The more humane provisions of the “New Rules,” do not allow this conduct on the part of the second. By rule 9, the man must rise from the knee of his bottle-holder and walk unaided to the scratch to meet his opponent.—Ed. PUGILISTICA.

Footnote 9:

This is negatived by round thirty-eight of the report: see also the note.—Ed. PUGILISTICA.

Footnote 10:

This reminds us of a duel which was fought at Liverpool some years since by the light of lamps, between a volunteer colonel and the aide-de-camp of a royal duke.

Footnote 11:

This is most unlikely; Langan was, we should say, never under eleven stone seven pounds to ten pounds from the time he was a grown man.—Ed. PUGILISTICA.

Footnote 12:

This sort of balderdash abounds in Pierce Egan’s (or rather, we suspect, Tom Reynolds’) Sketches of Irish Boxers in “Boxiana.” We let it stand here as something to provoke a smile.—Ed. PUQILISTICA.

Footnote 13:

The reader should also take the advice of Carney’s second, and “not mind such trash.”—Ed. PUGILISTICA.

Footnote 14:

The place where Tom Belcher defeated Dogherty, and which has ever since been called after the former celebrated pugilist. See BELCHER (TOM), vol. i., p. 160.

Footnote 15:

Our friend the historian of “Boxiana,” here makes a sad mess of it. The Victory was not at Aboukir Bay at all; Nelson’s ship at the battle of the Nile (Aboukir) was the Vanguard. Every schoolboy knows the hero died off the coast of Spain, about sixty miles west of Cadiz, October 21, 1805, after the “crowning victory” off Cape Trafalgar.—Ed. PUGILISTICA.

Footnote 16:

Pierce Egan makes, reason unknown, this man’s name “Cohen.” He was afterwards beaten by Davis (the navigator), and is rightly indexed as Coyne in “Fistiana.”

Footnote 17:

Respecting the division of the “gate-money,” Mr. Jackson’s opinion was, “that all moneys taken upon the ground, in point of right and justice, belong to both of the combatants, who are the primary cause of the multitude assembling, and therefore ought to be fairly divided between them, without any reservation whatever.”

Footnote 18:

This, as we have already observed, would not be allowed by modern practice, and is forbidden by the new Rules of the Ring, Arts. 7 and 9.—Ed. PUGILISTICA.

Footnote 19:

A town once celebrated for cocking, pronounced by the natives “Wedgebury.”

Footnote 20:

Mr. James Soares.

Footnote 21:

Instruments used in gas-works.

Footnote 22:

This is the account in “Boxiana,” and _faute de mieux_ we must adopt it. We suspect the much-vaunted Sir Daniel was simply a big clumsy “rough,” despite his defeat of Old Tom Oliver, who was a game boxer, but “slow as a top,” as Spring often in a friendly way described him. Cooper, too, had already been beaten by Oliver, and was in anything but good condition when he met Donnelly.

Footnote 23:

By the New Rules Donnelly would here have lost the fight, as Burke did in his contest with Bendigo, on February 7, 1839.—ED. PUGILISTICA.

Footnote 24:

The writer never enters into the private quarrels of pugilists. His only anxiety is to represent every circumstance connected with the prize ring with accuracy and fidelity. He entertains no prejudices, neither has he any partialities to gratify.

Footnote 25:

Tom Shuffleton, speaking of a female, says, “Oh! I see; she must be the sixteenth Mrs. Shuffleton.” We never ascertained whether Mr. Donnelly placed his ladies in numerical order; it is, however, certain that he was a very gallant Milesian.

Footnote 26:

Pugilistic Champion of Ireland, we presume.—ED.

Footnote 27:

In Dublin.

Footnote 28:

Poor Dan kept a public-house—Lord rest his sowl.

Footnote 29:

Carter’s ring career really closed on the 4th of May, 1819, when his pretensions were disposed of by the science of Tom Spring. See Life of SPRING, Vol. II., Chapter I.

Footnote 30:

Sam Robinson, the Black, was born in 1778, in New York. He was a strong and courageous nigger, and after beating Crockey, beat Butcher, on March 16, 1810, at Coombe Warren, for a purse of £10. He was then beaten by Carter (twice) as here recorded. He beat Stephenson, the Black, at Coombe Wood, the 28th of May, 1816, making his third battle in three months. A hasty match was again made with Carter, and Robinson was a second time defeated, June 20, 1816. Sutton, the Black (see Appendix), challenged Robinson at Doncaster Races, and beat him, September 26, 1816, for a purse, in thirty-six minutes. In December, Robinson beat a big Yorkshireman, named Taylor, at Ferrybridge, in nineteen minutes, for a purse of ten guineas. He was next defeated by George Cooper (see COOPER, vol. i., p. 365), and quickly polished off. Fangill, a Scotch boxer, and a Waterloo man, was matched against Robinson, and they fought at Shellock, in Ayrshire, June 25, 1817, when Robinson proved the victor in forty minutes, after a gallant fight. His last battle was with Dent, a north-countryman, whom he beat, December 5, 1817, near the renowned Gretna Green, famed for other ring matches. He for some time attended sparring at the Fives Court, and when we lose sight of him he had entered the service of a sporting nobleman.

Footnote 31:

Mr. John Jackson.

Footnote 32:

This Green was an Essex man, who, having defeated one Wyke, at Barnsley, in Yorkshire, for a stake of £60 (April 2, 1819), and subsequently Harris, a _protégé_ of Josh. Hudson, at Dagenham Breach, Essex, March 13, 1820 (in “Fistiana” the date is wrongly given as March 1, 1829), had crept into favour with himself. He was snuffed out by David as we here find.

Footnote 33:

Mr. Soares.

Footnote 34:

There were two other boxers of the name. Sam Larkins, of Cambridge, who beat Abbot (see ABBOT), Shadbolt, and John Fuller; and Larkins, the Guardsman.

Footnote 35:

In the fourth volume of Pierce Egan’s “Boxiana,” pp. 473–481, will be found a friendly sketch of poor George’s career, as historiographer of the ring for the previous twenty years. He was a Berkshire man, born August 19, 1778, apprenticed to Varley, the celebrated seal engraver in the Strand, subsequently enlisted in the 16th Dragoons, but obtained his discharge at the period of the treaty of Amiens. Then an usher in a school at Camberwell, a newspaper writer in the _British Neptune_, and proprietor of _Kent’s Dispatch_, which died. Pierce Egan, who, with Vincent Dowling and George’s two sons, followed him to his grave in St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, says he realised in two successive years £1700, by sporting reporting. He was a scholar and a man of talent.

Footnote 36:

Dick Acton, a _protégé_ of the scientific sparrer, Bill Eales, was like the French general who was compared to a drum, heard of only when beaten. He was a shoemaker by trade, and a ring follower by choice. His first fight in the P. C. ropes was with one Nash, at Kilburn, August 21, 1821, whom he beat, for a purse of 20 guineas, in thirty-two rounds. The next week, the love of fight strong within him, Dick threw his hat in at Edgeware, for a purse of 20 guineas, and polished off a stalwart countryman, hight Evans, in eighteen rounds, forty minutes. His next customer was a regular boxer, known as Massa Kendrick, the black. He turned the tables on “the Snob,” putting him in darkness in seventeen rounds, twenty-five minutes, at Moulsey, December 18, 1821. Dick moved for a new trial, and on the 18th of March, 1822, at Moulsey, seconded by Eales and Tom Spring, the Black by Randall and Josh. Hudson, Acton reversed the verdict, with two to one against him, punishing Massa out of time in thirty-two rattling rounds, occupying thirty-five minutes. From this time he became a sort of “trial horse,” and was beaten successively by Jem Ward, Young Peter Crawley, and Jack Nicholls, all good men.

Footnote 37:

See Memoir of PHIL. SAMPSON, in an after part of this volume.

Footnote 38:

It may be as well to premise that this was written by one who was far from friendly to Ward. The facts, however, speak for themselves.—Ed. PUGILISTICA.

Footnote 39:

See Life of PAINTER, _ante_, p. 82.

Footnote 40:

See Life of WARD, p. 201, _ante_.

Footnote 41:

Bill (known as Dolly) Smith was born at Hammersmith, and was well thought of by many patrons of the art pugilistic. His principal battles were with Cannon, Abbot, Phil. Sampson, Joe Nash, and Jack Scroggins, by all of whom he was beaten, so that his name has been preserved by the fame of the antagonists who defeated him. His one successful battle was with Hares, whom he defeated after a slashing fight of fifty-eight minutes, during which forty rounds were fought, at Coombe Wood, May 3, 1814. This was for a purse of twenty-five guineas, given by the Pugilistic Club.

Footnote 42:

See Life of JEM WARD, pp. 211–215, _ante_.

Footnote 43:

The following we find in the _Weekly Dispatch_ of the Sunday which announces Tom’s engagement:—

“So the nobs at the Coburg (forgive me the pun) Are about to let off, for six nights, a Great Gun: Tom Cannon, whose backer his prowess espouses. Is form’d to draw claret, and may draw great houses; May he make a good ‘hit,’ for the managers’ sake, If they’re liberal in ‘giving,’ Tom doubtless will ‘take.’ But, jesting apart, may the town aid their plan, Nor the whole turn out merely a flash in the pan.

“TIMOTHY TRIGGER,

“_Gun Tavern_.”

Footnote 44:

Jack Ford, in his day, fought some of the best men. He was defeated by Tom Oliver and Harry Harmer (see Life of OLIVER, vol. ii.); but beat Harry Lancaster, George Weston and Josh. Ebbs. His weight was twelve stone.

Footnote 45:

This would now be objected to as an improper interference on the part of a second.—EDITOR.

Footnote 46:

As a sample of what our fathers thought smart writing, we give a contemporary specimen or two of _les impromptus fait à loisir_ which appeared in the leading papers of the day:

“IMPROMPTU ON SAMPSON AND HUDSON’S MATCH.

“If what the ancients say be true, That Samson many thousands slew, And with a single bone; How can Josh. Hudson’s skill in fight, Avail ’gainst modern Sampson’s might, Who carries two ’tis known?”

Another, alluding to a rife topic of the day—the treatment of Napoleon the Great by the Governor of St. Helena, Sir Hudson Lowe, whom Byron has damned to everlasting fame in the lines—

“Or to some lonely isle of gaolers go, With turncoat Hudson for my turnkey Lowe,”

runs thus; the plagiarism in idea is manifest.

“Josh. Hudson now is _high_ in fame; Should this against him go, His glory passes like a dream, He’ll then be—Hudson Low-e.”

Footnote 47:

Larkins afterwards beat John Fuller, Abbott, and Kelly, and was beaten by Keene and Tubbs. He came to London, and his name occurs in the Fives and Tennis Courts glove bouts.

Footnote 48:

See Appendix to Period V., pp. 191–198.

Footnote 49:

In a reprint in _Bell’s Life_ (May 15th, 1879) this fight is reported throughout as “O’Neale and Gaynor,” without a word of allusion to Neale’s previous battles.

Footnote 50:

This is an allusion to a system of exercise adopted by Jem in training, and recommended by many, of practising right and left upon a sack stuffed with hay, to teach straight delivery.

Footnote 51:

The original Assembly Rooms in Regent Street, by Argyll Place, not the Windmill Street “Argyll,” recently “disestablished” by the Middlesex magistrates.

Footnote 52:

Frank Redmond, although his Ring career was not marked by success, was a skilful sparrer and an excellent teacher of the art of self-defence. He was born on the 26th of February, 1803, and as a young aspirant was so highly thought of that he was matched (at the age of twenty) against the renowned “Star of the East,” Barney Aaron, whose recent victories over Samuel Belasco, Collins, Ned Stockman, and Lenney (twice) had raised him to a proud position among the middle weights. Young Frank was soundly beaten in thirty-two minutes, after a game and manly battle with an opponent by whom it was no disgrace to be defeated.

Four years afterwards Frank again challenged Aaron, and a match was made for £50 a-side, to fight on the 21st August, 1827, but Frank was arrested on the day on the road to the appointed place. Strange to say, although this was proved, the stakes were given up to the Israelite, which so angered Redmond that he threw up his hat in the room at the “Castle” and offered to fight for £20 on the spot. A third match was then made for £50 a-side. After a high-couraged battle (which will be found in the Life of BARNEY AARON, in the Appendix to this Period) Redmond was again defeated. Redmond’s other battles were a game but unsuccessful combat with Harry Jones (the Sailor Boy), and a single victory over Tom Davis, near Leominster, on the 14th of November, 1833. Frank soon after married, and went into business as a licensed victualler at the “George and Dragon,” Greek Street, Soho, which, from Frank’s abilities as a professor of the fistic art, and his thorough knowledge of the points of a dog, became a popular resort. At an after period, for many years, Frank Redmond was known and respected as the proprietor of the “Swiss Cottage,” St. John’s Wood. We extract the following from “Walks round London,” published in 1846:—

“The ‘Swiss Cottage,’ at the intersection of the London and Finchley Roads and Belsize Lane, is a pleasant summer retreat; and it would be hard to name a more competent authority on sporting subjects than the worthy host, than whom

‘A merrier nor a wiser man To spend a pleasant hour withal’

is not to be found within the bills of mortality. Well versed in all sporting matters is Frank Redmond; and behind a yard of clay, and over a glass of the best Cognac, the proprietor of this hostelrie will discuss with you the merits of a Derby nag; the pluck, game, bravery, and stamina of the aspirant for fistic fame; the construction and merits of a prize wherry; the skill of a batsman and cricket-bowler; or detail to you the speed and breeding of a crack greyhound. On this last theme Frank will become a monopolist; you have touched the chord that will vibrate, for on the subject of the canine species he will become as learned as England’s ermined Chief Justice on a knotty point of law, or as eloquent as Demosthenes himself. A better judge of the merits, breeding, and qualities of the dog does not exist. Frank is reputed to be the best dog-fancier in the kingdom, and on that point is generally consulted by the aristocracy and Corinthians of the first water.

“Such are a few of the many inducements, and we own they are no small ones, which prompt us to notice ‘the Cottage.’ We say nothing about the accommodation offered to the guests; for it were a libel on Frank’s administration to assert that they are not of the first-rate order, and he must be an epicure, indeed, who could find fault with the _cuisine_ of the establishment. Had the ‘Swiss Cottage’ existed in Shakspere’s days, we should have been inclined to assert that it was from some such a house as this that the ‘fat-ribbed knight’ first acquired his idea of the comfort a man feels in taking ‘mine ease at mine inn.’”

Frank Redmond retired from this life and its business in 1863.

Footnote 53:

Dick Curtis died September 16th, 1843, aged 41.

Footnote 54:

This was occasioned by that ancient boxing arena passing into new hands, and being leased for a circus, under the title of “Cooke’s Gymnasium.”

Footnote 55:

At this time Tom Belcher bore that title.

Footnote 56:

Arthur Matthewson, for many years known in fistic circles as a sporting publican, was one of the best little men of his day. His first reported battle was with David Barnes, whom he defeated in fifty-one rounds, for fifty guineas a-side, at Basset’s Pole, near Birmingham, July 15th, 1822. He beat Israel Belasco in forty-four minutes at Moulsey Hurst, March 19th, 1823, and Barney Aaron as above. Matthewson died in his native town, July 13th, 1840, generally respected.

Footnote 57:

Jem Raines, ten stone four pounds, fought a draw with Harry Jones, the Sailor Boy, at Chesterfield, March 17th, 1827. He was subsequently beaten by Harry Jones (see Life of the SAILOR BOY, page 526), Ned Stockman, and Barney Aaron, all, at that period, good men and made in most instances a very creditable fight.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. P. 456, changed “fell one knee” to “fell to one knee”. 2. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. 3. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. 4. Footnotes have been re-indexed using numbers and collected together at the end of the last chapter. 5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.