I. DANIEL MENDOZA—1784‒1820.[51]
The conveniences of the plan of a biographical history the editor flatters himself are by this time sufficiently obvious to the reader: the index of names and of events at the end of the volume, and the grouping of the memoirs into Periods, bringing the men who contended their most important battles with each other into close companionship in our pages.
As the introducer of a new, a more rapid, and more elegant style of boxing, and a more artistic tactique, the Israelitish champion Mendoza deserves the distinction of heading a division of followers and pupils. Accordingly we begin with his pugilistic career, to be succeeded by those of his clever antagonists, Richard Humphries and Mr. John Jackson, Bill Warr, Tom Owen, Paddington (Tom) Jones, etc., with Stanyard, George Ingleston, Fewterel, and many minor stars in the Appendix, and in foot-notes, where their conflicts with more distinguished boxers have preserved their names from oblivion.
DANIEL MENDOZA, one of the most elegant and scientific boxers recorded in the annals of pugilism, was born in the year 1763, of Jewish parents, in the vicinity of Whitechapel. Of his earlier years nothing worthy of record is known. His first noted pugilistic contest took place at Mile End, in 1784, with a big rough, known by the name of Harry the Coalheaver. Dan appears to have polished off this black diamond in forty minutes—at least, so says “Boxiana;” yet so far from being drawn from his regular employment and pursuits by this triumph, his name does not figure until 1787. Shortly after, Dan rose like a phenomenon in the fistic horizon, where he long sparkled a star of the first magnitude. His advent was unquestionably a new feature in the practice of the art, and his style of fighting gave rise to much controversy and animadversion among the cognoscenti.[52] So far as it was illustrated in his own practice, it was substantial and complete; and it may be candidly allowed that whenever Mendoza failed, it was rather from insufficient muscular strength, and being overmatched in weight, than any deficiency of skill or courage. It has been contended that there was more elegance about his positions than strength, and more show than utility. No pugilist ever stopped with greater neatness, hit oftener, or put in his blows quicker, than Mendoza; but they often failed in doing that execution which might have been expected from want of force. In height about five feet seven inches, with a well-formed manly chest, and arms of a strong athletic nature; a courage never impeached; and possessing wind that was seldom disordered, his battles were numerous and well-contested.
On the 17th of April, 1787, Mendoza made his first public appearance in the lists, on Barnet race-course, with Martin, the Bath butcher, an opponent of Humphries, and of great provincial reputation. The victory was well disputed, Mendoza exhibiting thus early those points of excellence which soon afterwards ripened to perfection. The battle was for 25 guineas, and in twenty minutes the Bath boxer acknowledged that the young Israelite was his master in the art. Humphries, who had last fought Martin, in the previous year, had taken 105 minutes to dispose of him.
This victory was much talked of, and already the youthful Jew was mentioned as “the coming man” to lower the pretensions of “the Gentleman Boxer.” In 1787, a casual rencontre took place between these great rivals, at the Cock, at Epping, in which rumour gave Humphries so much the best that it led to a match in 1788, which, as Mendoza was defeated, will be found in Chapter II., under Humphries. The superiority of the latter was, however, a matter of very serious question with the most competent judges, and their doubts were proved valid by the sequel, for a second match was made, the progress and result of which we now proceed to detail.
May the 6th, 1789, was the day fixed for the long and anxiously expected battle. The place fixed upon was Mr. Thornton’s park, near Stilton, Hunts. In order to accommodate the spectators, a building was erected, enclosing a space of forty-eight feet in diameter (“Boxiana” says “in circumference”), with seats raised one above the other, capable of containing nearly three thousand persons, the highest seat being eighteen feet from the ground.
Humphries, attended by Tom Johnson, as his second, entered between one and two o’clock, followed by Butcher, as his bottle-holder, and Harvey Combe, Esq., the brewer and alderman, as his umpire. Mendoza immediately afterwards made his appearance, attended by Captain Brown and Michael Ryan, as his second and bottle-holder, having Sir Thomas Apreece for his umpire. The seconds, according to agreement, retired to separate comers on the setting-to. The reporter continues: “The first blow was struck by Humphries at the face of his antagonist, which Mendoza stopping with great adroitness, returned and knocked Humphries down. The second and third rounds terminated in precisely the same manner. Astonishment at the confidence and quickness of Mendoza was expressed by every spectator.
“After the contest had lasted about forty minutes, in which Mendoza, by generally catching his opponent’s blows on his arm and returning with his left hand, or throwing him, had indisputably the advantage of the combat, it was stopped by a circumstance that created the greatest confusion on both sides.
“In the twenty-second round, Mendoza having struck at Humphries, the latter dropped. The articles of agreement particularly specified that whichever combatant fell ‘without a blow,’ should lose the battle. Consequently a general cry of ‘Foul! foul!’ took place, and it was declared by Mendoza’s friends that he had won the battle. Humphries, Johnson, and the spectators interested on that side of the question, contended it was fair, asserting that Humphries had stopped the blow before he fell. The partizans on the opposite side as vehemently insisted on the contrary, and the whole was a scene of uproar and confusion. Sir Thomas Apreece, as the umpire of Mendoza, declared it foul, but Alderman Combe refused giving an opinion. During this affray, Captain Brown (Mendoza’s second) in a moment of irritation called Johnson a liar and a blackguard, which was answered by the approach of Johnson in a stern and menacing manner. This led to the expectation of a bye-battle between the seconds. Humphries came several times to his adversary, calling on him to fight out the battle, but Mendoza’s friends would not permit him. Humphries then threw up his hat, and challenged him again to the combat. However, numbers present said, that this went no way to the decision of the point in dispute, and the battle most likely would have been a drawn one, had not Mendoza, by the advice of his friends, or perhaps irritated by his adversary’s continually taunting him for not continuing the fight, consented to resume the contest.
“They again set-to, and the first two rounds terminated by Mendoza’s knocking down his adversary. They fought for about half an hour, Mendoza all the time evidently holding the advantage, and at last gained the victory, by Humphries again violating the articles of agreement. In the last round, after some blows had passed, Humphries had given way, Mendoza followed him up, and was preparing to strike, when his opponent fell, obviously without receiving any blow. Mendoza was immediately declared the conqueror.
“Mendoza in this battle displayed great superiority of skill. Humphries allowed his antagonist to gain ground upon him during the whole combat; and when he was preparing to strike, he always flinched. Mendoza, on the contrary, stood up to his man manfully, and followed him with coolness and resolution, which proved much more serviceable to him than the impetuosity of temper he displayed in his last contest with Humphries at Odiham. Several times, when Humphries was in the act of setting-to, he walked up to him, and viewing him with a keen look, seemed contemptuously to drop his guard. When Humphries closed, he several times said to Mendoza, ‘Very well, indeed—very well!’ and which Mendoza, when he succeeded in throwing him, repeated in a mocking tone of irony. Nevertheless, during the whole contest, up to his fall, the bets were in favour of Humphries.
“The only blows of consequence received by Mendoza were one on the cheek, and several on the ribs and back at the time of closing. Towards the end of the contest Humphries aimed several very severe darts at the pit of the stomach, which were admirably stopped by Mendoza; had they reached their aim, they might have proved fatal to his chance. Humphries was much beaten about the face; one eye was closed, and his forehead cut above the other; his lip was also cut, and he frequently spat blood, but we think the hemorrhage was merely from the last-mentioned wound.”
Humphries was by no means satisfied of the Jew’s superiority, and persisted he had been “wrangled” out of the fight. A third trial by battle was therefore sought by him, and readily agreed to. We copy the report.
“September 29th, 1790, is rendered memorable in the annals of pugilism by the well-fought third battle between the celebrated champions Humphries and Mendoza. An inn-yard at Doncaster was pitched upon as the spot for the decision of the contest. The time (the Sellinger and Cup week), and the place were capitally chosen. The ground was bounded on two sides by the backs of houses, at one end by the inn, at the other by a strong palisade, behind which ran the river Don.” Upwards of 500 tickets at half-a-guinea were sold, and the persons admitted. But the Yorkshire “tykes” of humbler means were not to be baffled; and a ‘cute ferryman having brought over some hundreds at sixpence a-head, the crowd outside soon demolished the paling, stout as it was, and an immense concourse got in. The spectators seated around the stage, however, prevented any inconvenience or interruption of the principal performers.
“At about half-past ten Humphries made his appearance, immediately followed by Mendoza; the former mounted the stage, which was about four feet high, and twenty-four square, with astonishing agility, evidently in high spirits. Mendoza also seemed equally alert and devoid of apprehension. Ward seconded Humphries, and Jackson was his bottle-holder; Colonel Hamilton being chosen by him as his umpire. Tom Johnson was second to Mendoza, and his bottle-holder Butcher. Sir Thomas Apreece, who was umpire for Mendoza on his last battle with Humphries, at Stilton, was also chosen on this occasion, and Mr. Harvey Aston was mutually agreed upon as the third umpire, should any altercation arise during the combat, and a difference of opinion arise between the Colonel and Sir Thomas with respect to its decision.
“Everything being thus arranged, the combatants began to strip. Odds were laid five to four in favour of Mendoza, and readily accepted by Humphries’s friends, who considered that although perhaps it might be impossible for him to beat the Jew by carrying on the fight regularly and in a scientific style, yet, by his impetuous exertions at the commencement, would be able to overcome his antagonist, and bear away the palm.”
THE FIGHT.
ROUND 1.—The onset of Humphries was bold and astonishingly vigorous, but was repelled by Mendoza with equal force; they mutually closed, struggled, and both fell.
2.—The same vigorous spirit was manifested on both sides, but Humphries struck the most blows, though apparently without overpowering Mendoza.
3.—This round was fought with much caution on both sides, each being equally careful of giving or receiving a blow; what passed, however, were in Mendoza’s favour, and it terminated by his giving Humphries a knock-down blow.
4.—They engaged, but only for a few moments.
5.—Humphries aimed a severe blow at Mendoza’s stomach, which he dexterously stopped, and struck him in the face; this blow, however, Humphries returned, but at the same time fell.
“A number of rounds after this took place, but in every one of them Mendoza evidently had the advantage, and odds had risen forty to five, and ten to one in his favour; Humphries continually fell, sometimes in consequence of blows, but more frequently from a policy often used in boxing, which perhaps may be considered fair; several times he sunk without a blow, which conduct, although contrary to the articles of agreement, was passed unnoticed, as his general manners placed him above the suspicion of cowardice. For although he had undoubtedly the worst throughout the battle, he fought with great resolution, and even when his friends, perceiving him conquered, and one eye perfectly closed, persuaded him to yield, he solicited to fight a little longer. Notwithstanding all this display of excellent bottom, he was again obliged to acknowledge the ascendancy of the Israelite.
“Mendoza was very much cut about the left side of his head, his left eye and ear being much mutilated, and he had received a severe cut in the ribs on the right side by a projectile left-handed blow of his antagonist.
“Humphries had several hits which drew blood under his left arm; his right eye was closed early in the battle, and he had a severe cut over his left. He had a wound clear as a razor cut by the left side of his nose by a straight-forward springing blow of Mendoza’s. The same hit also split his upper lip. He was carried through the crowd on the shoulders of his friends, who conveyed him in a post-chaise out of the town. Mendoza walked on the race-ground on the Town Moor for some time after the combat, ‘the observed of all observers.’”
“Money was collected from the spectators and amateurs present, as a prize to be fought for between Aaron Mendoza, a cousin of the successful champion, and Packer, a West-country boxer; the former was seconded by Johnson, and the latter by Ward. It was a most severe contest; they fought for an hour with the greatest violence, when on closing, they fell, and when down, Aaron being uppermost, Packer raised his knee, and so threw him a perfect somerset against the railing.[53] This decided the battle, and Packer was declared the conqueror.”
Dan spent the year 1791 in a sparring tour; for like most of the “prophets” he had an eye to the “jewels of gold and the jewels of silver” to be collected from the Gentiles. He crossed from Liverpool to Ireland, and there we find one “Squire Fitzgerald,” a swell of “great weight” and little prudence, tried his “prentice han’” on Dan. He soon found he had a workman to deal with, for Mendoza soundly thrashed him in twenty minutes, on the 2nd of August, 1791, fully demonstrating the striking difference between professionals and amateurs in boxing as in most other arts and sciences.
On his return to “Duke’s Plashe,” the Fancy, who had been looking out for the triumphant Jew, decided that Bill Warr[54] was a likely man to lower the pride of Dan, and a match was made to come off in June, 1791. Stokenchurch, in Oxfordshire, was named as the rendezvous. As, however, the company were on the road, they received intimation that the magistrates of Oxfordshire were resolved to prevent the battle. Upon this the cavalcade stopped at Uxbridge, and an arrangement was made to fight in Fenner’s Cricket Ground. Objections were, however, started, and the Duke of Hamilton, on the part of Warr, and Alderman Macaulay, on the part of Mendoza, agreed that they should postpone the affair till the Doncaster Meeting in September; all bets to stand over. Here, however, the old cup and lip proverb was verified; the authorities interposed, and the treat was postponed till May 14th, 1792, when the venue was changed to Smitham Bottom, near Croydon. On this eventful morn pedestrians out of number, and vehicles of every quality, were seen in rapid motion, eager to arrive at the destined spot. Between one and two the combatants appeared upon the stage, and were greeted with shouts of applause. Mendoza had for his second and bottle-holder, Tom Johnson and Butcher, with Harvey Aston, Esq., as his umpire; Warr was attended by Joe Ward and Jackson, and Mr. Watson as umpire.
At the commencement of the fight the odds were in favour of Warr; and much was expected from his well-known skill and strength. For the first eight rounds of the battle he fought tremendously; and in the fourteenth he succeeded in nailing Mendoza on the jaw in such a style that the Star of Israel came down with uncommon violence. Warr’s friends were now in high spirits, as it was thought that Dan had received a sickener; but his game soon brought him about, and he finished two successive rounds by flooring his opponent cleverly. The superiority of Mendoza now became manifest, Warr perceived he was in the hands of his master, and the spectators began to change their opinions. Mendoza knocked down his antagonist every round; nevertheless, Warr fought gamely an uphill battle, and put in some good hits. In the twenty-third round the combatants closed, Warr was completely exhausted, and Mendoza falling on him, he reluctantly gave in. This victory established Dan’s fame as a game man.
Nevertheless, Bill Warr fancied that in another trial he might regain his laurels; accordingly a match was made to come off in January, 1794, near Hounslow, but the magistrates interfering, it was postponed till the 12th of November following, when it was decided upon Bexley Common.
The opening of the battle was good, and Warr seemed to feel that he should accomplish his wish; as before, in the earlier rounds he seemed to have a slight advantage, and his opponent fell before him. Whether Mendoza permitted him to show himself off in this manner that he might be enabled to exhibit his great superiority afterwards, or that he could not resist the efforts of his antagonist, cannot be ascertained; but it was evident that he treated all the attempts of Warr with perfect coolness, and seemed quite confident of the success of his waiting game. In the fifth round he went in, stopped the hits of his opponent with the greatest ease, and returned so tremendously, that Bill was disposed of in the short space of fifteen minutes! It was clear that Warr, from the moment Mendoza assumed the offensive, was lost; his opponent’s confidence completely overawed him, and it was visible that he laboured under its depressing effects.
But amid all his glory he was doomed to experience the vicissitudes of fortune by a mortifying defeat in his contest with Mr. Jackson, at Hornchurch, on April 15, 1795, which will be detailed in the memoir of Mr. JOHN JACKSON. This preyed so much upon his feelings that, after six years had elapsed, they burst forth with fury, occasioned by the following circumstance. Jem Belcher, after defeating Burke at Hurley Bottom, challenged Dan to fight, who immediately replied, that he had given up pugilism, and supported by his industry (as a publican, at the Lord Nelson, in Whitechapel), a wife and six children, and only wished to fight Jackson, who had dealt unhandsomely by him as a pugilist; and he now publicly declared himself ready to enter the lists with him for 100 guineas, provided that he would not take the unmanly and cowardly advantage of holding his hair. This speech of Mendoza’s was soon trumpeted abroad, and some busy persons inserted a sort of challenge to Mr. Jackson in the Oracle and Daily Advertiser, which was immediately answered by the latter. The letters, as mere specimens of the ring correspondence of the time are given under the head of JACKSON. It will be observed that Mendoza asserts therein that he had fought thirty-two pitched battles, and Pierce Egan makes up a list to that amount of names, which, for aught the records of pugilism show, may have been selected from the London Directory.[55] It will be, however, to the point to give one of Mendoza’s letters, from which it would seem that Dan’s challenge was not, in the first instance, inserted with his permission.
To the Editor of the DAILY ADVERTISER.
MR. EDITOR,—It was with inexpressible concern that, in your paper of Wednesday last, I observed a letter signed “John Jackson,” purporting to be an answer to a supposed challenge from me, inserted in your detailed account of the recent pugilistic contest at Maidenhead. Mistake me not, Sir. I was not concerned at the contents of Mr. Jackson’s elegant effusion, nor in the least affected or surprised at the opprobrious falsity, brazen impudence, or malignant calumny of his assertions, which I deny in toto; but felt particularly hurt at the idea that I was compelled either to sit down tamely under injury, or incur the risk of offending my best friends, and particularly the respectable magistrates of this division, by resuming a profession which, both from principle and conviction, I had wholly relinquished.
In order satisfactorily to refute Mr. Jackson’s allegations, it is only necessary to observe that a month after our battle at Hornchurch I waited on him, upbraided him with his unmanly conduct, by laying hold of my hair, and offered to fight him for 200 guineas. Jackson proposed to fight for 100 guineas; and upon that sum being procured, declined fighting under 500 guineas. Here was courage, here was consistency, here was bottom, and yet Mr. Jackson is a man of honour and of his word!!!
Mr. Editor, after this I left London for five years, which may easily account to Mr. Jackson for the interval of silence. I have fought thirty-two pitched battles—four with Humphries (three of which I won), and two with Will Warr, in both of which I was victorious; these two men were both game, and good fighters, and of course, having received so many blows, my only motive for wishing again to fight Mr. Jackson must be that spirit of honour and retaliation ever inherent in the breast of man.
Mr. Editor, I repeat that I am delicately situated. I wish to fight Mr. Jackson, and intend it; but that, from a dread of injuring my family, by offending the magistrates as a challenger in a newspaper (which would be indecorous in a publican), I can only observe, that I should be very happy to see, as soon as possible, either Mr. Jackson or his friends, at my house, where they shall receive every attention from me, as I wish most earnestly to convince the world what a deep and just sense I entertain of all Mr. Jackson’s favours conferred upon
“Admiral Nelson,” Whitechapel.
DANIEL MENDOZA.
Mendoza, in the year 1806, again introduced himself to the notice of the public in a diffuse correspondence, arising out of a personal quarrel with Harry Lee. Those curious may read the whole in “Boxiana,” vol. i. pp. 272‒276. We learn from it incidentally that Dan, after his retirement from the ring, was an officer of the Sheriff of Middlesex, a favourite Jewish calling in the days of arrest on mesne process and of sponging-houses. Harry, in his last letter, accepts the challenge of Dan, which is all we care about the quarrel.
Harry was well known as an elegant sparrer, but his ring capabilities were untried. He was also taller, younger, and more active than the veteran Dan.
On March 21, 1806, at Grinstead Green, a short distance beyond Bromley, in Kent, the combatants met, and 50 guineas were the stakes deposited. It was a roped ring of twenty-five feet. Mendoza had for his second his old opponent and firm friend, Bill Warr, and for his bottleholder, Bill Gibbons; Harry Lee was attended by the Game Chicken and John Gully. The odds were three to one that Dan proved the conqueror.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Mendoza, with his piercing black eye, looked at his opponent with scornful contempt, and a more than usual degree of confidence. Lee soon showed he was no novice in the art. He stood well up, with his left arm extended, and tried rather artfully to pop in a hit over Mendoza’s guard; but the latter stopped several of these, and eventually sent Harry down. The odds rose ten to one on Dan, and the bets were decided respecting the first knock-down and first blood.
2.—Lee rose exasperated, the claret flowing copiously. Mendoza made a hit, which was neatly returned by Lee upon Dan’s nose—they closed and fell.
3.—Lee, out of temper, went in to mill away; but Mendoza punished him right and left for his temerity, and he saluted his mother earth.
4.—Lee now convinced the spectators that he was something more than a sparrer, by showing game—he put in a good hit over the left eye of Mendoza; but Dan threw him in the close. The opinions of the cognoscenti began to waver, for it appeared not quite so easy a thing as imagined; and two to one was sported that Mendoza did not beat Lee in half an hour.
5.—Lee, not destitute of pluck, attempted to rally; but Mendoza, aware of his intentions, put in so severe a blow, that Harry went under the ropes. Three to one against Lee.
6.—Mendoza, experienced in all the manœuvres of the art, with the coolness of the veteran, judging that his opponent would attempt another rally, waited for him with the greatest composure; as he came in Dan put in a tremendous hit over Harry’s nose, and threw him.
7.—Of no account.
8.—Lee, trusting to impetuosity more than judgment, went in rapidly; but the folly of such conduct was self-evident—Mendoza hit him away with the greatest ease, following him, and, in the event, throwing him a cross-buttock. Lee’s frontispiece had now a variegated appearance.
9.—Lee, full of gaiety, rallied; but Mendoza hit him sharply over the left eye, which was already terribly swelled. Five to one on Mendoza.
10.—Dan laughed at his opponent; who made a feeble hit and fell upon his knees.
11.—It appeared from Lee’s conduct that he entertained an idea that his opponent was to be conquered by impetuosity. He rushed in most furiously, when the latter hit him; Harry retreated and took refuge upon the ground.
12.—Mendoza thought it was necessary to show a little fight, and, in a sharp rally, quickly punished his opponent out of the ring.
13.—Rallying was the order of the day with Lee; Dan put in a severe hit, and, to avoid going down, Harry caught hold of his opponent.
14.—Mendoza struck his adversary, who, to the astonishment of the spectators, laid himself down as before. (Some hisses and disapprobation occurred; and cries of “Foul—take him away!”)
15.—Trifling away time; Lee went down without a hit, and Dan laughed at him. (Six to one against Lee.)
16.—Mendoza waiting for his opponent, hit him in the throat, which more than tickled him, and he fell from its effects, to all appearance extremely weak. (The odds now were out of comparison: a guinea to half-a-crown was offered.)
17.—Lee went to the ground on the first blow.
18.—Mere flourishing-the men closed and fell.
19.—Harry, quite gay, tried what effect another rally might produce; but Mendoza’s sagacity rendered the attempt futile. He gave Lee a desperate blow upon the chin, which not only cut it severely, but sent him under the ropes.
20.—Mendoza laughing at the insufficiency of his opponent’s attempts—who now appeared quite passionate—stopped Harry’s blows with the greatest sang froid. In closing, both went to the ground.
21.—Dan gave Lee so severe a body hit that it instantly floored him. (All betters, no takers.)
22.—As Mendoza made himself up to strike his opponent, Lee fell. (Cries of “Foul!”)
23.—Of no consequence-both closed and fell.
24.—Lee, still fond of rallying, tried it on; but Mendoza hit him away easily, and Lee slipped down.
25.—Mendoza, as if expecting Lee would rally again, was perfectly prepared for the attempt. Lee went in, and got punished right and left, finally going to the ground, much exhausted.
26.—Dan, full of spirits and vigour, as soon as Lee stood up gave him a floorer.
27.—Lee, in making a hit, lost his distance and fell.
28.—This was a most singular round. Harry went in to his opponent, and by main force threw him down by the arm.
29.—A rally on both sides—Lee, undismayed, put in several hits: in the close Mendoza was uppermost.
30.—The science of Dan was truly conspicuous, he stopped every blow; but happening to slip, Lee put in some facers as Mendoza was going down.
31.—Of no note whatever.
32.—Dan appeared rather fatigued, in making a blow he went down upon his knees.
33.—Lee now endeavoured to show that his spirits were in good trim, and made the best use of his knowledge, which was by no means mediocre; but it was in vain: his heart was better than his skill, and Dan milled him down.
34.—Both the combatants fought well; but the turn was in Dan’s favour.
35.—Mendoza sent Lee under the ropes, from a well-directed blow.
36.—Dan repeated the dose.
37. 38, 39.—In all these rounds the superiority of Mendoza was manifest: Dan stopped and hit as he pleased.
40.—Mendoza punished Lee’s ribs severely; he fell from the effects of the blows.
41.—Lee was now becoming much exhausted: he fell from a mere touch.
42.—Lee began to be convinced that the chances were against him; his exertions were on the decline. Mendoza did as he pleased, and closed the round by throwing him.
53.—For the last ten rounds Lee had not the smallest prospect of success; still his game prompted him to continue the fight in hopes that some lucky chance might offer; but having fallen a second time without a blow, Mendoza was declared the conqueror.
The amateurs were completely surprised at the protraction of the above fight, for one hour and ten minutes. It is certain that Lee was not equal to the task of encountering so experienced and finished a pugilist as Mendoza; but it is equally true that his conduct was entitled to honourable mention; and, considering it was his first appearance in the ring, Lee acquitted himself in a superior manner. That he was not wanting either in courage or resolution was evident; and his scientific efforts, in several instances, were entitled to much praise; indeed, he eradicated the prevalent idea that he was nothing more than a sparrer.
Among the amateurs present the reporter enumerates, Lords Albemarle and Seften, Count Beaujolais, Sir Watkin Williams Wynne, Sir John Shelley, Sir Eden Nagle, Captain Halliday, Squire Thornhill, General Keppel, Messrs. Baxter, Fletcher Reid, Bagley, Challis, Robert Allen, etc.
Year after year we find “Ould Dan,” with an eye to business, making tours and exhibiting the “noble art,” of which he was unquestionably a talented demonstrator. In the summer of 1819, Dan made a most successful sparring tour, and we find him at Lincoln issuing a hand-bill, of which the following is an extract:—
“Mr. Mendoza has the authority of members of the Senate and Judges on the Bench in asserting the tendency of the practice of boxing to prevent the more fatal resort to the knife or other deadly weapons. To gentlemen it may prove more than an exercise or an amusement, by initiating them in the principles of a science by which the skilful, though of inferior strength, may protect themselves from the ruffian assault of the powerful vulgar, or save their friends and those who are defenceless from insult and imposition.”
We have already had occasion to observe the rarity of men believing in the decline of their own physical capabilities; and Mendoza, unfortunately, must be added to the list of those who, in the words of Captain Godfrey, when speaking of Broughton, allow their “valour” so far to get the upper hand of their “discretion” as to “trust a battle to waning age.” But other men, as well as pugilists, are guilty of this mistake: we shall not therefore dwell upon it further than to say that Dan ended his career, like so many other celebrated men, in defeat, though by no means in disgrace.
In July, 1820, being fourteen years from his last appearance within the roped ring, Mendoza met Tom Owen, in a contest for fame and 50 guineas. The battle arose from an old grudge; and although no one can doubt the game of Tom Owen, as we shall duly note in our memoir of that boxer, yet the frothy outpourings of the “Historian” in honour of his friend “Tom,” and at the expense of Mendoza,[56] are as bad in taste as they are extravagant in phrase. Be that as it may, Dan was defeated, and we need hardly add it was his “last appearance” within the ropes, though not “upon any stage,” the Fives Court being occasionally illuminated by his displays. In August, 1820, he made an “appeal” to the amateurs for “past services” to the pugilistic state, and delivered the subjoined address, which breathes a tone of reproach to the boxers as well as gratitude to his patrons:—
“GENTLEMEN,—I return you my most sincere thanks for the patronage you have afforded me to-day, and likewise for all past favours. To those persons who have set-to for me to-day, I also acknowledge my gratitude; and their services will never be forgotten by me. Gentlemen, after what I have done for the pugilists belonging to the prize ring, I do say they have not used me well upon this occasion; in fact, the principal men have deserted me in toto. Gentlemen, I think I have a right to call myself the father of the science; for it is well known that prize fighting lay dormant for several years after the time of Broughton and Slack. It was myself and Humphries that revived it in our three contests for superiority, and the science of pugilism has been highly patronised ever since. (Hear, hear, from some old amateurs.) Gentlemen, I have once more to thank you for the present, and all other past favours; nay, more, I now take my leave of you, and I trust that I shall never trouble you for another benefit. (Applause.) I have now only to say—Farewell.”
From this period Dan’s life no longer belongs to the history of the ring. We may, however, observe that for several years he supported a large family, a wife and eleven children, as a publican, keeping the Admiral Nelson, in Whitechapel. He died on the 3rd of September, 1836, among his “peoplesh” in the East, in the region where he had been so long the milling star, at the advanced age of 73.
Mendoza was, in company, a shrewd, intelligent, and communicative man. As a scientific professor of the art of self-defence it was Mendoza who trod most immediately in the steps of Broughton. His success as a professor was unrivalled; and there was scarcely a town in the kingdom where he did not exhibit his finished talents to admiring and applauding assemblages. It seems, from a work we have before us, published by Mendoza himself, and containing much forgotten squabbling between himself and Humphries, that he derived his first knowledge of the art, scientifically, from his elegant competitor, “the Gentleman Boxer.” But he so rapidly improved upon his master’s system as to stand for years without a rival. No man of his time united the theory of sparring with the practice of boxing so successfully as Daniel Mendoza; and hence, as a distinctive feature, the “School of Mendoza” marks a period in the HISTORY OF PUGILISM.
II. RICHARD HUMPHRIES, “THE GENTLEMAN BOXER”—1784‒1790
The popular cognomen of the “Gentleman Boxer” may give the cue to the prepossessing appearance, quiet self-possession, and amenity of manners, which contemporary writers agree in attributing to Richard Humphries. “His attitudes,” says the author of “Sketches and Reminiscences,” already quoted, “were remarkable for their impressive grace;” of course according to the taste of the old school. We doubt if modern cognoscenti, as they inspect our faithful copy of a contemporary engraving, will endorse the opinion; but, as the Latin poet told us two thousand years ago, “times change, and men change with them:”[57] though we must admit that our progress has brought improvement.
Humphries was about the middle size, 5 feet 8 inches, well-limbed, and had practised boxing to great advantage. He was apt and ready; his blows were effective; and his aims at the “mark,” or wind, and under the ear, are talked of by contemporaries. Contrary to our modern notions, Humphries puzzled his antagonists by hitting with his right at leading off, and stopping with his left. He did not, however, like Mendoza, use both hands with equal facility. His game was unquestionable, and he was justly esteemed a model of pugilistic excellence. He was so attractive as to give a new and increased impetus to the art of self-defence; and on the public announcement that “the Gentleman Boxer” would fight Samuel Martin, the Bath Butcher, on a stage at Newmarket, on the 3rd of May, 1786, the battle was attended by their Royal Highnesses the Prince of Wales and Duke of York (arcades ambo), the Dukes of Orleans and De Fitzjames, and most of the French nobility then in England, with a crowd of the best and bravest of the land. A guinea was the admission-fee, which hundreds cheerfully paid, to go to the winner, and between £30,000 and £40,000 awaited the wager of battle.
Sam Martin[58] was a boxer of some repute, shorter than Humphries, strongly made, a little heavier, and had seen some service in the field of battle. The set-to was remarkable for science, Humphries parrying Martin’s attacks with singular adroitness, and standing up to Martin manfully. Martin seemed deficient in distance, and occasionally fell; hence his deliveries were ineffective. Humphries retained his position of favourite. Martin, finding himself kept out of distance, went in boldly. Humphries exchanged, and fought “with” his man, till the betting became equal. Humphries appeared the stronger man, giving his opponent a most tremendous knock down, which brought the odds to his favour. Martin, notwithstanding, appeared game, and fought well, contesting every inch of ground; and it was not until after a determined combat of an hour and three quarters, (“Boxiana” states three quarters of an hour) that Martin declared he had had enough. The distinguished company were highly gratified, and Humphries won—“golden opinions from all sorts of men.”
Numerous sporting men rallied round pugilism, and the professors of the science were not without high and noble patrons. Royalty now frequently witnessed the display of the art, accompanied by dukes, earls, honourables, etc.; and men of the first distinction did not feel ashamed of being seen in the ring, or acting as umpires at a manly boxing match.
The science, courage, and gentleman-like conduct of Humphries had secured him many friends; and, with a mind by no means destitute of intelligence, he could not fail in obtaining admiration and respect. But, deservedly distinguished as Humphries stood in the boxing hemisphere, a competitor arose to share his fame and glory, if not to aspire to superiority. He was not only a daring, but a most formidable rival, as his pretensions to pugilistic excellence were known to be sound. He had been proved, and his displays of skill in trying conflicts had made a deep impression upon the best judges. As there was beyond this a personal jealousy and rivalry, there was little difficulty in bringing together Daniel Mendoza and Richard Humphries.
We have already noticed the preliminary brush between the rivals at the “Cock,” at Epping.
Preliminaries being agreed to, Odiham, in Hampshire, was fixed upon as the place, and 400 guineas as the sum for which these masters of the art should contend. A raised twenty-four feet stage was prepared, in a paddock, and the door-money was to be divided between the combatants. On the day (January 9, 1788) being announced, the anxiety which prevailed upon the decision of this tourney was unprecedented. Odiham was then a distance from town; it is now a steam steed’s “stride.” Everybody was there, for Humphries and Mendoza were to fight. In the towns and villages near the scene of action, the country people were equally interested, and innumerable pedestrians were seen in all directions moving towards the fight, so that within an hour previous to the battle the multitude collected was truly astonishing. To prevent the combatants from being bilked of the door-money (which was half a guinea each), the most athletic of the milling corps were selected for the protection of the entrance, and the potent arms of Dunn, Ryan, Warr, and Tring, assisted by other powerful pugilists, kept for some time order in the crowd. But, as the time drew near for the combatants to mount the stage, John Bull’s anxiety increased beyond every other thought; and, with one desperate effort, the “majesty of the people,” like a mighty flood, swept all before it. The door-keepers were soon lost in the violence of the torrent, and thousands never gave themselves the trouble of asking the price of admission. All was noise, uproar, and confusion, for some minutes; but upon the appearance of the combatants their attention was so completely riveted that silence instantly prevailed.
According to our practice, whenever procurable we quote the report:—
“About one o’clock on Wednesday (January 9th, 1788), Humphries ascended the stage amid the cheers of the spectators, attended by Tom Johnson as his second, Tom Tring as his bottle-holder, and Mr. Allen as his chosen umpire. After bowing to all around, he proceeded to strip. His dress, when prepared for the contest, was a pair of fine flannel drawers, white silk stockings with gold-coloured clocks, pumps, and black shoe-ribands. While Humphries was preparing, Mendoza mounted the stage, and was received with reiterated plaudits. His second was David Benjamin; his bottle-holder, Jacobs, both Jews; and his umpire, Mr. Moravia. Mendoza’s dress was more plain than his opponent’s.
“In a few minutes the combatants were prepared for the onset, shook hands, and immediately Mendoza assumed his attitude with the air of a man determined on victory. Humphries appeared astonished, and both remained in serious expectation for some minutes before a blow was offered. Mendoza struck first, but recoiling, slipped and fell; Humphries caught it, and retreated. The second blow Mendoza gave his opponent brought him down, and in the next round they closed, and Mendoza threw his adversary. For full fifteen minutes did Mendoza attack with such violence and superiority, that the odds, which at the beginning were two to one against him, changed considerably in his favour; and during this time Humphries had many falls, but still remained undaunted.
“Whether the defensive mode of fighting adopted by Humphries in his first onset was manœuvre, or the nouvelle style in which he was attacked, and the unexpected vigour of his antagonist, made him give way, cannot but remain a matter of dispute. At the commencement of the battle Mendoza drove him to the side of the rail, and, while his body was suspended, aimed a blow at the bottom of his ribs, which undoubtedly would have decided the battle, had not Johnson caught it. Mendoza’s friends immediately exclaimed, ‘foul, foul;’ but the umpires decided Johnson was perfectly justified in acting as he had done, for that Humphries must be considered as being knocked down.[59]
“From the wetness of the day, the stage was extremely slippery, and this was particularly unfavourable to Humphries: he therefore took off his shoes; but silk stockings were ill calculated to remedy the inconvenience, and he afterwards put on a pair of worsted stockings, in which he stood more firm, and began to manifest great superiority. Having very much recovered himself, he stood up to his antagonist, and with great dexterity threw Mendoza, pitching him on the face, which cut his forehead above the right eye, and very much bruised his nose. From this moment odds changed again in favour of Humphries. He threw in a blow near the loins of his antagonist, and in the next round planted a most severe one in the neck. In this round Mendoza also struck him in the face; but slipping, he fell with his leg under him, sprained his foot, and immediately gave in: he shortly after fainted, and was carried off the stage.
“The contest lasted twenty-nine minutes (twenty-eight minutes fifty-four seconds), and it was acknowledged there never was more skill and science displayed in any boxing match in this kingdom.
“Mr. Bradyl, Humphries’ patron, not being on the ground, he immediately forwarded to him the result in the following laconic style:—
“SIR,—I have done the Jew, and am in good health.
“RICHARD HUMPHRIES.”
The Israelites were severe sufferers; but although Mendoza was defeated, his fame and character as a pugilist were considerably increased. His style of fighting was highly spoken of by the scientific; and at close quarters, and as a quick hitter, he was evidently superior to his antagonist. The advantage was also upon the side of Mendoza in strength of arm; and, when struggling to obtain the throw, he punished his adversary considerably by keeping down his head. His guard was excellent, and displayed a thorough knowledge of the art; in consequence of keeping it closer to his body than that of his adversary, his blows were given with more force when he hit out; and with respect to stopping he was not inferior to Humphries. For elegance of position, cool and prompt judgment, fortitude of manner, and force of blow, however, he was thought much inferior. He wanted also that manly bearing which was so apparent in Humphries, whose confidence rendered him so apparently indifferent of self. In throwing, Mendoza, to the great surprise of many, had the advantage.
Humphries’ attitudes were of the most manly and tasteful description, and, even in the most trying moments of the fight, his postures were considered graceful. His intellectual capacity had rendered him more acquainted with the properties of the human frame than pugilists in general; and his habits of life had tended to make him more conversant and attractive in society than fighting men perhaps think essentially necessary. His manners were conciliatory, and he endeavoured through life to enact the gentleman. His friends were materially increased by such conduct.
It was extremely difficult to decide which was the neatest pugilist; so much activity, science, elegance, and courage, were displayed upon both sides, though extremely different as to character and manner: but it appeared that Humphries, in the defensive position, although he kept his adversary at a distance by extending his arms, lost that celerity and power which his hits might have possessed had his arms been nearer his body.
Thenceforward, the pugilistic career of Humphries was a fruitless attempt to prevent his victor’s wreath from falling into the hands and adorning the brow of his able Israelitish rival. Twice did he do all that man can do—his best—to stem the advancing tide of fate, but in vain. How he struggled is already written in the memoir of MENDOZA. Humphries lived for many years after their last contest (September 29th, 1790), and died in respectable circumstances, his calling being that of a coal-merchant in the Adelphi, Strand.
III. MR. JOHN JACKSON—1788‒1795
In penning the History of Pugilism, one object has been our polestar—a desire on the one hand to avoid fulsome adulation, and, on the other, never to cast undeserved censure: to “nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice,” but to speak of men as they were, and as their actions proved them.
These remarks appear appropriate to a notice of John Jackson, inasmuch as, blinded by early prejudices, which no after information has tended to dispel, and imposed upon by the contemptible sophisms and paltry libels of lily-livered scribes, who “earn their dirty pay” by pandering to what they suppose the taste of the reading public, no small proportion of that public has taken it for granted that pugilism and blackguardism are synonymes. It is as an antidote to these slanderers that we pen a candid history of the boxers; and, taking the general habits of men of humble origin (elevated by their courage and bodily gifts to be the associates of those more fortunate in worldly position), we fearlessly maintain that the best of our boxers (we take no account of outsiders, inasmuch as they have no claim to the designation,) present as good samples of honesty, generosity of spirit, goodness of heart, and humanity, as an equal number of men of any class of society. But the manly art of self-defence—one of the most generous, noble, and national traits of the English character—has never lacked detractors. The mean-spirited, the treacherous, and the cruel can never be its admirers. But does it appear that the mind is debased from witnessing such public displays? would the usages of society be infringed upon if such exhibitions were legalised? Are the feelings of men so blunted from these specimens of hardihood and valour, as to prevent them from fulfilling those public situations in life which many are called upon to perform, with fidelity, justice, and reputation? We reply, no! and experience corroborates our assertion. Were it otherwise, we should admit pugilism to be a disgrace to the country where it is permitted, and boxers obnoxious to society.
The “great moralist,” Samuel Johnson, surely saw the rough side of pugilism in his day; yet we read in his works, “Courage is a quality so necessary for maintaining virtue, that it is always respected, even when found associated with vice.” Without accepting the corollary of the ponderous Doctor, himself—as in the case of the brewer’s servant in Fleet Street, and of Davies, the bookseller in Covent Garden—a practical exponent of the ars pugnandi, we are ready to appeal to the readers of these pages, whether courage of the highest order, in the case of the leading pugilists, is not associated with forbearance, humanity, and active benevolence?
One of the most respected public characters in the early part of this century, whose patriotic attention to the preservation and due administration of the laws; whose firmness in supporting, upon all occasions, the liberty of the subject; whose dignity and consistency of conduct in representing the first city in the world in Parliament; and who filled the office of Lord Mayor of London, with honour to himself, and advantage to his fellow citizens, was an ardent and firm patron of pugilism, and “a friend” of John Jackson. We allude to Harvey Christian Coombe, Esq., whose name never suffered the slightest tarnish from his patronage of the Old English custom of boxing in the early part of his life; but, through a long and distinguished career, proved his pretensions so clearly to the character of a real Englishman, an honest citizen, and an independent senator, that in 1816 he was returned a fourth time as member for the City of London.
Another member of the senate, whose enlightened mind, classical acquirements, and transcendent talents, shone at a time when wits and orators were rife in St. Stephen’s Chapel, was the friend of John Jackson, and of pugilism. To a mind stored with ancient and modern literature, conversant with popular recreations in all their gradations, from the rusticity of a cudgelling bout at a country fair to an assaut d’armes in the aristocratic fencing-school, the Right Hon. William Windham added a true English spirit of fair play, when he thus publicly declared his sentiments:—“A smart contest this, between Maddox and Richmond! Why are we to boast so much of the native valour of our troops, as shown at Talavera, at Vimiera, and at Maida, yet to discourage all the practices and habits which tend to keep alive the same sentiments and feelings?” The sentiments that filled the minds of three thousand spectators who witnessed those two pugilists were the same in kind as those which inspired the higher combatants on that occasion. It is the circumstances only in which they are displayed that make the difference.
‘He that the world subdued, had been But the best wrestler on the green.’
There is no sense in the answer always made to this, ‘Are no men brave but boxers?’ Bravery is found in all habits, classes, circumstances, and conditions. But have habits and institutions of one sort no tendency to form it more than another? Longevity is found in persons of habits the most opposite; but are not certain habits more favourable to it than others? The courage does not arise from mere boxing, from the mere beating, or being beat, but from the sentiments excited by the contemplation and cultivation of such practices. “Will it make no difference in the mass of people, whether their amusements are all of a pacific, pleasurable, and effeminate nature; or whether they are of a sort that calls forth a continued admiration of prowess and hardihood?”
A slight anecdote, apropos of the prevalence of the taste for the use of the “muffles,” as boxing-gloves were then called, will take us back to the days when Vauxhall was in the height of its splendour. Old Tyers, then the proprietor of the Gardens, had commissioned Hayman, the painter, to panel the “Hall of British Worthies” with portraits of the heroes of our land. The gallant and good-natured Marquis of Granby was waited upon by Tyers, with a request that he would honour Hayman with a sitting. In consequence, the hero of Minden dropped in at the artist’s studio in St. Martin’s Lane. “But, Frank,” said the peer, “before I sit to you, I insist upon having a set-to with you.” Hayman, astonished at the oddity of the observation, affected not to understand his visitor, whereupon the Marquis exclaimed, “I have been told that you are one of the last boxers of the school of Broughton, and I flatter myself not altogether deficient in the pugilistic art; but since I have been in Germany I have got out of practice, therefore I want a little trial of your skill.” Hayman pleaded age and gout as obstacles to his consent. To the first the Marquis replied, “There was very little difference between them; and to the second, that he considered exercise as a specific remedy,” adding, laughing, “besides, a few rounds will cause a glow of countenance that will give animation to the canvass.” Hayman no longer resisted; the gloves were donned, and to it they went. After a good display of strength and science, Hayman delivered such a straight hit in the “breadbasket,” that down they both went with a tremendous crash. This brought up stairs the affrighted Mrs. Hayman, who found the academician and commander-in-chief rolling over each other on the carpet like two unchained bears. Frank, who was a humourist and bon vivant, often narrated this anecdote of the nobleman,
“Who filled our sign-posts then as Wellesley now,”
over a social glass at his own and his friends’ merry meetings.
We cannot but think the reader will consider these slight notices of how our fathers viewed the science of self-defence—now, for a season only, as we trust, “fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf”—as a fitting preface to the life of Jackson, who flourished in the palmy days of pugilism; one of “nature’s gentlemen,” who not only supplanted Mendoza, but took a higher position in the social scale than any boxer who preceded or followed him, no less from the firmness and urbanity of his manners, than the high requisites he possessed for shining as an athlete.
John Jackson was born in London, in 1768, and was the son of an eminent builder, by whom the arch was thrown over the Old Fleet Ditch, near the mouth of the River Fleet, flowing from the Hampstead and Highgate Hills, and crossed by bridges at Holborn and Ludgate. This forms the great sewer of Blackfriars from the north into the new Low Level, over which run Farringdon Street (the site of the old Fleet Market), and Bridge Street, leading to the splendid bridge by Cubitt, with its ugly iron companion carrying the L. C. & D. R. John Jackson’s uncles were farmers, and tenants of the Duke of Bedford and the Marquis of Hertford. Nature had bestowed upon him all those athletic requisites which constitute the beau ideal of perfect manhood. There was a happy combination of muscular development with proportionate symmetry in his frame (his height was five feet eleven, and his weight fourteen stone), which rendered him a fitting model for the sculptor, and excited the admiration of all those by whom these qualities are appreciated. At the age of nineteen he became a frequenter of the sparring schools, and displayed such talents as proved that he was destined to eclipse the most favoured of his cotemporaries; added to which, possessing as he did the suaviter in modo as well as the fortiter in re, he soon found patrons of the highest grade.
It is stated that a conversation with Colonel Harvey Aston[60] led to his first encounter in the prize ring. Fewterel, a Birmingham boxer, as yet unbeaten, had been the conqueror, says “Pancratia,” in eighteen battles. The meeting took place at Smitham Bottom, near Croydon, June 9th, 1788. We copy the report.
“This day there were decided three boxing matches, which had been long depending, and great bets were depending on. The first was between Jackson, a fine young man of nineteen years only, and Fewterel,[61] of Birmingham. Tom Johnson seconded Jackson, and Bill Warr, Fewterel; Humphries and Dunn were the bottle-holders. Fewterel is a man of extremely great bulk, so much so that, at first setting-to, it was doubted whether Jackson would ever level such an opponent. Yet this he never failed to do when he could plant his blows at distance. The contest lasted one hour and seven minutes; its decision being very much procrastinated by Fewterel fighting shifty, getting down to avoid a blow, and then remaining so long on the floor as often to require the interposition of the umpires to remind his seconds of ‘time.’ Fewterel at last gave up the contest, and Major Hanger, by command of the Prince of Wales, who was present, gave young Jackson a bank note.”[62]
Jackson’s next contest (March 12th, 1789) was with George Ingleston, the brewer. It closed by an untoward accident, by which Jackson broke the small-bone of his leg, as will be seen under the head of Ingleston, in the Appendix to Period II.
Jackson’s next contest was one of the greatest interest to the pugilistic world. The victories of Mendoza had placed him on the pinnacle of fame; and the attempt to defeat the conqueror of Sam Martin, of Humphries (twice), of Bill Warr (twice), to say nothing of minor boxers, was viewed as indeed a bold flight of young ambition. On April 15th, 1795, the men met at Hornchurch, in Essex, for a stake of 200 guineas aside. We copy the contemporary report:—
“A twenty-four feet stage was erected in a most advantageous hollow, which accommodated upwards of three thousand spectators, and so excellently adapted that no one could claim a superiority of situation. All the eminent patrons and amateurs were present: the Duke of Hamilton, Lord Delaval, Sir John Phillipson, Mr. Clark, Mr. Bullock, Mr. Lee, Mr. Fawcett, etc.; and among the pugilists of note were Jackling, Will Warr and Joe Warr, George the Brewer, Tom Tyne, Fearby (the Young Ruffian), etc.
“At one o’clock Mendoza mounted the spot of combat, accompanied by his second, Harry Lea, and Symonds (the Old Ruffian), as his bottle-holder. Jackson immediately followed, with Tom Johnson as his second, and Wood, the coachman, for his bottle-holder. The chosen umpires were Mr. Alexander and Mr. Allen.
“They each politely bowed to the people, and were received with general acclamations. About five minutes after one they, as usual, saluted each other by shaking hands, and immediately set-to. Bets five to four in favour of Mendoza.”
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Both having assumed their attitude, displayed the greatest caution; full a minute expired before a blow was struck, when Jackson made a hit, and his antagonist fell.
2.—Mendoza guarded with great science, avoided the blows of his opponent, and put in several severe ones.
3.—In this round there was much hard fighting. Odds rose two to one in favour of Mendoza, but the round terminated by Mendoza falling.
4.—This was the most severely contested round throughout the battle. Jackson seemed to hold his opponent’s manœuvres in contempt, followed him up with great resolution, and put in some dreadfully severe blows, by the last of which Mendoza fell, and his right eye was much cut; Jackson now evidently had the advantage.
5.—In this round Jackson caught his opponent by the hair, and holding him down, gave him several severe blows, which brought him to the ground; Mendoza’s friends called “foul,” but the umpires decided on the contrary. Odds had now changed two to one on Jackson.
6, 7, 8.—Throughout these three rounds Jackson supported his superiority. Mendoza acted entirely on the defensive.
9.—This was the last round. Jackson manifestly displayed astonishing advantage; he several times struck his adversary, when he fell quite exhausted, and gave in.
The battle only lasted ten minutes and a-half, and was acknowledged by every spectator to be the hardest contested that ever was fought in so short a time. Jackson was very little hurt, leaping from the stage with great agility, but Mendoza was quite cut up.
“A subscription purse was made and fought for between a Jew called Black Baruk, who was seconded by Symonds (the Old Ruffian), and Burk a glass-blower, seconded by James the waterman. It was very well contested for half an hour, when a dispute arose about a foul blow, and it was terminated by sharing the money between them.”
Nearly seven years after his combat with Mendoza, a “gag” paragraph having appeared in the newspaper, announcing a forthcoming fight as in arrangement between Mendoza and Jackson, the latter inserted the following letter to the Editor of the Oracle and Daily Advertiser of Wednesday, December 1, 1801:—
“SIR,—I was somewhat astonished on my return to town on Saturday, to learn that a challenge was inserted in your paper on Thursday last, as if from Mr. Mendoza. Should I be right in my conclusion, by believing that it came from that celebrated pugilist, I beg you will inform the public through the medium of your paper, that for some years I have entirely withdrawn from a public life, and am more and more convinced of the propriety of my conduct by the happiness which I enjoy in private among many friends of great respectability, with whom it is my pride to be received on terms of familiarity and friendship: goaded, however, as I am to a petty conflict, I hope that it will not be considered too much arrogance on my part simply to observe, that, after waiting for more than three years to accept the challenge of any pugilist, however dexterous in the science, and however highly flattered by his friends, I think it rather extraordinary that Mr. Mendoza should add a silence of four years to those three, it being nearly seven years since I had the satisfaction of chastising him; but Mr. Mendoza derived one great good from the issue of that contest—he was taught to be less hasty in forming his resolutions, more slow in carrying them into effect.
“This cautious and wise principle of action deserves much commendation; and having served an apprenticeship of seven years to learn a certain portion of artificial courage, he now comes forward with a stock of impudence (the only capital which during that time he seems to have acquired) to force me to appear once more in that situation which I have for years cheerfully avoided.
“Reluctant, however, as I am to attract again, even for a moment, the public attention, I shall have no objection to vindicate my character by a meeting with Mr. Mendoza when and where he pleases, provided he’ll promise to fight, and provided he’ll also promise not to give previous information to the magistrates at Bow Street, or elsewhere.
“I am, Sir, yours and the public’s most respectfully, “JOHN JACKSON.”
Nov. 20, 1801.
Need we say that this was on the part of Mendoza a mere piece of that absurd system of gagging then so much in vogue, and on which we have elsewhere commented.
Independent of his pugilistic prowess, Mr. Jackson was distinguished for his extraordinary powers as a runner of a short distance, and as a leaper no man of his day was equal to him at a standing jump, of which many extraordinary feats are on record. His muscular strength was equal to his bodily activity, and in the presence of Mr. Harvey Coombe, and other gentlemen, he lifted ten hundred weight and one quarter, and wrote his own name with eighty-four pounds weight suspended from his little finger!
One of the most able and experienced sporting writers, the late Vincent George Dowling, Esq., the founder, and for more than thirty years the editor of Bell’s Life in London, has left on record a graceful tribute to the memory of his friend of many years, John Jackson, in the form of an obituary notice. From this we shall here make a few extracts.
“John Jackson was an instance of the glorious truth which this country is constantly evolving—that if a man be true to himself, he may defy the obloquy and malice of millions. No matter in what grade of life a creature be thrown; no matter whether from necessity or choice he mingles with the learned or the illiterate, the high or the low; give him the attribute of genius, or, if that be denied, honesty and perseverance, and he must distinguish himself. The choice of a profession is the puzzle of boyhood—be it so. A profession never degraded a man, if that man took care not to degrade his profession.” This last axiom deserves to be written in letters of adamant; it contains the philosophy we hope to inculcate by our pages. Mr. Dowling continues: “As there always have been, and always will be, ruffians loose upon society, who can only be met and quelled by the arguments such brutes can appreciate; and as
“Heads, nineteen in twenty, ’tis confest, Can feel a crabstick quicker than a jest,”
it is essential that boxing, as an art, should not fall into desuetude. It empowers the little man to defend himself against the big one; makes the weaker man, to a considerable extent, able to protect himself against the onset of the stronger one, and, in some cases, to punish his want of skill and his presumption. Doubtless much has been done in our great cities by gas and an improved police; but even now things do occasionally occur to call upon every man to know how with his own hands to defend his own head, or, what is doubtless of more consequence, the heads of those near and dear to him, or under his protection. Such a power is a corps de reserve, which, though it may never be called into action, it is valuable and assuring to possess. So thought our grandfathers, so thought our grandfathers’ fathers in the days of Fielding. Boxing, to a gentleman, was a more modern and practical application of knight-errantry; it enabled a man to protect himself against aggression, and yet more, to defend an insulted woman. ‘Good,’ exclaims the anti-pugilist, ‘but what say you to the prize-fighter?’ The response is plain: He is the exemplar, the professor, the demonstrator of a practice, of an exercise. Could or can the sword or the bow be taught without professors, and can they teach without exemplifying?” * * * After a few facts, which will be found embodied in our Memoir, Mr. Dowling concludes: “From 1785, Mr. Jackson ceased to be a public pugilist, having fought but three battles, winning two, and not gaining (for it cannot be called losing) the third by an accident. On what basis, then, rests his fame as a thoroughly tried boxer? On none whatever; the pedestal of his popularity was conduct, the keystone to fortune in every grade of life. There is a singular similarity in the career of John Jackson and John Gully: the latter fought but thrice, was beaten once, won the other two, and then retired to enjoy a better fortune in a higher sphere of society.”
Ere quitting the mere active sporting career of Mr. Jackson, it may be as well to state that as a runner his speed was extraordinary, but he could not last: he also excelled as a jumper until the celebrated Ireland “took the shine out of all England.”
The opening of “Jackson’s Rooms, 13, Old Bond Street,” was literally an era in the gymnastic education of the aristocracy. Not to have had lessons of Jackson was a reproach. To attempt a list of his pupils would be to copy one-third of the then peerage. Byron, who was proud of being thought a pugilist, has in his correspondence spoken highly of his tutor; but the fact is, from lameness, the poet could neither hit nor stop effectively. When Jackson taught the author of “Childe Harold,” he was forty-four, Byron about twenty-three; the latter therefore stood a boy before a veteran. In a note to the 11th Canto of “Don Juan,” we find this: “My friend and corporeal pastor and master, John Jackson, Esquire, professor of pugilism, who I trust still retains the strength and symmetry of his model of a form, together with his good humour, and athletic as well as mental accomplishments.”
And in his diary we read:—“Jackson has been here; the boxing world much as usual, but the club increases (i.e. Pugilistic Club). I shall dine at Cribb’s to-morrow.”
He records going to this dinner thus: “Just returned from dinner with Jackson (the Emperor of Pugilism), and another of the select, at Cribb’s, the Champion’s.”
The next extract shows the author of “Childe Harold” actually in training: “I have been sparring with Jackson for exercise this morning, and mean to continue and renew my acquaintance with my muffles. My chest, and arms, and wind are in very good plight, and I am not in flesh. I used to be a hard hitter, and my arms are very long for my height (5 feet 8¼ inches); at any rate exercise is good, and this the severest of all; fencing and the broadsword never fatigued me half so much.” This latter is dated the 17th of March, 1814.
“Got up, if anything, earlier than usual; sparred with Jackson ad sudorem, and have been much better in health for many days.”
Byron kept at his work, for we find him writing thus on the 9th of April, 1814: “I have been boxing for exercise for the last month daily.”
In returning to the younger days of the “finest formed man in Europe,” we shall take the liberty of borrowing a graphic colloquial sketch from the lips of a veteran: “There were the Lades, the Hangers, the Bullocks, the Vernons, but give me Jack Jackson, as he stood alone amid the throng. I can see him now, as I saw him in ’84, walking down Holborn Hill, towards Smithfield. He had on a scarlet coat, worked in gold at the buttonholes, ruffles, and frill of fine lace, a small white stock, no collar (they were not then invented), a looped hat with a broad black band, buff knee-breeches, and long silk strings, striped white silk stockings, pumps, and paste buckles; his waistcoat was pale blue satin, sprigged with white. It was impossible to look on his fine ample chest, his noble shoulders, his waist, (if anything too small), his large, but not too large hips (the fulcrum of the human form, whether male or female), his limbs, his balustrade calf and beautifully turned but not over delicate ankle, his firm foot, and peculiarly small hand, without thinking that nature had sent him on earth as a model. On he went at a good five miles and a half an hour, the envy of all men, and the admiration of all women.”
As regards his face nature had not been bountiful; his forehead was rather low, and the mode he wore his hair made it peculiarly so. His cheek bones were high, and his nose and mouth coarse. His ears projected too much from his head, but his eyes were eyes to look at rather than look with; they were full and piercing, and formed a great portion of his power as a pugilist—with them he riveted his men.
Anatomists of the first standing examined Jackson, and artists and sculptors without number took sketches and models of his arm; but it was the extraordinary proportion of the man throughout that formed the wonder.
After 1795 Mr. Jackson resolved to teach others the art in which he himself excelled. For an instructor he had that invaluable requisite, temper; he was never too fast with his pupils. This made his initiatory lessons tedious to young gentlemen who go ahead, and it may readily be conceived that amid the aristocracy of England he had plenty of rough assailants to deal with. But he was always on his guard; there was no chance of rushing suddenly in and taking Jackson by surprise—he could not be flurried. Amid the other qualifications he had studied Lavater, and managed to reckon up his customers at first sight, and knew what he had to trust to. It has been said “he defied any man to hit him;” this is the truth, but not the whole truth—he defied any man to hit him whilst he (Jackson) stood merely on the defensive; in a fight, of course, it is impossible to avoid being hit.
“His sparring was elegant and easy. He was peculiarly light upon his feet, a good judge of distance, and when he indulged his friends with a taste of his real quality, the delivery of his blow was only observable in its effect. It literally came like lightning, and was felt before it was seen. Most big men are comparatively slow, but he was as rapid as Owen Swift or Johnny Walker, and this, too, when upwards of fifty years of age.
“Jackson not only told you what to do, but why you should do it; in this essential point many capital instructors are and have been deficient. The want of this power of explaining the purpose of an action made Young Dutch Sam and Richard Curtis bad instructors, though they were finished pugilists, and, which does not always follow, capital sparrers.
“Jackson was not unmindful of the fact that art never ends. If there was anything new in the gymnastic, equestrian, or pedestrian way, there be assured was Jackson; not merely witnessing the exhibition, but examining the means by which the effects were produced. He was consequently often at Astley’s and at the Surrey, when Ireland, the jumper, was there, and knew all the famous fencers, funambulists, dancers, and riders of his day, and his day was a long one.
“Of his private character, what can be said more than that all his pupils became his friends. Save with Dan Mendoza, it is not known that he ever had a quarrel. He was a careful man, not a mean man—saving, but not penurious. It is to be remembered, too, from his peculiar situation, continued calls were made upon his purse by the ruffianly and profligate, who claimed a brotherhood that he utterly and properly repudiated.”
In 1811, he procured a benefit at the Fives Court, in aid of the subscription for the suffering Portuguese; it realised £114. Next year he did the same for the British prisoners in France; this benefit amounted to £132 6_s._ He also aided the benefit for the Lancashire weavers (1826).
One old boxer (but who was not of Jackson’s day) pestered him incessantly for money. “No,” said Jackson, “I’ll give you no money; but you may go to the Horse and Groom, and you will find a clean bed, three meals, and a pot of beer a day; stay there until matters mend.” The man was thankful in the extreme; but a week had not elapsed ere he was found in the taproom bartering his dinner for gin!
Of course a “lion” like Jackson could not avoid being made a “show” of on particular occasions; accordingly, when the allied sovereigns were in England, his aid was required. On the 15th of June, 1814, at the house of Lord Lowther, in Pall Mall, a pugilistic fete came off in the presence of the Emperor of Russia, Platoff, Blucher, etc. The display so delighted those illustrious fighting men that it was resolved to carry the thing out on a grander scale; accordingly, the King of Prussia, the Prince Royal, Prince of Mecklenburg, and others assembled. Jackson, Cribb, Belcher, Oliver, Painter, and Richmond, were the principal performers. The foreign nobility now wanted a peep, and at Angelo’s rooms some splendid displays took place. It was said that Jackson had inoculated them with a pugilistic fever, but it is believed he never obtained a single pupil from among them. If this be a fact, it is an extraordinary one.
At the coronation of George the Fourth, 1821, Mr. Jackson was applied to to furnish an unarmed force “to preserve order.” Cribb, Spring, Belcher, Carter, Richmond, Ben Burn, Harmer, Harry Lee, Tom Owen, Joshua Hudson, Tom Oliver, Harry Holt, Crawley, Curtis, Medley, Purcell, Sampson, and Eales, with Jackson at their head, formed the corps, dressed as Royal Pages.
One gold coronation medal was given to the boxers—they raffled for it at a dinner. Tom Belcher won and wore it.
In 1822, a number of noblemen and gentlemen, admirers of the gymnastic sports of their country, with a Royal Duke (Clarence) at their head, presented John Jackson with a service of plate. The salver, which bears the subjoined inscription, is of magnificent workmanship, weighing one hundred and eighty-seven ounces.
THIS SALVER (With other Plate), Was purchased by Subscriptions from A ROYAL DUKE AND SEVERAL OF THE NOBILITY AND GENTRY, And presented to JOHN JACKSON, ESQ., Under the Superintendence of the following Committee:
The Most Noble the Marquis of | Admiral Tollemache, Worcester, | Major General Barton, and Henry Smith, Bart, M.P., | John Harrison, Esq.
Mr. Jackson had for many years been stakeholder, frequently referee, and was always ready to go round personally to solicit a subscription for the beaten man—and who could refuse John Jackson? A match was made in 1822, between Randall and Martin for 500 guineas a side, but Mr. Elliot, Martin’s backer, “cried for his toy again,” in fact, demanded his money back. Mr. Jackson declared he would never again be a stakeholder, and he kept his word. Thus virtually he retired from the ring, and from that moment the ring declined. Its progress downwards has been checked, now and then, by men of good conduct, and battles of great interest. Spring and Langan (1824) revived the hopes of many. Dutch Sam from 1827 to 1839, rallied a few of the right sort around him, so did Burn and Owen Swift. A sort of reaction took place when Broome fought Bungaree; another, when Caunt fought Bendigo; again on the occasion of the great resultless battle of Farnborough between Sayers and Heenan in 1861; and lastly, the Benicia Boy’s pulley-hauley match with Tom King, awakened attention; but down, down, down, the ring was doomed to go, and in 1879 we may safely say that in writing its later history we have penned its epitaph. The management of fights fell into the hands of Jew speculators in special railway trains, whose interest it became not to allow the announced battle to come off, and to repeat the process of plunder in the shape of extortionately charged “excursion tickets,” at one to three pounds each, until the fraud would no longer be submitted to.[63]
John Jackson lived for many years at the house in which he died, No. 4, Lower Grosvenor Street West. The Old “Tattersall’s” may be said to have divided his residence from that of another great artist, the late John Liston. “It is with pleasing melancholy we remember,” says his old friend Vincent Dowling, “the Yarmouths, the Coombes, the Lades, the Ashtons, wending their way to the house of the one, while the Kembles, with perhaps Charles Mathews and Charles Taylor, Theodore Hook and Young, were standing in converse near, or visiting the low-roofed house of the latter.”[64]
There is little more to say. Loved by many, respected by all, enjoying a large circle of excellent society, John Jackson passed his later days. Affluent, but not rich in the vulgar sense, he wanted less than he had, and his income exceeded his expenditure. He was a cheerful companion, sang a good song, told his anecdotes with great tact, and never obtruded them. For the last year or two before his death his health declined, but until then he rarely had a day’s illness. Peacefully and trustfully, with his hand in that of his niece (whom he loved, and had assisted as a daughter), John Jackson expired on the 7th of October, 1845, in the seventy-seventh year of his age. His death was as calm and resigned as his life had been exemplary.
The remains of John Jackson rest in Brompton Cemetery, beneath a handsome monument, by Mr. Thomas Butler, of which we give a faithful representation. On the side of the mausoleum nearest to the entrance is inscribed on each side of a medallion portrait of the deceased:—
HERE LIE THE Born, Sept. 28, REMAINS OF 1769, JOHN JACKSON, Died, Oct. 7, 1845.
HIC VICTOR CÆSTUS ARTEMQUE REPONO.
On the opposite side to the footpath is a nude gladiator, holding a laurel wreath, and plunged in grief. On the top is a lion couchant, and on the farther end we read the following:—
“Stay, traveller,” the Roman records said, To mark the classic dust beneath it laid;— “Stay, traveller,” this brief memorial cries, And read the record with attentive eyes. Hast thou a lion’s heart, a giant’s strength? Exult not, for these gifts must yield at length. Do health and symmetry adorn thy frame? The mouldering bones below possessed the same. Does love, does friendship every step attend? This man ne’er made a foe, ne’er lost a friend. But death too soon dissolves all human ties, And, his last combat o’er, here Jackson lies.
THIS MONUMENT was erected by the subscriptions of several noblemen and gentlemen, to record their admiration of one whose excellence of heart and incorruptible worth endeared him to all who knew him.
IV. BILL HOOPER (THE TINMAN)—1789‒1797
As a foil to the bright memoir of a high-minded, self-respecting, and honoured athlete, we cannot better “point a moral” than by devoting a brief chapter to the sudden rise and inglorious fall of the “lion-hearted” boxer, known in the latter part of his career as “Bully Hooper;” his story is a beacon of warning to the successful pugilist in the day of his patronage, prosperity, and success.
William Hooper was born at Bristol in 1766, and previously to his unfortunate connexion with the notorious Lord Barrymore, followed his trade as a tinman in Tottenham Court Road, where he had the character of a smart, industrious, well-behaved young man. His qualifications as a pugilist were undoubted. Fear formed no part of his composition. His confidence was innate; and neither the size nor strength of his antagonist deterred him any more than a thorough-bred bull-dog would calculate the bulk of his unwieldy bovine foe. Transplanted from making saucepans to the festivities of Wargrave, and made the personal companion of a roué nobleman, he lost his head, as many better nurtured men than poor Hooper have done. The transition from narrow means and humble station made him insolent, overbearing, and ostentatious, and finally the petted pugilist sunk into the ferocious “bully,” thence from dissipation and violent excess into a shattered human wreck, his melancholy end marked by poverty, desertion, and disease.[65]
In person Hooper was compact and symmetrical. His shoulders and arms were fine, his chest deep and broad; his height under five feet eight inches, giving him the weight of 11 stone, showing him to have been nowhere overloaded.
He is said to have fought “a number of good battles,” of which we have no evidence, save Pierce Egan’s assertion, to set against the per contra of a contemporary, that he had “fought but twice before he met Lord Barrymore’s man.” We suspect, however, an incidental trace of our hero to lurk in the following paragraph at the end of the account of the great battle between Tom Johnson and Ryan, at Cashiobury Park (see ante, page 59).
“Two other battles were likewise fought on the 11th of February, 1789, on the same stage. The first between Solly Sodicky, the Jew, and Wilson, in which the Jew beat. The second was between the Welchman and a Tinman, in which the former was cleverly defeated.” Be this as it may, on the 19th of August, 1789, Hooper was matched with a local celebrity, Bill Clarke, the plasterer, and the affair came off in Bloomsbury Fields, a plot now covered with streets and squares, adjacent to Tottenham Court Road, where Hooper exercised his vocation of a tinman. The battle was obstinately contested, Clarke being a powerful man, but the intuitive skill, activity, and courage of Hooper carried him through, and his fame as a boxer spread.
Cotterel, the shoemaker, challenged Hooper for 10 guineas a side, and they met on Barnet Common, September 5th, 1789. There was a numerous assemblage, for Hooper was looked upon as something surprising, and was seconded by Tom Johnson, the Champion, while Bill Warr picked up Cotterel. Thirty-five minutes’ desperate fighting on the part of Cotterel led to his utter defeat, and Hooper, little the worse for the conflict, was proclaimed the conqueror.
A carpenter at Binfield Heath, of the name of Wright, having acquired much fame in Berkshire for his fistic skill, was proposed by Lord Falkland as a competitor for the Tinman, and Lord Barrymore, who had witnessed Hooper’s prowess, at once accepted the cartel on Hooper’s behalf, naming his own seat of Wargrave as the place of battle. Whatever might have been Wright’s pretensions among the yokels, he made a poor figure before Hooper, who fought with such skill and rapidity at his opponent’s head, that in twenty minutes Wright[66] was all wrong, and so punished as to be compelled to give in. This battle took place December 3, 1789.
Bob Watson, of Bristol, whom we shall have occasion to mention elsewhere (see WATSON, Appendix to Period II.), was next introduced as an antagonist for Hooper. This proved a most remarkable battle. The place was Langley Close, near Salt Hill, in the neighbourhood of Windsor, and the day February 17th, 1790. Bill Warr seconded, and Joe Ward was bottleholder to Watson; Hooper was waited on by Tom Johnson and Butcher. Major Churchill and Colonel Harvey Aston acted as umpires, but called in a referee, owing to several differences of opinion during the prolonged contest. In the third round the Tinman cleverly floored his opponent, being the first knock-down blow; and this success he repeated in the three following rounds: the odds were now high in favour of Hooper, and continued to increase as the battle went on. Watson, though he could not ward off Hooper’s attacks, proved thorough game, and rallied strongly at the close of each bout. Two hours and a half, and one hundred rounds were fought, not without several appeals as to Watson’s style of delivering a blow and falling, and other unfair practices. Finally, after Watson had been “seven times accused of striking unfairly,” Hooper was acknowledged the victor.
Lord Barrymore’s increasing folly now led to Hooper being matched with Brain (Big Ben). This mockery of boxing took place at Chapel Row Revel, near Newbury, Berks, August 30th, 1790; night coming on, after three hours and a half harlequinade by Hooper, it was declared “a drawn battle!”[67] (See ante, p. 67).
This exhibition much tarnished the fame of Hooper, who was now the boon companion of the depraved Lord Barrymore’s excesses, and for more than two years he did not appear within the ropes, save in the capacity of a second. As on one of these occasions we find him officiating for Bill Treadway in a combat which brings under our notice the earliest record of a black pugilist, we preserve the paragraph as we find it, under the date of—
“June 13th, 1791. A pitched match was contested in Marylebone Fields, between an excellent African pugilist and the well-known Treadway. Peter Bath seconded the Black, and Hooper, the Tinman, his antagonist. The battle lasted thirty-five minutes, when Treadway was carried senseless from the field. During the combat the African showed great agility, excellent bottom, and a thorough knowledge of the art, not to be exceeded by the most skilful among the boxers.” This black diamond’s name is not preserved.
In September, 1792 an announcement appeared in the Chelmsford Advertiser that two pugilistic contests would take place at Colchester on the 4th of that month. “The grand jury who were at that time sitting, addressed the mayor, recorder, and magistrates, expressing their wish that they might not be permitted within the corporate jurisdiction. The mayor accordingly, by the public wish, forbad the erection of any public stage or any prize fight within the limits of his jurisdiction.”
In consequence of this notice, “orders were given for the erection of a stage eighteen feet square at Bentley, about nine miles from Colchester.”
On Thursday, September 4, 1792, the men met, according to arrangement, and at four o’clock the first two combatants, Hooper, the Tinman, and Bunner of Colchester, mounted the stage. Tom Johnson seconded Hooper, with Sharp as bottle-holder. Bunner’s second was Williams, and his bottle-holder Johnson’s old opponent Ryan. The stakes were 50 guineas a side. Bunner, who was a young fellow of great strength and resolution, began so vigorously that he bored down Hooper, and in the second round closing upon him, brought him down heavily. The odds went up on Bunner, and the Essex men were triumphant. Hooper found it would not do to trifle with his opponent: he kept out, and displayed his superiority in the art in great style, punishing his man sharply. In the sixth round, however, Bunner fell by an overreach, and broke his right arm, thus giving Hooper an easy conquest.[68]
George Maddox,[69] whose battle with the young Tom Cribb, has preserved his name and memory, next challenged Hooper. They met for a stake of 50 guineas, at Sydenham Common, Kent, Monday, February 10, 1794. Tom Johnson once more seconded Hooper; Maddox was attended by Joe Ward and Bill Gibbons, the renowned of Westminster, as his bottle-holder. George had proved himself a good man, and great expectations were entertained of his ability to dispose of Hooper, who was much the lighter man. Betting was five to four on Maddox. The Duke of Hamilton and a number of the aristocratic patrons of pugilism were present. For the first three or four rounds Maddox appeared to have the lead, and his friends were confident. Hooper, however, met him with undaunted courage, hitting straight, and putting in his blows with cutting severity. After three quarters of an hour’s sharp fighting, Maddox fell off, while Hooper increased in activity, and at the end of fifty-five minutes, Maddox gave in with much reluctance, and the Tinman was hailed the victor.
So high had Hooper’s fame now risen that a match was made by his backer in March, 1794, for him to fight the renowned Dan Mendoza on a twenty-four foot stage, for 50 guineas within a month. Dan, however, was not to be had at such a bargain. The Israelite preferred forfeiting his friends’ £20 deposit to risking his reputation on such terms.
That determined boxer, Bill Wood[70] was anxious to try his abilities with our hero. His friends assisted him with £50, and on Monday, June 22nd, 1795, they met and fought upon a stage erected on Hounslow Heath, in the dangerous vicinity of the powder mills. At two o’clock the combatants set-to. The contemporary accounts describe it as “a truly desperate battle.” After the first few minutes, the odds rose five to one, ten to one, and twenty to one on Wood. After fighting twenty-five minutes, during which the punishment was heavy, Hooper levelled Wood with a stupefying blow under the left ear. From this time Wood, though he struggled gallantly, never entirely recovered, and the blow being repeated, at the end of forty-eight minutes[71] Hooper was victorious. Towards the close of the fight the odds had changed to twenty to one on the Tinman. “The Duke of Hamilton, Colonel Hamilton, and a distinguished party of amateurs were present,” says the chronicler of the day.
Hooper had now arrived at the summit of his success by the conquest of so game and experienced a pugilist as Wood. His time had come to tread the downward path that leads to the cold shade of poverty, disgrace, and neglect. Within one year of his conquest of Wood his excesses and riot began to tell on a constitution shaken by hard living, night-riot, and debauchery, and Tom Owen,[72] a powerful young fellow, then known as “the Fighting Oilman,” having been quarrelled with by Hooper, professed his desire for a fight with “the Bully,” as he was now generally called. Charley Coant, then a boxer of some note, forming a high opinion of Tom, introduced him to Mr. John Jackson, and that good judge, approving the new candidate for the honours of the P. R., obtained friends for “the Young Oilman,” and a match was made for 100 guineas, which came off at Harrow on the 14th of November, 1796. Owen proved himself a resolute and steady fighter, and in the words of the reporter, “constantly kept a straight guard of such prodigious strength that Hooper could never beat it down, and very seldom put in a hit. Hooper, in striking a blow, dislocated his shoulder, and being dreadfully bruised, gave in” after fifty rounds of hard fighting. (See Life of TOM OWEN, post, p. 110). As we have already said, Hooper was but a shadow of his former self; luxury and debauchery had spoiled him.[73]
Few men are more obnoxious to the smiles and frowns of fickle fortune than the pugilist: victory brings him fame, riches, and patrons; his bruises are unheeded in the smiles of success; and, basking in the sunshine of prosperity, his life passes pleasantly, till defeat comes, and reverses the scene. Covered with aches and pains, distressed in mind and body, assailed by poverty, wretchedness, and misery, friends forsake him—his fame waxes dim—his character is suspected by the losers; no longer the “plaything of fashion,” he flies to inebriation for relief, and a premature death puts a period to his misfortunes. Thus it was with Hooper: sheltered under the wings of nobility, he became pampered, insolent, and mischievous. His courage was undoubted, and though his frame was but small, it contained the heart of a lion; big men struck no terror to his feelings, and he opposed them with all the hardihood of an equal competitor, determined to conquer. Lord Barrymore, as already noted, was fond of larking and practical jokes, and whenever he could not come through the piece in style, Hooper appeared as his bully—his name overawed, and many a time saved his patron a deserved thrashing. One evening his Lordship took Hooper to Vauxhall, “disguised in liquor,” yet farther disguised in band and cassock, as a clergyman. The visitors discovered “the bully and his patron,” and after some rough handling, they were summarily expelled from what Old Simpson, the M. C., grandiloquently termed “the Royal Property.” At length his lordship cast him off, which, as he had cast himself away before, is not surprising. Hooper soon afterwards became wretched, disease overtook him, repeated intoxication brought him to the brink of the grave. One evening he was found insensible on the step of a door in St. Giles’s, and conveyed to the watch-house; on enquiring who he was, he could but faintly articulate, “Hoop—Hoop—.” Being recognised as the miserable remnant of that once powerful pugilistic hero, he was humanely taken to the workhouse, where he immediately expired!—Sic transit gloria athletæ!
V. TOM OWEN—1796‒1799 (1820).[74]
Tom Owen, though living only in the memory of the present generation as a landlord combining liquor and literature, some fancy, more fun, a certain amount of old-school pugilism and much pretence, deserves a niche in this period of the History of British Boxing.
True it is the clumsy bespattering of praise with which, in bad English and worst taste, his name is loaded in “Boxiana,” may induce many of better judgment to turn from his biography; yet is there enough to furnish matter worthy the pen of the chronicler of deeds of courage and of skill.
Tom Owen was a native of Hampshire, being born at Portsea, on the 21st December, 1768.
Of the apocryphal rigmaroles which disfigure “Boxiana,” we shall not condescend to take any account; suffice it to say, that after several provincial encounters with the Smiths, Joneses, Greens, and Browns of his vicinity, Tom Owen came to London, where he followed the occupation of an oilman; a calling which the reader will perhaps condescend to remember was much more followed than now; for, as Byron says, “in those days we had not got to gas.”
A casual turn up caused an introduction to Mr. Jackson, who, perceiving the germ of future greatness in Tom, took him in hand, and, fancying his style, he was matched against the then celebrated Bully Hooper, for 100 guineas.
On the 14th, Nov., 1796, Owen met his formidable antagonist, who, it must be remembered (with the exception of his draw with Big Ben) was as yet unconquered. The battle-field was near Harrow. Owen was seconded by Joe Ward and Jack Bartholomew, Hooper by Symonds and Paddington Jones. “The contest,” says the reporter, “lasted rather more than an hour, during which the men fought fifty rounds of hard fighting, but for the most part of which Owen constantly kept a straight guard of such prodigious strength, that Hooper could never beat it down, and very seldom put in a hit. Hooper, in striking a blow, dislocated his shoulder, and being also dreadfully bruised, gave in. Owen was so little hurt, that he leisurely put on his clothes and walked away.”
Pierce Egan tells us of a second fight (Hooper not being satisfied) for 100 guineas, at the same place (Harrow), a few weeks afterwards, which “Owen won in equally good style.” We fail to find it in contemporary records, though Pierce adds, “the stakeholder had his pocket picked of the 100 guineas, and Owen never got a single farthing afterwards,” vol. ii., p. 194.
The fame of Owen now spread, and a match for 25 guineas a-side was made between Jack Bartholomew and Tom, which took place at Moulsey Hurst, August 22, 1797. George Maddox and Goff seconded Owen upon this occasion. It was a desperate battle, and highly spoken of at the time, for the courage displayed on both sides; but here Tom was forced to succumb; Bartholomew overfought him, both at close quarters and out-fighting, and the contest was finished by Owen being hit out of time.
On September 2, 1799, Tom entered the lists with one Houssa, a Jew, for 10 guineas a-side, on the race-ground at Enfield. Joe Ward was second to Owen. But here again Owen was so desperately beaten, that, after a struggle of forty minutes, he was incapable of coming to the scratch, and the Jew was the conqueror.
Davis, of Deptford, an excavator, weighing fourteen stone, was beaten by Owen in one hour, at Deptford, in December, 1799.
At a benefit which took place at the Horse-shoe and Hoop, Tower Hill, Owen and Jack Bartholomew had some words about their fight at Moulsey. The result was an exchange of blows. Pierce Egan tells us, “the smiles of victory crowned the exertions of Owen in a quarter of an hour.” Perhaps so—but old Tom was his own reporter.
At the Surrey Sessions, in January, 1805, Owen was indicted for a riot and conspiracy, on Putney Common, in aiding and abetting Joe Berks and Pearce to fight a pitched battle. The jury found Owen guilty, and he was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment in Horsemonger Lane.
From this period Tom figured as a trainer and second, and his judgment was generally considered good in all matters pugilistic; he also flourishes immensely in the benefit-taking line, and was, as the “Historian” terms him, “fly to every movement on the board.”
We shall decline transferring the trash of the Apocrypha of Boxing respecting the exploits of Owen, as no traces of them are to be found in the “canonical books,”—which, we take to be the journals of the time. Leaving him, therefore, as a blind guide, we proceed to the contest with Mendoza. This, although a very foolish affair on the part of the Jew, as the follies of great men, even in pugilism, outweigh in interest the wiser doings of lesser ones, is our chief reason for giving Owen a separate chapter in the history of pugilism—despite the immense, intense, and absurd gaggery of his injudicious friend and biographer.
In 1820, Tom (being no bad judge at match-making) proposed to Daniel Mendoza a “passage at arms” to settle an old grudge. Dan, like an old war-horse at the sound of the trumpet, though physically but a shadow of his former self, met the twelve stone Tom Owen. Thirty-three years had elapsed since the “Star of the East” had first peeled in the lists, and fourteen since his last appearance. Although, however, his deeds were, even to the existing generation of ring-goers, rather matter of tradition than evidence, the fame of Mendoza made him the favourite at six and five to four. Owen was known to be a good man, but it was thought he had not science enough to oppose the accomplished Israelite. Hence a great number of the oldest amateurs were induced to be present. It is worthy of note, that Sir Thomas Apreece, Bart., who was Mendoza’s umpire at Odiham, acted in that capacity on this occasion.
Owen, attended by Cribb and Josh. Hudson, threw up his hat first; and Mendoza, followed by Randall and Harry Lee, repeated the token of defiance. Mendoza was loudly cheered, and backed at five to four. Mendoza was quickly ready, and walked about the ring with a coat thrown over him. Owen was a considerable time preparing himself, and in making his shoes right; instead of drawers he fought in a pair of nankeen breeches. Mendoza’s colours were a blue silk bird’s eye, and tied over Owen’s.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Mendoza, on stripping, exhibited a fine manly bust; his eyes sparkled with confidence, and there was altogether an appearance about him that seldom characterises an individual of fifty-five years of age. Owen, on the contrary, looked thin; and his general appearance was rather meagre than otherwise. On setting-to, both the ould ones were extremely cautious, and a minute elapsed before a hit was made. Owen at length let fly, but without any effect. Some exchanges took place, when they closed at the ropes, and, after an attempt to fib on the part of Mendoza, which was frustrated by Owen, a struggle for throw ensued: in going down, Dan was the undermost.
2.—Mendoza ran in with great alacrity, made a sort of push forward, and got Owen on the ropes; the latter went down, and his neck got scored from them. (Great applause for Mendoza. While Tom was on the knee of Josh, the latter said, “Master!”—Owen, smiling, “What says my boy?”—“Have you brought the pepper castor with you?—“Yes, my lad, and the mustard and vinegar cruet too!”)
3.—The Jew behaved very handsomely, and showed some good fighting; but Owen planted a tremendous hit on his left cheek, just under the eye, whence the claret flowed copiously: Mendoza went down, yet jumped up gaily. (Randall told Mendoza he should not have done so. “Let these ould ones alone,” said Josh; “they know more about fighting than you or I do.” Even betting, but Owen for choice. “I say, master,” says Josh, “you furnished Danny with some sour crout then!”)
4.—Owen now showed the spectators that he was the younger man. Mendoza was again nobbed, and the claret profusely running down his cheek. In going down Owen was undermost. (“When am I to have the tobacco-stopper, master?” cries Josh.—“Leave it all to the cook yet!” Owen smilingly observed.)
5.—Mendoza now showed he was completely gone by as to any superiority of fighting. Owen, having nothing to oppose him, “displayed talents that astonished the ring.” Mendoza received a dreadful fall.
6.—Owen, in retreating from his antagonist, ran against the stakes, but the latter again planted a heavy facer. In struggling, both went down.
7.—Here Tom was the hero of the tale. He nobbed Mendoza, and got away with all the dexterity of a youth: it was now only Mendoza by name; his excellence as a fighter had evaporated, and his hits were generally short. Owen, in a close at the ropes, held Mendoza as firm as if the latter had been screwed in a vice, and pummelled him at the back of the neck so dreadfully, that Dan at length fell exhausted.
8.—Mendoza came to the scratch bleeding, and almost in a state of stupor, from the severity of the last round. Owen planted such a tremendous hit on Dan’s face, that he went back, and slipped down at the corner of the ring. The Jews were still backing Mendoza with confidence.
9.—Long sparring: Owen convinced the spectators that he was a perfect master of the art. He hit Mendoza in the eye, jobbed him also in the face, and at the end of the ropes held Mendoza by the arm, and punished him till he went down. (Two to one on Owen.)
10.—The appearance of Mendoza’s face was much changed; his left eye was encircled in claret. Owen got away from his antagonist in good style. Mendoza was punished all over the ring; Owen threw his opponent, and fell heavily upon him. (Three to one. Indeed, it was any odds.)
11.—Owen was determined not to give a chance away; and he also appeared determined not to have any more body blows. He accordingly kept at out-fighting. A short but sharp rally occurred, when Owen fell; and Mendoza likewise, at about two yards distance, came heavily down upon his face on the turf.
12th and last.—Mendoza was quite abroad, and hit short, and at the ropes was again held by Owen, and fibbed down. Mendoza said he would not fight any more, as he could not win it. He was terribly punished, and defeated in fourteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds and a quarter; while, on the contrary, Owen had not a scratch on his face. The latter was carried out of the ring by Cribb and Hudson, amidst the cheers of the spectators.
Mendoza, while being dressed, seemed sensibly affected at his defeat. He had not the least idea of losing the battle.
Mr. Jackson collected £20 on the ground for Mendoza, who was put into a coach. Owen soon returned to the ring, decorated in the spoils attendant upon conquest. Mendoza’s blue trophy was hung round Owen’s neck, surmounted by the yellow-man of Hooper; now doubly won.
This battle hardly deserves comment, after the observations we have already made under the memoir of Mendoza; yet it is valuable as a warning. The merits of the combatants remain, except in the balderdash of “the historian” of the P. R., just where they stood previous to the fight.
Tom’s judgment as a second was unquestionable. His coolness and readiness as second to Turner in his victory over Scroggins, and in the remarkable fight with Sutton and Painter, may be cited.
Tom was known for many years as a pleasant companion, a good convivial singer, and the landlord of a house on the ground now occupied by the basin of St. Katherine’s Docks, whence the hand of improvement compelled him to migrate. For several years he was well known as the landlord of the Shipwrights’ Arms at Northfleet, where the fancy of all grades found him a civil, pleasant, and obliging host. Owen died at Plumstead in 1843 aged 76 years.
VI. TOM JONES (KNOWN AS “PADDINGTON JONES”).—1786‒1805
This well-remembered pugilist, whose career forms a link between the Second and Third Periods of the History of the Ring, well deserves a chapter, from his numerous and game contests, his attentive civility during his protracted connexion with fistic affairs, and yet more from his identification with the renowned Jem Belcher, for whose first metropolitan competitor he had the honour to be selected. Tom, including his numerous “outside” or “bye-battles,” is supposed to have fought more battles than any other pugilist. The Ring in Hyde Park was the frequent arena of his contests, which in his noviciate were chiefly with roughs and commoners.
About the year 1766, Paddington gave birth to this hero, from which place he derived his pugilistic title. Tom commenced boxer when quite a youth, and, from the intuitive science which he displayed at that early period, attracted the notice of the veteran Tom Johnson, who pronounced him to be a promising pugilist. Jones’s weight was ten stone and a half, his height five feet eight inches, and his frame of much symmetry and activity.
Tom’s first regular contest was about the year 1786, with one Jack Holmes, in Harley Fields, near where Cavendish Square stands, for the important sum of half-a-crown, and it appears it was as well-contested as if £100 had been the stakes; but Jones being a mere novice, and quite a stripling, and Holmes a full grown man, the latter proved the conqueror.
A match was made between a one-eyed sailor, a most determined boxer, and Tom Jones, for 10 guineas a-side, in February, 1786, which was decided in the Ring, in Hyde Park. The contest proved a desperate one. The Sailor was considered as ugly a customer as ever stood up for a mill; but, in the event, Jones was declared victor. This hardy son of Neptune was not satisfied with the first broadside, and soon afterwards entered the lists for another 10 guineas, when he was again vanquished; yet, like a perfect true blue, he was valiant enough to endure a third engagement, in which he was also beaten. The Sailor displayed great bottom, and was punished severely before he gave in.
In the course of the twelvemonth, however, smarting under the recollection of defeat, Tom challenged Jack Holmes to a second trial (half-minute time), for a guinea and a half, when Jones obtained an easy conquest. This was on the 19th of December, 1786.
Aldridge, the Life-guardsman, who had been vaunting of his great deeds of pugilism at Tom Johnson’s house, near Lincoln’s Inn Fields, was told by Joe Ward that he would produce a boy who should soon take the conceit out of him: accordingly, a match was made for two guineas against a watch, and Paddington Jones was brought forward as the man to accept the challenge. It was to have been decided in the street, in the first instance, but was removed to Harley Fields. On stripping, the guardsman smiled with contempt at his boy-like antagonist, and, from his long arms, had the advantage at the first part of the battle, dealing out some sharp punishment; but the science and bottom of Tom soon stopped his career. After a most desperate conflict, which was witnessed by most of the celebrated pugilists of that day, who were astonished at the intrepidity displayed by Jones, the “boy” succeeded in milling his opponent in sixty rounds. Joe Ward seconded Jones.
Shortly after the above circumstance, in the same fields, Jones fought one Jack Blackwell, a lime-burner, for 10 shillings; and, although the latter showed complete ruffianism in the battle, he was easily disposed of by Tom. Tom Burley, a companion of Blackwell, thought he could now vanquish Jones, and had the temerity to enter the ring, immediately on the fight being over, and challenged him for the like sum. Tom instantly accepted the cartel. Burley was also a complete ruffian, and tried what downright force could effect; but Jones so completely foiled his attacks, and returned blows with so much science and effect, that Burley was perfectly satisfied. These contests were rendered somewhat conspicuous from the celebrated Major Hanger (afterwards Lord Coleraine) and his black servant performing the office of second and bottle-holder to Jones.[75]
On May 14, 1792, immediately after the fight of Mendoza and Bill Warr, at Smitham Bottom, near Croydon, upon the same stage, Jones fought Caleb Baldwin. The battle was for a purse of £20, but a dispute arising between the parties, although Caleb claimed the victory, it was declared a drawn battle.
Soon after the above contest, Jones entered the ring in Hyde Park, with Dick Horton, a baker, for 20 guineas. The latter was considered to have some pretensions to pugilism; but Jones dealt out his hits so hard and fast, that the baker was glad to cry enough.
Jones, in company with Pardo Wilson, anxious to witness the fight between Hooper and Bunner, at Bentley Green (September 4, 1792) walked down to Colchester, and was extremely stiff from the effects of his journey. The following day, a man of the name of Abraham Challice, standing six feet high, and weighing fourteen stone (a perfect terror to the inhabitants of that part of the country from his great strength), observing Tom Jones upon the race-ground, and to show his dexterity, out of mere wantonness, endeavoured to trip up Jones’s heels, and otherwise insulted him, also threatening to give him a good hiding. Tom, notwithstanding the great disparity between them, was not to be insulted with impunity, and, perhaps with more pluck than prudence, instantly showed fight. Challice laughed at him with the most sovereign contempt, bidding him get along for “a boy,” or he would kick his breech for his impudence. The spectators were alarmed at the youthful appearance of Jones, who weighed but ten stone five pounds, and begged of him to desist, as the consequences might prove of the most serious nature; but Tom was not to be deterred, and soon pulled off his clothes. Upon setting-to, Challice had the advantage from his superior strength, and kept it for three rounds; but in the fourth, Jones put in a hit under Challice’s ear, that knocked him down, when Tom Johnson offered to back Jones for £100. Challice, on standing up, appeared much confused, and Tom served him out in the same style, and continued punishing him every round till he could scarcely move, and he soon acknowledged he had never received such a complete milling before. The farmers and others who witnessed the contest were so pleased that this insolent fellow, who had rendered himself so disgusting about that neighbourhood, had received a good thrashing, immediately made a subscription purse, which soon amounted to 30 guineas, and presented it to Jones for his bravery.
The next day a countryman, well known in the neighbourhood of Bentley Green under the name of “Leather Jacket,” mounted the stage, and, with considerable vaunting, publicly challenged any Londoner to enter the lists with him. The words had scarcely escaped from his lips, when up jumped Tom, without any consideration for his hands, which were bruised from the effects of the severe punishment he had bestowed upon the nob of Abraham Challice the preceding day, and instantly began to prepare for action. The countryman seemed thunderstruck with astonishment, and with faltering speech exclaimed, “Na! na! you be the man that beat Ab. Challice yesterday—I mean ony one but thee!” and made a hasty retreat from the stage, amid the laughter and sneers of the spectators at Leather Jacket’s vain boasting.
Jones beat Keely Lyons, the Jew, at Blackheath, on the 10th of May, 1794, for a purse of 20 guineas. Tom Johnson was second to Jones. It was a well-contested battle, in which much science and bottom were displayed on both sides.
In a second attempt on a stage at Hounslow, June 22, 1795, Jones disposed of the same boxer in nine rounds, occupying sixteen minutes. Lyons was a courageous pugilist, and a boxer above mediocrity.
In the August of 1795 Jones was at Bristol, the pugilistic nursery, with Tom Johnson and other celebrities: a match for a purse with Spaniard Harris took place. After twenty minutes’ fighting, Harris, during a wrangle, got hold of the purse, and bolted with it, leaving Jones and Co. “lamenting.”
On the renowned Jem Belcher’s appearance in the metropolis as a pugilist, Tom Jones was the man selected to have the trial set-to with him. This came off at Old Oak Common, Wormwood Scrubs, on April 12, 1799.
Belcher was seconded by Bill Warr, and Bill Gibbons acted as his bottle-holder. Jones had for his attendants, Joe Ward and Dick Hall. Belcher was, at this period, only nineteen years of age. The odds were six to four upon Jem. The spectators were much interested upon the commencement of the battle, from the very high character which had been promulgated by Bill Warr, as to the astonishing abilities that his pupil possessed, and the feats which he had achieved at Bristol. The first round, considerable science was displayed upon both sides—the experience and skill of Jones were well displayed; and the dexterity and new mode of fighting, so exclusively Belcher’s own, were soon exhibited. On the termination of the first round Belcher was knocked down. The advantages in the second and third rounds were evenly balanced; but in the fourth and fifth Jones was levelled. In the sixth and seventh rounds Jones showed off in most excellent style: skill, manliness, and fortitude, no shifting, nothing shy, hugging out of the question, and hauling not resorted to: it was a clean fight throughout, stopping and hitting were the order of the day, and it might be deemed a model for pugilists in general to follow. Belcher, with all the gaiety and confidence of youth, now exhibited a new feature as a boxer. The odds had changed five to four on Jones. The eighth and ninth were spiritedly contested; but, in the tenth round, Belcher put in some tremendous hits, with the rapidity of lightning. This immediately altered the appearance of things, Jem was looked upon as the favourite, and the odds were laid accordingly. Yet Jones nobly contested for victory for the space of thirty-three minutes, before he gave in. Jem weighed twelve stone six pounds, and Tom Jones but ten stone five pounds. It should not escape the memory, that Jones stood up to Belcher (before that distinguished pugilist lost his eye) considerably longer than any other man ever did.
In 1798 Jones was matched in London to fight George Nicholls (the conqueror of Cribb). Mendoza and Johnson took Tom down to Lansdown, near Bath, for that purpose; but upon the combatants stripping, and just as they were about commencing the set-to, the following singular circumstance occurred:—Nicholls cried out “Stop!” and observing that Jones was above his height, declared he would not fight him, and, sans ceremonie, immediately left the ring, to the great astonishment and disappointment of the spectators. After some years had elapsed, upon Nicholls arriving in London, a match was made for 20 guineas, and they tried their skill at Norwood, in March, 1802. Three rounds were well contested, and considerable science was displayed; but in the fourth, Nicholls ran furiously in, and getting his head between Jones’s legs, and catching fast hold of both his ankles, threw Tom with considerable violence. This was deemed an infringement upon the rules of pugilism by the friends of Jones: a considerable interruption was the consequence, and the fight was at an end. The stakes were demanded on the part of Jones; but Bill Warr, who seconded Nicholls, would not suffer them to be given up. Respecting which was the best man, it was impossible to form anything like a decision. Jones, on his road home, had a turn up with a man of the name of Carter, who had insulted him about a challenge from Simpson. Tom, who was not much hurt from the above contest, set-to with good pluck, and so soon convinced Carter he was in the wrong, that he sheered off.
Isaac Bittoon, the Jew, had offered himself to Jones’s notice, when Jem Belcher, who had beaten Jones, generously undertook to find him backers. Forty guineas were put down, and they met on Wimbledon Common, July 13, 1801. Jem Belcher seconded Jones. It was a severely-contested fight, but Bittoon was the heavier and stronger man, and although Tom displayed great science and courage, he was unable to come to time (half-minute) at the end of twenty-two minutes, being hit senseless.
Simpson, a pupil of Tom Johnson’s, upon whom considerable expectations had been raised, was matched against Jones for 10 guineas a-side, which battle was decided on the Green, near Putney, in June 1804. It was termed a good fight, and Tom proved the conqueror.
On August 6th, 1805, Tom Jones fought another Lyons, known as “the Yokel Jew,” at Hounslow, for 10 guineas a-side. This was one of the most terrible conflicts in which Tom had been engaged. Yokel was a desperate punisher, and Jones suffered severely in the fight; nevertheless Yokel gave in.
Notwithstanding the numerous lists of battles which have been mentioned, it does not appear that Paddington Jones ever made pugilism his peculiar profession, but industriously followed through life his occupation, much respected by his friends for his civility and good nature. Jones was a man of mild and civil behaviour, and for a long series of years was well known as master of the ceremonies at the Fives and Tennis Courts, as a second and an attendant upon sparring exhibitions.
As a pugilist, Jones is entitled to honourable mention; to a respectable amount of skill he united game of the first quality. He turned out several good pupils. His guard was good and his position ready, with his left arm firm and extended to protect his body from assault, while his right was on the alert to give the return. Tom was a hard hitter, used both his hands with equal facility, stood well upon his legs, and met his man with fortitude.
Notwithstanding the evident disadvantages that Jones had to contend against in his battle with Jem Belcher—the disparagement of having been severely punished in numerous battles, and other hurts from skirmishes, contrasted with Belcher who had scarcely been pinked, and was blooming from the country—Tom’s conduct was far above mediocrity.
No man appeared oftener in the character of a second than Tom Jones, and few understood that duty better than himself. In most of Randall’s battles Tom performed that office.
It is impossible that we can take our leave of Paddington Jones without characterising him as a brave pugilist, and well deserving to occupy a niche in the temple of fame as a straightforward, courageous, and deserving man. Jones died at his birthplace, Paddington, August 22, 1833, at the age of 67.
APPENDIX TO PERIOD II.
BILL WARR, OF BRISTOL—1787‒1792.
William Warr (incorrectly spelt Ward in many chronologies, etc.) was one of the many boxers of the Bristol nursery. He was expressly brought to London to lower the pretensions of Tom Johnson, with what success we have already seen. He was five feet nine inches in height, strongly made, with symmetrical breast and arms, robust in appearance, extremely active, and altogether well framed for a pugilist. As a second, Will Warr figures in numerous fights of his period, and was of acknowledged judgment.
After his defeat by Johnson, Warr’s next battle was with Wood, the coachman, December 31, 1788, at Navestock, Essex. It snowed incessantly during the combat, “yet,” says the report, “the ardour of the combatants was not chilled, nor even the curiosity of the spectators damped. The snow, however, did not fail to have its effects upon the battle; for the boards of the stage being rendered extremely slippery, the pugilists were unable to keep their feet, and each in his turn, as well in giving as receiving blows, was brought to the ground. Warr fought in his usual style, with much clever shifting, and displayed great agility and science. Considering this Wood’s first essay, and against one of such experience in the pugilistic art, he showed great courage and determination. He fought, however, with too much impetuosity, and by this means exposed himself to the more deliberate defence of his opponent. For the first twenty minutes the battle was most admirably contested on both sides. In five minutes after setting-to Warr succeeded in closing Wood’s right eye, yet he continued the fight for half an hour with astonishing firmness, until Warr got some heavy hits in succession on the other eye, when he was forced to yield the victory.”
His two defeats by Mendoza are reported in the memoir of that pugilist (pp. 76, 77).
On the 5th of May, 1789, as Bill Warr and Watson were going down to Stilton to be present at the battle between Mendoza and Humphries, he met with an unfortunate occurrence. A man of the name of Swaine, a smith, who was an outside passenger of the same coach, having had some words with Warr about the merits of Mendoza, challenged Warr to fight. Accordingly, at the Bell Inn, Enfield, they turned out, when Warr struck him an unlucky blow in the chest: Swaine fell and instantly expired. Warr was taken into custody, and the following Sessions, at the Old Bailey, was convicted of manslaughter. The whole tenour of the evidence went to show that Warr tried everything short of cowardice to avoid the encounter.
Stanyard, of Birmingham, who had fought a draw with Andrew Gamble, an Irishman (one of Pierce Egan’s Irish heroes, renowned for being beaten, despite the most wondrous qualifications[76]), was liberally backed against Warr for 100 guineas, and they fought at Colnbrook, October 27, 1792. We may observe that “the fight was fixed to take place at Langley Broom, but was interrupted by the interference of the magistrates, and a move took place to Colnbrook.” We give, as shall be our custom, a report instead of an embellished paraphrase:—“A stage having been erected, at half-past two Stanyard ascended, accompanied by Tom Johnson as his second, and Butcher as his bottle-holder. Shortly afterwards Warr made his appearance, with Watson for his second, and Joe Ward as his bottle-holder. Captain Halliday and Mr. Sharp were chosen umpires. Mr. Harvey Aston, Lord Say and Sele, Mr. Dashwood, Sir Thomas Apreece, Colonel Hamilton, Mr. Bedingfield, and other distinguished persons were present.”
At forty-six minutes to two, the combatants being prepared, set-to.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Warr acted on the defensive; some minutes were lost in sparring, when Stanyard put in a body blow, but without much effect; they then exchanged several blows, and Warr was knocked down.
2.—Stanyard displayed superiority, and Warr fell.
3.—Warr gave his adversary a severe blow on the right cheek, which broke his jaw at the angle. It was generally allowed to be the severest blow thrown in.
4.—Notwithstanding this misfortune, Stanyard stood, and never even complained to his second. In this round Warr was knocked down.
5.—Warr was again knocked down, and at the conclusion held up his open hand to protect his face.
6.—In this round Stanyard displayed most astonishing strength, for he fairly held Warr up, struck him most severely, and threw him down on the stage with astonishing violence.
7 and 8.—Both these rounds Stanyard terminated by giving his antagonist a knock-down blow.
9.—Stanyard gave Warr a severe blow under the right eye, and he again fell.
10.—This was the last and best round, being the only one of any continuance, and during which much hard fighting was displayed; Warr gave his opponent four severe blows on his broken jaw, and it finished by both coming down.
At the conclusion of this round, although they had only fought thirteen minutes, Stanyard gave in. His appearance was in his favour, but no one had any idea of the injury he had sustained. He was immediately conveyed to Colnbrook, and medical assistance procured, when it was found his jawbone was fractured near the articulation. Warr was in prime condition, and never displayed greater skill and courage. He challenged Tom Johnson to fight for a guinea; an empty boast, as we have elsewhere observed.
Will Warr, miscalculating his skill, sought another trial with the accomplished Mendoza, who disposed of him in fifteen minutes (see MENDOZA). Warr became a publican at the One Tun, Jermyn Street, in after life, and seconded Jem Belcher, Tom Belcher, Henry Pearce (the Game Chicken), Mendoza, Tom Cribb, and others in important battles. In December, 1808, we find a benefit advertised at the Fives Court, for Warr, at which John Gully, Tom Cribb, Dutch Sam, Dogherty, Tom Belcher, and Richmond, set-to for the veteran. Warr died in March, 1809, and was buried in St. James’s burial ground, St. Pancras.
WILL WOOD, THE COACHMAN—1788‒1804.
Bill Wood, although his defeats were preponderant, deserves honourable mention at the hands of the historian of pugilism as one of the bravest and hardiest of boxers. His opponents were the very best men of their day. Bill Warr, George the brewer, whom he beat, Hooper the tinman, Jack Bartholomew (beat), and Isaac Bittoon, were his antagonists. Wood was a fine straight-limbed man of five feet eleven inches in height, and twelve stone in weight. He fought well with both hands, and possessed unquestionable courage. His style was impetuous, and his attack formidable to all but the most skilful of defensive boxers.
Wood’s coup d’essai was at Navestock, Essex, as “Captain Robinson’s coachman,” on the last day of the year 1788. Although looked upon as a novice in the art pugilistic, he tried all the skill of Bill Warr before he surrendered. (See Life of WARR, APPENDIX, p. 120).
So well had our hero acquitted himself that George the brewer (Ingleston), “renowned as a stand-up fighter,” who had, as we have seen, beaten John Jackson, and Pickard (twice), having issued a challenge as Champion, it was accepted by Wood. The stake was 100 guineas, and on the 13th of February, 1793, at Hornchurch, in Essex, the men met on a stage twenty-four feet square. Wood was seconded by Joe Ward, while Dan Mendoza attended upon Ingleston. At one o’clock, the combatants, fully prepared, mounted the stage, and having shaken hands, set-to immediately. “In the first round Wood knocked down his antagonist with great violence. George rose immediately, and with inconsiderate impetuosity attacked his opponent. Wood, taking advantage of his fury and want of caution, retreated, and put in a tremendous blow on the point of the jaw, which broke it: every spectator,” says the report in “Pancratia,” “heard the crush, and immediately perceived the swelling consequent on the fracture. The battle was supposed to be at an end, but George, with unsubdued courage, renewed the attack, and in the rally dealt Wood a blow upon the head which almost stunned him. The odds now rose to two to one in favour of George. However, after twenty-five minutes of severe fighting, in which George received many heavy blows about the head, he, being almost senseless, gave in.” The reporter adds: “Wood was much beaten, but every one feared George would pay the forfeit of his life.”
Wood’s fame now stood so high, that in January, 1794, he was matched with the renowned Ben Brain (Big Ben) the Champion. Ben was now approaching his last illness, and a forfeit took place.
Our hero was not allowed to stand without a customer. Hooper was in the height of his fame, having beaten Wright and Watson, made a draw with Big Ben, and defeated Bunner and George Maddox. Yet Wood was thought by many good enough to lower his pride. They met at Hounslow, June 22, 1794, as related in the memoir of Hooper (p. 107); and Wood was beaten, but not ingloriously.
In the first month of 1797, we find Wood matched with the famous Jack Bartholomew, who had just beaten Firby (the young Ruffian). See BARTHOLOMEW, Appendix to Period III. The battle came off between Ealing and Harrow, on a stage, January 30th, 1797.[77] “At two o’clock the men set-to; but the amateurs were sadly disappointed. Bartholomew was sadly out of condition, and not only made no good defence against Wood’s attacks, but shifted, and struck foul; repeating the offence at the end of fifteen minutes, the battle was given in favour of Wood. The Duke of Hamilton and other distinguished ring-patrons were present, and Wood told his Grace he would fight Bartholomew again in a fortnight for £500, or when he pleased, if the Duke would back him.”
Wood, who was always a steady and industrious man, now retired for a while, pursuing the then flourishing avocation of a hackney coachman, and driving his own horses and lumbering leathern convenience. He often, however, figures in the interval as second or bottle-holder in the battles of the day. Isaac Bittoon, the Jew, having beaten Paddington Jones, and fought a drawn battle with George Maddox, was anxious for a shy at Wood, now a veteran in the field; the match was long talked about, but at length arranged for the 16th of July, 1804, for a purse of 50 guineas and some bye bets to be received by the winner. The magistrates were upon the alert, but the secret of the chosen spot was well kept, Willesden Green being named as the Campus Martius so late as the evening before the battle, which took place as early as ten o’clock on the Monday morning. It would have been well had the same secrecy and promptitude been practised in many more recent fights, which have come to grief from the publicity given to their probable whereabouts, and above all, from the abominable delays at the ring side.
The field at Willesden was early filled, and at three quarters past ten the combatants entered “a roped-ring.” Wood immediately began to strip, and appeared to be in robust condition. Bittoon followed in high spirits, and after the usual ceremony, the men set-to. Wood was defeated in thirty-six rounds, occupying fifty-six minutes; Wood, in the words of the contemporary report, “being quite worn out.” (See BITTOON, for the battle).
This was Wood’s last appearance within the ropes. He was for many years a well-known character among the Jehus at the West End. In May of the year 1821, we find under the head of “Some Slight Sketches of Boxers, who have retired from Public Contests, on account of Age or other Infirmities,” the following: “Bill Wood, the coachman, once the formidable opponent of Bill Warr, Bartholomew, George the Brewer, and Bittoon, enjoys a fine green old age, and frequently takes a peep into the Fives Court to see the young ’uns exhibit.” Wood died in St. Pancras, in January, 1839, aged 64.
GEORGE INGLESTON, THE BREWER—1789‒1793.
George Ingleston, known as George the Brewer, was a powerful six-foot man, of somewhat heavy build, undoubted courage, but, like many big ones, fought slowly in comparison with lighter and more agile men. He was, however, “acknowledged to be a tremendous hard hitter,” says “Pancratia.” “He was first introduced to the notice of the amateurs by the celebrated Tom Johnson,” says the same authority, “who tried to cultivate his powers, but did not form any high opinion of his skill. His guard was low, like his renowned master’s; he never shifted, but unflinchingly met the coming blow, and trusted rather to a return than the quick and effective method of a counter hit.”
We shall pass the earlier and unimportant battles of George the Brewer to come to his most important contest, that with John Jackson, which came off in presence of a distinguished company, in the yard of the Swan Inn, at Ingatestone, in Essex, on the 12th of May, 1789. Brain (Big Ben) seconded Jackson, Tom Tring (the Carlton House porter) attended upon Ingleston.
On setting-to the betting was even, but the superior skill of Jackson was evident in the first round, when after some skilful stops and parries, Jackson at the close of the round brought down the brewer. In the second and third rounds the skill and activity of Jackson brought the odds to seven to four in his favour. In this round, owing to a heavy rain which had fallen in the forenoon, the boards of the stage were extremely slippery, and in breaking ground Jackson slipped, and fell with such violence that his ankle was dislocated and the small-bone of his leg broken. There was no alternative but surrender; although the report of the day states that Jackson “offered to be fastened down to a chair (after the fashion of sailors on a chest in their boxing matches), provided the Brewer would do the like, and thus fight it out.” There was pluck at any rate in the proposition; but George, who saw the stakes within grasp, was not so green as to let go “the bird in hand.”
On the 23rd of October, 1789, Ingleston met and defeated Pickard, called “the Birmingham Champion.” The battle took place on a twenty-four foot stage, at Banbury, in Oxfordshire. It is described in the report as a desperate stand-up fight, in which, after thirty-four minutes of “fierce” rallying, Pickard cried “enough!” and Ingleston was hailed the victor. This was fought the day after the great battle of Johnson and Perrins. See ante, Life of TOM JOHNSON.
Pickard was not, however, satisfied of his inferiority to George, and again found friends to back him for 50 guineas against his old opponent. They met at Shipston-upon-Stour, Staffordshire, September 25, 1791, when the former decision was re-affirmed, and Pickard cleverly defeated.
Ingleston’s last battle was with Bill Wood, the coachman, at Hornchurch, for 100 guineas, February 13, 1793, which will be found under the pugilistic doings of WOOD (p. 122). George Ingleston, on his retirement, resumed his calling of a brewer, and was for years known as a civil and industrious man in the neighbourhood of Enfield, where one of his old patrons, Captain Brailsford, held a brewery of some extent.
BOB WATSON, OF BRISTOL—1788‒1791.
Bristol, for more than half a century renowned for its pugilistic champions, gave birth to Watson, a well-known man in the ring doings of the last quarter of the eighteenth century. Watson was related by marriage to the family of the Belchers, having married the sister of Jem and Tom Belcher, while his daughter was the wife of the late Jem Burn (see vol. iii., life of Burn). Watson was another sample of a large heart in a small body. His height was no more than five feet five inches, his weight nine stone two pounds, yet by courage and science, Bob went far to compensate these deficiencies. After many provincial victories, Watson entered the ring, after the victory of Jackson over Fewterel (June 9, 1788), at Croydon, in presence of the Prince of Wales and a distinguished company. His opponent was Elisha Crabbe, an Israelite, who had won fame by defeating old Stephen Oliver, known as “Death.” “This,” says the reporter, “was by far the best battle of the three, and lasted three quarters of an hour. Warr seconded Watson; Ryan (the opponent of the champion) attended upon Crabbe. Watson, though much the smaller man, displayed great science and activity, and in the end proved the conqueror.”
The skill and courage exhibited by Watson on this occasion, led to his being noticed by Jackson, then in high patronage. He was accordingly selected to contend with Bill Jones, mentioned under TYNE (p. 128).[78] The battle came off before the Prince, Colonel Hanger, and other guests at the Pavilion, and residents at Brighton, August 6th, 1788. The battle was spirited and scientific for about fifteen minutes, but so much to the advantage of Watson that Jones fell from weakness, and got down suspiciously more than once. (It must be remembered that only a month had elapsed since he was defeated by Tyne). At the end of eighteen minutes, Watson having hit him down heavily with both hands, Jones surrendered.
A strong outsider, named Anderson, a tinman, from the “land o’ cakes,” challenged Watson, and the day was fixed for April 25, 1789; accordingly the men met at Langley Broom, near Colnbrook, on the Windsor Road. Watson went in so resolutely that Anderson fell in two minutes, and nothing could induce him again to face his antagonist. The reporter adds, “the amateurs complained loudly that Anderson had played cross.”[79] A second fight was got up for a purse between Joe Ward and Townsend, which Joe won in twenty minutes; Townsend being said to have broken his arm.
Watson’s next encounter was with the formidable Hooper, by whom he was defeated, after a long fight of 150 minutes and 100 rounds, at Langley Broom, February 17, 1790. (See HOOPER, p. 105.)
A townsman of Watson’s, and a brother “kill-bull,” of the name of Davies, proposed a “passage of arms” to our hero, and despite disparity of weight and size, Bob accepted the cartel. They met at Coalharbour, Gloucestershire, January 10, 1791. Watson was the favourite at long odds; but after the first ten minutes they changed rapidly. Bob’s science and shifting did not avail against the strength and quickness of Davis, who was by no means destitute of skill. Though at such a disadvantage, however, Watson never lost heart, and disputed every inch of ground with firmness and occasional advantage for three quarters of an hour, despite the remonstrances of his second, Bill Warr, till he could no longer stand. His second then gave in for him. Bob’s appearance upon any stage raised his character even in defeat.
Watson now returned to the regular pursuit of his trade, and was in business as a master butcher in Bristol for more than forty years from this period. He still took an interest in matters pugilistic, as we shall see incidentally in these pages, and often seconded, more especially in the neighbourhood of Bristol. Watson frequently gave expositions of the art on the stage of the Bristol theatre and in London. In 1810 he was engaged at Covent Garden with the younger Warr (son of Will Warr) and demonstrated the art in a scene in the pantomime. Warr, in an impetuous onset, knocked out one of Watson’s teeth, who proposed a combat then and there. This would have been an unrehearsed effect, and was of course prevented. Bob threw up his engagement, but was pacified by having another boxer to perform with him. He died in September, 1837, aged 71 years, generally respected.
TOM TYNE, “THE TAILOR”—1788‒1792.
Among the minor pugilists, Tom Tyne deserves a passing notice. The vulgar proverb of “nine tailors make a man” found its exception in this small-sized but large-souled boxer, who always fought “up-hill” against weight and inches, displaying much science, and in those rough days what was called too much “shiftiness.” Tyne’s first recorded fight came off at Croydon on the 1st of July, 1788, for 50 guineas. His opponent was Bill Jones, a powerful boxer, and who had earned a name by defeating Dunn, a clumsy and game Irishman, in Bloomsbury Fields, in 1786, besides other bye-battles. On this occasion Jones was seconded by Joe Ward, and Tyne by the renowned Tom Johnson. As it is our plan nothing to extenuate nor set down aught in malice, we shall, as is our practice, where possible, print the contemporary report.
“Tyne evidently possessed the advantage in science, independent of his great superiority arising from the shy mode of shifting and dropping. Jones, on the contrary, stood manfully up to his man, and made many dexterous efforts, which, however, were frustrated by the illusive and evasive system of his antagonist, who always fell whenever he received or put in a blow. Jones had in point of beating the worst of the battle, but still the best prospect of ultimate success, from his superior strength and bottom; until by following up a blow too far, he struck his antagonist unfairly, somewhere about the waistband of the breeches, when Tyne was immediately declared the conqueror.”
Tom’s next display was in the presence of royalty, and proved most unfortunate in its result. On August 6th, 1788, the Grand Stand on Brighton Race-course was crowded with nobility and gentry to witness the decision of three matches on a stage erected for that purpose. The Prince of Wales and a large party from the Pavilion were present. The first combatants were Bill Jones, already mentioned, and Watson, of Bristol (see WATSON); the second, Joe Ward and Reynolds (see WARD); the third, between our hero and Earl.
This contest, unhappily for Tom, ended in a fatal accident. Earl was a powerful rustic, far heavier and taller than Tom, whose height was five feet seven inches, and weight nine stone seven pounds. Earl from his appearance was the favourite at odds, and “was becoming triumphant very fast, when Tyne struck him a sharp left-handed blow on the side of the head, which drove him against the rail of the stage. He fell insensible, and immediately expired. The Prince of Wales, greatly to his honour,” adds the reporter, “immediately settled an annuity on the wife and family of Earl, and took the determination never to be present at another pugilistic contest.” We hope the first promise was kept better than the second, otherwise the prince’s annuity was merely another stone in the pavement of that place where “good intentions” are said to make the roadway smooth.
Tom was now matched against a clever boxer, Elisha Crabbe, the Jew, who had earned some fame by beating “Old Oliver,” as he was termed. The battle took place in a field adjoining Boston Moor, on Monday, March 24, 1790. We copy the report from the Daily Advertiser.
“Tyne had Johnson for his second, and James, the waterman, for his bottle-holder. Lee seconded the Jew, and Joe Ward held the bottle. At about half-past two the contending bruisers appeared, amidst at least 2,000 spectators, and on stripping, six to four was betted in favour of the tailor.”
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—There was some extremely good sparring; they both closed, and Crabbe fell, but gave his adversary a severe blow on the nose which produced great effusion of blood.
8.—The Jew gave his opponent a real knock-down blow, and fell upon him.
14.—Tyne again fell by his antagonist’s blow.
16.—Tyne received another knock-down blow, but gave the Jew a most severe cut on the left eye, and another on the mouth.
18.—Tyne dropped, and it was generally considered by design; great cry of “foul, foul,” and the odds sunk five to four on the tailor.
22.—Was the best round during the contest, and in which science was most admirably displayed by both combatants; it lasted above a minute, and afforded some most skilful blows.
32.—Crabbe fell by a severe blow on the eye.
33.—Tyne most adroitly fell, and his antagonist making a severe blow, flew over him, and falling on the stage, cut his face dreadfully.
39.—This was the last round; Tyne again fell by a slight blow, and Crabbe was so exhausted that he fell on his belly, being utterly incapable of standing the contest any longer. In the intermediate rounds there was good sparring, but no blows of consequence.
“The battle lasted thirty-five minutes. Crabbe sparred the best, but Tyne never failed to make his blows tell, notwithstanding he frequently fell himself. The Jew several times attempted to chop, but in this failed. Johnson on this occasion displayed most excellent qualities as a second, and the event of the contest depended much on his conduct.”
Tom’s next appearance was in the ring in Hyde Park, on Friday, December 31, 1792. Firby, previously known as “Jack the waiter,” from his being employed in that capacity, at the London Tavern, though a civil fellow, had earned the title of “The Young Ruffian,” from his victory over Symonds, “The Old Ruffian,” in the previous year. Firby made a severe fight with Tyne, and, despite Tom’s cleverness in shifting and dropping, managed to force the fighting so cleverly, that he beat him off in twenty-two minutes.
Tom Tyne has two fights with Mendoza credited to his name in “Fistiana,” which appear nowhere in “the books.” This was Tyne’s last public appearance as a principal. He is named once or twice afterwards as a second. He returned to his trade, and became “Sartor Resartus.”
SYMONDS, NICKNAMED “THE RUFFIAN.”—1791‒1795.
The repulsive sobriquet given to this boxer had, we find from contemporary authority, no relation to his personal appearance, nor to his ordinary behaviour, but was merely applied in ring slang to his mode of attacking his opponents in the twenty-four feet square, in defiance of mathematics called “the ring.” The ugly part of his cognomen descended to his juvenile conqueror, Firby, the waiter, who was designated “the Young Ruffian,” and Symonds thereafter was known by the epithet of “the Old Ruffian.”
Symonds’ first recorded ring fight was with Bill Jackling (called Ginger, from the colour of his hair), brother to the renowned Tom Johnson, the champion. This took place at Wrotham in Kent, on January 17, 1791, after his brother had been defeated by Big Ben (see ante, p. 68). It was a severe fight for twenty-three minutes, when Symonds was hit out of time.
His next encounter was at Fenner’s cricket ground, Uxbridge, with Gowlett, for 10 guineas, on the 22nd June, 1791. The battle was got up as a sort of compensation for the disappointment of the amateurs who were about to journey to Stokenchurch, Oxfordshire, to witness the battle between Dan Mendoza and Bill Warr. The Oxfordshire magistrates, however, had given notice of their intention to stop the “big” fight, and it was postponed. (See Life of MENDOZA, ante, p. 76.) The men fought on the turf. The opponent of Symonds, Gowlett, was a big countrymen of provincial repute. Symonds, who was more practised than his huge opponent, delivered heavily, and then, à la Bendigo, found his way cleverly to the ground. In the words of the report, “Symonds sprung in, struck, and then fell, without being struck in return.” This is very obscure. However, “Gowlett, being irritated, kicked him as he lay on the ground. This decided the battle immediately in favour of Symonds.” We should think so. What follows is curious: “Many bets were paid; but after a consultation, the amateurs deciding it to be a drawn battle, the bets were refunded.” Our grandfathers were somewhat at sea as to betting law. However, as the Duke of Hamilton, Alderman Macauley, and other “distinguished patrons” were present, we suppose they acted equitably, according to their view of the case.
A fine young fellow, Jack Firby, a waiter at the London Tavern, met Symonds for a stake at Wimbledon, on the Ridgway, August 2, 1791, and defeated him, after a slashing fight of forty-five minutes.
On Saturday, December 4, 1792, Symonds fought a most resolute battle of two hours with George Maddox at Datchet Sward, Berks, resulting in a draw. (See MADDOX, post, p. 206.)
Symonds’ last appearance in the ring was on the 15th of April, 1795, when he fought a draw with a Jew, called Ugly Baruk, at Hornchurch; it lasted half an hour. For some years Symonds was an attendant at the Fives Court, and elsewhere, and was, like Firby, a good-tempered, obliging fellow, always ready to lend a hand to a brother pugilist in distress. Symonds died in 1820.
END OF PERIOD II.
PERIOD III.—1798‒1809. FROM THE APPEARANCE OF JEM BELCHER TO THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF TOM CRIBB.
I. JEM BELCHER (CHAMPION)—1798‒1809
On the roll of fistic heroes to whom Bristol has given birth, the name of JEM BELCHER may claim precedence. He came of a good fighting stock, being descended by the mother’s side from the renowned Jem Slack, the conqueror of Broughton, the former being the grandsire of the subject of this memoir.
On his first appearance in the London Ring, he was justly considered a phenomenon in the pugilistic art. Jem’s height was five feet eleven and a half inches; his weight under twelve stone. Though graceful and finely proportioned, he had none of those muscular exaggerations in his form when stripped, and still less when attired, which go, in the artistic as well as the popular notion, to make up a Hercules. Jem was formed more after the sculptor’s Apollo than the not-very-accurate classical idea, derived from bronze and marble, of a gladiator. In horse, as in man, this antique blunder is laughed at by those who have read and seen something more than Greek and Latin books or monuments can teach them. The horses of the Parthenon might do for Pickford’s vans, “a black job,” or a man in armour in my Lord Mayor’s show (and they would not carry him well); while Jem Belcher, Henry Pearce, Tom Spring, Jem Ward, or Tom Sayers, could thrash all your shoulder-tied, muscle-knotted, chairman-calved Milos that ever didn’t do the impossibles which ancient poets and fabulists, called historians, have attributed to them in verse and prose. But this is digression, and we return.
James Belcher struggled into the battle of life in St. James’s Churchyard, Bristol, on the 15th of April, 1781. He there, for some time, followed the occupation of a butcher, and early signalised himself by feats of pugilism and activity at Lansdown Fair.[80] At twenty years of age his skill with the gloves was the talk of the town, and he baffled the cleverest professors of the old school on their visits to Bristol, which were then neither few nor far between. His method appeared so peculiarly his own that it looked like intuition, and some of the “ould ’uns” who were sceptical as to his prowess, would not believe in it until they had experienced in their own persons the irresistibility of his attack and the cleverness of his almost invulnerable and ever-varying defence. Gaiety and intrepidity were combined in Jem’s style with curious felicity, and the rapidity with which he “got in” upon his opponent, the skill with which he retreated, armed at all points, and the masterly manner in which he “got out of trouble,” to the surprise of his assailant, were truly astonishing—in two words, Jem Belcher was a “natural fighter,” perfected by the practice of his art.
The first recorded fight of Belcher was with Britton, a pugilist of some notoriety, who afterwards contended with Dutch Sam; the contest took place near Bristol, on the 6th of March, 1798; it was a sharp and severe contest, in which Belcher, the boy of seventeen, disposed of his antagonist in thirty-three minutes, Britton being beaten to a stand-still, to the utter surprise of the spectators.
Our hero now came up to town, where his reputation accompanied him; being introduced to old Bill Warr, who then kept a house in Covent Garden, the “ould ’un” had a mind to judge personally of the merits of the young aspirant for pugilistic fame, and accordingly put on the gloves with him for a little “breathing” in his (Warr’s) own dining-room. The veteran, who in his best days was no Belcher, was so astounded at Jem’s quickness in hitting and recovering guard, that he puffed out, as he reeled against one of his tables, impelled thither by a “Belcherian” tip, “That’ll do; this youngster can go in with any man in the kingdom!” Jem quietly observed, during the discussion after dinner, “I could have done better, sir, but I was afraid I might hit you too hard, and that you would be offended.”—“Oh!” cried the undaunted veteran, “I was never afraid of a crack, my boy, and am not now; we’ll have a round, and you may do your best.” So saying, they instantly set-to, when Jem, almost at the request of his host, quietly hit him down several times, despite of the “ould ’un’s” attempts at stopping or countering. Warr was fully satisfied of Belcher’s talents; they sat down sociably, and Bill offered to back the young Bristolian against anything on the pugilistic list.
Tom Jones, of Paddington, whose career closed the final chapter of the Second Period, was selected as the trial-horse of the new competitor in the race for fame and its more substantial rewards. The battle took place on Wormwood Scrubbs, on the 12th of April, 1799, for 25 guineas aside. The peculiar features of Belcher’s science were well displayed; and although Jones contended for victory with desperate determination, unflinching courage, and no small amount of skill and readiness, he was doomed to “pale his ineffective fires” before the rising luminary of Belcher’s fame. Thirty-three minutes of courageous and determined fighting placed the future champion’s star in the ascendant.
Jack Bartholomew, a pugilist whose victories over the gluttonous Firby (known as the “Young Ruffian”), Tom Owen, and others, had placed him high in the estimation of “the fancy,” was now picked out as a customer very likely to try the mettle of Belcher. Bartholomew was in high favour among the ring-goers, his weight between twelve and thirteen stone, his qualifications considerable, and his game of the first order. The stakes in the first instance were small, being but £20 a-side, owing to the affair arising out of a longing desire on the part of Bartholomew to try his skill with the Bristol “Phenomenon,” he himself feeling no apprehension as to the result. He accordingly challenged Jem for this sum, offering to “fight him for love,” rather than lose the opportunity of a “shy.” The mill came off, almost extemporaneously, August 15, 1799, at George’s Row, on the Uxbridge Road, and was so severely and evenly contested (Belcher was declared to be out of condition), that neither could be declared the conqueror. Towards the end of the fight Bartholomew was so completely exhausted that he fainted away, and could not come to time; and Jem so much done up, that it was with difficulty he was got up to the scratch. In fact, both men were out of time. Bartholomew, in the interval, recovering a little from his weakness, insisted upon renewing the combat, when the ring was again made; but he staggered about without command of himself, and appeared literally stupid. His game was so good, but his state so pitiable, that Cullington,[81] feeling for his bravery, exclaimed, “For heaven’s sake, Jem, don’t hit him!” upon which Belcher merely pushed him down; in fact, he was himself so exhausted as to be unable to make an effectual hit. The umpires pronounced it a drawn battle; and the stakes, which were held by Bill Gibbons’s brother, were drawn the same night at Cullington’s.
As Bartholomew possessed pluck of the first order, it was not to be supposed the matter would rest here; accordingly the world pugilistic was soon on the qui vive for another match, which was arranged for 300 guineas. This was fought upon a stage on Finchley Common, on Thursday, May 15, 1800. Bartholomew was at this time 37 years of age, Belcher just turned 20.
The combatants mounted the stage at half-past one o’clock, and little time was lost in preliminaries. Bartholomew had determined that sparring should avail Belcher but little, and ding-dong rushes were the game he had resolved on. Belcher, even in the early rounds of the fight, exhibited the tactics, afterwards conspicuous in some of Cribb’s battles, of “milling on the retreat;” but Bartholomew would not be denied, and seconded by his great strength and weight, he got in, planted upon Belcher, and hit him clean down with such violence, as to induce his over-sanguine friends to start off an express, per pigeon, to London, with the intelligence of their man’s victory. They were, however, premature, for Jem, taught by experience, did not give Bartholomew a chance of thus stealing a march on him; after pinking Bartholomew once or twice, he warded off his lunge, and catching him cleverly, threw him so dreadful a cross-buttock, that he was never entirely himself again during the fight. The odds now changed. Yet Bartholomew bravely contended, disputing every round with unyielding firmness, till the close of the seventeenth round, and the expiration of twenty minutes, when Belcher floored him with so terrific a body blow that all was U-P. The contest, considering the shortness of its duration, was considered the most desperate which had been witnessed for many years, and the loser was severely punished. It is erroneously stated in “Boxiana” (p. 129, vol. i.) that Belcher and Bartholomew fought again; but no date or place is mentioned, nor did any such battle ever come off. “Immediately after the fight,” says the report, “Bartholomew was taken into custody on a judge’s warrant, for breaking the peace before the expiration of his bond. He was brought to town in a coach, but bailed out immediately.”
Andrew Gamble, the “Irish champion,” was now backed by several influential amateurs to enter the lists with Belcher. Accordingly a match was made for 100 guineas, to be decided on Wimbledon Common, on Monday, December 22, 1800; and on that day vehicles of all descriptions, and crowds of pedestrians, flocked to witness this combat.
The journals of the day give on many occasions a sort of Morning Post list of “fashionables” on these occasions. On the present we find enumerated Lord Say and Sele, Colonels Montgomery and Ogle, Captain Desmond, Squire Mountain, Messrs. Cullington, Lee, Kelly, Aldridge, etc.; and among the professionals, John Jackson, Paddington Jones, Bill Gibbons, Caleb Baldwin, etc.
Belcher entered the ring about twelve o’clock, accompanied by his second, Joe Ward, with Bill Gibbons as his bottle-holder, and Tom Tring as an assistant. Mendoza was second to Gamble; his bottle-holder, Coady; and old Elisha Crabbe as deputy. Messrs. Mountain, Lee, and Cullington were chosen umpires; the latter also was stakeholder.
Notwithstanding Gamble had beat Noah James, the Cheshire champion, a pugilist who had been successful in seventeen pitched battles, and whose game was said to be superior to any man in the kingdom, still the bets from the first making of the match were six to four in favour of Belcher; and Bill Warr, before the combatants stripped, offered twenty-five guineas to twenty. On stripping, Gamble appeared much the heavier man, and his friends and countrymen offered five to four on him; but that was by no means the opinion of the London cognoscenti. A few minutes before one the fight commenced.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—After some sparring, Gamble made play, but was prettily parried by Belcher, who, with unequalled celerity, planted in return three severe facers: they soon closed, and Belcher, being well aware of the superiority of his opponent’s strength, dropped. (The Paddies, in their eagerness to support their countryman, here offered five to four.)
2.—Belcher, full of spirit, advanced towards Gamble, who retreated. Jem made a feint with his right hand, and with his left struck Gamble so severely over the right eye, as not only to close it immediately, but knock him down with uncommon violence. (Two to one on Belcher.)
3.—Gamble again retreated, but put in several severe blows in the body of his antagonist with some cleverness. Belcher, by a sharp hit, made the claret fly copiously; but Gamble, notwithstanding, threw Belcher with considerable violence, and fell upon him cross-ways. (The odds rose four to one upon Jem.)
4.—Belcher, full of coolness and self-possession, showed first-rate science. His blows were well directed, and severe, particularly one in the neck, which brought Gamble down. (Ten to one Belcher was the winner.)
5th and last round.—Gamble received two such blows that struck him all of a heap—one in the mark, that nearly deprived him of breath, and the other on the side, which instantly swelled considerably. Gamble fell almost breathless, and when “time” was called, gave in. It is reported that not less than £20,000 changed hands on this occasion. The Irish were full of murmurings at Gamble’s conduct, who was beaten in five rounds, and in the short space of nine minutes! Gamble fought very badly. From his former experience much was expected, but he appeared utterly confused at his opponent’s quickness. Belcher treated Gamble’s knowledge of the art with the utmost contempt.
It may be worth noticing that the “Pride of Westminster,” in after years known as Caleb Baldwin, described in the report as a “dealer in greens,” polished off a big Irishman, named Kelly, in fifteen minutes, twelve rounds, for a purse of 20 guineas, in the same ring.
While Belcher was witnessing the battle between Bittoon the Jew and Tom Jones, on Wimbledon Common, on Monday, July 13, 1801, Joe Berks, who was excited and quarrelsome, made a disturbance in the outer ring,[82] and offensively called out, “Where’s young Jem Belcher? where’s your champion?” Jem went up to him and asked him what he wanted; the reply to which was a blow, cleverly warded off. A fierce set-to followed, for Jem was semper paratus, when Berks displayed so much courage and strength, that the spectators did not know what to think about the finish of this impromptu affair. The combat lasted nineteen minutes, and although Berks was beaten, an opinion became prevalent that had not Belcher applied all he knew of the science, and Berks fought, as it was termed, “hand over hand,” there was great probability of Jem’s falling before the resolute onslaught of the Shropshire man.
Berks having shown so much game under such evident disadvantages, Lord Camelford determined to back him for a second combat in a more regular manner, for 100 guineas. He was accordingly put out to nurse; a teacher appointed to initiate him into the mysteries of the science; and it was reported of Berks that he was a promising child—took his food regularly, minded what his master said to him, and, for the short time that he had taken to study, great improvement was visible. Berks ultimately turned out one of the most troublesome customers, and the hardest to be disposed of, that ever entered the lists with Belcher.
On Saturday, September 12, 1801, Belcher met Berks, at the Cock, in Sun Street, Spitalfields, when Jem accepted his formal challenge for 100 guineas, and seven days after, on the 19th, they met at the same house, to proceed to the battle-field—a rare instance of promptitude and eagerness on both sides; but the police having scent of the affair, a magistrate’s warrant was issued, and the battle postponed to the 12th of the next month. As there is no trace of these proceedings in “Boxiana,” and they are amusing as well as curious to the ring-goer, showing the disappointments and modus operandi of the ring in the olden times, we reprint the account from a contemporary newspaper; and as a specimen of what then was thought smart writing in the fashionable world.
“On Monday (12th October, 1801), as had been agreed upon, the long expected battle between James Belcher and Joseph Bourkes (Joe Berks) was to have taken place at Enfield, but much to the chagrin of the amateurs and lovers of the pugilistic art, it was prevented by the interposition of Mr. Ford, the magistrate of Bow Street, who, having received information of the intended combat, issued a warrant against Belcher, and on the Sunday night previous Townsend took him into limbo. Many circumstances combined to excite a most extraordinary degree of expectation, and produced a multitudinous attendance on this attractive occasion. The late ratification of peace had tended to annihilate fighting;[83] conversation which had been so lively supported by the race of two famous horses, Sir Solomon and Cock-fighter, had now become exhausted in the sporting circle; the combatants being of the highest renown in the science, could not fail to animate every amateur; and, to add still greater numbers to the assembly, a violent thunder-storm on the Saturday night had kept the heroes, who on that evening enjoy themselves, altogether inactive. All the loose cash, all the turbulence that had been amassed that night, now prompted by curiosity, broke forth with increased avidity. The ‘fight’ was the very goal of attraction; it consolidated every vagrant wish, every undecided mind, and every idle hope.
“This match first became the subject of contemplation from an accidental skirmish during the fight between Bittoon and Tom Jones, at Wimbledon, in which, although Berks seemingly had the worst of it, the amateurs considered it as a matter of surprise; and no previous training having taken place on either side, much consequence was not attached to the defeat, nor was it considered decisive of the merits of the rival heroes. Many knowing ones indeed conceived that Berks got thrashed in this contest only through his own rashness, and entertaining flattering hopes of his powers, took him into private nursing. Raw eggs to improve his wind, and raw beef to make him savage, were the glorious non-naturals that composed his regimen, and in all his exercises he topped even expectation’s self. All this was done in the anxious trust that Belcher would be backed with great odds, as he was thought to be the favourite with all, excepting those in the secret. They, however, did not manage with all that address which experience proves so requisite to gull the world; it soon spread that Berks had been in training, and had considerably improved in his sparring. Odds then took a contrary direction, but when the amateurs who con o’er these sublime subjects began to consider that Belcher, although not in training, had lived temperately, was in good condition, and full of stiff meat, he again became the favorite, and on the ground six to four were the standing odds.
“The hours appointed in the articles for the decision of the contest were between twelve and two. At about one o’clock Berks appeared on the stage, stripped, and began to show play for the amusement of his friends, who did not forget to make the welkin ring with their plaudits; however, Belcher not ascending the stage as expected, he dressed himself again, amidst cries of ‘Where is Belcher?’ Berks immediately assumed the attitude, not of a fighter, but of an orator, and in the following eloquent manner addressed the multitude:—
“‘Gemmen, I com’d here, d’ye see, to fight Jim Belcher. I’m here, and he isn’t. I wish he had; for, on the word of a butcher, I’d have cleaved his calf’s head, and given him such a chop in the kidneys, as would soon have brought him on his marrow bones.’
“The cry of ‘Where is Belcher?’ still continued, when Gamble, the Irish bruiser, came forward—‘Where is he? why at Bow-street, to be sure; he was grabbed on the road.’ This was not the fact, but something near it. The suspense, however, was not of long duration: two friends of Jemmy’s arrived with the sad and melancholy tidings of the ‘queer tip’ he had met with the last night.
“Bill Warr, Gamble, Lee, Jackson, many amateurs, and the usual number of pickpockets, were present.”
On Wednesday, November 25th, 1801, this oft postponed contest was brought to a decision. The greatest secrecy was observed, and “it was only on the Tuesday afternoon that the field of battle was precisely determined on. A stage was erected at Hurley Bottom, four and a-half miles from Maidenhead, between the Henley and Reading roads, thirty-two miles from Hyde Park turnpike.
“At ten minutes after twelve Belcher made his appearance, accompanied by his second, Joe Ward, and by a Bristol youth, as his bottle-holder, who was unknown to the London bruisers. He immediately began to strip, and when prepared, took the precaution of particularly examining the stage, lest any roughness or nail might do him an eventual injury. Shortly after Berks appeared, attended by Harry Lee, as his second, and George Rhodes, his bottle-holder.
“The combatants shook hands, and immediately set to. Bets, seven to four and two to one on Belcher.”
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Several severe blows were exchanged. Berks showed in better style than usual. He put in a well directed hit under his antagonist’s right eye, who staggered. The men closed, and both fell.
2, 3, and 4.—During these rounds neither combatant displayed science, notwithstanding some good blows were reciprocally given and received.
5.—Belcher made a feint with his left hand, and with his right put in so sharp a hit on the nose of his opponent, that he laid it open, and brought him down with great violence. (Bets ten to one offered, but refused.)
6.—Much shy fighting, Berks keeping out at distance. Belcher at length struck Berks over the forehead, and cut him again severely; the blood now issued so freely from his wounds, that Lee could scarcely find handkerchiefs sufficient to keep him clean.
7 and 8.—Little done; Belcher propped Berks, who fell.
9.—Berks being the stronger man, rushed in, got a hold, and threw his antagonist with great violence.
13.—This was the best contested round throughout the battle, and was truly desperate fighting.
16.—At the conclusion of this round Berks was quite exhausted, and it is but justice to his gallantry and courage to record that, although in so dreadful a state, he refused to give in, and the yielding word was uttered by his second.
REMARKS.—“The battle, which undoubtedly was the most desperately contested of any since that of Big Ben and Johnson in the year 1791, lasted twenty-five minutes; but although it displayed the height of courage on both sides, it was by no means so gratifying to the scientific amateur as many battles of the old school; very few straight blows were struck, but both the combatants fought round, and made a hugging fight of it.
“Berks was much cut and dreadfully bruised in the body. During the fight he displayed wonderful activity and bottom, but not an equal portion of skill. At the conclusion he was immediately put into a post-chaise, but very cruelly left there until after the decision of another battle, and then conveyed to town.
“Belcher appeared not the least hurt, and declared he never felt a blow during the whole of the battle; he was very highly elated by having gained the laurel, and still more perhaps the stake. He challenged Mendoza, who was present, and offered to fight him in a month for 300 to 200 guineas. To this bravado, Mendoza, greatly to his commendation, calmly answered, that he had given up the pugilistic profession; that he supported by his exertions, as landlord of the Lord Nelson, in Whitechapel, a family of six children. There was only one man he would fight, which was Jackson; his unhandsome and unfair conduct in a prior contest having excited his greatest indignation.” Dan ended a wily speech by declaring he would fight Jackson for 100 guineas, with a proviso that he should not avail himself of what he called the “base and cowardly advantage” of holding the hair of his antagonist. See MENDOZA, ante, p. 79.
Caleb Baldwin, on this occasion also, added a second fight to the day’s proceedings, his antagonist being Lee, the butcher, whom he beat in twenty-three minutes.—See Life of CALEB BALDWIN, Appendix to Period IV.
Lord Say and Sele, the Hon. Berkeley Craven, Sir Thomas Apreece, Colonel Montgomery, Captain Taylor, and other distinguished amateurs, were among the spectators.
We read in the newspapers of the day that “Lord Radnor, as Lord Lieutenant of the county of Berks., soon after the fight, issued warrants for the apprehension of James Belcher and Joseph Berks, as combatants, and Harry Lee and Joe Ward, the seconds, ‘for unlawfully assembling and publicly fighting at Hurley, in the county of Berkshire.’ They were taken into custody, and on Friday, January 29th, 1802, Belcher, Lee, and Ward, appeared at Bow Street, before Mr. Bond, and Mr. Reed, of Chelsea, with their bail (Mr. Brown, and Mr. Evans, an oyster merchant in Hungerford Market), where they entered into sureties for their appearance to answer this charge in the county of Berks., themselves in £200, and their bail in £100 each. Poor Berks was most shamefully deserted and neglected by all his friends, in this hour of need, and not being able to procure bail, remained ‘in durance vile’ at the common gaol of Reading.”
The then chief magistrate of Bow-street seems to have been particularly busy in the proceedings of Belcher, for we find, in the interim between his bail and surrender, that he stopped even a sparring match. “On Tuesday, April 6th, 1802, Belcher had announced a display of the art of self-defence, at a public-house called the Peahen, in Gray’s Inn Lane. Gamble, Belcher, and several pugilists of fame set-to, and highly diverted an immense concourse of persons until about ten o’clock, when Mr. Bond having received information, despatched officers, who very kindly paid them a visit, and took into custody not only the principals but the whole of the company, and lodged them in the Compter for the night.” The paragraph writer then becomes clumsily facetious about the appropriate transfer of the population of the Peahen to the Poultry Compter.[84]
In May, 1802, “on the last day of the Quarter Sessions at Newbury, Belcher, Joe Ward, and Harry Lee, appeared with their bail,” and poor Berks was brought up from the gaol. Jem’s aristocratic patrons had been busy, for we read, “Mr. Dundas, the Chairman of the Sessions, addressed them: he said the prosecution was at the instance of the county, but had been moved by certiorari into the Court of King’s Bench. He admonished them to leave off the pugilistic profession, and particularly directed his observations to Belcher, of whose generally peaceable conduct he had heard so favourable a report. The Court was very highly pleased at the respectful manner in which they all surrendered themselves to the laws of their country; and it was understood, that unless they were again sufficiently atrocious to violate them, they would not be called upon to answer for their misconduct.”
At the latter end of this month, May, notwithstanding this advice, the following paragraph appeared in the Oracle: “Belcher and Berks have been matched at Newmarket by Captain Fletcher and Fletcher Reid, Esq., for 200 guineas a-side. Belcher has already set off to Yorkshire, to put himself in training, accompanied by Joe Ward, and Berks remains in the neighbourhood of Newmarket for the same purpose. The battle is agreed to take place within six weeks, but where or when will be kept as much a secret as possible.”
The best accounts of the disappointments these olden gymnasts met with in their attempts to decide this contest, may be collected from the following excerpts:—
BELCHER AND BERKS.
From the YORK HERALD.
“The boxing match made some time since, at Newmarket, to be fought by the above-named, it was agreed by the parties, should be decided on Thursday, June 17, between the hours of twelve and two, at the village of Grewelthorpe, about six miles from Ripon. The above village is in the West Riding; the division of that part of the county and the North Riding taking place there. Accordingly, on the morning of Thursday, a stage was erected at the bottom of a close adjoining the house of Mr. Pickersgill; the money, amounting to £1,450 a-side, deposited by the parties, and every necessary preparation made. In consequence of information having been previously sent to the magistrates, the Very Reverend the Deans of Ripon and Middleham, with several of the justices for the North and West Ridings, attended at Grewelthorpe, and signified their determination to put a stop to all such outrageous proceedings; but finding that the business was likely to be proceeded with, and that a number of people were assembling, they ordered the Riot Act to be read, which was accordingly done about twelve o’clock, by Mr. Taylors, the Town Clerk. However, between one and two o’clock, Belcher, with his second, etc., went upon the stage, and was followed by Berks, upon which Mr. Trapps went down to inform them, that if they did not instantly quit the stage, and the neighbourhood, they and their parties would be apprehended. They immediately obeyed, and left Grewelthorpe soon after.”
From the MORNING POST.
“It appears that on Thursday, June 17, a stage, on which it was intended that Belcher and Berks should exhibit a fresh trial of their skill and strength, was erected in a bye place, about twenty miles distant from Middleham, in Yorkshire, and so conveniently situated for the purpose, that no persons present could have been deprived of a full view of the fight. At one o’clock, Fletcher Reid, Esq., on the part of Belcher, and Captain Fletcher, on behalf of Berks, met on the appointed spot, to make good the stake of 1,450 guineas a-side, being the sum for which Belcher and Berks were matched to fight. The conditions having been fulfilled, Belcher appeared on the stage at a quarter before two o’clock, attended by Joe Ward as his second, and Bill Gibbons as his bottle-holder; and shortly after Berks joined them, with Crabbe as his bottle-holder, but no second. The two bruisers shook hands, and Berks observed, ‘that it would now be determined which was the best man;’ to which Belcher replied, ‘he was surprised he did not know that already.’ There were several hundred persons present on the tiptoe of expectation to see the conflict commence; but the combatants could not set-to, as Harry Lee had not ascended the stage, who was Berks’ promised second. On his name being called out among the crowd, he answered to it; but when asked why he did not appear in his place, he gave no other explanation than that he would have nothing to do with the fight. This circumstance produced general dissatisfaction, as it was declared that this determination on the part of Lee could only have been occasioned by a previous understanding between him and Berks’ friends, who now began to think of the large sums they had betted, and the little chance they had of success. No bets could be procured on the ground, without staking considerable odds. As Berks refused to accept any other second in the room of Lee, all hopes of a contest now vanished, and the champions retired from the stage. Belcher, however, unwilling to disappoint the company, offered to have a few rounds with Berks for pure ‘love,’ but he declined, and immediately set off in a post-chaise.”
Mr. Fletcher Reid, who backed Belcher, made him a present of £50 for his trouble, and £5 to bear his expenses to London. He also made a present to Ward, his second, and to the bottle-holder, with money to bear their expenses to town.
In the beginning of July, 1802, the following letter from Berks appeared in the Oracle and Daily Advertiser:—
“To the Editor of the DAILY ADVERTISER.
“SIR,—The wager for which I was to have fought with Belcher, at Grewelthorpe, in Yorkshire, was 1,450 guineas a-side; Captain Fletcher betting upon me, and Mr. Fletcher Reid upon Belcher; the match was to be fought between twelve and two.
“Captain Fletcher was on the stage half an hour before Mr. Fletcher Reid could make up the sum betted. Belcher did not come upon the stage until half past one, and then appeared in boots, consequently not very likely with an intention to fight. Immediately on his coming on the stage, Captain Fletcher came to me at the house, and desired me to put on my fighting dress, and be ready immediately, which I directly did. I was then asked by Fletcher Reid, ‘Where is your second?’ I answered, ‘Let us fight without seconds, for Harry Lee has refused to be one, on account of the magistrates.’
“I had wished to fight before the hour named, to prevent the interposition of the magistrates; for though no man can more respect their authority, which I would not attempt to resist, I thought it would be fair enough to get a start of them.
“Mr. Bolton, of York, held the bets, to the amount of 2,900 guineas.
“I had been in training seven weeks at Middleham, and was never in better condition. I ran and leaped with many people, and always beat them. I was exceedingly well treated by the people there, and must say that Captain Fletcher behaved amazingly well, and like a gentleman to me. I told him it was not for the sake of money, but of my honour, that I wanted to fight.
“Belcher had not been ten minutes on the stage, when two or three gentlemen came and told him to get off, for that the magistrates had issued their warrants.
“Belcher on this was directly going off, when I said, ‘Belcher, stop and fight at all risks, and we shall see who is the best man.’ I must say it is not true, as stated in some of the papers, that Belcher made a reply, ‘that he thought I knew already,’ for he made no answer, but acted the part of ‘Orator Mum.’
“It appears odd to me that Joe Ward was at Grewelthorpe the day before, but did not appear the day appointed for the fight at all. I do not wish to impute anything wrong to him, but think it very strange.
“The above is a true statement, which nobody will deny, and which Belcher, if he has a regard for truth, dares not contradict.—I am, sir, yours, etc.,
“JOSEPH BERKS.”
“London, July 1.”
On the 19th of August, it being Camberwell Fair, those two disappointed and hitherto considered equal champions accidentally met, never having seen each other since their proposed match in Yorkshire. “Belcher first espied his pugilistic rival entertaining a number of people with the manner in which he would serve out Belcher the first time he met him; but this seeming to have happened unexpectedly, their first salute was at least civil. Belcher, however, could not help expressing his regret that Berks should boast everywhere of his superior prowess, that he could beat Belcher with ease, that Belcher was afraid to fight, etc. Berks did not deny these accusations, and offered to fight him immediately. They then adjourned to the bowling-green belonging to the house where they met, and Berks attacked Belcher before he could get his shirt off. However, when they fairly met, Belcher put in a well-directed hit, knocked out one of Berks’ front teeth, and following it up with a blow under the ear, brought him down. Berks not being quite sober, and Belcher indisposed, their friends agreed that they should meet next day at Oxendon Street, Leicester Square. This being settled, they separated.”
August 20.—“This day they met according to agreement, and after some negotiation respecting the order of proceeding, they went, each in a separate hackney coach, accompanied by their friends.
“At a little before one o’clock the parties arrived at Tyburn Turnpike, where they immediately fixed on the first open space, a large field directly behind St. George’s Chapel, which faces Hyde Park. The combat having been so suddenly determined on, very few amateurs were present, excepting Mr. Fletcher Reid and Mr. Crook. There not being time to build a stage, an extensive ring was immediately formed, and the multitude, which was immense, placed around it. The first row almost lying, the second sitting, the third kneeling, and the remainder standing; those behind thinking themselves well favoured if they now and then got a peep.
“After walking about for a few minutes they began to strip, and when prepared, Berks asked Mr. Fletcher Reid ‘Whether it should be a fair stand-up fight.’—‘Certainly, in every way,’ said Mr. R., and immediately called Belcher to acquaint him with what Berks had asked, when he said ‘Certainly, I can do no otherwise.’ Berks then requested that the pauses between each round might be three quarters of a minute, but Belcher’s friends insisted on the old established interval of half a minute.
“A purse of thirty guineas was subscribed for the winner, and five for the loser, by the amateurs present. A few minutes after one they entered the ring; Belcher, accompanied by Joe Ward as his second, and Bill Gibbons as his bottle-holder; and Berks, by Tom Owen as his second, and Yokel, the Jew, for his bottle-holder. After the accustomed salutation they set-to.”
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Berks showed in this round that his hope of gaining the battle rested upon his superior strength. He ran in, closed upon Belcher, and tried to throw him, but failed, when Belcher dexterously accomplished what his antagonist was so desirous of doing, and had his man down on the grass. Some blows were struck, but no blood drawn.
2.—Berks followed the plan he had commenced with, ran in, and received a well-aimed blow from Belcher in the throat, which drew blood. They closed, and Belcher again threw his opponent.
3.—Berks once more ran in with great pluck, and with much adroitness planted a sharp blow on Belcher’s right cheek bone with his left hand; he then put in a severe blow between the shoulder and the breast, which, had it been lower, would have done execution. While aiming another blow with his left hand, Belcher rallied, closed, and a third time brought Berks down with a hit and a close.
4.—Berks rushed upon his adversary, missed his blow, and fell. Here some groaned, calling out, “Berks is at his old tricks,” supposing him to be shifting, but his subsequent conduct showed the fallacy of such a charge.
5.—Berks ran in with great force, caught Belcher by the hams, doubled him up, and threw him in the style of a cross-buttock; Belcher pitched on his head with such force it was feared his neck was broken. A cry of “Foul! foul!” ran round, but Belcher rose as sprightly as ever, said he was not hurt, and in answer to the cries of “Foul,” said “No, never mind.”
6.—This was one of the most severe rounds that had been fought. Berks ran in as usual: several severe blows struck on each side. Belcher tremendously struck Berks on the side of the head, a second on the neck, and a third on the throat, all truly severe. They closed, struggled, changed legs, and each displayed his utmost skill and strength in wrestling; at last both fell, neither being able to claim any advantage.
7.—Berks had lost his gaiety; he seemed less eager, and his strength evidently began to fail: when put to the test, he still, however, showed great spirit. They closed, and Berks was a fourth time thrown.
8.—Berks during this round fought on the defensive, but at that he had no chance. Belcher put in several good blows, and terminated the round by bringing Berks down the fifth time.
9.—Bets at this time were twenty to one in favour of Belcher, who did not appear the least exhausted. While sparring, he was nodding and talking to his antagonist, at the same time putting in some most severe and unexpected blows. Poor Berks was again brought down.
10.—Berks set-to with spirit, and came to close quarters. Belcher put in some awful hits, and struck unusually sharp: he cut Berks under the left eye, then under the right, and thirdly, planted a most dreadful blow between the throat and chin, so severe that it lifted Berks off his feet, and his head came first to the ground. Belcher fell from the force of his blow, and as they both lay, the blood gushing up Berks’ throat, he collected it in his mouth, and squirted it over Belcher. This he did not relish, and swore he would pay him for it in the next round. Berks, however, declared he did not do it intentionally.
11.—Although Berks was evidently beaten, he still showed fight. Some blows were struck, they closed, and Belcher threw Berks, at the same time falling on his own hands, not wishing to hurt Berks more by falling on him, though the practice is customary, and considered fair in fighting.[85]
12.—Berks now showed considerable weakness, sat longer on the ground, and required greater assistance from his second than before. This round ended by Belcher’s throwing him.
13.—Berks again came up; Belcher struck five or six blows, closed, and again threw him. Berks was now heard to express a wish to give in, but his second desiring him to persevere, put a handkerchief to his mouth, and stopped his utterance. (This was disgraceful, and opposed to all rules of the ring.)
14.—Berks showed game, but his strength was gone; in short, he only stood up to be beat; every one manifestly saw he had no chance of success. After a few sharpish blows, Belcher closed and threw him on the chest, where he laid for some seconds, and then yielded the palm. He was several times asked by Joe Ward if he had given in, and distinctly answered “Yes.” He could scarcely see or stand, and was so shockingly cut about the face, that it was impossible to distinguish a feature. His friends placed him in a hackney coach, and carried him to a house in the neighbourhood of Grosvenor Square.
REMARKS.—Belcher carried no marks of the battle, excepting the bruise on the cheek bone and his left shoulder. After the battle was over he leaped with great agility, and having walked three times round the field, left it on foot. His style of fighting in this contest was his own peculiarly, putting in with astonishing rapidity his three successive blows, and knowing Berks’ superiority of strength, avoided closing whenever he was able. The whole of the bets depending on the intended Yorkshire battle were decided by this contest.
Tuesday, August 24th, Mr. Fletcher Reid, the pugilistic amateur, gave a dinner at the One Tun public-house, in St. James’s Market, to a number of the professors of boxing. Berks was there, and in the evening Belcher called in, when Mr. Reid addressed Berks, telling him he must now be convinced it was impossible for him to beat Belcher, and asked him to give him his hand, which he immediately consented to do, and the two champions sat down at the same table, and spent the remainder of the day in good humour. Berks was astonishingly recovered, and said he felt no inconvenience now from the fight, but being a little stiff. In the course of the evening a wager was made between him and Jack Warr, Bill’s son, to run one hundred yards, for two guineas, which they immediately decided, and Berks won by five yards.
On Friday, October 8, 1802, James Belcher was carried before his attentive friend, Nicholas Bond, Esq., and Sir William Parsons, at the Public Office, Bow Street, being taken into custody on a warrant of Lord Ellenborough’s, dated the 22nd of July, 1802, in order to give bail for his appearance next term in the Court of King’s Bench, to answer an indictment found against him for certain riots and misdemeanours; alluding to the battle he fought with Berks at Hurley Bottom, in Berkshire, and which had been removed from the Quarter Sessions to that Court, where it would have rested, as before understood, had he not lately fought another battle.
The recognizance was himself in £200, and two sureties in £100 each.
This meddling Midas appears to have been one of those public nuisances that are occasionally entrusted with in-discretionary power. Belcher had engaged Sadler’s Wells Theatre for the evening of October 26th, 1802, for his benefit. But Mr. Bond and his brother magistrates disappointed hundreds, and robbed Belcher, by “closing the house for the season,” declaring sparring an “unlawful exhibition!” Such are the fantastic tricks of men “dressed in a little brief authority.”
John Firby (the Young Ruffian), who at this time, 1803, stood high in reputation, offered himself, though certainly stale, as a candidate for “the Bristol youth’s” favors. A purse of 100 guineas was subscribed by “the dons of Newmarket race-course,” as the prize; and they were to meet on Tuesday, April 12th, 1803. But the magistrates of Suffolk and Cambridge getting wind of the meeting, exerted their authority to prevent it, and on the Monday evening before, sent notices to the men that a fight would not be permitted. A secret meeting was immediately held, and it was determined to repair to the nearest spot in the county of Essex, where they might fight unmolested by the magistrates. Accordingly, by six o’clock the next morning, every one in the secret was in bustle, procuring vehicles and horses for their conveyance. “At seven o’clock Belcher started in a post-chaise, seated between Joe Ward, his second, and Bill Warr, his bottle-holder. They pursued the London Road, followed by an immense retinue, until they arrived at Bone Bridge, where they turned to the left, passed through Linton, instilling awe into the astonished inhabitants, who could conceive nothing else but that the French were come. When they had got to the distance of half-a-mile beyond Linton, and about fifteen from Newmarket, being in the appointed county, they turned out of the road on to a level piece of ground, and there resolved to decide the contest. To prevent a possibility of any interruption it was judged expedient to be as active as possible. They immediately commenced the formation of a ring, which was accomplished without much difficulty, there not being many pedestrians. This being executed, the combatants were called, and informed that the collection was 100 guineas, but with regard to the terms on which they contested, they must themselves decide. They immediately agreed 90 guineas for the winner, and 10 for the loser.
“The combatants without loss of time began to strip, and after the usual ceremony, at a quarter past nine, began.”
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Every countenance expressed the greatest anxiety, while each stood on his guard, in expectation of his opponent’s blow. The disparity in size was considerable, Firby standing six feet one, and weighing fifteen stone; Belcher five feet eleven, and barely twelve stone. The combatants remained inactive for some seconds, when Firby put in a blow at the head, which Belcher avoided, and immediately returned by two blows left and right, but without much effect; they closed, and both fell, Belcher underneath. Many offers to take two to one that “the Ruffian” would win, but few betters.
2.—Belcher immediately struck Firby in the mouth, from which blood flowed copiously, and following it up by a right-handed blow on the side, brought his antagonist down. (Odds were now three to one in favour of Belcher.)
3.—No harm on either side. This round, Firby at the commencement aimed a blow at his opponent’s head, which he caught, and gave a returning blow, which Firby likewise parried with much dexterity. Belcher again made a blow which was also stopped; he, however, made a blow, followed up his opponent fighting half armed, and Firby fell.
4.—Both combatants rallied, and both put in some severe blows. They closed, Belcher fell, and while on his knees Firby struck him. A cry of “Foul! foul!” resounded from all sides. Belcher appealed for a decision of the point, but wished to go on rather than take advantage of such a circumstance. At this time a parson and a constable arrived from Linton, and endeavoured to prevent the further progress of the battle; but the combatants not paying much attention to the sacred cloth, or the legal staff, commenced the
5th round.—Firby, who now had a black eye, and spit up blood, shifted, and seemed afraid to approach his antagonist. Belcher facetiously beckoned to him, when he came up and struck, but so slowly, that Belcher avoided it by a jerk of the head, and while he was making a violent hit at Firby’s side, he fell. Belcher smiled; his opponent was evidently distressed.
6.—In this round, which undoubtedly was the best contested throughout the battle, it became apparent that Belcher’s strength increased, whilst that of his adversary was much exhausted. Firby, with much irritability, made some severe hits at Belcher, which he, however, either parried or avoided, so that not one of them told. Belcher smiled and looked about him with the greatest composure, even in the heat of the round, and carefully watching, put in a well directed blow in the stomach, at the same time closing, he gave his antagonist a cross buttock with great violence.
7.—Much hard straight-forward fighting on both sides, but Firby had the worst of it. (Odds ten to one on Belcher.)
8.—Firby rallied, made a hit, which Belcher stopped with great adroitness, and immediately struck Firby over the mouth, cutting his lip severely; Firby, however, returned it by a sharp hit, but did not draw blood. (Odds in this round sunk from ten to five to one.)
9.—At the first onset Belcher put in a severe blow over his antagonist’s right eye, and immediately resuming a defensive attitude, very cheerfully said, “How do you like that, Johnny?” Firby made a desperate blow, but over-reached himself, and fell; Belcher smiled, and while he was down pointed at him with great irony.
11.—Belcher followed his opponent round the ring, and put in some severe blows, which Firby stopped, but not effectually; Belcher at length gave him a knock-down blow, when his friends insisted he should give in.
The contest lasted twenty minutes, during which time Firby never had any chance of success. He had ever been considered a first-rate pugilist, and consequently the amateurs expected one of the best displays of science that ever had been witnessed; but whether Belcher’s name overawed him, or he really had fallen off in his style of fighting, he in this contest fell much short of what was anticipated. Belcher after the battle had not the mark of a blow perceivable.
Thursday, May 12, 1803.—“Mr. Garrow this day moved for the judgment of the Court on four defendants, James Belcher, Joseph (but in the indictment erroneously called Edmund) Burke, Joe Ward, called also erroneously James, and Henry Lee, who were described to be labourers. These defendants had allowed judgment to go by default.”
The indictment charged, that they, being persons of evil and malicious dispositions, and fighters, duellers, rioters, etc., had, on the 25th of November, in the county of Berks, conspired and combined together, that James Belcher and Edmund Burke (!) should fight a duel, and that the other two defendants should be aiding and assisting in the said fight and duel; and that in pursuance of the said conspiracy, the said James Belcher and Edmund Burke unlawfully and riotously assembled together, with fifty others, to the disturbance of the public peace; and that Belcher and Burke “fought a duel,” and the other two “were present, aiding and assisting, together with fifty other persons.” Mr. Garrow, afterwards a brutal Tory attorney-general and truculent judge, earned his dirty fee by a more than ordinary amount of hireling abuse of pugilism. Of course he said little of the deadly weapons with which the prisoners’ “betters” settled their duels. The celebrated Erskine, afterwards Lord Chancellor, and Mr. Const defended the prisoners, merely asking the lenity of the Court. Lord Ellenborough finally bound the prisoners, each in his own recognizance of £400, to come up when called on for the judgment of the Court; a nominal judgment, upon which the defendants were discharged.
An unfortunate accident now struck down the skill of this talented boxer, and clouded his after life in every sense. While playing at rackets with Mr. Stuart at the Court in Little St. Martin’s Lane, on the 24th of July, 1803, Belcher received a blow from a ball struck by the marker, of such extraordinary violence as literally to almost knock his eyeball from its socket. This distressing accident and the heavy recognizance on which he was bound, had a most depressing effect on Jem’s spirits and health, and he announced his retirement from the ring. His friends rallied round him, and placed him in a public-house, the Jolly Brewers, in Wardour Street, Soho, where he was well supported. But Jem’s spirit was active, though prudence dictated entire retirement. A quarrel between a brother of Jem’s (who soon after died) and Hen. Pearce, the Game Chicken, his fellow townsman and protegé, led to this unfortunate rencontre. The lavish praises too of Pearce’s friends excited Belcher’s envy: he declared he had taught Pearce all he knew, and spoke slightingly of “the Chicken’s” ability and skill; but we are anticipating.
Joe Berks, upon Belcher’s retirement, claimed the championship; but Pearce of whom we shall soon give the pugilistic career, was invited to London by Jem, with a promise to procure him patronage and a match with Berks. These matters will be found hereafter in our Life of PEARCE, who had in the interim twice beaten Berks, and subsequently, Elias Spray, Carte, and lastly John Gully, when Belcher rashly challenged “the Chicken” for 500 guineas, to fight within two months. Pearce appears to have been much mortified at this challenge, but his position as champion forbade him to decline it. Mr. Fletcher Reid, Belcher’s firm friend, staked for Jem, and Captain Halliday posted the 500 for “the Chicken.” This, the first defeat of the renowned Jem, will be found fully detailed under the memoir of his conqueror.
Belcher had materially declined in constitution, independently of the loss of his eye. Among the serious effects of that accident was a nervous depression and irrepressible irritability, which, according to the testimony of many who knew him intimately, he tried in vain to control. Upwards of two years had passed in retirement from active pursuits, and in the ease and free living of a publican’s calling, when Belcher came forward, upon Pearce’s claim to the championship, to dispute his title. He could not be persuaded of the difficulties of meeting so skilful and formidable a boxer with the loss of an eye; and when too late he discovered his inferiority. How he did fight was long remembered by those who witnessed the lamentable but truly heroic and honourable combat, in which more unaffected courage, manly forbearance and true humanity were displayed and applauded, than ever entered into the narrow soul of craven slanderers of pugilism to conceive. Animosity was merged in honourable emulation, and the struggle for fair and unimpeachable victory. Belcher fought in his accustomed style, and tried his usual hits with adroit rapidity; but it was noticed that they were often out of distance, and that his defective eyesight was painfully made evident. When this was aggravated by blows over the good eye, his aim became utterly confused, and he became a victim to his own fatuity. Nevertheless, poor Jem endeavoured to make up for deficiency of sight and aim by an astonishing and unequalled display of courage and gaiety; and though the skill and science on both sides deserved respect, the spectators could not avoid seeing that Belcher’s guard was no longer ready, and his rapid antagonist planted on him so severely and frequently as to excite the regret of his friends that such a combat should have been provoked, and that the envious infirmity of human nature should have thus blinded the mental judgment as well as the bodily sight of so able a champion. Jem’s spirits, however, never forsook him during the fight; and at its close he declared, “That his sorrow was more occasioned by the recollection of the severe loss of a particular friend, who, in fact, had sported everything he possessed upon his head, and had been one of his most staunch backers and supporters through life, than as to any particular consideration respecting himself!” a generous sentiment and well worthy of record. Notwithstanding the somewhat ill-natured remark of John Gully, “That had Jem been in possession of four eyes, he never could have beaten Pearce,” it must be remembered that the future M.P. had been thrashed by Pearce, and had not even seen Belcher in his prime. Fully conceding the excellence evinced by the Chicken in science, wind, strength, and game, we may yet be allowed the supposition, that had this contest taken place when Jem Belcher possessed his eyesight in full perfection, its termination would, to say the least, have been very doubtful.
Respecting Belcher’s two battles with Cribb, when the circumstances of the case are duly appreciated; when it is recollected that his spirits must have been somewhat damped by previous defeat; and that his powers were known to be on the decay previous to his fight with the Chicken, it must be allowed that his heroism and science shone resplendently.
In the first fight with Cribb, as may be traced, Jem’s superiority in tactics was manifest. The former was severely punished; and not until Belcher had received a most violent hit over his good eye, and sprained his right hand, did Cribb appear to have an opening for a lead. In the seventeenth round the odds were two to one on Belcher, and in the eighteenth five to one, when Cribb was so much beaten, that considerable doubts were entertained whether he would be able to come again; and even at the conclusion of the battle Cribb was in a very exhausted state. Until Belcher lost his distance, from his confused sight, victory appeared to hover over him.
In the last battle that Belcher fought his courage was principally displayed, and he by no means proved an easy conquest to Cribb. Since the loss of his eye, it was the positive wish of his best friends that he should fight no more, but he was not to be deterred, obstinately neglected good advice, and would not believe in the decline of his physical powers. In this last battle, his disadvantages were great. His opponent had made rapid improvement in science, was in full vigour, and a glutton that was not to be satisfied in a common way; still Jem gave specimens of his former skill; but they were rather showy than effective, for the strength had departed. His hands, too, failed him, and for several of the latter rounds he endeavoured fruitlessly to prolong the contest without the indispensable weapons to bring it to a successful issue. Youth, weight, courage, freshness, and no mean amount of skill, were too much for the waning stamina and skill of even a Belcher to bear up against.
At the end of the report of his fight with Firby, a correspondent of the Morning Post thus sketches Belcher’s qualifications from personal acquaintance. “Belcher is a dashing, genteel young fellow, extremely placid in his behaviour, and agreeable in his address. He is without any remarkable appearance of superior bodily strength, but strips remarkably well, displaying much muscle. Considered merely as a bruiser, I should say he was not so much a man of science according to the rules of the pugilistic art, as that he possessed a style peculiar or rather natural to himself, capable of baffling all regular science, and what appeared self-taught or invented, rather than acquired by practice. He was remarkably quick, springing backwards and forwards with the rapidity of lightning. You heard his blows, but did not see them. At the conclusion of a round his antagonist was struck and bleeding; but he threw in his hits with such adroitness that you could not discern how the damage was done. His style was perfectly original, and extremely difficult to avoid or to withstand.” Again, “His style, like that of the great masters in every line, was truly ‘his own;’ the spectator was struck with its neatness and elegance—his opponent confused and terrified by its effects; while his gravity, coolness, and readiness, utterly disconcerted the fighting men with whom he was often opposed in mimic as well as actual combat. Add to this, that a braver boxer never pulled off a shirt, and we need hardly wonder at his eminent success, until an accident deprived him of one of the most valuable organs of man’s complex frame.”
In his social hours, Jem was good-natured in the extreme, and modest and unassuming to a degree almost bordering upon bashfulness. In the character of a publican, no man entertained a better sense of propriety and decorum; and the stranger, in casually mixing with the Fancy in his house, never felt any danger of being offended or molested. It would be well if as much could be said of all sporting publicans.
After his last defeat by Cribb, much of Belcher’s fine animal spirits departed. He was depressed and taciturn, and his health much broken by twenty-eight days’ imprisonment to which, with a fine, he was condemned for his breach of the peace by that battle. The old story too, for Jem was not prudent, is again to be told. His worldly circumstances had suffered with his health, and
“The summer friends That ever wing the breeze of fair success, But fly to sunnier spots when winter frowns,”
forgot to take what old Pierce would have called their nightly “perch,” or “roost,” at Jem’s “lush-crib.” His last illness approached, and, with at most two of his firmest friends, the once formidable champion departed this life on Tuesday, July 30, 1811, at the sign of the Coach and Horses, in Frith Street, Soho, in the thirty-first year of his age, and, on the following Sunday, was interred in the burial ground of Marylebone. The concourse of people to witness the funeral was immense; and a more general sympathy has rarely been witnessed. The proximate cause of his death was a family complaint, having its origin in an enlargement of the liver. The following inscription may be yet read upon his tombstone:—
IN MEMORY OF JAMES BELCHER, Late of St. Anne’s Parish, Soho, Who died The 30th of July, 1811, AGED 30. Universally regretted by all who knew him.