II. TOM BELCHER—1804‒1822.[86]
The third of the Belchers, Tom, remains in the memory of a few old ’uns as, for many years, “mine host of the Castle,” a jolly, rubicund, pleasant, and generous fellow, and the worthy predecessor of the departed Tom Spring, in that ancient head quarters of the Fancy, now also Pythagorised into a feeding-shop, named after Sir Charles Napier—another fighting hero. Tom came to London in the year 1803, when his brother Jem was at the zenith of his fame, having beaten every man with whom he had fought, and attained the position of undisputed Champion of England. Although Tom’s ring career was not so brilliant as his elder brother’s, it had a less striking culmination and fall, and his thirteen battles, with eight victories and a draw (with the phenomenon Dutch Sam), tell well for Tom’s descent from the Slacks and Belchers.
Tom Belcher was born at Bristol, in the same house as his brother Jem, on the 14th of April, 1783. On his earlier years we need not dwell, and where there is little or no authentic material, we hold nothing in deeper contempt than the system of “gagging” a parcel of clumsy apocryphal battles, some of which there is inherent chronological and circumstantial evidence could never have taken place.
We have said Tom came to town at twenty years of age, and he was soon matched. His first salaam in the ring (which on this occasion was forty feet in diameter, instead of the customary twenty or twenty-four feet) was on the 26th of June, 1804. His opponent on this occasion was of a noted fighting stock, being Jack Warr, the son of the celebrated Bill Warr. The prize contested for was 50 guineas, and—hear it, ye who have in modern times travelled even to Ireland to see no fight—the battle-ground was no farther off than Tothill Fields, Westminster; the day, Tuesday, June 26, 1804.
Warr was much the firmer set and stouter man, though the youthful Tom had the advantage in the reach, and, upon stripping, the odds were a trifle in favour of Belcher, from the prestige of his family name, and the predilection of the amateurs for the school from which he came. We quote the contemporary report.
“On the Monday night the knowing ones determined that the scene of action should be Tothill Fields, and on the following day they accordingly met about two o’clock, attended by their friends. A ring was immediately formed, not exceeding forty feet in diameter, by driving stakes and attaching to them the reins lent them by the various hackney coachmen. On stripping, Warr appeared stouter than Belcher, but the latter was taller and longer in the reach. After the usual ceremonies they set-to. Odds six to four in favour of Belcher.
“The set-to was in clever style, both displaying excellent science. Warr put in the first blow and followed it up with a second, both of which took effect; no return. Had they taken place as aimed their violence might have settled the battle. Belcher rallied, and some desperate hits were exchanged. At the conclusion of the round bets became even. From this to the eighth round both combatants fought desperately. It was a scene of thorough hard fighting, each endeavouring to make his hits tell, without once shrinking from the blow of his opponent. Belcher evidently imitated his brother in his plan of fighting, putting in his blows with his left hand, straight, and with the rapidity of a dart. Odds rose in favour of Belcher six to four again, but not from any advantage he had as yet gained in the battle. Warr stood up manfully, and never once gave way.
“For the three following rounds Warr put in his blows so forcibly, and so well directed, that they were almost irresistible, and he undoubtedly had the advantage. It being considered, however, that Belcher’s bottom was good, betting did not go lower than par; he, however, at this time displayed great weakness, and evidently was greatly exhausted.
“Warr supported the superiority to the sixteenth round, and put in several desperate body blows. Belcher, on the contrary, fought all at the head, by which plan Warr’s eyes became greatly affected.
“The seventeenth round was most admirably contested. Belcher seemed to recruit his strength, changed his mode of fighting, and put in successfully several severe body blows. Warr persevered with undaunted fire throughout the round; they closed, and both fell.
“On rising, Warr appeared weak; however, the eighteenth round was another truly severe trial, both combatants being apparently determined to exert their greatest strength, and bring into action all their science. Warr stood his ground, and Belcher put in some severe blows over his eyes, which, already much cut, were entirely closed at the end of the round.
“Although in this state, Warr obstinately contested another round, in which he could not fail to be completely worsted. His friends now interfered, and insisted on his giving in. But he refused; and then fainting, was immediately carried off the ground almost lifeless, every one complimenting him by calling him ‘A chip off the old block.’
“The nineteen rounds were fought in thirty-three minutes.”
The son, emulous of the sire, seems at this time to have found favour with the pugilistic world as with the turf, on an absurd application of the “like begets like” principle.[87] Accordingly, Bill Ryan, son of Michael,[88] was selected to lower the pretensions of “Young Tom.” The “amateurs” might have done worse, as the event proved, for Bill polished off the youthful Tom in thirty-eight rounds, November 30, 1804, as we shall notice in the Appendix to this Period. (See RYAN, BILL, p. 229, post.)
It appears that Tom was not only dissatisfied with this defeat, but considered it a “snatched battle.” On Saturday, April 27, 1805, Pearce triumphantly beat Carte, the Birmingham bruiser (see PEARCE), at Shepperton Common, Surrey, in thirty-five minutes. The “fancy” were unsatisfied, and a subscription purse being collected of 20 guineas, O’Donnel,[89] “the celebrated Irish hero,” offered himself. Pierce Egan says, “O’Donnel showed himself entitled to respectful attention; but who was completely satisfied in fifteen rounds.” The reporter from whom he copies says, in better English and with more sense, “Tom displayed his known dexterity, and showed good science; but O’Donnel, who fought well at the commencement, at the end of the fifteenth round played a cross, and gave in.” We suspect he was tired of the job.
Tom fretted, it appears, after the lost laurel with Bill Ryan, and challenged him a second time to the lists. They accordingly met for 25 guineas a-side, at Laleham Burway, near Chertsey, Surrey, June 4, 1805. Belcher was seconded by Tom Blake (Tom Tough), and was backed by Mr. Fletcher Reid; Bill Ryan was waited on by George Maddox and a “friend.” The Hon. Berkeley Craven posted his stake, and laid the odds of seven to four on Ryan. At one o’clock the men stripped, and two to one was offered on Ryan. We quote the report.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Both men kept at distance; but after some little sparring Ryan put in the first blow. Tom parried it extremely well; Ryan bored in and both fell, Ryan uppermost.
2.—Some good straight blows exchanged; Belcher struck, Ryan parried, and Belcher fell from the force of his own blow.
3.—Excellent fighting; as many as ten blows passed, when Belcher cleanly knocked down his opponent.
4.—Some sharp blows; Ryan threw Belcher a cross buttock with great violence.
5.—A tightly contested round; Belcher fell.
6.—No fighting; they closed and both came down.
7.—In this round Ryan displayed to advantage, but closing he fell.
8.—Very short; Ryan again fell.
9.—Both having received some desperate blows, now began to be more cautious, sparred a good deal, and the round was terminated rather favourably for Ryan.
10.—Some sharp blows quickly plied. Belcher fell. (Odds were now generally two to one on Ryan.)
11.—The men instantly closed, and Ryan fell.
12.—In this round Ryan put in some good hits and brought down his opponent.
13.—Both closed, struggled, and fell, Belcher uppermost.
14.—Ryan threw in a severe blow, which Belcher very scientifically stopped; he rallied, and both fell with great violence. When down, Belcher patted Ryan’s cheek, and said, laughing, “Bill, you’re done over.”
15.—No fighting, and the men closed and fell, Ryan uppermost.
16.—Both showed fight; Ryan down.
17.—Ryan very adroitly threw his opponent, still Belcher appeared very gay.
18.—Good fighting. Ryan brought down his opponent again, but not a clear fall.
19.—After some good hits exchanged, Ryan put in a severe blow in the kidneys, and threw Belcher.
20.—Ryan now appeared distressed in his wind; but he made a neat hit, but slipped and fell.
21.—Both fought with great resolution, and each showed courage. Ryan had the superiority in strength, and got his opponent down again.
22.—Both appeared fatigued; no fighting, they closed and both fell.
23.—Well contested; Belcher showed good fight, and his friends began to have a better opinion of his chance; he hit his man and got away, Ryan, however, threw him.
24.—Belcher recruited, stood up boldly, and by an excellent hit, brought down his opponent.
25.—Both very weak, closed, and fell.
26.—No fighting, at least no impression. Ryan fell.
27.—Both combatants seemed distressed. Belcher fell.
28.—Belcher at the end of this round fell, and laughing, fairly pulled his antagonist after him.
29.—Belcher immediately on setting to, put in a blow on the head, and Ryan gave in, not without a supposition of cross play. The fight lasted fifty minutes.
“Lord Craven, Lord Albemarle, General Fitzpatrick, Hon. Berkeley Craven, Mr. Fletcher Reid, Mr. Mellish, Mendoza, Jackson, Bill Warr, and others were present.”
On February the 8th, 1806, Tom was defeated by “the phenomenon,” Dutch Sam (Elias Samuels). See DUTCH SAM, Chapter V. of this Period.
In the interval between this and his next contest he disposed of an aspirant (who took the name of “Jack in the Green”) for a ten pound note.
His next was a brave but ineffectual attempt to reverse the verdict in the case of Dutch Sam. Tom, though not quite beaten, fought a draw, July 20, 1807. This led to the final appeal, on August 21, 1807, when Tom’s objections to Sam’s superiority were finally disposed of. See DUTCH SAM.
After these reverses, Dogherty, who had twice beaten Cribb’s younger brother, George, now challenged Tom, to fight in a month, and the 5th of April, 1803, was fixed for the tourney (the same day as Dutch Sam and Cropley’s fight was appointed); but it was interrupted by the Bow Street “redbreasts,” and postponed until Thursday, the 14th of April, when it came off near the Rubbing House on Epsom Downs. A roped ring of twenty-one feet was formed on the turf, and about twelve o’clock the combatants entered, Belcher accompanied by Mendoza and Clark, Dogherty by Cropley and Dick Hall. Without loss of time they set-to. Six to four on Belcher.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—More than a minute elapsed before any blows were exchanged, both sparring to obtain the advantage. Belcher stopped his opponent’s attempts with great neatness; a rally took place, when they closed, but broke away. Some trifling hits took place; they again closed, and Dogherty threw Belcher. (The odds six to four were unchanged.)
2.—Belcher stopped a terrible left-hander which Dogherty aimed at his head; the latter rushed in, but Belcher knocked him off his legs.
3.—Skill and courage by no means deficient on either side. Dogherty tried to bustle his man, but Belcher was cool and prepared; he stopped his plunges, and put in some severe blows on Dogherty’s face, who, nevertheless, closed the round by throwing Tom.
4.—The skill of both men was conspicuous in this round; but Belcher had the best of it. Dogherty received a tremendous facer in endeavouring to plant a hit, and Belcher in settled in fine style. Dogherty convinced the spectators that he was no novice, by his dexterity in stopping—yet Tom, following his opponent round the ring, punished his head most terribly, and brought him down by a blow under the jaw. (Three to one on Belcher.)
5.—Belcher, with uncommon dexterity, broke through Dogherty’s guard, and with his left hand planted a most dreadful blow in his throat, which struck Dogherty so completely abroad, that he repeated the hit three times before Dogherty could recover himself, when they closed and fell.
6.—Belcher upon setting-to dropped his opponent from the first two blows.
7.—Dogherty’s efforts were completely defensive; he stopped Belcher’s blows with great neatness; nevertheless, Belcher rallied him down.
8.—Belcher had enough to do in warding off the well-aimed hits of his adversary, who now went in impetuously, yet not without science; in closing, Tom was thrown upon the ropes by Dogherty, and to all appearance without difficulty. The betting fell, for though Dogherty had been hit heavily, he was strong and dangerous.
9.—Several good blows were exchanged; but Belcher was not seen to so much advantage in this round. In closing, Belcher was underneath.
10.—Belcher sparred cautiously and retreated; when Dogherty, conceiving something might be gained by following him, put in two good hits. In closing the round, Dogherty was thrown.
11.—Belcher put in two facers, when both the combatants fell out of the ring.
12.—Dogherty was again thrown, previously to which Belcher planted two good hits.
13.—Dogherty, full of pluck, rattled in, but Tom threw him with considerable force.
14.—Tom, evidently superior in this round, rendered the bustling of Dogherty unavailing, and again threw him violently. (Three and four to one on Belcher.)
15.—The game of Dogherty claimed admiration, his appearance commiseration—his head was terrific, and his strength was nearly exhausted; nevertheless, he still forced the fighting, but his blows were of no effect, and he fell beneath the superiority of his opponent. Belcher’s half-arm hits were as swift as they were punishing, till Dogherty fell. (Any odds on Belcher.)
16 and 17.—In both these rounds the exhaustion of Dogherty was visible, and, to the honour of Belcher, be it recorded, he disdained taking any more advantage than was necessary to insure his contest: as his opponent fell on the ropes at his mercy, he walked away from him. Such humanity ought not to be forgotten.
18 and 19.—Dogherty’s spirits were good, but his stamina was exhausted; his blows did not tell, although he still stopped with considerable science. Belcher kept the lead in fine style; in closing, both men fell.
24.—Up to this round it was evident that Tom must win; but his game opponent was determined to try every effort while the least chance remained of success. Tom put in three desperate facers, and followed them by so severe a body-blow, that Dogherty fell quite bent and exhausted.
25‒33.—Dogherty, still determined, contended for eight more rounds, but was nothing more than a mere object of punishment to his opponent, who continually hit him down with ease. This could not last long, and in the thirty-third round, at the end of forty-five minutes’ sharp fighting, Belcher was declared the conqueror.
“Belcher was so little hurt,” continues the reporter, “that upon hearing of his adversary’s surrender, he immediately threw a somersault, and ran off to the Rubbing House (nearly half a mile) without stopping to put on his clothes. In this battle Belcher fought with greater skill and science, and more after the manner of his brother, than in any one he had contested. His distances were measured with exactness—every hit told. Dogherty’s only chance against such superior skill and steadiness was his sheer strength and game; but in this last Belcher showed himself his equal.”
Bill Richmond, whose memoir will appear hereafter, thrashed a countryman in the same ring.
On the 25th of October, 1808, a day memorable as that whereon Gregson was beaten after his desperate battle with Tom Cribb at Moulsey, Tom Belcher entered the same thirty-feet ring to fight Cropley for a purse of 50 guineas. At setting-to the odds were seven to four on Belcher. Cropley was seconded by Tom Jones; Dick Hall acted as his bottle-holder; and Belcher was waited on by Mendoza and Dutch Sam. The combatants were looked upon as well matched, and considerable expectation of a fine display of the art was entertained. During a contest of thirty-four rounds, which occupied fifty-six minutes—and it is but justice to observe that a more scientific fight was rarely seen—Cropley proved himself an excellent boxer, and possessed of undeniable game. But his attitude was bad; and his defeat was principally attributed to a knack of bringing his head too forward when putting in his blows. Belcher saw this advantage, and accepting the present thus made him, punished his face so dreadfully, that in the latter part of the battle Cropley was no longer recognizable. Tom’s blows, however, seem to have been rather more showy than effective, for it was with the utmost difficulty that Cropley was persuaded to give in, and he was still steady and strong; though, says the reporter, “all but blind, he even then felt desirous to try another round.”
One Farnborough, who rested his pretensions upon weight, strength, and pluck, three good points certainly, had the temerity to fight Tom Belcher, on Epsom race-ground, in a thirty-feet ring, on February 1, 1809. He proved a mere pretender; and after the first round Belcher treated him with the utmost sang froid. In the course of twenty minutes he so completely polished him off that Farnborough was glad to cry “enough,” while Belcher was scarcely touched. This was a small consolation for the Belchers, for in the same ring on the same day Tom Cribb beat Jem Belcher, as detailed in the Life of CRIBB.
Silverthorne, a pugilist of some note and success (see Appendix to Period IV.), was matched for 100 guineas, and a subscription purse of £50, against Belcher. This battle was decided upon Crawley Heath, near Copthall, June 6, 1811. Silverthorne was seconded by the veteran Caleb Baldwin, and his bottle-holder was Bill Gibbons; Belcher was attended by Mr. John Gully and Tom Jones. Four to one upon Belcher.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Belcher, upon the alert, stopped a tremendous body blow, and returned two sharp hits right and left in Silverthorne’s face, which immediately produced blood; after disengaging themselves, Belcher pelted away most effectually, putting in hits as quick as lightning. It was declared by several old ring-goers that such a first round was never before witnessed. Silverthorne went down during the hitting from the severe effects of Belcher’s blows.
2.—Silverthorne came to the scratch with something more than caution in his attitudes; he began by retreating from his adversary, who hit him right and left upon the head. Silverthorne, in planting a hit upon Belcher’s throat, was stopped; nevertheless he got in a severe body blow, which Belcher retaliated by hitting him down.
3.—Silverthorne, who bled profusely, rattled in, game as a pebble, but without effect—Belcher put in several severe blows. Silverthorne showed he was not without science by stopping several nasty ones; Belcher losing his distance closed, and was thrown by Silverthorne.
4.—It was now evident that Silverthorne was much inferior to his opponent, who frustrated all his attempts with ease and coolness. Silverthorne endeavoured to plant a severe body blow, which Tom stopped, when a rally commenced, which turned out to Belcher’s advantage, for he put in a terrible blow, then closed, and threw his opponent a cross-buttock enough to knock the breath out of him.
5.—Silverthorne came to the scratch anything but improved in appearance; he received two facers, and fell in an attempt to get in. (All betters but no takers.)
6.—Notwithstanding the chance was against him, Silverthorne showed play, and stopped very neatly a right-handed blow which was intended for his head. Belcher, however, got in one on the body, and Silverthorne fell in attempting to return the hit.
7.—It was now bellows to mend with Silverthorne, who was completely exhausted, but still wished to try another chance—Belcher did as he liked with him, and finished the contest by a hit in the throat, which knocked him down. The game Silverthorne could come no more, and Belcher was proclaimed the conqueror. Silverthorne was at once conveyed to a post-chaise, carried to the nearest inn, and put to bed. Belcher, as on a former occasion, threw a somersault, then mounted the box of a patron’s barouche, and started for town.
“In this battle Belcher had as fine an opportunity, despite Silverthorne’s experience, of showing off his superior science, as with the slow and unwieldy Farnborough. He fought cautiously, drawing his opponent, when he never had any difficulty in getting on to him. Silverthorne was beaten in spirit in the first round, though he did not give in till nature deserted him.”
After this triumph Belcher reposed awhile on his laurels; and in the early part of 1813 he started on a sparring tour through the provinces, visiting the northern parts of the island. In Liverpool he was particularly attractive, and numerous pupils attended his school, who, from their rapid progress in the science, gave proofs of the excellence of the master under whom they studied. His engagement being completed at this seaport, and being so near to the “tight boys of the sod,” he determined, previous to his return to the metropolis, to take a peep at “the land that gave Paddy his birth.” Tom’s arrival in Ireland, while it gave pleasure to the patrons of the science, created jealousy in another professor of boxing, who had been there some time previous, teaching the natives the advantages of the complete use of their fives, an art never properly understood or appreciated by Irishmen. Dogherty resented Tom’s visit as a sort of intrusion on his domain; added to which his scholars ran after the newly arrived “Sassenach.” This was unendurable. Dogherty issued a cartel to his former conqueror, and all other preliminaries being arranged, the rivals met on the Curragh of Kildare, on Friday, the 23rd of April, 1813, for a subscription purse of 100 guineas, and “the honour of ould Ireland,” as the “historian” expresses it.
The spot where the fight took place, known to this day as “Belcher’s Valley,” was particularly convenient for spectators, being in a glen on the Curragh, surrounded by sloping hills, forming a natural amphitheatre.
Belcher appeared first in the enclosure, dressed in a great coat, but, whilst it was completing, retired to a barouche, in which he had arrived. Dogherty now showed himself to the spectators, wrapped up in a box-coat of no trifling dimensions, and instantly gave his caster a toss in the air, loudly vociferating, “Ireland for ever.” This sentence, which came so directly home to the natives of Paddy’s Land, occasioned an electric expression of approbation from the surrounding multitude, accompanied by repeated shouts and huzzas. It might spontaneously have escaped the lips of Dogherty, from a warmth of feeling to his native soil, but it certainly was not calculated to place Belcher in a favourable point of view with the assembled multitude. Tom accordingly again entered the enclosure, seeming to feel (whatever the intention of it might be toward him) that, if suffered to pass over without notice, it might operate to his prejudice. After bowing to the spectators, he solicited a gentleman who had been chosen the umpire to address the public, that no improper impression might go forth respecting his character. This the gentleman did, nearly to the following effect:—“Gentlemen, Mr. Belcher wishes it to be understood that, if any aspersions have been levelled at him, stating that he has spoken disrespectfully of the Irish nation, he begs leave to assure you it is an absolute falsehood; and, as a proof of the truth of his statement, he is ready at any time to fight those who may dare assert to the contrary.” This pithy oration was favourably received; the combatants immediately stripped, and the ceremony of shaking hands having been gone through, the seconds took their stations. Isle of Wight Hall seconded Belcher, and Gamble attended upon Dogherty. Belcher, from his well-known excellence, was the favourite, two to one, yet, notwithstanding this great odds, there were scarcely any takers. Both the combatants appeared to possess confidence in themselves. Belcher having beaten Dogherty in England, felt that superiority which belongs to experience and practical knowledge. On the other hand, Dogherty was considerably improved, and for “the honour of Ireland,” and surrounded by his countrymen, felt an additional stimulus to win, and was determined not to yield the palm so long as he could struggle for it. With these feelings they set-to exactly at one o’clock.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The excellent attitude and neatness of style exhibited by Belcher, much attracted the attention of the Irish amateurs. Good science on both sides, when they both hit together; Dogherty received a sharp facer, and the blood issuing from his lip, Belcher exclaimed, “First blood,” several bets depending upon that event. Belcher received Dogherty’s return upon the ear. Some severe hits were exchanged, and, in closing, both went down, but Belcher undermost.
2.—Both combatants went sharply to work, and much good fighting was displayed. In closing, Belcher was thrown, but received no injury from his fall. Loud shouting occurred, and Dogherty was so elated with his dexterity, that in the pride of the moment, he offered 100 to 10, but it received no attention.
3.—Some excellent sparring opened the round, in which Dogherty showed that he was much improved since his former contest at Epsom; it was followed by the exchange of several severe blows. Dogherty’s mug was rather pinked, his temper seemed a little ruffled, and the round was concluded by his being thrown.
4.—Milling without ceremony was the order of the day; but the advantage was on the side of Belcher, from his superior science: he hit much more rapidly than his opponent, and his defensive tactics displayed a like superiority; he punished the face of his opponent terribly, and finally sent Dogherty down by a one, two, right and left.
5.—Caution became rather necessary on the part of Dogherty. Belcher was thrown, but not before some severe hits had been exchanged.
6.—Belcher punished the nob of his antagonist throughout this round. They closed and both down.
7.—The combatants made play, when an opening appearing, Belcher put in so severe a hit on Dogherty’s ribs that he reeled down.
8.—The contrast between the styles of the two pugilists at that early period of the battle was manifest to all the spectators. Dogherty had been most terribly punished. His face was materially altered, one of his eyes being closed; the claret trickled from his olfactories and potato trap, and the round was terminated by Dogherty’s receiving so severe a hit upon the thorax that he instantly went down. (Belcher a guinea to a shilling!)
9.—The game of Dogherty deserves peculiar notice, from the sharp milling he took without flinching; Belcher serving it out so hard and fast as to knock him down. In going over him, Belcher disengaged himself from Dogherty in neat style.
10.—Belcher full of gaiety showed his leading superiority by planting several hits; notwithstanding, in closing, Dogherty threw him.
11.—The combatants were determined to convince the lookers on there was no trifling between them; both milling away in every direction. The left eye of Belcher received an ugly blow, and Dogherty, still strong, threw him under the ropes.
12.—Fighting without intermission, and bravery truly conspicuous on both sides. The round was terminated by Belcher putting in a tremendous teaser on Dogherty’s throat, which not only floored him, but rendered him unable to move for a few seconds.
13.—Belcher held the advantage by punishing the face of Dogherty dreadfully, and ended the round by knocking him down.
14.—No alteration. Dogherty rather groggy, and Belcher getting second wind; still taking the lead in milling, and closing the round by throwing Dogherty, and falling upon him.
15.—The game of the latter was the theme of every one. He proved himself a perfect trump, rallying with good spirit, but receiving a straight hit under the eye, he went down.
16.—On setting-to Dogherty made play, but the judgment of Belcher foiled him; the latter putting in several blows in succession, fibbing him, and ending by throwing his man cleverly.
17.—Dogherty planted some severe body blows; nevertheless, Belcher closed and threw him.
18.—A smart rally, both men keeping up the game gaily. Belcher, in endeavouring to throw his antagonist, went down.
19.—Dogherty sparred with considerable judgment, to gain time, and put in a sharp blow upon the body of Belcher, who went down from a slip.
20.—Belcher seemed perfectly at home; as if he felt convinced how things were going. The advantage of superior science, enabled him to serve out Dogherty about the head with such severity as to occasion the latter to fall at his feet. (A bet could not be obtained at any odds.)
21.—Dogherty, still at the scratch, contended with the utmost bravery to prolong the fight, but it appeared only to receive additional punishment. His head and face exhibited a rueful aspect—he was covered with claret, and in the event milled to the ground.
22.—To the astonishment of every one present, the spirit of Dogherty was not broken. He attempted to put in some good hits upon the body of Belcher, but the wary guard of Tom stopped them with ease; in throwing Dogherty, he went down with him.
23.—Punishment was the lot of Dogherty, and his face and neck were terribly mauled; but in closing, he showed his strength by throwing Tom on his hip.
24.—Manœuvring again resorted to. Dogherty felt for Belcher’s body; but Tom returned the favour most liberally on his opponent’s mug. In closing, Dogherty experienced so severe a fall, as to remain a short period insensible.
25.—The pluck of Dogherty was not yet taken out of him, and whilst he entertained the smallest notion of a chance remaining, he was determined to stand up, although so dreadfully worsted every round. A desperate hit from Belcher again made him measure his length on the ground.
26 and last.—Dogherty, with the most determined resolution, endeavoured to rise superior to exhausted nature, and would not cry “enough!” He made a desperate rally to effect a change in his favour, evincing that no common caterer could satisfy his inordinate gluttony. Belcher, however, hit him almost where he pleased, and wound up the piece by throwing and falling on him. Dogherty could not come again; he was decidedly finished; and some time elapsed before he could get up. He was bled in both arms upon the ground, and instantly conveyed home and put to bed.
This well-contested fight continued thirty-five minutes, and upon Belcher’s being declared the conqueror, he threw a somersault, and immediately got into a barouche and drove off to Dublin to a dinner provided for him by a party of gentlemen.
If this distinguished boxer claimed the admiration of the spectators from the scientific manner in which he won the battle, and the superior adroitness he displayed in protecting himself from scarcely receiving any injury, it is but justice to observe, that Dan Dogherty proved himself a milling hero of the first stamp; and the true courage he displayed ought not to be forgotten. As a proof that his efforts made considerable impression, a subscription, amounting to upwards of £70, was immediately made for him, the Marquis of Sligo putting down 5 guineas; to this Belcher subscribed a guinea. Tom continued several months after this battle in Ireland, exhibiting specimens of his skill, in company with Hall, with increased reputation and success. At Cork and Dublin his well-earned fame produced him numerous respectable scholars, among whom several persons of rank were conspicuous.
The advantages of superior science were never more clearly shown, than in this combat. The dexterity, ease, and perfect sang froid with which Belcher defeated Dogherty surprised even those who were somewhat acquainted with the art, but, generally speaking, among the mere lookers on it excited astonishment—to view one man (and a scientific professor too) hit all to pieces, his head so transmogrified that few traces of his former phiz remained, completely doubled up, and perfectly insensible to his defeat; while the other combatant was seen retiring from the contest with barely a scratch, and driving away from the Curragh with all the gaiety of a spectator. It was impossible that such a vast superiority could be passed without remark.
On Belcher’s return to England, he took a benefit at the Fives Court (May 20, 1814), which was numerously patronised, preparatory to his commencing tavern keeper, at the Castle, in Holborn, previously in the occupation of Gregson, afterwards the caravansera of the respected Tom Spring; and here we must make room for a slight anecdote recorded by Pierce Egan.
“Tom, in company with Shelton, about a week after he had defeated Dogherty, upon coming down Highgate Hill, in a chaise, was challenged to have a trotting match, by a couple of fellows in a gig. Belcher endeavoured to give them the go-by, but they kept continually crossing him. At length, one of those heroes, determined upon kicking up a row, jumped out of his chaise, and without further ceremony, seized Tom by the leg, in order to pull him out to fight, threatening, at the same time, to mill both Belcher and Shelton.
“‘Let go,’ said Tom, ‘and as soon as I get upon the ground, we will have a fair trial, depend upon it.’—One of Belcher’s fingers, at this period, was in a poultice, and his hand so sore that he could scarcely touch anything with it; however, this did not prevent the turn up from taking place. The cove’s nob was metamorphosed in a twinkling, and, by way of a finisher, he received a blow that sent him rolling down the hill, to the no small diversion of Shelton and Tom. The latter now mounted his gig with all the sang froid possible, good-naturedly advising this would be fighting man never to threaten, in future, beating two persons at once. Upon the blade’s stopping at the nearest inn to clean his face from the claret it was deluged with, he learnt, to his great surprise, he had been engaged with the celebrated Tom Belcher.”
“Belcher, whose desire for punishing his opponents always ceased on quitting the prize-ring, was attacked one evening, in June, 1817, upon his entering a genteel parlour in the vicinity of Holborn, in a most unhandsome manner, by Jack Firby (a fifteen stone man, and six feet high, but better known by the appellation of the Young Ruffian, and from his defeat by Jem Belcher). In spite of all his ruffianism and knowledge of boxing, his nob was instantly placed in chancery—his peepers were taken measure of for a suit of mourning—and his mug exhibited all the high vermilion touches of colouring, without the aid of a painter. In a few minutes he was so completely satisfied, from the celerity of his expert opponent, as scarcely to be able to retire, covered with shame and confusion for his insolence. Tom politely expressed himself sorry for the trifling interruption the company had experienced, without receiving the slightest scratch from his overgrown bully.”
In conclusion, we may take a glance at Belcher as the “retired pugilist,” a character which, in our own time, we have seen a sufficiency of examples to respect, despite the libels and lies of “Craven” and other calumniators.
Not to cite bygone landlords of “The Castle,” in themselves a tower of strength, we may mention that one pugilist (Mr. John Gully) whose memoir will appear in an early chapter, has risen to senatorial honours; another (Langan, the antagonist of Spring), received a piece of plate (on his retirement from business with a handsome fortune), as a testimonial of the high respect of his neighbours and acquaintance in the town of Liverpool; while the best conducted sporting houses, and those which least frequently figure before magistrates, are—we fearlessly assert it—those kept by ex-pugilists of the higher caste. Teste Belcher’s, Spring’s, Jem Burn’s, Owen Swift’s, in London, and many sporting houses in the provinces. There are exceptions, of course, but if the slanderers of pugilists and fair pugilism will insist on descending to personal or individual libel, to bolster up their cowardly onslaughts on this manly art, we pledge ourselves for every pugilist of note, whose name they produce as having come under the lash of the law for any dishonourable offence, to pick out a parson, a magistrate, or a doctor to match him; and if the highest criminality be the test of class profligacy and brutality, we will go higher and find them Quakers, military officers, aye, even bishops, guilty of capital felony. Truly it is enough to make one’s blood boil to read such canting drivel, such impotent spleen vented on bravery and courageous endurance. For ourselves, some acquaintance with the world has taught us that we had rather trust to the honour and generosity of a soldier than a priest, or a pugilist than a professing puritan. But to return to Belcher.
For several years Tom was a frequent exhibitor at the Tennis Court, where no boxer more decisively established the superiority of art over strength. The following instance may tend, in some degree, to illustrate the above opinion. Ikey Pig, the antagonist of Cribb, who possessed a smattering of the science, was not only knocked about like a child, but ultimately hit clean off the stage. Shaw, the life-guardsman, a Hercules in appearance, a man of undeniable courage, and with strength to match his mighty heart, was dead-beat with the gloves by Tom; although this son of Mars, but a day or two before, in a bout with Captain Barclay, had put the captain’s upper works to much confusion, and made his teeth chatter again. Gully, whose knowledge of boxing was far above mediocrity, appeared considerably inferior in his sets-to with Tom. Molineaux, too, when in his prime, was milled in all directions over the stage, and ultimately floored by Belcher. During the time Tom was in training at Norwich to fight with Farnborough, in an exhibition of sparring at the above place, he levelled the Champion Cribb, to the no small surprise of the spectators. The memorable disposal of Shock Jem (a lad of most determined spirit, and who had made the art of self-defence his study, under the tuition of the scientific George Head), was so complete and satisfactory upon the point in question by Belcher, as to need no further comment. Shock was “hit to pieces.” In competition with Cribb or any of the “big ones,” Tom’s excellence as a sparrer was never in the slightest degree doubtful; and of this a marked demonstration took place on the occasion of Cribb’s benefit, May 31, 1814. The massive bulky appearance of the champion standing over the compact elegant form of Belcher, reminded the spectator not inaptly of the difference between a small frigate contending with a first-rate man-of-war; and that however the former might, from its compact size and high state of discipline, perform its movements with greater celerity, and even create considerable annoyance by superiority of tactics, yet ultimately, in a decisive engagement, where there was no room for manœuvring, it must strike to heavier metal. So with these combatants. The ponderosity of Cribb, when in close quarters with his opponent, or he bored in upon him, was manifest; but when at arm’s length, and while there remained room for a display of adroitness and skill, Belcher appeared the greater man. The exclamations, which made the court resound again, with “well done, little Tom,” decided this point. Belcher put in some neat touches upon the nob of the Champion, on his resolutely boring in, and stopped, in several instances, the well-meant heavy blows of Cribb in the return, with considerable dexterity and judgment. True, when the Champion did get in, he drove Belcher to the corner of the stage, and the strength and resolution of Cribb prevailed.
In concluding our remarks on Belcher’s sparring, the following circumstance is worthy of note. It occurred on the 26th of February, 1817, at the benefit of Cribb. Upon Belcher ascending the stage with H. Lancaster, they were interrupted from all parts of the court, with the cry of “Scroggins.” Mr. Jackson also requested it, for the satisfaction of several amateurs of rank present. Upon this, that hardy little hero appeared, and Lancaster retired. The spectators were uncommonly anxious to witness this set-to, which might be denominated first-rate science against the most determined ruffianism. Scroggins, immediately on shaking hands with his opponent, rushed at him with all the impetuosity of an English bull-dog, and, for three rounds, it was a downright mill with the gloves. Belcher, from the fury of his antagonist, was driven more than once against the rails, and from want of room his science seemed somewhat at a discount. In the fourth, however, Tom began to feel his way with more certainty, faced his opponent sharply with his one-two, on his boring in, and had the best of the round, when Scroggins bowed and took off the gloves; and, although loudly and repeatedly solicited by the spectators to have another round, and particularly by Belcher, he immediately quitted the stage. A slight tint of the claret appeared on both their mugs, but was first visible from the mouth of Scroggins.
This little episode, with a man of Scroggins’s character, might reasonably be expected to result in something like a trial without the mufflers, and so it eventually proved. For on the 10th April, 1822, a sporting dinner having taken place at the Castle, Scroggins, who was bacchi plenis, got into a “skrimmage” with Belcher. The little hero would not be denied, and Tom feeling his character for courage touched, cast aside the counsel of discretion, and a mill took place. Twenty minutes ruffianing, boring in, and hard fighting on one side, and scientific administration of punishment on the other, settled the question, and Scroggins was forced to give in. This was a gratuitous and somewhat ill-advised exhibition on the part of Belcher, who needed no such triumph, yet it showed the spirit of the “old war-horse ready for the fray,” was still within him.
Tom Belcher was in height about five feet nine inches, weighing nearly eleven stone. His appearance was gentlemanly, and his manners and deportment of the most mild and inoffensive nature, well calculated to prepossess the stranger in his favour; who also found in his company the perfection of the pugilist, unmingled with the coarseness which the ignorant and the prejudiced are too apt to associate with their ideal of every brave boxer.
Belcher died at Bristol on the 9th of December, 1854, aged 71 years, universally respected.
Chapter III
HEN. (OR HENRY) PEARCE, “THE GAME CHICKEN” (CHAMPION)—1803‒1805.
Brilliant as a meteor Hen. Pearce shot across the pugilistic horizon, as quickly to fall extinguished. When Jem Belcher had reached the zenith of his fame, he cast his eyes toward Bristol for a successor, and the early reputation of Pearce pointed him out as a likely holder of the belt of championship on behalf of his own native city.
We shall not here dilate on the fistic capabilities of Pearce, convinced that a simple record of his deeds will far outweigh pompous panegyric and fulsome laudation. Pearce was another among the many scientific sons of boxing Bristol, and among the many ring recruits which that ancient city furnished to the metropolitan arena must ever hold a distinguished place.
The year of Pearce’s birth was 1777, and after serving his apprenticeship duly to the age of twenty-one, to a tradesman in Bristol, some of the cognoscenti were attracted by his remarkable skill in sparring, and in boxing matches, for which that city and its rival, Bath, were then famous.
After Jem Belcher’s accident, in July, 1803, the champion made a flattering overture to the young Bristolian[90] to come to London. Berks, as we have already observed, now asserted his title to the championship, and Jem soon found Pearce an introduction to that bumptious personage, who was as much a bully as a bruiser, at the well-known rendezvous in St. Martin’s Street, Leicester-square. Belcher, as might be expected, after himself testing Pearce’s qualifications, readily backed his townsman, and their first serious rencontre is thus told in “Pancratia,” pp. 182 et seq.:—
“Thursday, August 11, 1803, was a great day out with the sporting classes of the metropolis, and ‘the Chicken’ was there (at Shooter’s Hill) with other visitors. Joe Berks also was present. On the road home these already talked-of rivals for the championship eyed each other with minute attention, and doubtless with some feelings of envy. In the course of the evening they met again at the Fives Court, St. Martin’s Lane, and stories were industriously circulated of the utter contempt which each had formed for the other’s pugilistic powers. In the course of the evening Pearce having retired, the gluttonous butcher became offensively insolent towards Pearce’s friends, boasting his capability of making it an affair of a few minutes, with such a thread paper. The challenge was communicated to the Chicken, who rose with alacrity from his bed (he then lodged in Wardour-street, Soho), and everything was quickly got ready. A well-lighted room was selected, and notice sent round to some leading patrons, that a trial of skill was to take place between the new Bristol youth, and the celebrated glutton Berks; numbers soon assembled, and between the hours of eleven and twelve the battle commenced. Berks’ inferiority was soon manifest. His slow and round method of fighting failed in doing any execution when opposed to the straight rapid hits of his active adversary, and his pluck only enabled him to receive uncommon punishment. The Chicken lost no time in displaying the graces of the science, yet put in his blows so sharply that Berks soon exhibited signs of weakness. During a desperate contest of twenty minutes, in which fifteen rounds of tremendous milling took place, Berks evinced great courage, and endeavoured in the latter round to fight defensively, and parry the blows of the Chicken, but the latter followed him up so straight-forward, that it was impossible for Berks to resist the consequences, and he was twice floored by the Chicken, so decidedly that he lay stupefied. The two blows were allowed by all present, to have been the most tremendously effective they had ever witnessed. Berks was dreadfully milled, yet had the candour to acknowledge that he had never before met with such a rapid antagonist.”
It should be observed that the cause of this unusual mode of settling an important fight, was that Berks was at this time under recognizances of £200, and the conditions of a published prize-fight were supposed to be hereby evaded.
From the time “the Game Chicken” first appeared in London, the patrons of the pugilate felt desirous to match him regularly against Berks, but the latter’s recognizances proved an insurmountable obstacle. Time at length eradicated all fear of that process, and the match was made.
The sum staked was £100, and the combatants agreed to fight upon the terms of £90 to the winner, and £10 to be appropriated to the loser. Accordingly “on Monday, January 23, 1804, the heroes of the fist again graced the well-known spot on Wimbledon Common, and at eleven o’clock a ring was formed upon the highest part of the common near Coombe Wood; but receiving information that they were in a parish wherein they were liable to be molested, they immediately gave the word to form another near the telegraph. A race ensued of a curious description, some thousands of pedestrians and equestrians, with lots of carriages and carts, all were set in commotion, trying who should obtain the best situation for seeing the fight.
“A ring being formed, after the bustle had subsided, Berks entered, accompanied by Tom Owen for his second, and Paddington Jones his bottle-holder. Shortly afterwards Pearce appeared, attended by Bill Gibbons and Caleb Baldwin. They immediately began to strip; Berks was the tallest and displaying immense muscle appeared to possess uncommon strength. Pearce stood about five feet eight inches and three quarters; the conformation of his chest and limbs brought to recollection the athletic form of the noted Tom Johnson, but on a smaller and lighter scale.
“At precisely at eleven minutes before twelve they set to. Odds seven to four in favour of Pearce, from the former rencontre.”
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Pearce showed great caution, opposing himself indirectly to superior strength; and Berks had learnt from the brushing he had got at St. Martin’s Lane, not to rush in. Without any blows being exchanged, both men closed and fell. (Two to one on Pearce.)
2.—The Shropshireman upon his mettle, game to the back-bone, went in desperately, and fought into a rally like a hero; but the Chicken, awake to his intent, milled on the retreat, and at length put in a stopper on Berks’ forehead, that made him reel again, when the Chicken caught him staggering, and threw him.
3.—Berks, though bleeding profusely, stood up well to his man, and a good display of hits was made on both sides. Berks again thrown.
4, 5.—Ditto repeated, the exchanges in favour of the Chicken.
6.—Pearce put in a blow, which Berks countered so heavily as to bring down Pearce on his knee. (Bravo, Berks!)
7 to 11.—Berks exceedingly shy of his opponent, always waiting for his antagonist to break ground, and suffering much from the repetition of his blows. From this to
15.—The Chicken so much the favourite, that the odds were four to one upon him. It was manifest that Berks was not a match for his man. His style of fighting was considerably inferior to that of his opponent’s, and he began to appear much distressed; he occasionally tried to affect the scientific style of his opponent, but at a still greater disadvantage than his own natural mode of fighting. The severe blows he received from the Chicken made him unruly and intemperate, and he was becoming fast an easy conquest up to the
20th round.—Berks’ passion was now exhausting his strength. His nose bleeding considerably, and, irritated in mind that no chance offered of proving successful, he ran in furiously upon his opponent. His intemperance rendered him a complete object for punishment, and the Chicken milled him in every direction. (Twenty to one the winner is named; and even bets that Berks don’t come again.)
21.—Passion uppermost; Berks desperate in the extreme, and by running in headlong, missed putting in a hit, and fell. Pearce smiling at his want of prudence, and holding up both his hands in triumph.
22.—A good rally, but Berks received a most tremendous floorer.
24 and last.—Berks still insensible to prudence, and determined to get at his man, received a severe milling. He was several times advised by his backers and seconds to give in, but resolutely refused, soliciting each time to “fight another round.” However, at the close of the twenty-fourth bout, he was hit down stupefied, but suddenly recovering, gave in. The battle lasted one hour and seventeen minutes, and Berks, we had almost said as usual, was severely punished. Pearce fought the last round as gaily as the first, and when it was over challenged Isaac Bittoon[91] for 200 guineas, but this match went off.
After this battle Maddox beat Seabrook in three rounds, and the afterwards well-known Bill Richmond in three more.
There was a little désagrément arising out of this “field day.” Tom Owen was indicted at the ensuing Surrey Sessions, for a “riot and conspiracy,” in seconding Berks, in a pitched battle on Wimbledon Common, and refusing to depart when warned by a warrant officer, sent by Mr. Conant, the magistrate, upon information laid. Tom was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment.
Elias Spray, the coppersmith, a boxer of renown in the neighbourhood of Bristol, and who had twice beaten Bill Jackling (Ginger), the brother of Tom Johnson, the champion, was next selected to try the mettle of our hero.
Monday, March 11, 1805, was the day appointed, and the fixture was Hampton Court; but fearing an interruption, they agreed to cross the water, and decide the contest upon Molesworth (Moulsey) Meadow. Considerable confusion took place in procuring boats to convey the numerous followers across the river, where several not only experienced a good ducking, but some narrowly escaped drowning, in their eagerness to reach the destined spot. At length, everything being completed, Pearce, attended by Maddox and Hall, as his second and bottle-holder, entered the ring (twenty feet square) and threw up his hat in defiance. Spray soon made his appearance, followed by Wood as his second, and Mountain as bottle-holder. Betting was seven to four on Pearce, even that the fight did not last twenty-five minutes, and ten to one that Pearce was not beaten in half an hour.
The combatants lost no time in stripping, and after shaking hands smilingly set-to at a little before one o’clock.
THE FIGHT.[92]
Round 1.—A little sparring; Spray made a short hit; the Chicken put in a severe blow and brought down his opponent.
2.—Good blows exchanged. Spray put in a blow in his antagonist’s breast. Pearce rallied, and again knocked Spray down. (Odds nine to four in favour of the Chicken.)
3.—The Coppersmith showed good courage, and fought well. The men closed, and both fell.
4.—Spray rather hastily made some hard blows, but they failed. Pearce gave him a cross-buttock.
5.—In this round Spray already appeared distressed. The Chicken showed excellent science, and a third time completely knocked down his opponent. As he fell, Pearce smiled.
6.—Both fought well; some sharp blows exchanged. Spray struck his opponent in the stomach. Pearce rallied, and threw him very cleverly.
7.—Pearce seemed much affected by Spray’s last blow in the bread-basket. He made a hit, but failed, and fell. (Odds fell to two to one.)
11.—No good blows, but Pearce again had the advantage the whole of these four rounds.
12.—Spray put in some good determined blows, but they mostly fell short; at length, by a successful blow on the nose, he brought down the Chicken.
13.—Pearce bled profusely. Spray evinced weakness, made a short blow, and fell.
14.—Pearce met his antagonist with determined resolution, and put in so severe a blow on the jaw, that every one feared lest he had broken it; Spray fell. (Odds now rose ten to one on Pearce.)
15.—Spray stood up to his man boldly, but quickly received a floorer from the Chicken.
16.—Courage displayed on both sides. Spray put in some well directed hits; but in closing, Pearce threw him a cross-buttock.
17.—Spray attempted to rally, but received a most desperate blow upon his temple that nearly deprived him of his recollection, and which spoilt him for the remainder of the fight. The ensuing five rounds upon the part of Spray were little better than mere exhibitions of animal courage.
23.—All in favour of the Chicken. (Twenty to one, but no takers.)
24.—Spray again showed himself, but his efforts to turn the tide were futile. The Chicken smiled at his attempts; yet the Coppersmith showed considerable skill, and continued the battle to
27.—Hardly to be called fighting. Spray was down as soon as he appeared.
28.—Spray could scarcely stand, yet could not bring himself to say “No.” He put up his hands and endeavoured to face his opponent. It was all up: the Chicken hit him as he liked, and finally knocked him off his legs.
29 and last.—Spray stood up, but only to exhibit the spectacle of a game man struggling against fate. Pearce put in a thrust rather than a blow, and poor Spray was persuaded to give in. The battle lasted thirty-five minutes. Pearce immediately sprang over the ropes, laid down on the grass for a few minutes, during which he accepted a challenge from Carte, the Birmingham “champion,” for 50 guineas. The money was immediately staked, and they agreed to fight within six weeks. The Chicken then started for town in a chaise, full of spirits.
On Saturday, the 27th April, 1805, the day appointed for Carte to enter the lists with the Chicken, the parties met at Shepperton Common, near Chertsey, in Surrey. The superiority of the Chicken was so manifest, that Carte had not the least chance whatever, although six feet three and a half inches in height, and weighing upwards of fifteen stone. It would be a waste of time and paper to give the rounds in the detail. Suffice it to observe, that after a contest of thirty-five minutes, in which twenty-five rounds took place, Carte, from his ignorance of the art, received a most terrible milling; while, on the contrary, the science of the Chicken so protected him from the attacks of his adversary, that he scarcely had a mark visible.
A new, young, and formidable rival now sought the notice of Pearce. This was the afterwards celebrated John Gully,[93] then a young man of twenty-one years of age: as we prefer the chronicler’s account where his details are available, we quote a contemporary journalist:—
“Henry Pearce, the Game Chicken, by the unprecedented adroitness and success with which he has contested every combatant matched against him, in London, has acquired, with almost universal assent, the proud title of Champion of England. It has ever been found, throughout the annals of pugilism, that whenever any hero has, however meritoriously, acquired such a flattering distinction, some emulous aspirant has sprung up to dispute his claim, and it has also as generally happened that at last the hero has been obliged, notwithstanding his accumulated honours, to acknowledge the triumph of a more youthful rival. Pearce has at this time conquered three most formidable practisers of the gymnasium, Berks, Spray, and Carte, and, after a general challenge, no one coming to take up the gauntlet, he quietly set himself to rest, to enjoy the enviable honour which no one dared dispute his title to. There was, however, yet to be produced, in order to keep up the spirit of pugilism, some one who possessed courage enough to enter the ring against this invincible hero. This was considered not easy to be accomplished; there happens, however, to be a man of the name of Gully, a native of Bristol, and fellow townsman of the Chicken’s, who for some time has followed the avocation of a butcher, but being unsuccessful, had taken country lodgings in the neighbourhood of St. George’s Fields,[94] in a fine open situation, where he found room enough to exert his muscles in the active amusement of rackets. Here Pearce, through generosity and goodwill, which were ever two prominent features of his mind, visited his townsman and acquaintance, to afford condolence. As every don fellow now does not consider his equipage complete, unless graced with the Broughtonian mufflers, Gully had a set, and to fill up the chasm in the afternoon’s amusement the host and guest must have a set-to. Good humour, as it always should, prevailed, but Gully did not fail to give the Chicken a few severe hits; in short Gully became fired with his success, and immediately took it into his head that it was, perhaps, not impossible to beat the champion. Mr. Fletcher Reid, always actively alive, like a true sportsman, soon got scent; ‘Gully,’ said he, ‘shall fight the Chicken:’ his debts were accordingly discharged, and he was taken to Virginia Water, about two miles beyond Egham, on the western road, to be put in training. Gully at this time was little known in London, having never signalized himself as a pugilist. In make he was much such a man as Jem Belcher, but taller, and longer in the reach. In point of muscular appearance, a knowing one would not set him down as altogether built for fighting; however, from the commencement he never funked, being always sanguine in his hopes of victory. Pearce found some of his old friends, who backed him 600 guineas to 400, and the day was fixed to be Saturday, July 20, on which day, in order to keep up the sport, two other matches were to be decided, between Tom Belcher and Dutch Sam, and between Ryan and Caleb Baldwin.
“Virginia Water was appointed as rendezvous, where Gully, Tom Belcher, and Ryan, had been two months in training, under the auspices of Mr. Fletcher Reid; and it being understood that the first and main battle would be fought by eight o’clock in the morning, the whole Fancy were in commotion and arrived there betimes. Hence they all proceeded to Chobham, three miles further, where a ring was formed, and all was anxious expectation.
“Whenever John Bull does not see all straight before him, notwithstanding his being a very drowsy hand at it, he begins to theorise, and this was the case now. Some said it was ‘all my eye,’ and others more certainly, ‘there’ll be no fight;’ while others deep in the secret said it would be a cross. For Mr. Chersey, a knowing one who had formerly backed Pearce very heavily, had turned round and backed Gully, ‘and by this no one could tell the enormous money he could win.’ So the sages and chiefs went to council, and first they decided that ‘all bets should be void.’ But during this awful crisis news arrived that the Surrey magistrates (dii minores) had interfered, that officers with warrants were abroad, and that that county was no land for them. Blackwater, beyond Bagshot, was named, and off started the whole cavalcade. Dutch Sam was mounted in a stylish buggy, but by some accident the reins broke, the driver jumped out, and left the Jew with a fast clutch of one rein. Away went the horse, Mishter Shamuels vociferating to all the heroes of the Pentateuch to save him. He was, however, soon unshipped, and so severely bruised as to be unable to fight, and so his match was lost. Blackwater was reached, but the day was advanced, and disputes went on. Mr. Fletcher Reid declared that if bets did not stand there should be no fight. Mr. Mellish and the Hon. Berkeley Craven, offered to back the Chicken to any amount, say 600 guineas to 500. The amateurs having covered thirty-two miles from London, raised a purse, and for this Tom Cribb (afterwards the renowned champion of England), entered the lists with George Nicholls, of Bristol, and was thrashed, for the first and last time.” See NICHOLLS, in Appendix to Period IV.
Tuesday, October 8th, 1805, was next named as “the great important day big with the fate” of Gully and of Pearce, and Hailsham, a small village in Sussex, between Brighton and Lewes, was pitched upon for the Campus Martius. The number of spectators was immense; the Downs being covered with equestrians and pedestrians, and the “swells” of royal and aristocratic Brighton being in unusual force. The Duke of Clarence, afterwards William IV., often referred to witnessing this fight.
At ten o’clock the combatants met at the place appointed, and, after a short conference, a 24‒feet rope ring was formed on a green adjoining the village. At one o’clock the contending champions entered; Gully was seconded by Tom Jones and Dick Whale; Pearce had Clarke and Joe Ward for his attendants.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The anxiety round the ring was intense. Gully made a desperate hit at his opponent, but fell short, and Pearce immediately knocked him down. (“Three to one on the Chicken!” cried a leading amateur.)
2.—Gully put in first blow again. The Chicken returned sharply, and Gully fell.
3.—Pearce threw in a blow at his opponent’s head, which fell short. Gully hit out and dropped.
4.—Pearce stood up with a smile of confidence on his brow. Both combatants struck at once, and both hits were well stopped, but Gully fell.
5.—Pearce put in a heavy blow in the neck, and brought down his opponent.
6.—Pearce put in two good hits right and left, and brought Gully down once more. (Odds now rose to ten to two on the Chicken).
7.—Immediately on setting-to Pearce knocked down his opponent.
8.—Much sparring, Pearce put in a hit; Gully parried in style, and returned with a knock down blow; Pearce fell for the first time. Cheers for Gully, and cries, “They are both Bristol men.”
9.—Pearce appeared touched: he went in and knocked Gully down, then turning to his backers smiled in triumph.
10.—Gully struck out with spirit; Pearce stopped, and with a thump on the breast brought down Gully.
11.—Gully put in a neat hit, but the round terminated by the Chicken’s knocking him completely off his legs.
12.—Gully threw in a most severe blow, struck Pearce on the mouth, and brought him down. Cheers for Gully.
13.—In this round Gully displayed both good science and courage; he put in two good blows, but fell from the force of the last.
14.—Gully came up in good spirits, but the first blow of the Chicken’s knocked him off his legs.
15.—Both combatants struck, and both hits went home. Gully struck again and fell.
16.—Gully appeared rather shy, and fell without a blow being struck.[95]
17.—The best round during the battle, if not that ever was contested. Pearce seemed confident of beating his man, and stood up well. Gully rallied, and put in several good blows, which were returned by the Chicken without any stopping. Gully brought down his opponent, after having successfully planted two good hits on his left eye. This round was undoubtedly greatly in Gully’s favour, and the odds fell, bets being now six to four on the Chicken.
18.—No fighting. Pearce bled profusely, and Gully slipped while making play.
19.—Another excellent round. Gully rallied; Pearce returned; and after some good blows they closed, and both fell.
20.—Pearce seemed almost blind with his left eye, and as the blood issued freely, he fought very shy, and retreated. Gully followed him up round the ring, and by a good hit brought Pearce down.
21.—Pearce was very careful, and Gully in hitting fell.
23.—Some good blows exchanged. Gully fell; while falling, Pearce struck him a tremendous blow on the side of the head, and Gully vomited.
24.—Pearce struck, but fell short. Gully put in a good blow over his opponent’s right eye, and endeavoured to fall, but only being on his knees, Pearce struck him. Some cries of “Foul,” but the fight went on.
25.—Pearce very cautious. Gully stuck to him and followed him round the ring. Some good blows were exchanged, and Gully fell again.
29.—Pearce was now every round gaining advantage.
30.—Gully put in a good hit, and fell. This irritated Pearce, and he stood over him apparently much exasperated.
31.—Long sparring. Pearce struck, but fell short; Gully struck over his guard, and it was thought almost blinded his right eye.
33.—Pearce very shy. Gully followed him round the ring, but Pearce knocked him down with a blow in his throat.
36.—Gully appeared very weak. He made a hit at the Chicken’s head, which he caught, and Pearce made a slight return. Gully made a good hit, which Pearce parried with his left hand, and with his right knocked down his opponent.
37 to 43.—In all these rounds the Chicken had the advantage; both were bleeding freely, particularly Gully, whose ear flowed copiously. Gully appeared shy of advancing; his head was dreadfully swollen, and his eyes appeared nearly closed.
44.—Pearce dexterously put in his favourite hit in the throat, and his antagonist fell. Gully had now received so many severe blows, that he could not face his man; he, however, continued to protract the fight by making a feint hit, and falling, until the
64th round, when, by great persuasion, he yielded the palm, after a contest of one hour and seventeen minutes.
REMARKS.—Both combatants were dreadfully beaten, neither being hardly able to see out of either eye. A subscription was immediately made for the unfortunate champion. Soon after Gully had given in, Pearce came up to him, shook hands with him, and said, “You’re a d——d good fellow; I’m hard put to it to stand. You are the only man that ever stood up to me.”
This was, as Pearce afterwards said in private conversation, the severest battle he ever fought, and that he was never so near being deprived of his hard-earned position. As to Gully’s being “a novice,” as he was termed, Pearce laughed at the notion. He had all the tactics of a good general, backed by weight, strength, youth, and resolution. “He has ‘a head’ for fighting,” said the Chicken, in his own rough but figurative language; “he must be a sharp chap, and get up early, as beats John Gully, I can tell you.”
To compliment Pearce on this battle would be unnecessary. His success, however, had an unexpected and unfortunate influence on the fortunes and fame of his patron and townsman Jem Belcher, who rashly challenged Pearce to fight for 500 guineas, play or pay, within two months. The Chicken, who claimed the championship, had no alternative but to resign the honour, or take up the gage thus ill-advisedly thrown down.
The opinions of the amateurs were, however, much divided. Many, true to their predilection, stuck to Jem’s irresistibility, and Mr. Fletcher Reid readily came forward to back Belcher. Captain Halliday covered the 500 on the part of Pearce. To avoid disappointment it was agreed that the battle should come off not less than 150 miles from the metropolis, to be decided by a toss between the parties. This Belcher won, and named a small common three miles from Barnby Moor, and nine miles from Doncaster. The ground was a short half mile from the seat of Captain Mellish, at Blythe, and 150 miles from London.
“On Friday, December 6th, 1805, Pearce, who had been staying at the Blue Bell Inn, Bamby Moor, started about eleven o’clock for Blythe, accompanied by his father. There they met Captain Mellish, Lord Say and Sele, Lord Eardley, Captain Halliday, the Hon. Berkeley Craven, and other gentlemen, who accompanied Pearce across the park to the appointed spot, where Belcher already awaited them. A ring of twenty feet diameter was formed within another of forty feet, to prevent interruption from the ‘outsiders.’ The partisans on this occasion sported ‘colours.’ Those favouring Pearce sported a blue silk handkerchief with a white spot, since called ‘bird’s-eye’ and ‘Chicken;’ whilst those adhering to Belcher, sported, with much pride, the yellow striped flag, known before by the name of the ‘Belcher,’ in honour of the hero. The combatants entered the ring, Will Ward seconded Pearce, and Bill Gibbons acted as bottle-holder; Joe Ward and Dick Whale performing the same offices for Belcher. On stripping Pearce appeared the stronger man and in best condition, but Belcher was not in the least daunted, and seemed confident of success. They performed the well-known salutation, and at half past twelve they set-to. Betting five to four on the Chicken.”
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The attitudes of both men were masterly; and the cleverness in sparring for an opening excited general admiration. There was much cautious but active manœuvring. Each seemed aware that to throw away a chance might lose the battle. Belcher made several feints, and at length put in a severe blow on the Chicken’s eye, over his guard, that drew blood copiously. The Chicken returned the blow slightly, they closed, and the Chicken threw his man.
2.—Belcher remarkably active. He again made several feints, and the Chicken, whose face was covered with blood, stopped cautiously, then made a hit. Belcher put in two blows on the Chicken’s body, and they closed. The men disengaged themselves. The Chicken aimed a well-directed hit, which Belcher stopped dexterously; a rally, when the Chicken hit one, two, and threw his man. (Six to four on the Chicken.)
3.—A hard round, rather in favour of the Chicken. Several blows were exchanged in a rally made by him. A close, and Belcher was thrown upon the ropes.
4.—Chicken hit twice at his man, but was out of distance. Belcher rallied with some success, but was thrown at the end of the round.
5.—The Chicken continued to bleed freely from the blow he received in the first round. He smiled with confidence, however, went in, and rallied. The struggle closed, in favour of Belcher, who threw him.
6.—Belcher displayed a good deal of his accustomed science, and appeared to meet his man cautiously. In a rally several blows were exchanged; they closed and fell, Belcher undermost.
7.—This round was much in favour of Belcher. The Chicken made a hit, which Belcher stopped dexterously, and with his right hand hit the Chicken a severe blow in the face. A rally followed, in which Belcher had the advantage; they closed. The Chicken got his opponent’s head under his left arm, and hit him several blows with his right hand: both fell.
8.—Belcher went in, rallied courageously, and displayed his skill in pugilism to perfection. He struck several blows with his right hand, whilst he parried those of the Chicken with his left. He had considerable advantage during the round, and ultimately succeeded in throwing his man over the rope out of the ring. (The betting became level.)
9.—Both on their mettle, and apparently fresh. Belcher hit the Chicken a sharp blow in the face, which cut him severely; several other blows were exchanged before the men closed and fell.
10.—Somewhat in favour of the Chicken, without any blows of consequence. Belcher appeared to be fast growing weak.
11.—The Chicken overreached himself in making a hit, and the combatants closed. Belcher disengaged himself by a twist, and hit his man, who, nevertheless, threw him.
12.—The Chicken went in and rallied furiously, and it was evident Belcher had fallen off in strength. He had materially the worst of the rally. The Chicken closed, and threw him on the rope, and had a fair opportunity of ending the fight, for Belcher balanced upon his back, and had the Chicken given him one of his heavy blows, might have ended the battle at once. But just as he raised his hand, the spirit of a fair fighter rose within him: his foe was defenceless. He put himself in the attitude for delivering a blow, to show his advantage, then looking round the ring, he exclaimed, “No, Jem, I won’t take advantage of thee! no, lest I hurt thy other eye!” and raising his hands, went back to his second. “This honourable step,” says the reporter drily, “was applauded with shouts from the spectators.”
13.—Belcher came up slowly. The Chicken went in for a rally. To the surprise of many, the men got locked, when Belcher cleverly got hold of Pearce and sent him over, a severe cross-buttock.
14.—Tedious sparring. Belcher shy, and bleeding in the head and body with blows given in the former round. The Chicken followed him to the ropes, when he gave him a hard blow under the blind eye, through his guard, and threw him easy.
15.—This round left no hopes for Belcher; it also decided many bets respecting the first knock-down blow. The Chicken went in very gay, and gave his opponent two hits; they closed, and the Chicken hit Belcher a blow underneath, on the lower rib, which, to use the sporting phrase, doubled him together, and he fell. The umpire, for the satisfaction of the sporting men, declared this to be a knock-down blow.
16.—Belcher hit the Chicken a well-directed but feeble blow in the face, whilst sparring. The Chicken smiled, shook his head, and then went into a rally. Once more he got him on the ropes, as in the twelfth round, when he repeated his honourable conduct, and walked away without hitting him. This round decided the fight, notwithstanding Belcher fought one more. In the rally he was first thrown upon one of the stakes to which the ropes were fastened, and it was supposed he had broken the lower rib, the Chicken having hit him in the same place shortly before. (Ten to one.)
17.—Belcher summoned up all his efforts to put in a blow, but the Chicken again followed him to the ropes, and threw him.
18.—Belcher could not move his left arm from his side; he, however, stood up to fight the eighteenth round, but finding himself totally disabled, he resigned the contest, after fighting thirty-five minutes. The Chicken immediately leaped over the rope out of the ring, and entered it again in the same manner, displaying his agility by a somersault.
“On this day the wreath of victory, which had so long encircled the brow of Belcher, was torn off by the powerful grasp of the very man for whose success Belcher had evinced so much anxiety. Envy appeared the principal excitement in the mind of Jem to the contest, and to that passion he undoubtedly sacrificed his honours, and fell a pitiable victim. Under a mistaken impulse, after having successfully triumphed over such formidable opponents as Paddington Jones, Bartholomew, Gamble, Berks, and Firby, his well gained fame expired. It was evident, independent of the great disadvantage which Belcher unhappily sustained in the loss of an eye, that neither his strength nor constitution at this time could enable him to encounter with any chance of success, an opponent possessing such an astonishing degree of skill, agility, wind, muscular power, and, in short, every requisite that the most theoretic mind could suggest for a pugilist. Belcher, in the course of the combat, put in several of his favourite blows, and got off in his accustomed happy manner; but the longer the fight lasted, so much the greater became his disadvantage, and every one conversant in boxing allowed, that had he planted more hits, instead of employing his time in unavailing and useless sparring, he would have stood a better chance of gaining a victory. Pearce, throughout the combat, without a doubt, aimed the generality of his blows at Belcher’s good eye, well aware of the result of closing it, and in closing, Pearce gave him some tremendous falls.
“Upon the whole, if the combat was not so obstinately contested as might have been anticipated, there was in it a display of science perhaps unprecedented. Those, however, who had witnessed Belcher in any of his former battles, could perceive a deficiency in his fighting in many points, notwithstanding he displayed all his former courage. After they had fought a quarter of an hour, Belcher displayed marks of some violent hits in his face, and his firm bright eye rolled in the briny flood. The loss of his eyes was a greater disadvantage to him than à priori was supposed; it rendered him unable to judge the length of his opponent, nor could he perceive the hits coming towards him until it was too late to guard against them. With respect to his own blows, as he himself observed, after the fight, they were merely casual attempts, for his sight was not sufficiently quick and strong to plant them judiciously. Every one who had on former occasions admired with enthusiasm the unexampled courage and skill of Belcher, felt deeply for his unfortunate situation, and in many an eye was seen the sympathetic tear to start. His spirits were good to the last; and after its conclusion he exclaimed, not without seeming to feel the assertion, ‘I don’t mind for myself, but I’m sorry for a friend of mine, who has lost everything he had.’ A subscription was set on foot by Jackson, and very liberally supplied. Belcher was taken to a surgeon’s and bled, where, upon examination, they found the rib expected to have been broken was perfect.”
The Game Chicken retired to the Blue Bell Inn, at Barnby Moor, and seriously declared that once or twice he had it in his power to have killed Belcher. Elated with his victory, he cried out in the Somersetshire dialect, “Dang it, I’m not hurt, I have only cut my crook against his teeth;” and pulling out of his pocket a new blue silk handkerchief, spotted with white, tied it round his neck, and laughing, said, “Since I’ve won it I’ll wear it; no more Belchers now.” After taking some refreshment, they set off for Grantham, where Captain Halliday had ordered dinner for a large party.
The Chicken had now entirely proved himself thorough game; and was without a competitor for a while. A man of the name of Ford, a stalwart gamekeeper from Leicestershire, came up to London about this time, and challenged Pearce for fifty guineas. The Chicken offered to accommodate him for 200 guineas, as a minimum stake for the champion. Ford came to town in April, 1807, while Pearce was at Bristol, and vapoured greatly of his willingness to fight the absent champion for a glass of Liptrap.[96] It was probably fortunate the Chicken was not there, or Mr. Ford might have found himself out of his depth. We hear no more of “Master Ford,” who showed better wisdom in minding “buck-washing.”
Pearce, like too many of his predecessors of pugilistic notoriety, foundered on the same rock on which they had split. Examples, advice, and lessons, it should seem, all lose their effect upon persons, who, in the bloom of youth, health and vigour, laugh at the idea of incurring any serious consequences from intemperance, till they find it out for themselves, when, generally it is too late to be remedied. The Chicken during his residence in the metropolis had made rather too free with his constitution; yet we have authority for observing that it originated more from circumstances and place, than sheer inclination. His health became impaired, and he retired to his native city, to enjoy the comforts of domesticated life; and by the advice of his friends, he relinquished the calling of a pugilist for that of a publican.
We have now arrived at an episode in the life of Pearce, which we would earnestly recommend to the perusal of the calumniators of pugilists and pugilism; we doubt if a similar deed can be recorded of many of the canters who decry prize-fighters as “inhuman savages!”
In the month of November, 1807, a fire broke out at Mrs. Denzill’s, a silk-mercer, in Thomas Street, Bristol, and the flames had made such rapid progress, that the servant in the house, a poor girl, who had retired to rest in the attic story, was nearly enveloped in flames before she awoke to her dreadful situation. Frantic with despair, she presented herself at the window imploring help—her screams pierced the hearts of the spectators, who appeared riveted with terror to the spot, expecting every moment her threatened destruction. But none move; all are petrified with fear and horror. At length, Pearce (“the prize-fighter by profession and the savage by nature,” according to “Craven,”) appears in the crowd; he sees the life of a human being in danger, and feels prompted to the perilous endeavour of an immediate rescue. By the aid of the adjoining house, he reaches the parapet, and, hanging over it, firmly grasps the wrist of the wretched girl—the multitude are lost in astonishment, and never did a more interesting moment present itself—hope, fear, and all the stronger emotions are on the rack at the intrepidity of a man losing every thought of self in the hope of delivering a fellow-creature from a dreadful death. The additional weight, added to the height from the parapet, was almost too much for the nearly exhausted energies of Pearce.
“Cowards die many times before their deaths, The valiant never taste of death but once;”
and so it proved—Pearce’s brave heart leaped within him, and with a supreme effort he drew his trembling charge from the window, placed her safe upon the parapet, and in an instant she was out of danger. The delighted multitude was loud in their plaudits—and the almost lifeless sufferer clinging round the knees of her deliverer, invoked blessings on his name. This was the proudest moment of Pearce’s life. The shouts of victory, and the flattering praises that had so often attended him in the hour of battle, were mere shadows compared with that of an approving conscience. Yet this was the act of a pugilist!—one who had entered the field to obtain a purse of gold as a prize-fighter. Here was no gold to tempt him to risk his life: the smallest deviation of balance must have precipitated him headlong to destruction; and no opportunity of retreating from the consequences. The gallant soldier in mounting the forlorn hope, and the hardy tar in boarding the ship of the enemy, are stimulated by a thirst of glory and love of country, but Pearce was actuated by no other motive than that of humanity; and when that “recording angel,” who dropped a tear and blotted out for ever the intemperate expression of my Uncle Toby, shall turn the page of the evil deeds of this pugilist, let us trust they may be similarly obliterated.
In Arliss’s Magazine, and the “Poets’ Corner” of Farley’s Bristol Journal, we find the subjoined lines, more remarkable for their good feeling than poetic merit:—
“In Bristol city, while a house in flames Fills the beholders with amazement dire, A damsel at an upper window claims Their utmost pity, for th’ approaching fire— Which every moment seems to gather near, Nor hope of rescue does there aught appear.
“At length upon the neighb’ring house-top seen, A gallant youth now hastens to her aid, And o’er the fearful parapet does lean, With spirit dauntless, to assist the maid; Endowed by heaven with more than common might, He grasps her arms, and draws her to the height.
“Oh, glorious act! Oh, courage well applied! Oh, strength exerted in its proper cause! Thy name, O Pearce! be sounded far and wide, Live, ever honour’d, midst the world’s applause; Be this thy triumph! know one creature saved, Is greater glory than a world enslav’d.”
A short time after the noble deed we have narrated the Game Chicken again distinguished himself in rescuing one of the fair sex from insult and danger. In his way over Clifton Downs, near Bristol, Pearce perceived a young woman suffering much from the rude attacks of three men. Regardless of the consequences Pearce instantly interposed, when they fell upon him with fury; but the courage and science of Pearce soon made them repent of their temerity. The Chicken received their onset with such coolness and intrepidity, and so successfully planted his levelling hits, that one of them of the name of Hood, was so satisfied, in seven minutes, that he bolted, and left his companions to the care of Pearce. In a quarter of an hour, the Chicken so served out Morris and Francis, the other two, that they declined the strife, and apologised for their rudeness, while the terrified female could only thank her gallant defender for his seasonable protection.
It would seem that, however Pearce might have been crowned with honour, gratified by the enviable title of champion, and admired by his friends in general—he was not happy. That source of true felicity and real consolation, to which a man flies to alleviate his troubles or participate in his honours, was unhappily polluted, and his wife’s incontinence had rendered home so miserable, that he left his native place never more to return.
Pearce now went to different country towns exhibiting sparring, and teaching the art of self-defence, and we need hardly say was much patronised. The Chicken was in the neighbourhood of Oxford when Jem Belcher and Cribb fought their last battle, and felt so anxious as to the issue of the combat, that he set off in a post-chaise overnight lest he should fail to witness the fight. On Cribb’s proving victorious, he exclaimed with great earnestness, “he hoped he should get well, that he might teach Cribb how to fight!”
Pearce took a benefit at the Fives Court, on February 9, 1809, when some good sparring was exhibited. Every interest was exerted to give him support. Pearce was now the victim of pulmonary consumption, and in the last stage of that afflicting disease; he was scarcely able to walk to the Court to thank his friends.
The appearance of the Chicken was muscular; his height about five feet nine inches; and the roundness of his chest and limbs denoted considerable strength, in some degree resembling the contour of the champion, Tom Johnson. During the time Pearce enjoyed sound health, his excellence as a pugilist was admitted by all parties; and he stood above all competitors. In uniting the courage of a lion with true kindness of heart, Pearce must command our praise. He was a tremendous hard hitter, and his left-handed blow was so terrible in its effects, that his opponents have been seen in a complete state of stupor for several seconds, and often never recovered the proper use of their faculties during the fight.
As a proof that he was not fond of vainly courting the popularity of the multitude, or of making a show of himself by figuring upon the box of some spoilt child of fortune’s four-in-hand—a fashion in full power in those days; we may state, that immediately upon putting on his clothes, after his memorable fight with Berks, on Wimbledon Common, he stole away unobserved. Being missed, a general inquiry took place among his friends, to know what had become of him. After considerable time lost in search of the Chicken, some person recollected that they saw a man like Pearce run and jump up behind a coach; upon which information his second, Bill Gibbons, endeavoured to trace him along the road, and at length found the Chicken in a public-house at Chelsea, cooking himself mutton-chops at the fire, with the most perfect indifference. Pearce immediately invited Gibbons to partake of them without alluding to his singularity in leaving the ground, instead of making his return to town in triumph on some swell-drag, in the style of the days of which we are writing.
At the Coach and Horses, St. Martin’s Lane,[97] on Sunday, April 30, 1809, the Game Chicken departed this life. His fortitude never forsook him, and in the most trying moments he displayed calmness and resignation; he experienced no terrors from his approaching end, expressing a wish to die in friendship with all mankind. He expressed a strong desire to be buried by the side of Bill Warr, in St. James’ burying ground, Pancras; and this wish was complied with. Pearce was in his thirty-second year.
“Strength, too; thou surly, and less gentle boast Of those that laugh loud at the village ring; A fit of common sickness pulls thee down With greater ease than e’er thou didst the strippling That rashly dared thee to th’ unequal fight.”
IV. JOHN GULLY—1805‒1808
When Hen. Pearce, compelled by severe bodily illness to retire from the fistic arena, seceded from the position of champion, John Gully was looked to by common consent as his successor. He was one of those who achieve a high fame by defeat, and we have Pearce’s own recorded opinion that he was the best man he had ever fought with. Gully’s ambition was of a high order; like Jackson, second and third-rate pugilists were beneath his aim, and spurning the better and safer mode of acquiring greatness step by step, his daring spirit made the essay of
“Vaulting ambition which o’erleaps itself, And falls o’ the other side.”
Yet here he showed an exception to the approved rule, for, by at once attacking the justly renowned Game Chicken, though he fell, he rose indisputably a greater man, from the excellent qualities he displayed on this bold but unsuccessful attempt. Gully convinced the sporting world that he was able to contend with honour, and even with a considerable chance of success, with the supposed invincibility of that eminent pugilist, whose generosity of disposition would not permit him to quit his vanquished adversary without complimenting him upon his uncommon bravery and fortitude.
In these two years (1805, 1806), Gully does not seem to have publicly desired the title of champion, which was rather conceded to him. In September, 1807, by an incidental passage in the daily papers, it would seem he was so considered. On the 5th of that month (September), Horton beat George Cribb (brother of Tom the after champion) and offered to fight either Gully “for the championship,” or Tom Cribb for fifty guineas, but both declined.
Gully, by the science and game he displayed, had become a distinguished favourite with the Fancy in general. His knowledge of the art of boxing was considered complete, and his courage an able second to his judgment. His supporters were numerous, and his fame stood so high, that upwards of two years elapsed, from the time of his battle with the Chicken, October 8, 1805, before any one had the temerity to call on him to defend his title to the championship. At length he entered the lists with the formidable and burly Bob Gregson, a boxer, who had been picked out by some of his friends in Lancashire, as likely to lower the crest of the champion. Gregson’s size was considerably in his favour, he being nearly six feet two inches high, of prodigious strength, and had signalised himself in several pugilistic contests in that part of the country; but, notwithstanding such striking advantages, his pretensions were considered on the score of strength rather than of science. Gregson’s game was unquestionable, and the amateurs wishing to see him enter the lists with so distinguished a boxer as Gully, a subscription was immediately entered into for that purpose.
On the 14th October, 1807, the contest took place in a valley, called Six Mile Bottom, on the Newmarket Road, on the spot where, in later days, the writer witnessed the defeat of Jemmy Massey, of Manchester, and Edwards, of Cheltenham. For miles round this part of the country the bustle commenced at an early hour, groups of people thronging from every direction, to witness the battle. Between nine and ten Gully and Gregson entered the ring, both in excellent spirits and good condition. The former was seconded by Cribb, Cropley acting as bottle holder. Richmond was Gregson’s mentor, and Harry Lee was his bottle holder. Bill Warr and John Jackson were also in the ring; “lest,” says the report, “occasion might demand their services.” On setting-to the odds were six to four in favour of Gully.
The combatants shook hands and bowed to the spectators, as if at a sparring benefit; and at a few minutes after ten o’clock, threw themselves into position for
THE FIGHT.[98]
Round 1.—The combatants fixed each other with a steady eye; a pause; some excellent sparring. Gully put in a well-aimed blow in his opponent’s face. Gregson returned on the side of the head. They closed and both fell.
2.—Gully now appeared conscious of his opponent’s strength, was very careful, and showed some excellent science; he put in another severe hit in Gregson’s face, blood ran profusely, and Gregson fell. (Odds rose 100 to 20 on Gully.)
6.—In every round some excellent hits were exchanged, and no advantage could be claimed.
7.—After some neat sparring, Gregson broke through his adversary’s guard, and put in a straight forward blow on his right eye. This drew blood; the eye swelled and nearly closed; Gully fell and lay quite stunned for three seconds. Among Gully’s friends the greatest anxiety remained for some moments, and the odds fell five to one.
8.—Gregson stood up, seemingly inspired with his success in the last round, summoned all his strength, and exerted all his science. Gully rallied; some good sparring, and afterwards both put in some excellent blows, and great skill was displayed in stopping; at last Gregson, by a sudden effort of power, caught up Gully in his arms, and flung him with astonishing force upon the ground; every one expected he would have fallen on him, but this, with the greatest generosity, he declined, for which he was cheered by every spectator. By the amateurs present this was thought to be the finest round that was ever fought, and now all felt convinced that it was only Gully’s superior science that could enable him to stand against so formidable an opponent. (Odds changed in favour of Gregson.)
9.—Gully put in another hit in the face, and Gregson very deliberately laid himself down on his hands and knees. This was thought to be something of the cur, but his conduct afterwards did away with such unfavourable impressions.
11.—Gully struck; Gregson closed, and threw his opponent.
12.—Gully in this round evinced great weakness, and the odds continued in Gregson’s favour; after some feeble hits from Gully, Gregson knocked him down by a most tremendous blow on the forehead.
13.—Gully’s science gave him a superiority again in this round. But he was very weak, and his deliveries devoid of force.
14.—Gregson struck Gully in the face, right and left; they rallied severely, and Gregson fell on his knees, apparently very weak.
15.—After exchanging a few hits, Gregson knocked Gully down.
16.—Gully carried the most marks in the face, and his eye was quite closed; they rallied, and Gully struck his adversary off his legs.
19.—At the end of the last round Gully had a severe fall, but the advantage throughout the whole.
20.—Gregson endeavoured to repeat his successful straight-forward blow, but missed, and while falling Gully struck him. “Foul!” and “Fair!” were vociferated, but the latter was correct, as Gregson was not down.
23.—Gully began to appear more gay, and both combatants rallied desperately; both appeared very weak, but Gully’s bottom was known, and odds were now eight to one in his favour.
25.—Here it was anybody’s battle; the combatants both appeared beaten and exhausted. They were dreadfully disfigured, and neither hardly capable of getting off his second’s knee.
Notwithstanding each from the great loss of blood had the utmost difficulty in making fight, the battle lasted eleven more rounds, each alternately having the advantage, and betting became even. At length they met like two inebriated men, helpless, and almost incapable of holding up their hands either to stop or hit, and every round finished by both rolling down together. Still Gully was the favourite, and by an astonishing effort of nature, in the thirty-sixth round he put in a blow, which, although feeble, was sufficiently strong to prevent Gregson’s rising again in time. Gregson laid for some minutes, incapable of either moving or speaking, but Gully, even now, elated with victory, leaped with joy.
REMARKS.—It would be difficult to say which was the most beaten, such spectacles were never before witnessed. The battle was allowed to excel everything, in point of game and slashing exchanges, that ever had been displayed. Even those who had seen Johnson, Big Ben, Jackson, and Symonds contend, allowed this to exceed all. Captain Barclay took Gully off the ground in his carriage, and the next day both combatants appeared on the race-course, but Gregson could not remain long, and on returning home was forced to call in medical aid. Gully in this contest showed he had become much more expert than when he contended with the Game Chicken. He, however, certainly fought at great disadvantage against a man of such superior strength and length as Gregson. He could never make a hit until his opponent chose to begin, as Gregson sparred with his left arm fully extended, which was much longer and stronger than Gully’s. Gregson’s favourite hit is a desperate lunge with his right hand, which nothing can resist, and by that means Gully became so much beaten. Gregson was mostly abroad, and Gully generally returned with great adroitness and advantage. His left arm was severely hurt in the commencement of the battle, in endeavouring to parry the right-handed hits of his adversary.
November, 1807. Notwithstanding Gregson was so severely beaten by Gully in the last month, he still felt some confidence, that in the event of another battle he should prove victorious. His friends gave him all encouragement, and he sent Gully the following challenge, which was forwarded to Norwich, where he was then staying:—
“Mr. GULLY,—It is the wish of myself and friends that I should try my fortune with you in another battle, for £200 a-side. If you are inclined to give me the opportunity, I will thank you to say so, and also to name the time when it will be convenient to meet, to put down stakes, and arrange particulars.
“R. GREGSON.”
To this Gully immediately returned the following answer:—
“Mr. GREGSON,—I accept your challenge, but wish you would make the match for £250 instead of £200 a-side. I shall not delay a moment in returning to town to make the necessary arrangements as to time, place, etc.
“JOHN GULLY.”
As soon as Gully came to town, the heroes met, and the following agreement was entered into, which we give as a specimen of how they managed these matters some “sixty years since:”—
“LONDON, December 22, 1807.
“Major Morgan, on the part of Gregson, and Mr. Jackson, on the part of Gully, agree to deposit 50 guineas each this day, and a further deposit of 50 guineas on the 1st of March, 1808, or forfeit the first 50 guineas; and on the Monday following the Craven meeting, the remainder of the stakes to be made good by the contracting parties, or the 100 guineas to be also forfeited; and that the Hon. Berkeley Craven be requested to hold the stakes on the day of battle.
“CONDITIONS OF THE BATTLE.
“1st.—The battle to take place on the Tuesday following the first Spring Meeting, between the hours of ten and twelve, a.m.
“2nd.—To fight in a roped square of forty feet.
“3rd.—Neither to fall without a knock-down blow, subject to the decision of the umpires.
“4th.—Three umpires to be chosen upon the ground, viz., two, and one in reference.
“Signed “CHARLES MORGAN, “JOHN JACKSON.”
Gregson went immediately into training under Mendoza, at the Load of Hay, on the Hampstead Road.
Wednesday, May 10th, 1808, was soon known to be the day fixed for the “big fight for the championship.” On the previous Saturday it was understood in the privileged circle that those who repaired to the confines of the counties of Bedford and Bucks., about a couple of miles from Woburn, would be handy to the spot. This “tip” it would seem reached others than those for whom it was intended for. The Marquis of Buckingham publicly gave notice of his determination to frustrate the sport, by publishing the following notice in the County Chronicle:—
“BUCKINGHAM HOUSE, LONDON, May 8, 1808.
“Information having been transmitted to me, His Majesty’s Custos Rotulorum in and for the county of Bucks., of an intended riotous assembly, aiding and assisting in a breach of the peace, by a boxing match, within that part of the county of Bucks which touches or joins on the counties of Bedford and Herts, near the town of Dunstable; and that the said illegal and riotous assembly will take place on Tuesday, the 10th instant, notice is hereby given that proper steps have been taken for the detection and punishment of all persons acting as aforesaid, in breach of the peace, by the attendance of the magistrates, high constables, petty constables, and other peace officers, entrusted with the execution of the law within the said county.
“NUGENT BUCKINGHAM, “Custos Rotulorum of Bucks.”
What follows may give a lively picture of an expedition to “see a fight” in the days of the “Third George.” We extract from the Morning Chronicle:—
“Some hundreds, whose leisure and disposition prompted them to be in action, started on the Saturday and Sunday, and secured beds and stabling in all the villages and hamlets contiguous to Woburn. The town of Woburn was on Monday in continual motion, all was uproar and confusion, people of all ranks continually arriving on foot, on horseback, and in carriages of all description, and all seeking accommodation which only a few comparatively could find. To add to the confusion, the Marquis of Buckingham did not fail to exert himself for the fulfilment of his threat; all the magistracy of Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire, at the head of their constables and posse comitatus, with a subsidiary force of volunteers from the surrounding districts, appeared determined to resist this unlicensed incursion into their territories, and to stand an insurmountable barrier to the amusement. The Dunstable volunteers were out very early on the Monday morning, with drums beating, colours flying, cartouch-boxes doubly provided, bayonets fixed, and all in awful military array. The peasantry were shaking with fear, supposing the French had landed, and those who had arrived began to think they were hoaxed, and that they should return without being gratified by the fight. Many who itched to be betting, began to sport on the question whether the fight was ‘to be or not to be,’ and ten to one was frequently betted, that no fight would take place.
“When Monday night arrived hundreds had flocked into the town, and all were eagerly enquiring for beds. Nothing could be obtained of this kind, for the night’s lodging, under 30_s._ a head, and to sit or lie on the chairs of the public rooms the usual price of a bed was extorted. In one room at Woburn fifteen gentlemen laid on the floor, and were happy to pay for this hard fare, and hundreds reposed in their carriages. The horses, notwithstanding the weather was severe, were obliged to stand without covering. Tuesday came, and these glorious comforts were yet to be endured; pay the price asked you must, as the landlord was generally sharp enough to secure the boots of every traveller, if he had nothing else to lay hold of for security.
“About five o’clock on the Wednesday morning all was again in commotion, and notwithstanding the endeavours of the magistrates, a ring was formed upon Ashley Common, raised with sods about twelve inches from the ground, and about forty feet in circumference. Between six and seven o’clock many of the amateurs came dashing direct from London, in their barouches and four, and in order to direct them to the proper spot, Bill Richmond was placed at the Magpie. The multitude soon got the hint, and followed the bang-up leaders. By nine o’clock a number of carriages had arrived, and were safely penned up. The amateurs viewed the ring, and were expressing their high approbation at its appearance, when a messenger arrived with fresh information that the magistrates had seen the ring in the morning, and were still determined to prevent the battle. Many of the knowing ones suspected that this was a hoax, and immediately sent off an express to Hogstale, a public-house about a mile distant, where Gregson held his head quarters. Before the answer, however, returned, Mendoza, dressed in green, and mounted in style, dashed up with two or three well-known amateurs, and gave positive assurances that the battle would not be fought there. Upon this solemn assurance every one started for Gregson’s lodgings, where they found the hero seated in Lord Barrymore’s barouche, with the horses’ heads turned towards Woburn, and escorted by about 150 noblemen and gentlemen on horseback, and an immense retinue of gigs, tandems, curricles, and every species of vehicle. Hundreds not apprised of the change in the seat of combat, were advancing from Woburn. Soon the two streams met, and forming one almost irresistible current, returned through Woburn with accumulated force, the knowing ones leading the way, having been before apprised, that in case of any unforeseen disappointment at the original spot, they were to rendezvous at several places in reversion; the first of which was Sir John Sebright’s, in Hertfordshire, about seventeen miles distant from Ashley Common, the whole extent of which was covered by one solid mass of passengers; and although many had sorely repented their expedition, and returned homewards, the multitude appeared not the least diminished. Broken down carriages obstructed the road; knocked up horses fell and could not be got any farther; a guinea a mile was offered for conveyance, and many hundreds of gentlemen were happy in being jolted in brick carts for a shilling a mile. By two o’clock they arrived at Sir John Sebright’s park; a flat spot immediately opposite the house, but about half-a-mile distant, was pitched upon for the battle, and upon the whole the uninvited guests behaved with tolerable decorum. A ring was formed, the exterior circle was nearly an acre, surrounded by a triple ring of horsemen, and a double row of pedestrians, who, notwithstanding the wetness of the ground, laid down with great pleasure, and the forty feet ring was soon completed.
“About three o’clock a torrent of rain poured down, and every one began to be anxious for the fight; very shortly after Gregson, Gully, Mendoza, Harry Lee, Joe Ward, Hen. Pearce, Cribb, Horton, Dutch Sam, Cropley, Gibbons, Richmond, and several other pugilists and amateurs, entered the ring. It is impossible to describe the pleasure that beamed in the eyes of every spectator at this moment, and the welkin echoed their repeated plaudits.
“Cribb and Horton, who, according to their articles, were to fight in the same ring as Gully and Gregson, directly stripped and set-to, both in excellent spirits. Odds four to five on Cribb who very easily gained the conquest.
“Immediately on the conclusion of this combat the champions stripped. Both fought in silk stockings without shoes, and white breeches. Harry Lee seconded Gregson, and Joe Word, Gully. Captain Barclay was appointed deciding umpire. After the usual etiquette they set-to.”
THE FIGHT.[99]
Round 1.—The combatants both sparred about a minute; the utmost silence prevailing in every part of the ring, and every one had his eye fixed stedfastly on the contending champions. Here Gully displayed one of the most signal specimens of the art of boxing that perhaps ever was witnessed, by putting in two most dexterous hits through his opponent’s guard, at the same moment, in the mouth and throat. Gregson fell like a log, and was instantly covered with blood. The greatest commotion was now excited, and peal succeeded peal of applause. (The odds rose six to four on Gully.)
2.—Gregson ineffectually aimed a hit at his opponent’s head, who shifted, and pointed at him. Gully now commenced a rally, and some blows were exchanged to his advantage. Gregson turned round and put in a back-handed blow in the loins; both fell.
3.—Gregson successfully planted a right-handed hit in Gully’s breast, and rallied; but Gully had the advantage of putting in most blows, although Gregson threw him. Gregson’s head had now began to swell, and he continued to bleed freely. (Odds two to one on Gully.)
4.—Gully made play, and after planting two good hits on his adversary’s head, slipped up.
5.—Gregson made a determined hit, which Gully scientifically parried, upon which he ran in, grasped Gully by the thighs, held him in his arms, and threw him down. Great disapprobation.
6.—Some good rallying, but in favour of Gully. Gregson appeared incapable of stopping, and Gully hit him as he pleased. At the close of the round Gregson put in a tremendous blow on the side of his adversary’s head, and both fell out of the ring.
7.—Gully rallied; put in six successive hits on Gregson’s head, and at length knocked him off his legs, without the latter getting home one blow.
8.—In this round Gregson slightly had the advantage. They closed, and Gully received a heavy fall; Gregson’s left eye was now almost closed, his nose broken, the blood flowed copiously, and his head was most hideously disfigured.
9.—Gregson evinced distress, and Gully hit him again severely in the face. Gregson fell on his knees.
10.—As early as this round the result of the battle was considered decided. Gregson fought shy, both eyes being nearly closed. He struck Gully, who was down, but it appeared to be with his own choice.
11.—Gregson excited commiseration; he put his hand to his left eye, and afterwards looked at it; but instantly commenced a rally, which ended again in his discomfiture. Gully knocked him down, but while falling he put in a back-handed hit.
12.—Gregson struck Gully on the breast, who immediately knocked him off his legs by a flush hit in the mouth.
13.—In making play Gully slipped.
14.—Gully again hit his opponent through his guard, both right and left, which brought him down.
15 and 16.—In both rounds Gregson ineffectually attempted to hold his ground. He seemed confused; however, he ran in, and completely bored Gully down.
17.—In this round Gregson became intemperate, and ran in upon his adversary, who continued hitting and avoiding him in a most surprising manner. Gregson twice turned his back upon his opponent, and made towards the ropes, but Gully followed him, changed his front, fibbed him, and kept him from falling, until he had hit him into an almost senseless state, and then dropped him quietly between his arms.
18.—Like the former, Gregson was again severely punished.
25.—In this round Gully put in two tremendous blows.
27.—Gregson was brought down by a heavy blow under the ear; and the
28th round decided the contest, Gregson being too much exhausted to be brought to the mark in time. The battle lasted one hour and a quarter.
The superiority of Gully in this battle was evident, and throughout the fight there was no comparison between the quickness, hitting, and confidence of the combatants. Several of the fighting men, and many good judges of pugilism, had great doubts as to the event, from the determined manner in which the former battle had been contested and several entertained a strong opinion that Gregson, having added science to his great strength, from the improvement he had evinced in sparring, had much increased his chances of success. Gully possessed so much confidence in his own abilities, that, a few minutes before he entered the ring, he offered to back himself for £50 (in addition to what he had already betted) that he was the winner.
Without offering further comments of our own on this most remarkable battle, as we do not find any worthy of preservation, in a pugilistic sense, in the published reports, we may take it as a significant fact of the excellence of Gully’s condition, that, before putting on his outer clothes, he advanced to the ropes and addressed the referee and leading patrons of the ring to the effect, that being now in business in a tavern in Carey Street, he was in hopes that he should have enjoyed peace unchallenged. That he had not intended to fight again, nor would he have done so in this instance, had he not considered himself bound in honour to accept Gregson’s challenge. That he had fought with a partially disabled left arm, and that Gregson surely would not urge him to another combat. “Gully then dressed himself, and was brought to town in Lord Barrymore’s barouche. The following morning he was facetiously answering questions respecting the fight, and serving his numerous customers at the Plough, in Carey Street.”[100]
The defeated Gregson was conveyed to the principal inn in Markyate Street, Herts., where he remained until the following Saturday, by which time he was well enough to return to Highgate, on the box of one of the Northampton coaches. Here he remained with a friend at the Bowling Green tavern for some time. Captain Barclay, the Marquis of Tweeddale, and other gentlemen and noblemen made a liberal subscription for him; and at his urgent request he was soon after matched with Tom Cribb, to fight for 500 guineas, in a thirty foot ring. (See CRIBB, Period IV.)
In the beginning of the following month (June, 1808), Gully and Cribb took a joint benefit at the Fives Court; Gully and Jem Belcher, Cribb and Tom Belcher, Tom Jones and Tom Blake, Cropley and Dogherty, George Cribb and Wood, were among the leading exhibitors. Gully repeated his declaration of retirement from the ring, and public opinion looked upon the coming fight of Tom Cribb and Gregson as a sort of test as to Gully’s successor.
In taking leave of so remarkable a man as the subject of the present memoir, a man who after many years of intercourse with the most eminent public men of his time, arrived at fortune, fame, and even senatorial honours, we may be suspected of panegyric from personal knowledge, and a desire to dilate on a theme so immediately connected with the history of British pugilism as the merits of its professors, while it yet had the name and standing which it has, much through the misconduct of its members, temporarily lost.
Gully, as a pugilist, has well earned a niche in the temple of pancratic fame; and if his battles were not so numerous as many other professors have been, they were contested with a decision of science and game, rarely equalled, perhaps never excelled, and justly entitle him to honourable mention in the records of boxing. His practice, it was well known, had been very confined, and his theoretical knowledge of the science could not have been very extensive, yet his natural courage and quickness surmounted these difficulties, and, with a fortitude equal to any man, he entered the ring a most consummate pugilist. Though his frame was never a model of symmetry, he had many points of the athletic build. His height was about six feet.
We cannot conclude this sketch of Mr. Gully without remarking that, with the knowledge of the world, he united the manners of a well-bred man; intelligent and quick of observation, he united with those qualifications, when moving in a less elevated sphere, that proper sense of his own capabilities, which generally attends intelligence and merit. After a few years passed in the occupation of a tavern-keeper, in which he earned general respect, he was so fortunate in turf speculations, and so well served by sound judgment in racing matters, that he retired and became the purchaser of Ware Park, Hertfordshire. Here he associated with the first circles of the county; fortune still smiling on him, he became a spirited breeder and racehorse proprietor, an owner of collieries, and lastly, in 1832, attained the proud position of one of England’s senators; being returned to parliament as representative for Pontefract, in the first reformed parliament. We recently heard a blockhead object that Mr. Gully was originally a butcher: his father, whom he succeeded, was a master butcher of respectability—so was the father of Cardinal Wolsey. We have had among succeeding occupants of the woolsack, a Newcastle barber’s son, and the offspring of a grocer; one prime minister, the son of an actress; another the descendant of a cotton spinner; the greatest engineering genius of our age, the son of a pitman, himself a furnace-stoker, and, as we shall presently see, a pugilist; so that surely such sneers at self-made men by those who have certainly not made themselves are too snobbish and contemptible to affect any but their utterers. A paragraph from the pen of a sportsman must find a place here:
“It was the late Mr. Buckland who, when on a visit to Lord Fitzwilliam, told me of the impression made upon him by the appearance of a fine handsome gentleman coming up the staircase with a beautiful girl in green velvet on either arm—the member for Pontefract, with two of his daughters. Poor “Sylvanus” thus portrayed Mr. Gully in the very zenith of his career:—‘He had permanent lodgings at Newmarket, well and tastily furnished, and dispensed his hospitality to his friends with no sparing hand. An excellent cook, claret from Griffiths’, with an entertaining gentleman-like host, left little to be desired at the dinner awaiting us. Mr. Gully is justly esteemed, having raised himself from the lowest paths of life to the position, not merely of wealth, but to that of intimacy amongst gentlemen, on or off the turf, but still gentlemen in taste, which nought but the undeviating good manners, and entertaining, unpresuming deportment of Gully could for a moment, or rather for any length of time beyond a moment, suffer them to tolerate. No man ever possessed these qualifications, gained through innate acuteness, great common sense, and a plastic disposition to observe and benefit by the chance rencontres with the courtly patrons of his day to a greater degree, taking the early disadvantages he had to contend with into consideration, than John Gully. No man could be more above pretence, or less shy at any allusions to his early and not very polished career, than himself. When I dined with him at Newmarket, as well as upon subsequent occasions, I was most gratified by his manly openness, and lack of all sensitive false shame, on any occasional appeal being made to the bygone. He, on the contrary, entered freely into many entertaining portions of his history, answered all my questions con amore, and with perfect good nature, as to the mode of training, hitting so as not to injure the hand, wrestling, and other minutiæ of the ring; passing the claret and slicing the pine, as if foaled at Knowsley or Bretby. He had a quiet sly way of joking on any turf affair, on which, bear in mind, he was as au fait as Zamiel making a book for the Derby. The turbot came from Billingsgate by express, and the haunch from his own park. Moët purveyed the champagne, Marjoribanks the port, and, as I have before said, Griffiths the Lafitte. We had no skulking host be assured, but the most entertaining and liberal one alive.’ There is a genial tone about this sketch that tells at once for its truth, and it would be difficult to give any man a better character. Gully’s position at every turn and phase of fortune was still a trying one, but no man more fairly earned the respect he gained. There is a very moral of good manners in such a man’s history.”
Mr. Gully died at Durham, on Monday, the 9th of March, 1863, in the 80th year of his age, being born at Bristol, August 21, 1783. He was buried at Ackworth Hall, near that city, on Saturday, March 14, leaving a family of five sons and five daughters, moving in the best circles of society.
V. DUTCH SAM (SAMUEL ELIAS).—1801‒1814
One of the most remarkable boxers of his time was the Israelitish phenomenon whose name heads this fifth chapter. In height about five feet six inches and a half; in weight nine stone four pounds, never more than nine stone eight pounds, Samuel Elias conquered some of the best eleven and twelve stone men of his time. When stripped Sam looked, in bust and ribs, more like a twelve stone than a nine stone man, showing he had his muscular power and weight in the right place. His shoulders were remarkably square, his arms round, long, muscular and hard; his hands seemed positively of iron, never puffing or knocking up from the punishing hits inflicted on his antagonist; while the quickness of his eagle eye, and the fierceness of his rally were unexampled among his fellow pugilists. A contemporary writer says: “As a hard hitter we except no pugilist whatever; Gully never struck with more force, nor Cribb more heavily than Sam, whose blows were truly dreadful to encounter.” It was the publicly expressed opinion of one of the most experienced and scientific pugilists of the day, that Sam would be a complete match for the mighty Cribb himself, if they could agree to give alternately merely blow for blow. Bill Cropley,[101] who was a burly and game boxer, declared he would rather stand half-an-hour’s milling from Tom Belcher (see TOM BELCHER and CROPLEY, ante.), than five minutes of Sam’s punishment.
Samuel Elias was born on the 4th of April, 1775, in Petticoat Lane, Whitechapel. As we intend this work, so far as research will make it, to be reliable history, we shall omit the vamped up skirmishes of Pierce Egan, which he says “would fill a volume,” and come to the first authentic record of Sam’s fistic prowess.[102]
If, as we conjecture, Sam had fought the battle mentioned below, the claim, urged by Pierce Egan, for Harry Lee of “first introducing Sam to the circle of boxers,” is mere bosh. We read in “Boxiana” (vol. i. 301):
“Harry Lee, on his return home from Enfield, on the day that Belcher and Bourke (Joe Berks) were to have fought (October 12, 1801), witnessed Sam fighting with a man by the roadside, very much his superior as to size and weight, and from the excellence which he displayed in that contest, Lee distinguished those peculiar traits in the youthful tyro which have since proved his judgment correct, and matured by time and practice, placed Sam as a first-rate boxer, and stamped him a complete pugilistic hero.”
In “Fistiana” (we know not on what authority), this battle is elevated to the dignity of a regular affair, and indexed as “beat Baker, five guineas, Enfield, October 12, 1801.” Possibly Mr. Dowling, who had access to every source of information, and was quite another sort of scribe from “the Historian,” found warrant for the stake and for his chronology.
With the exception of one Shipley, who is represented as the “champion of the Broadway” (Whitechapel), whom he met for a trifling sum in 1803, we do not hear of Sam in the doings of the ring. Shipley is stated to have been fourteen stone, “a scientific fighter, and to have beaten every one hitherto opposed to him.” He laughed at the presumption of Sam in offering to box with him—and treated the Jew in the most contemptuous manner, by making Sam a present of five shillings to stand before him for only ten minutes. The Jew pocketed the cash with the utmost sang froid, and after a contest of fifteen minutes, Shipley experienced such severe punishment that he was compelled to acknowledge the vast superiority of the arm of this iron-like pugilist. Warren, an East End boxer of some note, was also beaten, with ease, by Dutch Sam.
Despite “Harry Lee’s patronage,” obtained in 1801, the Hebrew phenomenon’s entrance upon the regular stage seems to have been delayed till Tuesday, the 7th of August, 1804, when he met the renowned “Pride of Westminster,” Caleb Baldwin,[103] at Wood Green, near Hornsey, for a stake of twenty-five guineas a-side. “On the Monday night it had been resolved that Fairlop, in Essex, should be the battle-field, but late at night the amateurs were informed that the ‘beaks’ of the county were up and active to stop the fight. Accordingly a council was held, Wood Green, near Muswell Hill, agreed upon, and towards there equestrians and pedestrians made the best of their way. On their arrival a ring was quickly formed; but owing to the delay occasioned by their being obliged to change the scene of action, it was past one o’clock before the combatants entered. Caleb first made his appearance, accompanied by George Maddox and Bill Gibbons; Dutch Sam following with Wood the coachman, the unsuccessful opponent of Bittoon, for his second, and Puss as his bottle-holder; they immediately stripped and set-to. Odds two to one in favour of Caleb.”
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—A little sparring. Sam put in the first blow with his left hand, but without effect; Caleb returned with his right, and following it up, put in a desperate left-handed hit over Sam’s forehead, and brought him down. (Odds rose three to one in favour of Caleb.)
2.—Sam shifted, but Caleb stuck to him manfully, put in two well-aimed blows right and left, and brought his opponent down the second time.
3.—In this round Sam displayed more resolution, both put in some good hits, and Caleb’s eye being cut much, bled very freely. Sam undoubtedly had the best of the round. (Odds fell two to one on Caleb.)
8.—From the last related round to this was one continued succession of severe hitting on both sides. Every amateur allowed that better fighting never was displayed. Both were cut and bled profusely, but no one could attribute to either any advantage. (Betting now became even.)
9.—Caleb put in a successful blow in Sam’s temple, which completely knocked him down. Sam putting his hand to his face was considered ominous of great severity, and odds rose again on Caleb.
13.—Caleb supported the superiority he had gained in the last round until this time. Caleb thought Sam appeared weak, and followed him up; Sam, however, put in several severe blows. At the end of this round Caleb showed great irritability, but Sam appeared perfectly collected.
20.—Caleb, through his exertions, began to show symptoms of exhaustion, and to avoid his antagonist’s blows, frequently endeavoured to close, and while struggling for the fall, Sam by a peculiar mode struck his blows upwards, which told dreadfully in Caleb’s face.[104]
23.—For the last three rounds Caleb evinced great distress. After making a blow or two, he was so excessively weak, as scarcely to be able to keep his hands straight before him; he, however, still put in his blows, but devoid of any force. Sam, on the contrary, seemed to gain fresh vigour from his opponent’s exhaustion, and gave no quarter.
26.—Sam now began to display imbecility, and both hit each other blow after blow without making any impression, and so completely were both combatants served out, that neither came to their time. Sam, however appeared least bruised, and the odds were slightly betted in his favour. In this round Sam displayed all that heroism and manly conduct which characterise the courageous pugilist. Having put in a most severe blow on his opponent’s head, over his guard, which stunned him, he was prepared to follow it by a right-handed hit, but desisted, drawing back his hand on seeing his adversary was already falling. Every one present applauded the generosity of the action.
From this to the 37th round, which closed the contest, Caleb fell off in strength; and in his distress several times fell from losing his balance or missing a blow. He became sick, and finally the luckless champion of Westminster was carried off almost insensible. Sam towards the close fought upon the saving system, husbanding his strength. The reporter adds, “in this unequal state of things, it was undoubtedly very wrong to bring Caleb to face his man, who, poor fellow, came willingly up to the last, though he could not hold up his hands, much less hit a blow.” The ring was broken by Caleb’s friends, on a claim of “foul,” “but the umpires would not be imposed upon by so stale a trick, and declared Sam to be the conqueror.”
Caleb, assigning illness as the cause of his defeat, proposed a second trial with Sam. Accordingly in September a match was made for twenty guineas a-side. Sam however assigned “business reasons” for declining, and forfeited the deposit down.
On Saturday, the 27th April, 1805, there were three battles decided at Shepperton, Surrey. The first between Pearce, the Game Chicken, and Carte, of Birmingham; the second between Tom Belcher and O’Donnell; the third between our hero, and Britton of Bristol. For this battle of thirty rounds, Sam was, according to the report, totally unprepared; indeed he was positively inebriated when it began. Britton was introduced as “a yokel” who was ready to fight for a purse. A spectator says, “For the first four rounds Britton held a lead, when Sam was given to understand that his adversary was a plant upon him. Sam nodded his head, and forcing his man to fight, in a rapid rally dealt out such severe punishment that Britton went down almost done over. Sam’s conduct in this fight was most singular. After milling poor Britton down, he threw himself by his side, and patting him on the back, exclaimed “What, you are a plant are you? S’elp me Cot, I’ll soon plant you;” and once during the battle when Britton rushed wildly in, Sam, with the utmost contempt, threw up both his open hands, calling out to the spectators, “See the vay this plant is trying to kiss me,” and then stepping back quickly, he hit Britton clean off his legs!”
Sam’s fame now spread far and wide; but it would be utterly inconsistent with the character we would wish to impress upon this work, were we to omit a circumstance which occurred about this time, in which the pre-eminence of Dutch Sam was successfully disputed.
In the month of June, 1805, Sam was in training at Thames-Ditton, and on his way to town, over Wimbledon Common, he met one James Brown, a butcher of Wandsworth. A quarrel, how originating we have no account, ensued; and after some altercation, Sam, expecting to strike terror into his opponent, informed him he was “Dutch Sam.” The man very calmly answered as they stood in attitude, “Be you the devil as well, I’ll bang you, now I am at it,” and nobly he kept his word, for he brought Sam down with such terrible arguments every round, that Sam at the close of a dozen bouts, acknowledged he would have “no more of it”; adding that he was beaten for the first time in his life.[105] Such a casual turn-up as this proves surely that Brown was a natural boxer, as well as a plucky, game, strong, and active fellow; Sam’s reasons for not going on, need hardly be dwelt on, as he was in training to fight Tom Belcher. He was, however, very much mortified, and deservedly so, when the affair got into the newspapers.
After two postponements, Sam’s match with the celebrated Tom Belcher, was brought to an issue. In our memoir of John Gully, the reader will find the accident narrated which led to one of the postponements. Sam, it was thought by many, considered Belcher too clever as well as too big for him, and wished to shirk the encounter; when unexpectedly, at the latter end of January, Belcher received a challenge from Sam to fight for 100 guineas, naming the 8th of the following month, if suitable. Tom instantly accepted the offer, and his friends covered Sam’s hundred golden pieces, with the most sanguine hopes of the result.
Virginia Water was settled as the rendezvous, and accordingly, on Saturday morning, the 8th of February, 1806, all the amateurs attended, held a short consultation, and decided Sendon Heath, near the village of Thorpe, as the field of battle.[106] The combatants immediately repaired there, a rope ring was formed, and Dutch Sam entered, attended by Dan Mendoza for his second, and Tom Blake, bottle-holder. Tom Belcher soon followed with John Gully and Dick Whale. Betting was lively, but no odds offered. At one o’clock the heroes set-to.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Sam made a feint. Belcher put in a good hit; Sam returned it, and Belcher, putting in another blow, overreached himself and fell.
2.—Belcher put in two good hits right and left. Sam struck in return, but slightly; they closed, and both fell.
3.—Sam aimed a well-directed blow at his opponent’s ribs; Belcher parried well, and with his right put in a tolerably good hit; they closed and fell. (Odds five to four on Belcher.)
4.—A good round. Sam was very gay, went in and rallied; but Belcher parried most of his blows with his left hand, while he advantageously used his right. Many blows were exchanged, when Sam, by dint of superior activity, threw his antagonist. (Betting again even.)
5.—Belcher put in two slight blows, and in the struggle fell.
6.—An obstinately contested round, but much in favour of Tom. Sam went in and rallied; Belcher shifted, and stopped his hits, which were truly desperate, with great dexterity.
7.—Belcher rallied, and put in a most severe blow on the temple. Sam, however, stood firmly, and returned it on the eye; they closed, and both fell.
8.—Belcher’s eye evidently showed the force with which Sam’s blow had been struck. Some good blows exchanged, and Belcher threw his opponent. (Odds two to one in favour of Tom.)
9.—Belcher appeared fatigued. Sam ran in, avoided rallying, and by jobbing at his antagonist’s head and throat, knocked him down.
10.—Belcher made some ineffectual attempts at his adversary’s head. Sam rallied, and Belcher fell through weakness. (Odds now changed in favour of Sam seven to four.)
11.—Sam put in some good hits, which were well parried by Belcher. They closed and both fell, Sam uppermost.
12.—Belcher exerted himself, and appeared not so much distressed in his wind; all Belcher’s blows were very feeble, and he again fell seemingly exhausted. (Odds were now two to one on Sam.)
13.—Belcher recruited, and put in two good blows on his opponent’s head, Sam now appeared rather shy. Belcher went in and threw him.
14 and 15.—No blows either round. Sam still shy, and evinced fatigue. Bets level again, Belcher being known to be game.
16.—A good round. Sam, in a passion, went in and followed Belcher round the ring, who put in several good blows.
17.—On this round Tom displayed excellent science; threw in some good hits, but appeared very weak. (Odds six to five on Belcher.)
24.—Belcher kept up a slight superiority. Both combatants very much exhausted, and their hits made no impression.
25.—Sam very shy; did not face his adversary.
26.—Belcher immediately made play at the face, and put in a good hit, and terminated the round by throwing his opponent. (Odds rose in Tom’s favour.)
29.—Belcher in this round was so much exhausted, that all hopes of victory on his part were relinquished.
The contest was, however, spun out to the fifty-seventh round, when Belcher, severely punished, was forced to yield, not having strength enough to keep him on his legs.
REMARKS.—This was, without dispute, one of the best contested and most skilful battles that ever had been witnessed. Sam proved himself a truly desperate hitter, and a very powerful man; to the latter quality may principally be attributed his success, for notwithstanding Tom Belcher was this day unfortunate, he stands as one of the prettiest fighters of the day; great allowance also must be made for his indisposition. Sam fought greatly in the Mendoza style, and his having that excellent pugilist at his elbow was no mean advantage.
The friends of Belcher considered this battle by no means decisive of the men’s merits. Belcher himself urged that he was labouring under a debilitating disorder, and moreover that the notice was too short for proper preparation. They proposed to fight for 200 guineas, and named Tuesday, July 28th, 1807, as the day.[107] Moulsey Hurst was the fixture, and as early as nine o’clock in the morning a roped ring was formed, twenty-eight feet in diameter, but before twelve o’clock it was found that the space allotted to pedestrians would not hold the immense concourse attending, and two hours were employed in removing to a more convenient place. As soon as the ring was completed, Belcher entered, attended by Bill Warr and Watson; Dutch Sam soon followed, with Mendoza and Bittoon. In a few minutes the combatants set-to, both appearing in good confidence as to the result.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Not much ceremony in sparring. Sam made a hit at Tom’s ribs, which fell short, and Tom put in two desperate blows at his opponent’s head, and retreated. Both now sparred very cautiously; Sam rallied, they closed, and both fell, Sam uppermost.
2.—Sam threw away many hits, at length put in a good right-hand blow in Belcher’s loins, which Tom returned by a severe hit in the face. Cautious sparring again, and Sam put in a desperate blow in the neck, and brought his adversary down. (Even betting yet.)
3.—Sam stood up with great courage and confidence; both put in some good hits, which were dexterously parried. Sam went in, and closing threw Belcher again.
4.—Belcher showed some marks of severe blows in the last rally, and bled profusely at the nose; Sam was not without a few evidences of his opponent’s skill, his eye was dreadfully swelled. Belcher put in a very clean blow over his opponent’s guard, in the face, when Sam closed, and threw Tom with great violence.
5.—It would be difficult to describe the courage and skill displayed in this round. Sam rallied, some good hits exchanged, and they closed; again disengaged, and Belcher rallied, but Sam had a most decided advantage throughout the round, driving his opponent to all parts of the ring, and at length brought Belcher down by a very feeble blow. (Odds five to four on Sam, but betting shy.)
6.—This was also an excellently contested round. After some blows had been exchanged, Sam put in two forcible blows at Belcher’s head, which were well stopped, but he fell, apparently very weak. (Odds six to four on Sam.)
7.—Sam appeared to judge his distances very badly, frequently striking short blows; they closed very irregularly, but Sam threw Belcher, and pitched him on his head.
9.—In this round Belcher gained considerable advantage, hit his antagonist severely in the face right and left, and after another very irregular close, threw Sam as heavy a fall as he had before experienced. Sam, however, still remained the favourite.
10.—Sam made a long body hit, and threw his opponent.
11.—Sam made two attempts at Belcher’s head, both of which were dexterously parried. After Sam had thrown away several blows they closed, and Belcher threw him.
12.—Belcher appeared fresher, but was very cautious; he retreated round the ring; Sam followed him closely, and ran him down on the spot.
13.—Sam made two unsuccessful hits, which were again stopped, and Belcher returned one with great violence; by a slight hit Sam fell, and evinced great distress.
14.—On setting to, it was observed Sam had two black eyes, and Belcher showed severe punishment on his left side. Sam repeated a hit on this spot, and Belcher immediately closed and threw him.
15.—Belcher retreated; Sam followed; no fighting; a hugging close, and Belcher fell, seemingly from weakness. (Odds seven to four on Sam.)
16.—A good rallying round, and some good blows made. Sam put in a good hit in the throat, and they closed, and Belcher threw his opponent.
17 and 18.—No blow of importance.
19.—A hard fought round; each exerted himself to the utmost, and excellent blows were exchanged in a rally at arm’s length, until both fell, as though it had been preconcerted.
20.—Sam hit Belcher on the nose, but was thrown in closing.
21.—A desperate round, all rallying at arm’s length, each hitting and stopping. Sam had the advantage, Belcher being very weak.
26.—In this round Belcher exerted his utmost, followed his opponent with great courage, and displayed great skill in hitting and stopping.
27.—At the end of this round very faint hopes were entertained for Belcher’s success. Sam made play, rallied, and hit three severe blows on Tom’s left side; Tom, however, threw him. (Odds three to one on Sam.)
28.—Greatly in favour of Sam, who put in several severe blows on Belcher’s head, and he fell.
29.—A good round. Sam still kept the superiority; Belcher’s blows were too feeble to make any impression. Sam threw him.
30.—Sam appeared in great spirits, and as fresh as ever, but his eyes were almost closed. He rallied, and Tom, being almost exhausted, was knocked down. (Odds four to one on Sam.)
31.—Every one felt commiseration for Tom. His exertions to maintain the fight received applause, and were truly courageous; but Sam, elated at the state to which he had reduced his opponent, mustering all fire, beat him out of the ring.
32.—Belcher struck twice, but very feebly, and in vainly endeavouring to rally, fell.
33.—Tom had no chance whatever, his blows were perfectly useless. He fell without receiving a blow.
34.—This was the last round, and it unfortunately created a dispute. Belcher made a blow at Sam, and fell on his knees; Sam made a hit, intending to strike his adversary while on his legs and before his hands reached the earth; Sam’s blow reached him while on his knees. A cry of “Foul” was immediately raised, particularly by those on the wrong side with their bets, and the matter was referred to the two umpires. One of these declared it “fair,” the other “foul.” Mr. Jackson now stepped forward and explained that a man was not to be considered down until his hand had reached the floor, consequently the blow was fair, and Sam must be acknowledged the conqueror. “Notwithstanding this flowing declaration of Jackson’s,” says the reporter, “the umpires, Captain Barclay and the Hon. Berkeley Craven, agreed to refer the matter to Lord Say and Sele. His lordship declined giving a decision, when Lord Archibald Hamilton was immediately solicited, and he undertook the office of judge of appeal. Many meetings of the amateurs took place, and the subject of this foul play was warmly discussed. The rules of Broughton and all the first rate authorities were adduced, but the only case considered as in point throughout the annals of pugilism, was that of Humphries and Mendoza, in the battle they fought at Stilton, in May, 1789 (see p. 73); but from the irritability of Mendoza, the battle in that case was renewed. An offer was now made to Sam to draw stakes, but this was refused, on the plea that, if even Belcher was on his knees, he was doing his best still on the defensive. At length it was agreed on all sides that there should be a new trial.”
The third meeting accordingly was arranged for the 21st August, 1807. The men met at Lowfield Common, near Crawley, Sussex, in a thirty feet ring upon the turf. In the articles it was specified that the following article of Broughton’s rules should be decisive:—
“7.—That no person is to hit his adversary when down, or seize him by the ham, the breeches, or any part below the waist: a man on his knees to be reckoned down.”
Sam was seconded by Mendoza, and Bittoon was his bottle-holder. Tom Belcher was attended by Gully and Ward.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Considerable anxiety was manifested upon the combatants setting to, and the interested spectators were much agitated with hopes and fears, upon the decision of this third contest between two such distinguished pugilists. Sam made a feint with his left hand, and endeavoured with his right to hit Tom’s ribs; but they were stopped, and Belcher returned feebly with his left hand; in closing, Sam was underneath.
2.—Sam going in to rally. Tom hit him right and left, and likewise stopped two blows. In closing, Belcher was thrown. (Betting now commenced—five to two on Sam.)
3.—Sam extremely cautious till he had got his proper distance, when, after making a left-handed feint, he put in a terrible blow under Belcher’s left eye that brought the claret out in abundance, and its effects were so severe that Tom was confused, and, upon exchanging a hit, was thrown. (Three to one on Sam.)
4.—Both rallying, and exchanging hits at arm’s length; no advantage on either side; but the strength of Sam was prominent in closing. He threw his opponent.
5.—A most excellent round, but rather in favour of Belcher. Sam rallied, but without effect, as Belcher hit him off. Notwithstanding, Sam closed, disengaged, and commenced another rally, when Tom put in a most tremendous blow upon the left eye of his opponent, and also threw him a heavy fall.
6.—Desperate fighting; both exhausted, and fell together.
7.—Belcher put in two slight hits; when they closed irregularly and fell.
8.—Rallying and good science on both sides; hitting and stopping in good style, till they both fell. Belcher manifested first weakness.
9.—Sam incorrect in his distances; Belcher gave him a severe fall. (Four to one on Sam.)
10.—Belcher hit his opponent slightly, when Sam threw him.
11.—Sam, full of strength, rallied desperately, which was followed up by Tom, but in favour of the Jew. Sam’s blows were dreadful, and Belcher’s face and body suffered materially. He fell from weakness.
12.—No blows given. Tom ran himself down. (All betters, but no one sanguine enough to take them.)
13.—Sam followed the style of his opponent, and ran himself down.
14.—Belcher somewhat shy from the severe beating he had received. He fell from two of Sam’s right-handed body blows.
15.—Belcher made every effort to put in some good hits, but they were too feeble to do execution. He fell from weakness, while rallying.
16.—Of no importance, except both the combatants, after closing, appeared to fall from exhaustion.
17.—Belcher, in attempting to hit his opponent, was stopped, and, in closing, Tom fell between his adversary’s arms on his knees. Sam, who was strongly impressed with the articles, cleverly held up his hands, to show that no foul blows should put an end to this contest.
18.—Sam, in closing, got his opponent’s head under his arm, and fibbed Belcher so severely that he dropped.
19.—Tom fell on his knees; but Sam was on his guard, and only smiled.
20.—Sam beat his opponent to the ropes with considerable ease.
21.—Belcher still giving way under Sam’s superior strength.
22.—Belcher, rather recovered, obtained some little advantage.
23.—Belcher, still livelier, contended spiritedly, till they both fell and lay along on the ground.
24.—Belcher completely astonished his friends by his fine game and resolution, and obtained advantage in a desperate rally, when they both fell, quite exhausted.
25.—Tom’s excellence in the science of boxing was truly conspicuous in this round; his blows were well directed, but not effective.
26.—Sam, to avoid Tom’s favourite right-handed body blow, threw himself on his face.
27.—Sam received a heavy fall, after some irregular fighting.
28.—Belcher claimed considerable respect and attention, from the fine style in which he gained the superiority over his opponent, and also in giving Sam a very severe fall.
29 and 30.—Good rallies took place in both these rounds; rather in favour of Belcher.
From the thirty-first to the thirty-sixth round it was evident to the spectators that Belcher could not win. The onslaughts of Sam were tremendous in the extreme. He followed his opponent to all parts of the ring, putting in dreadful facers and body blows, dealing out punishment till his brave opponent fell, quite exhausted. His brother Jem took him out of the ring in the most feeble state, and placed him in a gentleman’s chariot. It was on the left side, from the kidneys to the crown of the head, where Tom was so severely beaten. Sam’s principal injury was a blow under the left eye, and some trifling marks. The Dutchman dressed himself with perfect indifference before he left the ring. The superiority of Sam’s hitting, and the severity of his blows, were visible throughout this battle. Belcher’s skill was apparent, but there was no comparison in the effectiveness of the two men’s mode of fighting.
Bill Cropley, as yet unconquered, challenged Dutch Sam for fifty guineas, and was accepted. The battle was fixed for April 5, 1808, the same day as that between Belcher and Dogherty, but the officers from Bow Street, appeared with special warrants, and took Sam and his opponent into custody; they were then bound over to keep the peace in four contiguous counties named in the bonds.
A new arrangement was therefore entered into, and on the 10th May, 1808, after Gully’s memorable defeat of Gregson, Sam and Cropley entered the enclosure and immediately set-to. Cropley stood over Sam in an alarming manner, and in the first round caught Sam heavily on the eye. On this success, however, he never improved; he tried every manœuvre to get at his head again, but ineffectually; Sam always got away, and punished him cuttingly for following him up. In twenty-five minutes Cropley was a piteous spectacle, and by the advice of his seconds, gave in.
Sam’s irregularity of living, and what he called his “gin training,” began now to tell upon his wonderful constitution; and though his name is of continual recurrence in affairs of the ring during two years, it is not until a quarrel again brought him within the ropes in May, 1810, that Sam publicly doffed his shirt. A series of bickerings and slight disputes had led to an ill feeling between Sam and a tradesman of the name of Medley, for many years after known in sporting circles. These at last came to a crisis in a challenge from Medley, to fight for 200 guineas, Medley putting down his own money. The affair created immense excitement at the time. The Daily Advertiser thus notices Sam’s opponent: “Ben Medley, as he is called by his intimates, is a muscular man, some twenty pounds heavier than Samuels (Elias). He has never before entered the ring for a stake, but fame records great things of him in resenting a personal injury, and as a setter-to with the gloves his excellence is well known at the Fives Court. Sam has regarded this fame so much, that, to avoid risking a chance, he preferred to forfeit some time ago, because he did not think himself in good condition at the appointed time.”
Famed Moulsey Hurst, on the 31st May, 1810, was crowded to excess, and it was with great difficulty that the ring could be kept clear. At one o’clock the champions entered, Sam waited on by Harry Lee and Puss; Joe Ward and Tom Cribb seconded Medley. They were not long in stripping. The betting varied, but the current price was two to one on Sam.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—After a little sparring Sam put in a left-handed hit, which Medley stopped cleverly; they closed, but disengaged themselves. Medley stopped Sam’s left again, closed, and threw his opponent.
2.—Medley led off. They closed and broke away. Sam got in a left-hander on the ribs, and following it up, forced a rally, in which he caught Medley a tremendous blow on the temple. Medley fought hurriedly, and slipt down.
3.—Medley appeared quite confused from the violence of the blow on his temple. It evidently had taken much of the fight out of him. He, however, stood up with courage, and rallied. Sam stopped with great dexterity, and by a well planted hit under the chin, knocked Medley off his legs. (Odds four to one on Sam.)
4.—Medley rallied, but Sam brought him down by a body blow.
5.—Medley struck; Sam parried, and threw in right and left; both hits told. They closed, and Sam threw Medley by dint of superior strength.
6.—Medley’s eye was greatly swollen; he appeared shy, retreated. Sam, however, waited for his coming up, and threw in a violent blow on the face, which re-echoed again; they closed, and Sam threw Medley again.
7.—Sam quite gay, went in, and putting in a most tremendous blow in the breast, brought his opponent down.
8.—Medley bled profusely. Sam was coming in to rally, when Medley knocked him down and laughed at him; but his countenance was ghastly, from the tremendous blows he had received in the face.
9.—Sam appeared angry, ran in, and missed his distance. Medley displayed a great deal of science, but was at last knocked down.
10.—Medley was making play, when Sam knocked him down.
11.—An excellent round, and the longest in the battle. Medley showed weakness, yet he put in a good hit on Sam’s nose, who directly knocked him down.
12.—It would be impossible to describe the spectacle Medley’s face and head exhibited, the blood flowing in all directions. Before any blow was struck Medley fell from weakness.
13.—Medley was again making play, when Sam put in a severe blow in the ribs, and Medley again fell. His side now began to swell.
14.—Sam slipped, but it was thought a trick to gain wind.
16.—Sam went in and rallied. Medley very weak, but gamely bored in upon Sam, who continued plying right and left until Medley fell.
Notwithstanding Medley was in this dreadful state, he continued the fight for thirty-three more rounds; but nature being at length exhausted, and his wounds bleeding beyond the skill of his second’s stopping, his brother declared him conquered.
Sam in this battle displayed great science, and his mercy to his opponent did him still greater honour. Medley showed game, but his hits were too light for a fighter, being in fact the taps of the sparring school.
Sam now resolved to retire from the ring as a principal. He was thirty-five years of age, and had always fought what is termed “up-hill;” that is, men of greater weight and size than himself. It would have been well for him had he adhered to this resolution, as we shall presently see.
Five years had elapsed during which Sam’s intemperance was the subject of regret among his acquaintance, when Bill Nosworthy, the baker, a wrestler and boxer of some repute with the “dead men” of the metropolis, offered himself to Sam’s notice; by whom, as we have already said, the poet’s warning was as unheeded as it was probably unknown:—
“Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; For, in my youth, I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood: Nor did I, with unbashful forehead, woo The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly.”
This, Sam’s final ring encounter, took place at Moulsey, on Tuesday, December 8th, 1814. Four to one had been betted on Sam previous to this fight, and he was backed, when fighting, till near the end of the battle, by the best judges in the pugilistic circles.
This defeat (which will be found detailed in the Appendix to Period IV., under NOSWORTHY), ruined him, and he sunk into dejection, misery, and want. Like many others of the headstrong race of hard drinkers, he was infatuated with the idea that nothing in the shape of excess could harm his iron frame. Indeed, Sam had been heard insanely to boast that he could train on “three glasses of gin, three times a day.” What wonder, then, that he fell? Excess, pride, and conceit destroyed his vigour and stamina, and on this occasion he might exclaim,—
“I’ve touched the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting.”
A few anecdotes from contemporary sources may show Sam’s fistic capabilities even in his decadence. Passing through Wapping, one evening, when it was almost dark, he observed a poor Jew and a sailor fighting, and, upon enquiring the cause, he was soon recognized by the unfortunate Mordecai, who had been several times floored by the rough son of Neptune. Sam stooped to pick up his Israelitish brother, when the latter whispered in his ear, “So help my Cot, Sam, I can’t fight any more.” “Hold your tongue, you fool,” replied Sam, at the same time falling down by his side: “you get up and pretend to pick me up: I’ll let fly at him.” This imposition was practised with success, and Sam, staggering on to his legs with well feigned grogginess, went bang in with his one-two at the Jack Tar, in such style that he saluted mother earth in a twinkling. The sailor, upon getting upon his pins, roughly exclaimed, “D—— my ——, this ain’t the man I was fighting with—it’s another. Shiver me, but his blows are like the kicks of a horse—I’ll have no more of this.” He instantly sheered off, while Sam and his friend dropped into a neighbouring gin-shop to laugh over the trick.
It is impossible correctly to ascertain the number of bye-battles in which Sam was engaged; but it is certainly within compass to assert, that he fought above one hundred.
In the vicinity of St. George’s Fields, a stout fellow of the name of Jones, a painter, and a neighbour of Dutch Sam’s, who valued himself upon his milling qualities, publicly declared that he was the champion of that quarter, and frequently had importuned Sam to have a set-to; the latter always declined. It happened one evening that Sam was regaling himself at a public-house, and glass succeeding glass of Deady’s brilliant fluid, had nearly obliterated worldly things from Sam’s pericranium, when Jones, learning the circumstance, entered the premises, and endeavoured to provoke him to a combat, but in vain. At length Jones struck him. This was too much, the staggering Sam returned it, and inquired “whether he was doing right or wrong to defend himself?” An adjournment to the street took place, when Sam, notwithstanding his intoxicated state, appeared to have the advantage, until Jones, seizing him by the hair of his head, threw him down, and struck him violently upon the stones. This unmanly act appeared to have a most unusual and electric effect, for it awoke Sam to a recollection of what he was about; and, to the surprise of the spectators, the Israelite started up exclaiming, “Take care, take care, I’m coming now!” put in such a bodier as nearly deprived Jones of his breath, following it up by a slashing hit over his eye, which levelled the brute in his congenial mud. Utterly flabbergasted by the severity and impetuosity of Sam’s hitting, he fairly bolted. Jones weighed thirteen stone six pounds; and, though destitute of propriety, was not without pretensions to science; this lesson taught him summarily the folly of vain boasting, and the superiority of a master in the art.
We cannot omit one bright trait in Sam’s character, and this was his honest determination to win his fight if he could. We read in his obituary notice, “Sam’s integrity was a bright jewel; it was undoubtedly of the first water; he was once tampered with by a large offer to lose a fight (Egan says 1000_l._), but he at once disclosed the affair to his backers. If all our pugilists had displayed the like honesty, the ring would be in a very different state.”
Sam’s constitution originally was of the finest quality, and his strength, for his stature and weight, amazing. The day he fought with Cropley he asserted that he was able to “floor an ox.” The Game Chicken once affronted Sam, when the latter informed that formidable boxer that he could not beat him in a quarter of an hour. In private life, Sam possessed a good deal of comic humour; and he passed much of his latter time in the service of Saunders, the equestrian circus keeper, of Bartholomew Fair notoriety.
He suffered considerably in his illness, and died in the London Hospital, on Wednesday, July 3, 1816, in the forty-second year of his age. He was buried on the 4th of the same month, in the Jews’ burying ground, Whitechapel.
As a boxer, “take him for all in all,” while he lived he had no equal; but latterly his stamina was utterly ruined by excessive indulgence in ardent spirits.
Chapter VI
GEORGE MADDOX (KNOWN IN HIS LATER BATTLES AS “THE VETERAN”)—1792‒1809.
As a connecting link between the Second and Third Periods, George Maddox furnishes a career of some interest. He was a civil, facetious, illiterate man, but possessed of manly courage and forbearance. “Though,” says one who knew him, “George Maddox fought more battles than any man I knew of his time, he never had a spark of resentment in his composition. His hardihood and resolution in the battle were not more remarkable than the coolness, almost stoical, with which he spoke of victory or defeat, in his own natural and rough manner. He seemed satisfied, that having done his best, the best could do no more, and generally spoke strongly of the ‘goodness’ of the men who had given in to him.” Maddox was born in Tothill Fields, Westminster, in 1756. In his fiftieth year he entered the lists with the powerful Tom Cribb, then in the prime of his youth and freshness, and, after fighting an hour and a half, the odds were still in his favour. Seventy-six rounds and two hours and ten minutes of courageous fighting passed before “the Veteran” cried “enough!” Once more in his fifty-fifth year he met Bill Richmond, the black (whom he had formerly beaten in three rounds), and after an hour yielded to exhaustion. The spirit did not surrender, but nature left him.[108] There can be nothing added to this but the record of George’s boxing career.
George Maddox was as modest and independent as he was courageous. He never hung about sporting public-houses or low tap-rooms, and never sponged upon gentlemen, nor sought the patronage of the great. After a memorable fight he sunk into his desired obscurity, following his humble occupation, and content with his moderate earnings, as an industrious costermonger, a calling much more lucrative and numerous than in our times. Indeed the “donkey dragoons” of Westminster, as they were then termed, formed a formidable squadron; and, among the lower classes, the proprietor of a “neddy and tumbler”—as in the days of slang a donkey and cart were termed—was often a velveteened fancy-dressed person with gold as well as silver and copper in his pocket, or “skin,” a taste for “the Fancy,” an attendant at every sport, the owner of a “tyke” or two, and a “dealer in curiosities,”—rats, squirrels, ferrets, badgers, an occasional mongoose, and fancy “pets,” coming particularly within the range of his tastes and trading.
After many bye-battles, Maddox’s first regular contest was with Symonds (the Ruffian). This took place at Datchet, near Windsor, on Saturday, December 4, 1792. See SYMONDS, ante, 130.
This battle stands unparalleled for desperation and unflinching resolution in the annals of pugilism. The spot first named was Langley Broom, in Buckinghamshire, but magisterial interference preventing the rencontre, “the wayfarers crossed the Thames carrying their boards and quartering with them, and in a very few minutes erected a stage,” in the renowned Shaksperian “Datchet Mead.” We must here remark, that Maddox was two inches shorter and more than two stone lighter than Symonds, to appreciate the battle which followed. There is no report worthy of transcription of this tremendous fight which is described in generalities. “Columns of our paper would not suffice to detail the rallies, the knock-down blows, the alternate advantages and the gluttony which marked this surprising battle. ‘The Ruffian,’ who was nearly two stone heavier than his antagonist, was by far the most beaten, and totally blind, from the closing of both his eyes, before he would allow himself to be carried from off the stage. Maddox, of course, was not quite in so desperate a condition, as he had the best of the hitting in the rallies, especially towards the latter rounds. It was stated by an experienced amateur that Maddox put in two, sometimes three blows to Symonds’s one throughout the contest,” which lasted two hours, during which 100 rounds were fought.
On Monday, February 10, 1794, Maddox met Hooper, the tinman, but after a game fight of nearly an hour, surrendered to that formidable boxer. (See HOOPER, ante, p. 107.)
Isaac Bittoon, a Jew, known for many years after to the visitors of the Fives Court and sparring saloons of the metropolis, was Maddox’s next opponent. Bittoon’s qualifications as a boxer will be found noticed under his name. The battle came off on Monday, December 13th, 1802, on Wimbledon Common. The ground first named was Wormwood Scrubs, but “on arriving there a goodly posse of the Bow Street runners, with a number of special constables, had possession of the ground. A council of war now directed that each man’s party should separate and meet again at the five-mile-stone on the Edgware road, to elude the vigilance of the myrmidons of the law. When George and his friends reached the rendezvous, no Jew was there, and they waited two hours in anxious expectation. All hopes of a battle that day were given up, when a messenger on horseback arrived with the information that Bittoon was waiting for his opponent at Wimbledon Common, when off went gig, cart, curricle, carriage, buggy, and tumbler, over Putney Bridge, on a visit once again to the shrine of Jerry Abbershaw. At a quarter before three the pilgrims arrived, the ring was formed, and precisely at five minutes before three they set-to. Bittoon was seconded by Lyons, and Maddox by Joe Ward.
“For the first three rounds the Jew had a clear advantage, having three successive times brought down his opponent at the close of the round, but not without some sharp returns. The combatants manœuvred, then laid aside science for a display of unflinching courage, forcing the fighting rapidly, taking and giving heavily; but in this the agility of Maddox and his superior quickness in advancing and retreating brought the odds to seven to four in his favour. From the sixty-eighth to the seventy-third round, Bittoon recovered strength and well supported the contest. In the seventy-fourth round he threw Maddox heavily, who was also sadly beaten both in the face and body. It was now getting dark, and Maddox persevered to make it a ‘draw.’ Maddox’s brother and friends now entered the ring and stopped the battle, stating that no one could see fair. A general engagement with sticks and fists ensued, to clear the ring. A parley ensued, when it was agreed the battle should be postponed to a future day; the men having been engaged one hour and ten minutes, and fought seventy-four rounds, the seventy-fifth being interrupted as above stated.” The reporter adds, “in the fight both men displayed ‘bottom’ unequalled in the annals of pugilism.” At a further conference between the backers of the men, they humanely decided, that two such brave and evenly matched men should not meet again for the same stake, but each have his backer’s stake-money.
George, now, as on former occasions, like Caleb Baldwin and others of his time, returned to his humble and laborious calling. He however, more majorum, attended whenever there was a “good thing” on. Thus, on the 23rd January, 1804, he was present at the celebrated fight of the Game Chicken and Joe Berks, on Putney Common. The great event disposed of, a purse was got up, and Maddox, then called “the Veteran,” offered himself as a candidate. One Seabrook, a dustman, and a bounceable sort of chap, long known as a second rate pugilist, was induced by the offer of four pounds to enter the ring with George. The affair was a farce, Maddox punished Seabrook all over the ring for three rounds, when he fell out of the ropes and declared his arm was broken. “No sooner, however, had he nibbed the gull (Anglicè pocketed the money), than he boastingly swore he was not the least hurt.”[109] “Pancratia,” p. 199.
George’s day’s work was not, however, yet over. Bill Richmond, an athletic American black, of whom we shall hear more hereafter, who had served his time to a cabinet maker at York, and was at this time footman to the well-known Lord Camelford, having expressed himself desirous of a “shy” with a professed pugilist, was indulged by the deposit of a small stake. The affair, like that of Seabrook’s, was of three rounds only. In the last round Maddox caught Richmond an electrifying blow under the left eye, which in the words of the reporter, “so completely queered his ogle, that he at once gave in.”
George, though now in his fiftieth year, was always ready to try “a novice.” At a meeting at Wood Green, near Hornsey, on Monday, June 7, 1805, a subscription purse was offered of twenty-five guineas, twenty for the winner, five for the loser. For this Tom Cribb, “the Black Diamond,” offered himself. The battle will be detailed under Cribb. His after-renowned opponent, besides the advantages of youth, was two inches taller than George. Maddox fought like a hero, and gave in with reluctance, after two hours and ten minutes’ combat, with a stalwart and game youngster with stamina fresh and unwasted. Maddox fell gloriously, and Young Cribb, hitherto unknown, by this contest acquired a pugilistic fame that soon developed itself, and ultimately led him to the championship.
On Monday, June 5th, 1806, three boxing matches were decided at Padnal Corner, Epping Forest. The second of these was between George Maddox, “the Veteran,” and Coady,[110] an Irish boxer, of great pretence, for forty guineas. Maddox was considered “gone by,” and Coady made the favourite. We copy the report from the Daily Advertiser: “Maddox fought in the old style, that of rallying,[111] and in a great measure giving the first powerful hit in each round. Coady always waited for him to begin, and generally hit in return successfully in the rallies. His blows did not, however, seem to tell so much or to be put in so sharply as his adversary’s. After the combat had lasted half an hour there was some confusion, and the ring was broken in, but whether by design or accident could not be discovered. The combatants were, however, taken away until another ring was formed, when they again set-to. The combat lasted another three quarters of an hour, when a detachment of the 10th Light Dragoons appeared, headed by a magistrate, who, being also headborough, entered the ring, and with all the moderation and gentlemanly affability becoming his authority addressed the amateurs, informing them they must disperse in the name of the law, or he should be under the necessity of calling in military aid to enforce his mission. Upon this they all retired about a mile further, when the cavalry disappearing they formed another ring.” The name of this magisterial specimen of the suaviter in modo et fortiter re has not been recorded by the admiring reporter, or we would willingly have perpetuated it. Mr. Coady was now called to appear and face his man; but in the interval his eyes had nearly closed. “He refused to enter the ring,” says the report, “so the battle was declared a drawn one.”[112] That there was no further interruption is shown by the fact that there was a third battle, between O’Donnell and Smith. (See O’DONNELL in Appendix.)
Maddox once more retired to his vocation as a street dealer in fish, fruit, flowers, and other commodities then generally hawked through the scattered suburbs, now solidified into the enormous mass of the mighty metropolis—in plain prose, he followed his vocation of a costermonger, and was a noted character among the Westminster fraternity. Meantime, Bill Richmond, his old antagonist, had won himself a name and position among the list of boxers, and the blot on his ’scutcheon, from his early and summary defeat by Maddox, so sorely troubled him that he longed to rub it out by another tourney. He challenged the veteran, who accepted the defiance. They met August 9, 1809. John Gully seconded the veteran, and Bill Gibbons, his Westminster “pal,” was his bottle-holder. Yet one more illustration of the soundness of Captain Godfrey’s axiom, not to “trust battle to a waning age,” was given. Maddox in his fifty-fourth year, after fifty-two rounds, reluctantly gave in to his younger, heavier, and stronger adversary.
In all the numerous contests in which Maddox had been engaged, his courage was pre-eminent. As a pugilist, he was conspicuous for determined rallying and quick hitting; and, though well acquainted with the science, he relied more on his true game than strictly following the principles of the art. It is but justice to his memory to state, according to the best information upon the subject, that pugilism was never disgraced by any of his public encounters, nor his character ever stained by making a cross.
A short time previous to his death a benefit was got up for “the veteran” at the One Tun Room, Jermyn Street, which was well attended, and at which the first pugilists exhibited specimens of self-defence; among whom several of his old opponents were not backward in assisting him by their efforts, as Cribb, Bittoon, O’Donnell, Richmond, etc.
The death of this courageous boxer was the consequence of an accident. The pipes (in those days hollowed trunks of elm trees) which conveyed water through the Borough Market were under repair, and the dark street “for in those days we had not got to gas,” left with a yawning chasm. Into one of these, while repairing to market before dawn, poor George was precipitated; he received a compound fracture of the thigh, erysipelas supervened, and our hero, for hero he was though humble, closed his career in St. Thomas’s Hospital. George was buried, by the subscriptions of some of his brother boxers in the churchyard of St. George the Martyr.