Pugilistica: The History of British Boxing, Volume 1 (of 3) / Containing Lives of the Most Celebrated Pugilists; Full Reports of Their Battles from Contemporary Newspapers, With Authentic Portraits, Personal Anecdotes, and Sketches of the Principal Patrons of the Prize Ring, Forming a Complete History of the Ring from Fig and Broughton, 1719-40, to the Last Championship Battle Between King and Heenan, in December 1863

by Henry Downes Miles

APPENDIX TO PERIOD IV.

CAPTAIN ROBERT BARCLAY, ALLARDYCE OF URY.[^[164]]

A History of Boxing without mention of Captain Barclay would be incomplete. As a thoroughbred sportsman, who practised what he studied, and achieved what he attempted, his name will be long preserved. Whether following the hounds after fox or deer, labouring to improve the system of agriculture, displaying his extraordinary feats of pedestrianism, exercising his judgment in training men for foot races and pugilistic combats, or in his encouragement of Highland sports and pastimes, Captain Barclay was always foremost. His knowledge of the capabilities of the human frame was complete, and his researches and practical experiments to ascertain the physical powers of man would have reflected credit on our most enlightened and persevering physiologists. The sporting pursuits of Captain Barclay were scientific, and his plans so well matured that his judgment generally proved successful.

Robert Barclay, Allardyce of Ury, succeeded his father in the eighteenth year of his age. He was born in August, 1779; and, at eight years of age, was sent to England to receive his education. He remained four years at Richmond School, and three years at Brixton Causeway. His academical studies were completed at Cambridge.

The Captain’s favourite pursuits were, the art of agriculture as the serious business of his life, and manly sports as his amusement. The improvement of his estates occupied much of his attention, and, by pursuing the plan adopted by his immediate predecessor, the value of his property was greatly augmented. His love of athletic exercises was seconded by the strong conformation of his body and great muscular strength. His usual rate of travelling on foot was six miles an hour, and to walk from twenty to thirty miles before breakfast was a favourite amusement. His style of walking was to bend forward the body, and throw its weight on the knees; his step short, and his feet raised only a few inches from the ground. Any person trying this plan will find his pace quickened, and he will walk with more ease to himself, and be better able to endure the fatigue of a long journey than by walking perfectly erect, which throws too much weight of the body on the ankle joints. With sound sense Captain Barclay tells us he always wore thick shoes and lambs’-wool stockings, to preserve the feet from injury, and impart a lightness and activity when for a time a lighter shoe is adopted. The Captain possessed uncommon strength in his arms. In April, 1806, while in Suffolk with the 23rd regiment, he offered a bet of 1,000 guineas that he would lift from the ground the weight of half a ton. He tried the experiment, and lifted twenty-one half hundred weights. He afterwards, with a straight arm, threw a half hundred weight the distance of eight yards, and over his head the same weight a distance of five yards.

The following list contains the most prominent public and private pedestrian exploits performed by Captain Barclay.

The Captain, when seventeen years of age, entered into a match with a gentleman in London, in the month of August, 1796, to walk six miles within an hour, fair toe and heel, for 100 guineas, which he accomplished on the Croydon Road.

In 1798 he performed the distance of seventy miles in fourteen hours, beating Fergusson, the celebrated walking clerk, by several miles.

In December, 1799, he accomplished one hundred and fifty miles in two days, having walked from Fenchurch Street in London, to Birmingham, round by Cambridge.

The Captain walked sixty-four miles in twelve hours, including the time for refreshment, in November, 1800, as a sort of preparatory trial to a match of walking ninety miles in twenty-one hours and a half, for a bet of 500 guineas, with Mr. Fletcher, of Ballingshoe. In training, the Captain caught cold and gave up the bet. In 1801 he renewed the above match for 2,000 guineas. He accomplished sixty-seven miles in thirteen hours, but, having drank some brandy, he became instantly sick, and unable to proceed. He consequently gave up the bet, and the umpire retired; but, after two hours’ rest, he was so far recovered that he had time enough left to have performed his task.

CAPTAIN ROBERT BARCLAY (Allardyce of Ury).
From a Miniature, 1798. Ætatis 19.

Captain Barclay felt so confident that he could walk ninety miles in twenty-one hours and a half, that he again matched himself for 5,000 guineas. In his training to perform this feat he went one hundred and ten miles in nineteen hours, notwithstanding it rained nearly the whole of the time. This performance may be deemed the greatest on record, being at the rate of upwards of one hundred and thirty-five miles in twenty-four hours.

On the 10th of November, 1801, he started to perform the above match, between York and Hull. The space of ground was a measured mile, and on each side of the road a number of lamps were placed. The Captain was dressed in a flannel shirt, flannel trowsers, and nightcap, lambs’-wool stockings, and thick soled leather shoes. He proceeded till he had gone seventy miles, scarcely varying in regularly performing each round of two miles in twenty-five minutes and a half, taking refreshment at different periods. He commenced at twelve o’clock at night, and performed the whole distance by twenty-two minutes four seconds past eight o’clock on Tuesday evening, being one hour, seven minutes, and fifty-six seconds within the specified time. He could have continued for several hours longer if necessary.

In December the Captain did one hundred miles in nineteen hours, over the worst road in the kingdom. Exclusive of stoppages, the distance was performed in seventeen hours and a half, or at the rate of about five miles and three-quarters each hour on the average.

As an additional instance of the Captain’s strength, he performed a most laborious undertaking, merely for his amusement, in August, 1808. Visiting at Colonel Murray Farquharson’s house in Aberdeenshire, he went out at five in the morning to enjoy the sport of grouse shooting, when he travelled at least thirty miles. He returned to the Colonel’s house by five in the afternoon, and after dinner set off for Ury, a distance of sixty miles, which he walked in eleven hours, without stopping once to refresh. He attended to his ordinary business at home, and in the afternoon walked to Laurencekirk, sixteen miles, where he danced at a ball during the night, and returned to Ury by seven in the morning. He did not yet return to bed, but occupied the day in partridge shooting. He had thus travelled not less than one hundred and thirty miles, supposing him to have gone only eight miles in the course of the day’s shooting at home, and also danced at Laurencekirk, without sleeping, or having been in bed for two nights and nearly three days.

In October, 1808, Captain Barclay made a match with Mr. Webster, a gentleman of great celebrity in the sporting world, by which Captain Barclay engaged himself to go on foot a thousand miles in a thousand successive hours, at the rate of a mile in each and every hour, for a bet of 1,000 guineas, to be performed at Newmarket Heath, and to start on the following 1st of June. In the intermediate time the Captain was in training by Mr. Smith, of Owston, in Yorkshire. To enter into a detail of his matchless performance would be tiresome; suffice to say, he started at twelve o’clock at night on Thursday, the 1st of June, 1809, in good health and high spirits. His dress from the commencement varied with the weather. Sometimes he wore a flannel jacket, sometimes a loose great coat, with strong shoes, and two pairs of coarse stockings, the outer pair boot stockings without feet, to keep his legs dry. He walked in a sort of lounging gait, without any apparent extraordinary exertion, scarcely raising his feet two inches above the ground. During a great part of the time the weather was very rainy, but he felt no inconvenience from it. Indeed, wet weather was favourable to his exertions, as, during dry weather, he found it necessary to have a water-cart to go over the ground to keep it cool, and prevent it becoming too hard. Towards the conclusion of the performance, it was said, Captain Barclay suffered much from a spasmodic affection of his legs, so that he could not walk a mile in less than twenty minutes; he, however, ate and drank well, and bets were two to one and five to two on his completing his journey within the time prescribed. About eight days before he finished, the sinews of his right leg became much better, and he continued to pursue his task in high spirits; consequently bets were ten to one in his favour, in London, at Tattersall’s, and other sporting circles.

On Wednesday, July the 12th, Captain Barclay completed his arduous undertaking. He had till four p.m. to finish his task, but he performed the last mile by a quarter of an hour after three in perfect ease and great spirits, amidst an immense crowd of spectators. The influx of company had so much increased on Sunday, it was recommended that the ground should be roped in. To this, however, Captain Barclay objected, saying he did not like such parade. The crowd, however, became so great on Monday, and he had experienced so much interruption, that he was prevailed upon to allow this precaution to be taken. For the last two days he appeared in higher spirits, and performed his last mile with apparently more ease and in a shorter time than he had done for some days past.

With the change of weather he had thrown off his loose great coat, which he wore during the rainy period, and walked in a flannel jacket. He also put on shoes thicker than any which he had used in any previous part of his performance. When asked how he meant to act after he had finished his feat, he said he should that night take a good sound sleep, but that he must have himself awaked twice or thrice in the night to avoid the danger of a too sudden transition from almost constant exertion to a state of long repose. One hundred guineas to one, and indeed any odds whatever, were offered on Wednesday morning; but so strong was the confidence in his success that no bets could be obtained. The multitude who resorted to the scene of action in the course of the concluding days was unprecedented. Not a bed could be procured on Tuesday night at Newmarket, Cambridge, Bury, or any of the towns or villages in the vicinity, and every horse and vehicle were engaged. Among the nobility and gentry who witnessed the conclusion of this extraordinary performance were the Dukes of Argyle and St. Alban’s; Earls Grosvenor, Besborough, and Jersey; Lords Foley, and Somerville; Sir John Lade, Sir F. Standish, etc. The aggregate of the bets is supposed to have amounted to £100,000.

Captain Barclay, as noticed in our memoir of Cribb, gave his training experience to the world in a modest publication. His papers upon agriculture in various magazines published in England and Scotland, were remarkable for their sound sense, plainness, and practical knowledge. That the severity of his athletic feats did not prematurely wear out the animal machine may be inferred from the fact that he enjoyed a green and active old age at Ury, near Stonehaven, Kincardineshire, his patrimonial estate, until his 79th year, respected as strongly in private circles for his kind and gentlemanly demeanour as celebrated for his public exploits, sporting and athletic.

GEORGE STEPHENSON, M.P.—1801.

It would indeed be the ignorance which casts away pearls were we to pass unnoticed an illustration of manhood identified with the practice of pugilism, wherein the honoured name of the greatest engineering genius of an engineering age was the prime actor. George Stephenson, therefore, the practical originator of the locomotive, the creator of railways as we now see them, the constructor of the most complete, permanent, and stupendous works on mainland, coast, and sea, that an age of wonders has seen, finds a place in Pugilistica. The facts and text of the narrative of this episode in the early life of George Stephenson are from Smiles’s “Lives of George and Robert Stephenson,” p. 80, edit. 1864. We may observe that George Stephenson (born June 9, 1781) would be twenty years of age in 1801.

“Not long after Stephenson began to work as brakesman at Black Callerton (near Newcastle), he had a quarrel with a pitman named Ned Nelson, a roystering bully, who was the terror of the village. Nelson was a great fighter, and it was therefore considered dangerous to quarrel with him. Stephenson was so unfortunate as not to be able to please this pitman by the way in which he landed him when drawing him out of the pit; and Nelson swore at him grossly for the alleged clumsiness of his ‘brakeing.’ George defended himself, and appealed to the testimony of his fellow-workmen. But Nelson had not been accustomed to George’s style of self-assertion, and, after a torrent of abuse, he threatened to kick the brakesman, who defied him to do so. Nelson ended by challenging Stephenson to fight a pitched battle. The latter coolly accepted the challenge, and a day was fixed on which the fight was to come off.

“Great was the excitement in Black Callerton when it was known that Geordie Stephenson had accepted Nelson’s challenge. Everybody said Nelson would ‘kill him.’ The villagers, the young men, and especially the boys of the village, with whom George was a great favourite, all wished he might beat Nelson, but they scarcely dared to say so. They came about him while he was at work in the engine-house to inquire if it was really true that he was going to fight Nelson? ‘Ay, ay; never fear for me, I’ll fight him,’ replied George coolly. And fight him he did. For some days previous to the appointed day, Nelson went entirely off work for the purpose of training, whereas Stephenson attended to his daily work as usual, for he was always temperate and in good condition, and did not seem in the least disconcerted by the prospect of the battle. So, on the day appointed George went into the Dolly Field, where his already exulting opponent was ready to meet him. George stripped, and went in like a practised pugilist, though it was his first and his last pitched battle. After a few rounds, George’s wiry muscles, sound wind, cool self-possession, and practised strength enabled him so severely to punish his opponent as to secure an easy victory. This circumstance,” concludes Mr. Smiles, “is related in illustration of Stephenson’s pluck and courage; and it was thoroughly characteristic of the man. Yet he was the very reverse of quarrelsome. But he would not be put down by the bully of the colliery, and he fought him. There his pugilism ended. They shook hands, and continued good friends. In after life Stephenson’s mettle was hardly tried, but in a different way; and he did not fail to exhibit the same resolute courage in contending with the bullies of the railway world that he showed in his encounter with Ned Nelson, the ‘fighting pitman,’ of Callerton.”

JOHN SHAW, THE LIFE-GUARDSMAN.
ONE OF THE HEROES WHO FELL ON THE FIELD OF WATERLOO.

This stalwart soldier, whose martial exploits and honourable death are recorded in the pages of Sir Walter Scott, Sir W. Napier, and the military annals of his country, bade fair to become a bright star in the pugilistic sphere, had not his career been so speedily terminated in the field of glory.

John Shaw was a native of Woolaston, in Nottinghamshire, and brought up as a farmer until eighteen years of age, when, tired of leading a dull, inglorious life, he enlisted, on the 16th of October, 1807, as a private in the Life-guards. Europe, we need hardly tell the reader, was then involved in the flames of war by the martial spirit and aggressive designs of the French nation and its military Emperor, and young Shaw—

“Had heard of battles, and had long’d

To follow to the field some warlike lord.”

When Shaw was a mere stripling, during the time he was fighting with a man three stone heavier than himself, at Woolaston, and in danger of being defeated, Jem Belcher, who was at Nottingham, suddenly made his appearance in the ring. That experienced hero went up to Shaw, and advised him how to alter his tactics so as to secure success. Shaw, learning that it was the renowned Jem Belcher who thus stepped forward to direct his efforts, felt inspired with fresh courage, acted promptly on the advice given him, and, in the course of a round or two, so turned the battle in his favour that he ultimately gained the victory in great style, and earned the praise of Jem Belcher. From this incident he attached himself to scientific pugilism.

Shaw possessed, in an eminent degree, many requisites for a first-rate pugilist. He was in height six feet and half an inch, weighing, when stripped, close upon fifteen stone; and he derived great advantages from repeated exercise with the dumb-bells, as a part of his military discipline; his continual practice of the broadsword also gave increased strength and elasticity to his wrists and shoulders. Discipline, too, had taught him coolness, in addition to a most excellent natural temper. He was introduced to the Fives Court under the patronage of Colonel Barton. In his first exhibitions he was considered rather slow; but from the frequent use of the gloves, in competition with the most experienced and scientific boxers, he rapidly improved. His height, length, weight, and strength, united with a heart which knew no fear, rendered Shaw a truly formidable antagonist. His public displays were considered far above mediocrity, and he felt great pride in getting the best of the then terrific Molineaux. In a trial set-to at Mr. Jackson’s rooms with Captain Barclay—who never shrunk from punishment, or hesitated in milling his adversary, scorning anything like the delicacy of “light play,”—the latter received such a convincing blow, that a dentist was called in to replace matters in statu quo. The best critics were satisfied he was a thorough-bred one, and it was proved to be very difficult to hit him without being returned on. In retreating he made use of his left hand with much effect, and was thought to fight something after the deliberate manner of Cribb.

In the neighbourhood of Portman Square our hero milled three big fellows in the course of a few minutes with comparative ease, for insulting him on the “stay at home” character of his regiment, at that time a favourite taunt of the vulgar. They were compelled to acknowledge their misconduct, and glad to cry for quarter.

Shaw’s first appearance in the P. R. was on Saturday, July 12, 1812, at Coombe Warren, with Burrows, a sturdy West-countryman, who had fought a good battle of an hour’s length with the tremendous Molineaux, when the athletic powers of the latter hero were undebauched and in full vigour; but, in the hands of Shaw, the West-countryman had not the slightest chance. In the short space of seventeen minutes, in which thirteen rounds were fought, the superior science of Shaw had so nobbed Burrows that he could not see his way, and he was led out of the ring. Burrows never once drew blood from Shaw, who quitted the field without a scratch.

Nearly three years elapsed before Shaw made a second appearance, during which period, it seems, from the considerable practice he had with the gloves, he was materially improved in science. On April 18, 1815, at Hounslow Heath, for a purse of fifty guineas, he entered the lists with one of the bravest of the brave, namely, Ned Painter. Victory again crowned his efforts in twenty-eight minutes, and he retired from the contest little, if any, the worse for wear. See Painter, Vol. II., Chapter III., p. 77.

It is certain Shaw had an eye upon the championship, for he now formally challenged all England. The amateurs were divided in opinion, but Shaw felt confident, in his own mind, that no boxer existed who could conquer him. Six weeks had scarcely elapsed after the above battle, and no time allowed for either Cribb or Oliver (who would not have suffered such a challenge to pass over unnoticed) to have an opportunity of entering the lists with Shaw to decide the point, when the Life-guards were ordered abroad, and Shaw soon found himself, with his comrades, on the plains of Waterloo. His heroism on that memorable occasion has been handed down to posterity in those glowing colours which real courage and love of country merit. Sir Walter Scott has thus sung the fame of Shaw:—

“The work of Death is done, yet still her song

In Britons’ praise the muse would fain prolong,

Would, were her power but equal to her will,

Swell to a mighty stream her slender rill,

Exalt her voice to praise each gallant son,

But chiefest thee, O godlike Wellington!

But who can count the sands? then might he name

The lengthen’d numbers of the sons of fame:

Nor ‘mongst her humbler sons shall Shaw e’er die,

Immortal deeds defy mortality.

Posterity shall read the glowing page

That paints the glories of a former age,

Then shall their bosoms burn with patriot fires,

And, if their country calls, they’ll emulate their sires.”

In “Paul’s Letters to his Kinsfolk,” Sir Walter, writing from Paris of the Battle of Waterloo, observes:—“Amid the confusion presented by the fiercest and closest cavalry fight which had ever been seen, many individuals distinguished themselves by feats of personal strength and valour. Among these should not be forgotten Shaw, a corporal of the Life-guards, well known as a pugilistic champion, and equally formidable as a swordsman. He is supposed to have slain or disabled ten Frenchmen with his own hand, before he was killed by a musket or pistol shot.”

The “science of the sword” was possessed by Shaw in a superior degree, which, backed by British strength and resolution, tended to secure the fortune of the day, in reducing the confidence of Napoleon’s hitherto invincible cuirassiers:—

“A desperate charge the cuirassiers oppose,

And thrust for thrust, and blows return for blows.

But still in vain the British sabres fall,

Whose strokes rebounded from a brazen wall.

At length more wary, with experience stor’d,

They now apply the science of the sword:

Just at the juncture of the arm and chest,

Where meet the mail-plates of the back and breast;

In gentle curve, they leave an opening way,

To fit the shape and give the shoulder play;

Some watch the moment while the uplifted arm,

Urg’d by a feint, protects the head from harm,

To reach, with lightning speed, the unguarded part

And through the opening penetrate the heart;

Some, skill’d with dext’rous art, deceive their foe,

Cut through the face and lay the opponent low;

Some at the breast-plate thrust with upward glides

Pierces the jaw, or else the neck divides;

And some, more quick, the unguarded throat observe,

Drive to the spine, and cut the dorsal nerve.”

It appears, on the first day, previous to the Battle of Waterloo, Shaw was wounded in the breast, and was ordered by his commanding officer to remain in the rear; but after the wound was dressed, and feeling little inconvenience from it, he nobly disdained to shrink from the post of honour, and on the 18th took part in the grand decisive charge. After having performed his duty towards his country in a giant-like manner, and exalting his character as a man and a soldier, he fell on the 18th of June, 1815, covered with glory.

It would appear, from the statement of the author of “Anecdotes of Waterloo,” that Shaw, though prostrated by a pistol shot, was yet alive on the morning of the 19th, but in articulo mortis, having received an immense number of lance-wounds after his fall from the French light-cavalry, armed Polish fashion, who galloped over the ground. A soldier of the 73rd gave the expiring hero a draught of water; but he was “past all surgery,” and soon afterwards expired without the possibility of removal to hospital.

“While martial pomps rise on the view,

And loud acclaim exalts the brave,

The tears of beauty shall bedew

The fallen victor’s laurell’d grave;

Flow, mournful flow, and sacred be the tear,

To grace the hero’s fall, whose bright career

Is clos’d in victory.”

“DULCE ET DECORUM EST PRO PATRIA MORI.”

GEORGE NICHOLLS, THE CONQUEROR OF CRIBB.

George Nicholls finds a niche here, principally from the circumstance of his early victory over the renowned Tom Cribb; his other fistic exploits, though numerous, not being of celebrity sufficient to entitle him to this distinction. Nicholls was one of the numerous offshoots of the Bristol school, and was born in that city in the year 1795. In the third volume of “Boxiana” Pierce Egan has given an account of twenty-five pugilistic engagements, but, like the exploits of heroes before Agamemnon, they find no record, save in his pages. The most remarkable of those are thus narrated.

At seventeen years of age George entered the ring with a man of the name of Hocky Harding. It was only for a guinea a-side, and it took place on Durdham Downs. Nicholls had for his seconds Applebee and George Davis. In forty minutes Harding was defeated, and the punishment he received was terrific. This latter boxer had gained considerable notoriety in having made a drawn battle, after a desperate fight with the celebrated Bill Warr.

GEORGE NICHOLLS.
From a Drawing by G. Sharples.

A week after the above battle, the brother of Harding, anxious to have a turn with Nicholls, fought him on Durdham Downs for a guinea and a half a-side, but, in the second round, Harding, receiving an ugly knock, exclaimed, “I’ve had enough; George shall not serve me as he did my brother.” Applebee and Davis were also seconds to Nicholls on this occasion.

A sailor, who weighed thirteen stone, challenged Nicholls for a guinea a-side. This battle took place in the Back Fields, near Lawford’s Gate. The man of war was a troublesome customer, and did not give in till one hour had expired.

Bill Thomas, a butcher, of Chepstow, had so good an opinion of his milling qualities, that he sent a public challenge to Bristol to fight the best man in that city. Nicholls accepted the challenge without delay, and he also won it off-hand.

Leonard, the champion of Bath, was matched against Nicholls for five guineas a-side. Bob Watson and Tom Davis acted as seconds to our hero. This battle took place on Lansdown, the same day that Spaniard Harris and Bill Cox fought. The Bath champion was dreadfully beaten, and both his peepers were soon closed; while Nicholls received but a slight injury.

It is stated by Pierce Egan that Nicholls was victor in forty-nine battles out of fifty.

We will now quit these dateless records of Nicholls’s triumphs over the “illustrious obscure,” to come to his crowning achievement, the exploit which has preserved his name. It has been repeatedly urged that this overthrow occurred during the brave Tom’s noviciate; but he had previously beaten that renowned pugilistic veteran, George Maddox, Tom Blake, and Ikey Pig, all of them men of notoriety as pugilists. The success of these contests had rendered Cribb somewhat conspicuous, and he was rising fast into eminence and fame, when he entered the lists with Nicholls, for a subscription purse of £25, at Blackwater, thirty-two miles from London, on Saturday, July 20, 1805, made up by the amateurs, to compensate them for being deprived of witnessing the intended fight between the Game Chicken and Gully. Tom Jones waited upon Nicholls, and Dick Hall was second to Cribb. The odds on setting-to were greatly on the side of Cribb, who was the favourite; but Nicholls, aware of Cribb’s method of fighting, fought him after the style of Big Ben in his contest with Tom Johnson. Nicholls, like a skilful general, armed at all points, was not to be deluded by the feints of the enemy. The system of milling on the retreat, which Cribb had hitherto practised with so much success, in this instance failed. The coolness and good temper of Nicholls appeared so eminently throughout the fight, that not only did he preserve his fortitude, but added vigour to his judgment. Hence, both in attack and defence, the future champion found in Nicholls a steady and decisive fighter. Cribb became perplexed at finding his tactics foiled. The advantage he had derived in former contests by drawing his opponents, and then punishing and irritating them in their pursuit, so as to make them throw their blows out of distance, and consequently render them feeble, ineffective, and uncertain, was rendered entirely unavailing. George would not suffer Cribb to play round him, but, with a guard like Ben’s, firm in the extreme, his attitude was impregnable. Nicholls could never be induced to quit his position without putting in a tremendous hit, waiting with the utmost skill for the attack of his opponent, and then giving the counter with stinging severity. George scarcely ever failed in breaking through the defence of his adversary, and ultimately concluded the round with a knock-down blow. Nicholls was a tremendous hitter; and his one, two, rendered him truly formidable. The science and ability displayed by Nicholls in this contest completely astonished the sporting world, many of whom, in obtaining such knowledge, found that they had procured it at no trifling expense.

We have not met with any good or detailed account of this remarkable battle, and shall therefore add another report, which we find in “Pancratia,” pp. 237–238.

“As so many amateurs had collected and come from town, a distance of thirty-two miles, to be present at this famous match, they were determined to knock up a fight, and Tom Cribb, the Black Diamond, who ranked very high as a pugilist, was matched against a man of the name of Nicholls, a Bristol man, and who, like Gully, had never fought on a London stage. The former was seconded by Dick Hall, and the latter by Tom Jones. At setting-to Cribb was the favourite, and odds were greatly in his favour. In the first round Nicholls, however, brought him down; but this was thought nothing of, as it was well known Cribb frequently threw himself back to avoid a blow. In the fourth round Cribb put in a most severe blow, and cut his opponent under the right eye. Nicholls still fought with great spirit, and perfectly cool and good-tempered. By the end of the twentieth round Nicholls had perfectly closed one of his antagonist’s eyes, notwithstanding he fought with great dexterity, and made several good rallies. At the end of the fortieth round Cribb appeared distressed in his wind; he, however, had somewhat recovered the sight of his eye, but began to fight very shyly, and shift: his blows were frequently short, and he several times fell back from his own hits. At the end of the fifty-second round he gave in, and the knowing ones were done, as they were sanguine of Cribb, even to the last. Nicholls was by all acknowledged a prime fellow: his superiority consisted of very expertly breaking on his adversary, in the style of Slack, by projecting his arm suddenly against his antagonist’s face when he swung forward to put in a blow. It has been asserted in the public prints that Cribb never has been unsuccessful throughout his pugilistic career; but this must be the consequence of ignorance on the subject.”

Nicholls now retired from the ring, and, returning to his native city, invested the money he had gained, and which had been somewhat augmented by the subscriptions of several patrons of manly courage, in a butcher’s shop, in Gloucester Lane, Bristol. Here he added another to the innumerable contradictions to those maligners of pugilism, who would identify it with ruffianism, by earning in a long life the character of a quiet, inoffensive, nay, a retiring man. In fact, all who remember him describe him as “shunning general company, rarely visiting a public house, and of a somewhat religious turn of mind;” the leisure time his business afforded him being occupied in angling, his favourite recreation. He died at his native place, June 6, 1832, in the fifty-eighth year of his age.

DAN DOGHERTY—1806–1811.

As the name of Dogherty is continually found scattered up and down the reports of ring affairs for many years, and also in the pages of “Pancratia” and “Boxiana,” we shall devote a few paragraphs to a sketch of his ring career, chiefly from the latter work.

Dogherty’s first set-to was early in June, 1806, with a Jew, at Wilsden Green, where he proved the conqueror; and shortly afterwards, at the same place, on the 17th, he easily beat one Wall.

On Lowfield Common, near Crawley, Sussex, August 21, 1807, he conquered Dick Hall; and on his return home that day had a turn-up in the road with Jack Warr, whom he milled.

George Cribb he defeated twice. See George Cribb.

On Epsom Downs, Tom Belcher conquered Dogherty. See ante, p. 156.

Dogherty fought one Pentikin, a Scotch Baker, at Golder’s Green, Hendon, June 11, 1808, for forty-five minutes, when Pentikin gave in. Dogherty fought him forty guineas to twenty.

At Moulsey Hurst, October 25, 1808, Dogherty fought with Jack Power for an hour and a quarter. It has been considered rather a disputed point, but Dogherty claimed it, and got the money. It should be remembered that Power was but a mere strippling at that period.

On Epsom Downs, February 1, 1809, Dogherty beat a turnpike man.

On the 18th of January, 1811, he met with a reverse of fortune in being defeated by Silverthorne, at Coombe Wood, but he was then considered in bad condition.

In November, 1811, he beat with considerable ease, at Chichester, Ben Burn.

Dogherty for a long time was engaged on a sparring excursion, not only in various parts of the kingdom, but also in the sister country. On Tom Belcher’s arrival in Ireland, the superior science of that pugilist having, it is said, taken from Dogherty a number of his pupils, a battle took place between them. On the 23rd of April, 1813, for 100 guineas, they decided the contest on the Curragh of Kildare, when Dogherty again fell beneath the conquering arm of Belcher. See ante, p. 160. This great battle is omitted from “Fistiana,” under Dogherty, though indexed under Belcher.

Dogherty, from this period, remained in his native land, where he taught sparring, and was known as a civil and active fellow: he was thus engaged as late as 1827. Pierce Egan tells an anecdote of him which we preserve.

Dogherty’s Duel.—Notwithstanding Dan’s penchant for the arbitrement of the fist, he accepted a challenge to fight with pistols, in order to place his opponent upon equal terms, he, it was urged, having no pretensions to boxing. It appears the meeting was a sort of hoax upon the combatants, as planned by the friends of both parties. The seconds, unknown to Dogherty and his opponent, merely put powder into the pistols. The adversary of Dogherty fired first, when the latter, forgetful of the “honourable” situation in which he stood, resorted to the scientific practice of the ring, by putting up his right arm as a natural stop to prevent the ball hitting his face, producing much fun to those who witnessed and contrived the duel.

GEORGE CRIBB,
BROTHER TO THE CHAMPION OF ENGLAND.

Cribb and victory have so often been coupled, that in attaching defeat to the name we almost pause; but such is the case. While the champion, Tom Cribb, enjoyed the smiles of victory, and the patronage annexed to it, the junior hero, panting to emulate the heroic deeds of his warlike brother, encountered nothing but defeat.

George first entered the lists with Horton, near Bristol, for a purse of 50 guineas, on September 5, 1807, and notwithstanding the assistance of his brother Tom for a second, was beaten in twenty-five minutes.

On February 9, 1808, he was defeated by Dogherty on Highgate Common.

On the coast, near Margate, August 9, 1809, he entered the ring with Cropley, and was conquered in sixteen minutes. George did not let his opponent win without punishing him a good deal. It was considered an unequal match.

At a meeting of amateurs, May 1, 1810, at Bob’s Chop-House, after a sporting dinner, he again fought Dogherty, when Tom Cribb also seconded his brother. In this contest George proved himself a game man, and at times overcame the superior science of his adversary; but, at the end of an hour, Dogherty was the conqueror, and had the £20 purse. It was a severe battle.

George fought with Isle of Wight Hall, on November 15, 1810, on Old Oak Common, near Uxbridge, when the odds were six to four in his favour at setting-to; but, after a contest of one hour and nine minutes, he was reluctantly compelled to give in. He fought like a hero, and, although defeated, reflected credit on the name of Cribb.

After his brother Tom had beaten Molineaux, on September 21, 1811, at Thistleton Gap, he entered the ring, for a subscription purse of £20, with Ned Maltby, a Nottinghamshire lad. It was a determined battle for the time it lasted, thirteen rounds; but George was again not only conquered but severely punished. Maltby was not much the worse.

George, like his brother, was a slow fighter, but sparred tolerably well. In height, five feet eight inches and a half, and nearly eleven stone in weight.

SILVERTHORNE.

From his contests with Tom Belcher, Dogherty, and Burn, we are induced to mention Silverthorne. It appears that this boxer, who came out under the patronage of Caleb Baldwin, was a native of the county of Somerset, but not a Bristolian. From his style of setting-to, Caleb, no mean judge of such matters, formed a high opinion of his capabilities, and procured him patronage for a battle for 100 guineas, with Dan Dogherty, then in high repute. The battle came off at Coombe Warren, near Kingston, June 11, 1811, Caleb Baldwin seconding his protegé, assisted by Bill Gibbons. Dogherty was waited upon by Dick Hall and Power. We copy the report from “Pancratia,” pp. 353–355. There is none in “Boxiana.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—At half past twelve the men stood up. Silverthorne stood five feet eight inches, and weighed eleven stone two pounds; Dogherty, eleven stone eight pounds, five feet nine inches, so that there was not a great disparity. Both sparred with great caution. Dogherty tried a right-handed hit, but was short. Silverthorne returned sharply with the left. They rallied courageously, and exchanged hit for hit, until Dogherty went down on the saving suit. (Six to four on Silverthorne.)

2.—Dogherty was touched under the eye, but smiled and put in a blow on Silverthorne’s ribs that left a red mark. The latter returned at the nob, but hit round; another rally, and no best on either side. Silverthorne got Dogherty down.

3.—Both men went to work rather hurriedly, and were soon engaged in a desperate rally. Silverthorne stuck up, and though he threw away many blows by his round method of fighting, bored his opponent to every part of the ring. Dogherty exerted all his skill, and not unsuccessfully, on his adversary’s head, but being at length very weak, fell by a slight hit. (Seven to two on Silverthorne.)

4.—Dogherty bled freely; but he commenced a sharp rally, and put in a good body blow, which somewhat staggered his opponent. In endeavouring to repeat, Silverthorne dexterously struck him on the head and brought him down.

5.—Exactly as in the last round. Dogherty put in a body blow, and Silverthorne returned on the head. A rally, and Dogherty brought down his opponent for the first time by a severe blow on the head.

6.—A rally; Dogherty soon laid low.

7.—Dogherty, very gay, appeared first to his time, and successfully planted a good hit over the head. Silverthorne made play, seemed distressed, hit awkwardly, and received a severe right-handed facer. He still, however, bored in, and commenced another rally. Hits were exchanged for a minute and a half, each appearing totally regardless of blows. Dogherty’s superior science gave him the advantage, and Silverthorne at length fell through weakness.

8.—Silverthorne rallied. Dogherty threw in a good hit over his opponent’s mouth, but was afterwards knocked down.

9.—Both seemed distressed for wind, and sparred for some time. Dogherty put in a more forcible body blow than could have been expected. Silverthorne returned on the head and fell.

10.—Dogherty commenced a rally, and Silverthorne, by a tremendous blow, knocked him down.

11.—It was with difficulty Dogherty could be got off his second’s knee; he, however, went in with courage, and fought until knocked down.

12.—Dogherty was again brought to the scratch, and made play, although almost in a doubled state. The combatants managed a rally, but in a state of weakness perhaps unparalleled; they could stand, but although within arm’s length were incapable of hitting. Silverthorne, however, recovered, and knocked down his opponent for the last time.

The contest lasted twenty-two minutes. A pigeon was immediately despatched to Jem Belcher’s, but in passing over Wimbledon Common it fell a prey to the gun of some cockney spoil-sport. Both combatants were dreadfully beaten, and were immediately put to bed and bled. Silverthorne proved himself a worthy disciple of Caleb, and possesses that degree of strength which cannot fail to make him formidable to men of his own weight. Dogherty’s strength failed somewhat sooner than usual, which was attributed to indisposition.

This remarkable success so elated Caleb and his friends that they at once proposed a match with Tom Belcher for 100 guineas. What came of this may be seen at pages 158, 159, ante.

Silverthorne, who bore the character of a steady, temperate, and well-conducted man, now publicly announced his retirement from the ring, in reply to a challenge from Dogherty, adding, he was resolved not to fight, “except when the necessity of the moment forced it upon him, when he hoped he should never be found backward to defend himself.” However, in 1812, at Coombe Warren, being provoked by Ben Burn, he departed from his resolution, and gave that boxer a thorough thrashing. From this time forth, though his name is sometimes mentioned, we hear no more of Silverthorne in the ring. In 1821 (May), we find the following in “Notices of Boxers who have retired from the P. R.”

“Silverthorne, once distinguished for his contests with Dogherty and Belcher. He is a teacher in a Sunday school, highly respected, and follows his business as a master fishmonger.”

JACK POWER.

With by no means first-rate qualifications, Jack Power is one of the examples of what personal popularity will do in exaggerating mediocrity into the foremost position. In the first volume of “Boxiana” many pages are given to Power, and in the second an obituary eulogium, from which we extract the salient points.

Power was born in London on the 8th of August, 1790, and descended from Irish parents. His father apprenticed him to a plumber, and Pierce Egan gives us the usual number of six-feet-two men, butchers, etc., who surrendered to “our hero” while yet a stripling.

Power’s first regular ring battle was with Dogherty, on the 25th of October, 1808, at Moulsey Hurst. This was the third battle on that day: the first being Tom Cribb’s victory over Gregson; the second, Tom Belcher’s conquest of Bill Cropley. The reporter simply says, “After a game battle of one hour and a quarter, Dogherty was triumphant.” Egan says, “Dogherty gave in three times during the fight; but Power being a new one, and Dogherty more experienced, it was managed in that sort of way, that the latter was pronounced the victor.” What this may mean we cannot tell, with “the Duke of York, the Marquis of Tweeddale, Lords Yarmouth, Craven, Barrymore, Brook, and Somerville, and Paul Methuen on the ground” (“Pancratia,” p. 322), and with Fletcher Reid as umpire.

Power’s next battle was with one Frere, April 1, 1809, which he won in twenty-one minutes.

Some ridiculous “turns-up” follow (“Boxiana,” pp. 458–460), which we shall omit, to come to Power’s best fight, that with Joel King, for 50 guineas a-side, July 16, 1811, at Moulsey Hurst. The report is from “Pancratia,” pp. 360, et seq. “At twelve o’clock the combatants appeared. King, who was a new candidate for pugilistic honours, was accompanied by Richmond and Hall; Power attended by Bob Clarke and Paddington Jones. Odds, five to four on Power.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—King attempted to plant a forcible right-hander; Power stopped him, and hit one two, left and right, well planted on the head and body. King fell. (First knock-down bets decided.)

2.—King did not appear intimidated; he again made play, and planted a good right-handed hit on his opponent’s throat; his left-hand fell short. Power with great quickness threw in a severe left-handed facer, and brought him down.

3.—A good rally, several blows well exchanged. Power scientifically planted one with the left hand. King returned with the right. They closed and both fell. (Two to one in favour of Power.)

4.—Power hit left and right, and King returned very forcibly in the throat. They closed, and Power threw his opponent again. (Betting two points more in favour of King than at setting to.)

5.—King planted a left-handed hit, but out of distance. He followed quickly with his right, which Power cleverly avoided. They closed, and Power threw King a cross-buttock.

6.—Both made play, King with his right, Power with the left, at the same instant; the former told on the head. Some good trying hits followed, and, upon the whole, the round was in favour of King: notwithstanding Power again threw him a cross-buttock. In doing this, with too much eagerness Power received a hurt on the right shoulder against a stake, which, if it did not disable him, proved a severe hindrance.

7.—In this round Power changed his mode of fighting, endeavouring to avert the punishing right-handed blows of his adversary, and getting away to hit.

8.—Power put in a good blow on the mouth, got away, repeated it, and gave an excellent specimen of science by repeating his blows, and avoiding his adversary’s, until King fell, bleeding copiously.

9.—King commenced a rally, in which he evidently had the advantage, throwing in straight right-handed hits with great dexterity. His superior strength gave him the advantage, but at length he received a violent cross-buttock.

10.—King’s face was much disfigured. Power put in a severe one two in the mouth, followed by a scientific hit on the throat, which brought King down.

11.—A good rally, and both fell.

12.—Another rally. Power hit his opponent, staggering away, with the right. King courageously renewed the rally, and returned his adversary’s hits with the gluttony of a Cribb, and at length succeeded in throwing him.

13.—Power, by another blow in the mouth, brought King again on the floor. Power continued fighting at points until he was scarcely able to administer the beating his adversary seemed to require to satisfy him. In the

26th.—Betting came to six to four; and although the left side of King’s head was a sorry sight for any feeling spectator to view, he still fought with such determined bravery as never can be forgotten by his enemies or too highly appreciated by his friends. At the expiration of the

46th.—When every one evidently saw he had no chance of success, he was urged, particularly by his backers, to resign, but still expressing anxiety for the continuation of the conflict, even in opposition to advice, he was allowed to go up, but merely to be sent down by a push. The token of surrender was made, and Power hailed the victor, after a game battle of fifty-seven minutes.

In October, 1801, Power’s friends proposed a match with Tom Belcher, a deposit was made, but they thought better of it and forfeited.

Power now travelled through the provinces as a teacher of boxing. During this tour he ruptured a blood-vessel, and had a severe attack of pleurisy. Before his entire restoration to health, he imprudently suffered himself to be matched with Jack Carter for 100 guineas. The battle took place at Rickmansworth, Hertfordshire, November 16, 1812. Power was seconded on this occasion by the Champion, Tom Cribb; Carter by Bittoon and Tom Jones.

Pierce Egan says, “It would be superfluous to detail the rounds of this battle, which continued one hour and twenty-five minutes; suffice it to say that the conduct of Power this day was worthy all praise. Passing previously a restless night, afflicted with a cough, and somewhat nervous in his habit, he entered the ring under these disadvantages to contend against an adversary, his superior in height, strength, constitution, perfectly in health, and not deficient in pugilistic acquirements. It was a tremendous task, a daring attempt; and superlative science, and that alone, gave the victory to Power. It required something more than fortitude to act thus in opposition to nature, as well as considerable ingenuity in husbanding his strength to reduce his opponent to his own level. This Power effected, when he grappled with his opponent upon superior terms; his strength gone, and his science inferior, Carter was conquered with elegance and certainty. Upon no occasion whatever were the knowing ones so completely ‘out of their know.’ Carter, although defeated, showed that he was not without game; but Power completely astonished the most experienced of the Fancy.”

Power had a set-to with Richmond (see ante) at a sparring match at the Fives Court, on Dutch Sam’s benefit, soon after the above contest. Something about a white feather being mentioned, Power instantly mounted the stage, and addressed the spectators thus:—“Upon the day previous to the night when I fought Richmond I was following my business as a plumber, in making paint. The fumes of white lead are of so strong and poisonous a quality, that, to prevent any serious effects operating upon the constitution, we are necessitated to drink a quantity of castor oil; in addition to which I had been drinking, which rendered me then unprepared; but now,” said Power, “if Richmond can take out the white feather, as he pleases to term it, that I possess (stripping off his clothes), let him come up here, and I will fight him instantly for £50.” At his own benefit he again offered to fight Richmond.

Power’s excesses are thus leniently touched upon in “Boxiana:”—“In concluding this sketch, the most painful part remains to be performed. No boxer commenced his milling career with a fairer prospect to arrive at the top of the tree, or become a fixed star in the pugilistic hemisphere, than Jack Power; but, possessing a gaiety of disposition which could brook no restraint, the fascinating charms of company and the enlivening glass proving too powerful for his youth and inexperience to withstand, he plunged into excesses which induced premature debility. In this last battle, although gaining the victory, he endangered his existence. From being stripped in the open air for nearly an hour and a half, the severity of the weather afflicted him so seriously, that for several hours his frame did not experience the least warmth whatever, notwithstanding the best medical treatment was resorted to. His sufferings were acute, and he observed, ‘All the milling that he had received in the whole course of his pugilistic career was trifling in comparison with the pain he sustained on his return to a state of convalescence.’ He, however, was not long in returning to the metropolis to receive those congratulations which his noble courage had so justly entitled him to. The supporters of pugilism gave him a most flattering reception, so that Power’s time was principally occupied with the pleasures of society, and the enlivening charms of the bottle. Power was no churl, full of good humour in company, and his song was always ready when called for to support the cause of harmony.”

At a sparring exhibition which took place at the Fives Court soon after, when Jack merely looked in as a visitor, and Carter was present, several of the amateurs expressed a wish to witness a set-to between them. It proved a sharp contest; but the superiority was decidedly, in point of science, as in the fight, in favour of Power.

A public dinner, in honour of Power’s victory over Carter, took place at Mr. Davenport’s, the Three Pigeons, Houndsditch, when Jack presided, supported by Tom Cribb. Conviviality was the order of the day; and, upon the introduction of Carter, the behaviour of Power to his fallen adversary was attentive, generous, and manly, and he strongly recommended him to the attention of the fancy in general. Soon after this period he rapidly declined, and endeavoured to recruit his health by a journey to Oxford. It proved too late, and the last stage of consumption was reducing him daily. He witnessed the memorable set-to of Molineaux and Carter, and expressed himself astonished to hear it termed “fighting!” He returned to his dwelling in Plough Court, Fetter Lane, not only exhausted in person, but, to add to his afflictions, one of his children took ill and died. Mr. Jackson, ever attentive to the wants of brother pugilists, on being made acquainted with his peculiar situation, instantly made a collection for him among the patrons of the science. His disorder was so flattering that, at times when his spirits were good, he would observe, “Let me get but a little better, and I’ll show the lads how to fight; many of those that pretend to teach it scarcely know anything about the sound principles of milling—they are only sparrers.”

Power departed this life June 2, 1813, at the early age of twenty-three, and lies interred in the burial ground of St. Giles’s-in-the-Fields. He was in height about five feet nine inches and a half, and in weight twelve stone. He turned out several good pupils.

WILLIAM NOSWORTHY, THE BAKER.

As the conqueror of the renowned Dutch Sam, albeit in the day of his decadence, the name of Nosworthy is preserved from oblivion.

In his boyish days, Nosworthy, it appears, was not altogether unknown in Devonshire, both as a wrestler and pugilist. He was born at Kenn, a parish in the hundred of Exminster, of respectable connections, on the 1st of May, 1786. He was of an athletic, prepossessing appearance, and extremely well made. In height five feet six inches, and weighing about eleven stone. In disposition he was cheerful, good-natured, and inoffensive; but in the ring Nosworthy was a glutton of the first mould. Several sporting characters denominated him the “Young Chicken,” from some likeness he bore to the celebrated Hen. Pearce.

“The historian” having given us the usual “servings out,” “polishings off,” etc., of unknown opponents, judiciously omitted by the compiler of “Fistiana,” brings Nosworthy to town. Here it appears that “the Baker” attended a Devon and Cornwall gathering of wrestlers, and was matched against one Pentikin, whom he threw.[^[165]] The defeated wrestler offered to post a guinea and thrash Nosworthy for the stake. The contest took place on the 3rd of May, 1808, in Pancras Fields. Nosworthy was seconded by Tom Jones and Bill Ryan. The superiority was evidently on the part of Nosworthy for the first twenty minutes, Pentikin being milled in all directions. It was presumed that, had the fight continued without any interruption victory was by no means doubtful on the side of Nosworthy, who had, at this period of the battle, considerably reduced the strength of his opponent. But Nosworthy was here representing a county partisanship of Devon versus Cornwall, and was moreover unknown in comparison to Pentikin. The ring, it is said, was broken in consequence, much confusion ensued, and some delay occurred before the combatants could appear in a new ring. The contest was renewed with increased ardour, and Pentikin appeared more fresh from the delay. Reciprocal fighting continued for one hour and twenty-five minutes, when Nosworthy was reduced to insensibility, and carried off the ground by his brother. The game he displayed was highly praised. Pentikin, although the conqueror, could not be induced again to face his fallen adversary, and forfeited three times to Nosworthy.[^[166]]

After some irregular battles the bakers of the metropolis, looking upon Nosworthy as a leader in their sporting circle, a match for ten guineas a-side was made between him and Barnard Levy, a Jew, which took place at Golder’s Green. Levy was known to be a good man, and proved himself deserving of that character throughout the fight. Nosworthy was not in condition, and the Jew maintained an evident superiority for the long space of two hours. The game displayed by the Baker astonished every one present—he fought undismayed, and showed himself a “taker” of no common mould. Notwithstanding the punishment the Jew had administered, he could not take the fight out of him, and at length became exhausted. Nosworthy, contrary to all expectation, appeared refreshed, and finished the Jew in high style during the last twenty-five minutes. From this conquest the Baker gained ground. The fight lasted two hours and twenty-five minutes.

Martin, an active lively boxer, and much fancied by his own people, the Jews, was now pitted against Nosworthy for a purse of 25 guineas, at Moulsey Hurst, on the 29th of March, 1814. High expectations were formed of the pugilistic talents of Martin, but the Baker soon put his skill and manœuvres at defiance. Joe Ward and Paddington Jones seconded Nosworthy, and Little Puss and Jacobs attended upon Martin. It was two to one in favour of the Jew previous to the battle, betting brisk.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On setting-to considerable expectation was formed as to the talents of the Jew, who commenced with much gaiety; but Nosworthy planted a tremendous hit on Martin’s mouth, which not only drew a profusion of claret, but he went down.

2.—The Jew, more cautious than heretofore, sparred for advantage, but ultimately he was again floored. (The two to one had now all vanished, and even betting was the truth of the matter.)

3.—Nosworthy began to serve the Jew in style, and his hits told tremendously. Martin made a good round of it, but fell rather distressed. The dead men now opened their mouths wide, and loudly offered six to four on the Master of the Rolls.

4.—Martin, with much activity, planted a good facer; but Nosworthy again finished the round in high style.

5.—The Israelite’s nob was peppered, and his body also much punished; and Nosworthy, with great severity, hit him right through the ropes. (Seven to four on Nosworthy.)

6.—It would be superfluous to detail the remaining rounds. Nosworthy had it all his own way, notwithstanding Martin resorted to his old method of falling, to tire out his opponent. In thirty-six minutes the Jew was completely defeated, and Nosworthy increased his fame as a boxer.

After some minor affairs, we come to Nosworthy’s great match with the Phenomenon, Dutch Sam. Pierce Egan expends pages of wonderment, conjecture, and exclamation on the fact that a strong, young, resolute man, and a good boxer withal, should have beaten a gin-drinking stale pugilist, who would not even train for the battle. We now come to the report.

Five years had nearly elapsed since Sam had exhibited in the prize-ring. The curiosity to see him once more display his great pugilistic skill drew together an unusual number of spectators. Neither bad roads nor torrents of rain could check the interest excited by this battle. Vehicles of all descriptions for weeks before were put in requisition to reach the destined spot, and pedestrians out of number were not dismayed in tramping through thick and thin for sixteen miles. The vast collection of carriages on the Hurst excited the astonishment of every one, and some hundreds were on the spot who did not even see the battle. Several marquees were erected for accommodation. The sum to be contended for, in a twenty feet ring, was £50 a-side and a purse given by the Pugilistic Club of 25 guineas. At a few minutes before one Nosworthy entered the ring, attended by his seconds, Bill Cropley and Silverthorne, and was loudly cheered for his confidence, in daring to face so acknowledged a boxer as the Jew. Sam soon followed, and received every mark of gratifying attention from the surrounding multitude. Ben Medley and Puss were his attendants. A heavy shower of rain could not delay their thirst for fame.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On the combatants approaching each other, and shaking hands in the usual way, the difference of person was so manifest that an ordinary spectator must have given the preference to the Baker, from the roundness of his frame, the firmness of his step, and the cheerfulness of his countenance. He must have been a novice, indeed, not to have discovered the wretched condition of Sam upon his throwing off his clothes. His ribs were spare in the extreme; his face, which hitherto had assumed such a formidable aspect, and his fierce eyes that seemed upon similar occasions to have penetrated into the very souls of his opponents, appeared clouded with doubt and anxiety. It was altogether a different frontispiece. Dejection, arising from dissipation, was marked strongly on his features. As for his legs, as if Sam had anticipated that they might tell against him, he, for the first time in his life, preferred fighting in gaiters and breeches. The tout ensemble portrayed, a worn-out man rather than a boxer entering the prize-ring, prepared to vanquish youth, health, and strength. But all these objections were as a feather in the scale against the Jew. Weather could not affect him; no one could punish him; he hit as hard as Cribb; he was no mannerist; he set-to a hundred different ways; he altered his mode of fighting as circumstances required. Many seemed really to think, and plenty were forward enough to urge, that Sam was as well, if not better, without training, than undergoing the systematic precaution of invigorating the stamina. In short, he was the phenomenon of the fighting world; everything but a losing man. The recollection that he had beaten all the best men for a series of years that had been pitted against him, gave a double confidence to these sanguine opinions; and what was Sam now called upon to perform at the top of his glory? Why, to enter the lists with a boxer, who, to say the best, was but of considerable obscurity. Who for a moment would listen to a comparison made between Nosworthy and the hardy and brave Champion of Westminster, who had fallen beneath the conquering arm of Sam? or with that truly elegant scientific pugilist, Tom Belcher, who had twice surrendered up his laurels to this distinguished Jew. Cropley too, who ought never to be mentioned without praise, ranking as a superior scientific boxer, was tremendously beaten by him; and his last antagonist, Ben Medley, possessing sound fighting pretensions, true game, and science, was reluctantly compelled to acknowledge his vast superiority. The renowned Dutch Sam was once more before his friends; and his fanciers were so confident of his adding another laurel to his brow, that bets to an extravagant amount were loudly offered. To have named the Baker as having anything like a chance, was out of the question; but, at this period, to have proposed an even bet that Nosworthy won, would have been laughed at, as betraying a total ignorance in matters of sport. Such was the state of things upon the combatants facing each other; and the great superiority of the Jew was expected to be witnessed every instant. The decision was near at hand, and the Baker, eager to commence the attack, displayed more of valorous spirit than scientific precision. In making play, his distances proved incorrect, and two blows fell short. Sam gained nothing by this opening. Nosworthy, full of resolution, followed up the Jew, appearing rather too rapid in his manner to take any particular aim, and seemed to prefer going in, to trusting to those advantages that are sometimes obtained in sparring. Sam made a slight hit upon the Baker’s nob, but ultimately went down.

2.—The eagerness of the Baker appeared to supersede every other consideration. He again hit short; but Sam did not miss this opportunity, and returned right and left, drawing the cork of the Master of the Rolls. Nosworthy, it seemed, had made up his mind to smash the Jew, and, in his haste to get at Sam, slipped and fell.

3.—The Baker, determined in his mode of warfare, resolutely made up to Sam, but the Jew warded off the force of the blows with much adroitness. Nosworthy received a hit from Sam, and went down, but his fall was attributed more to the slippery state of the turf than to the severity of the blow.

4.—This round commenced with severe fighting, and much activity was displayed on both sides. Some good hits were exchanged. The Baker drove Sam before him to the ropes, and here it was that Nosworthy showed his superiority by putting in three tremendous blows. Sam fell, evidently distressed, and his breath was nearly hit out of his body, by a terrible blow he received upon his breast. His friends, however, thought that his conduct was a mere ruse de guerre. In fact, nothing could shake their opinion that the Jew was playing a sure game, by letting the Baker make the most of his strength, in order that, at a more advanced stage of the battle, he would become exhausted, when he might be easily “kneaded” to answer the purpose of the Israelite.

5.—It was in this round that Sam found out what sort of a customer he had to deal with. He was also convinced, too late, that the chance was against him: he could not resist the hardy blows of the Baker, nor had he room enough to get away from him. Sam’s hits produced no effect upon the courage of Nosworthy, who went in in such an unusual manner to anything the Jew had experienced with any of his other competitors, that he was confounded. His wonted fortitude seemed to have deserted him, and dismay taken possession of his mind: he went down quite exhausted. But however Sam might feel that he was sent down against his will, it did not appear in that light to his backers, who generally looked upon this as nothing more than artifice of the Jew to weaken and tire out his adversary. A few persons who were not quite so infatuated with the appearance of things, hedged off a little of their four to one. Some others ventured upon even betting; but this latter circumstance was by no means general.

6.—Sam was scarcely upon his legs and set-to, when Nosworthy put in a blow that sent him down.

7.—The Baker, always ready, proved himself a resolute and skilful boxer. He did not wish to lose time by any useless display of scientific attitudes. The proud name of Sam proved no terror or drawback to his exertions: he went in with as much gaiety as if he had been only contending with a novice, instead of fighting with a boxer who had performed such wonders in the pugilistic annals. Nosworthy planted some good blows, and the Jew was again down on the turf.

8.—The science of Sam was conspicuous in this round, but the strength of his opponent was not to be reduced. The Jew put in some good hits in a smart rally, but he could not divert the Baker from his purpose, and Sam went down again much exhausted.

9.—Nosworthy commenced this round with his usual spirit, by driving Sam again to the ropes, where he punished him severely. Sam, notwithstanding, planted some hard blows, but the impetuosity of the Baker carried all before him. The best efforts of the Jew, however well directed, seemed as useless as if he had been trying to stem a torrent. At this period the deeply-interested ones perceived something in the Baker they had not expected. That a chance must not be thrown away when four to one had been betted. A bustle now commenced, and the outer ring was broken. The populace pressed heavily against the roped ring, bearing down all opposition to keep them off, and many persons crossed the ropes, to the confusion of the combatants. However we might be disposed to attribute this disorder of the ring as the effect of accident, owing to the great concourse of spectators, to what account can we place the conduct of a strong man endeavouring to force out of the ground one of the stakes which supported the ring, and which attempt was only prevented by the manly interference of the Champion of England? Nosworthy appeared at the mark, and called out to Sam to observe he was ready, but the Jew declined setting-to till the ring was cleared out. It may not be improper here to remark that, if Sam had decidedly felt in his own person he was, or must be eventually beaten, if he continued the contest, it is natural to infer that he would have saved the money of his friends by taking the advantage of this interruption in making at least a drawn battle; but the Jew wished to fight it out. In clearing out the ring, the confusion beggared all description. The whips and sticks were laid on heavily. In the course of about twelve minutes the desired object was attained, when the combatants once more commenced operations.

It would be superfluous to detail the remainder of the rounds, in number thirty-eight. Complete sameness pervaded the whole of them; and Sam, who had hitherto portrayed the hero, now scarcely exhibited the traits of a second-rate pugilist. The ferocity which had so terrified his opponents was no longer visible; indeed he exhibited weakness and distress early in the fight. It is curious to remark that he never once knocked down Nosworthy; but, on the contrary, was either floored or went down every round, with the exception of about three. Still the friends of Sam, and particularly those denominated “the flash side,” relying on his experience and judgment, flattered themselves it was all right, that he was aiming to bring down Nosworthy to his own pitch, to obtain any conquest, and give a good opportunity of betting. But they wofully deceived themselves; the wished for change never arrived.

Remarks.—Nosworthy proved himself a confident boxer. If his movements were not equal to the scientific precision of Tom Belcher, his undaunted resolution and courage, from the commencement to the termination of the fight, reminded many of the spectators of that peculiar forte of Bill Hooper. The Baker was a two-handed hitter, and seemed perfectly awake to the business before him. From this mode of attack the debilitated Jew stood no chance whatever. The strength of Sam, once so much the theme of his backers, was missing, and he appeared a mere shadow of his former self. He could not knock down Nosworthy, or even hit him away. This defeat of a great favourite may operate as a useful lesson: youth and strength must be served; and never was the position more clearly and decisively shown than in this instance. Sam was turned of forty-one years of age, and his irregularities of life must have dilapidated as fine a constitution as was ever possessed by man. His opponent, a young man of twenty-eight, was in good health, of great strength, and weighed a stone and a half more than the Jew; besides, we are to take into the scale that Nosworthy was not destitute of skill, and possessed unimpeachable bottom, which had shown itself in all the battles he had fought. But calculation was out of the question. The game of chance, even, was completely lost sight of. “To a certainty, to a certainty,” was the cry of nearly the whole of the fancy; and any opinion expressed in favour of the Baker was instantly silenced by four to one, treated as a want of judgment, and laughed at with derision and contempt. Upon Sam’s resigning the contest, a general consternation took place among the backers of the hero. If the Jews were weighed down with grief, the Christians were equally miserable and chapfallen at this unexpected defeat. So complete a cleaning out, it is supposed, had not taken place in the boxing world, since the conquest obtained by Slack. It is computed that, in different parts of the kingdom, £100,000 at least were lost upon this battle. In the dismay of the moment, the exclamations of the losers were loud and vehement. “’Tis impossible!” said many. “It must be a cross!” The combatants did not appear to be so much punished as might have been expected. But the case was altered; instead of giving, as heretofore, Sam now received punishment. Sam must have suffered terribly from the repeated knock-down blows he experienced; but his frame was of so close a texture that it did not exhibit marks of punishment like most other men. This was an important point towards victory on his side, by disheartening his antagonists, who, however they might mill him, could not see the result of their efforts, from Sam’s appearing fresh and unhurt. Had Sam properly attended to his training, had he viewed the consequences of the battle in the light of an experienced veteran, bearing in mind that he had everything to lose, and but little to gain, the sequel might have proved different. His experience and judgment should also have pointed to him, that youth, strength, science, and determined resolution were not to be disposed of as matters of course; that it was not a mere sporting article he had to pink for his amusement—one who had presumptuously dared to enter the lists against so mighty and renowned a chief. Some caution, it might be presumed, was necessary when it was also known to him his antagonist was above a novice; that Nosworthy was an energetic boxer, aspiring to reach the top of the tree. But the conquests of Sam had made him forget himself. Fame and flattery had cheated him. The whole race of pugilists viewed him as a phenomenon, and impressed with this character, it should seem, latterly, that poor Sam “had crept so much into favour with himself,” that he vainly imagined he had only to appear in the ring, and his name alone was sufficient to vanquish any pugilist who might have the temerity to oppose him. He at length fell a victim to “self-conceit” and ill-timed flattery.

The fame which Nosworthy earned on this occasion led to several challenges, among others to one from the renowned and hardy Scroggins, which he accepted, and they met on June 16, 1815, at Moulsey Hurst. The details of this battle will be found in the Life of Scroggins, p. 416, who was on this, as on many other hard fought fields, the conqueror. His friends attributed this defeat to bad condition; but the truth seems to be that in Scroggins, Bill Nosworthy met a miller of his own stamp.

Bill was afterwards matched to fight George Curtis, but the latter paid forfeit from ill-health.

Nosworthy felt his defeat by the hardy little tar, and never recovered his usual spirits. Dissipation and excessive drinking hurried him into a consumption, and in the last stage of this frightful disease, he, with the assistance of a few friends, left London for Lympstor, in Devonshire; but, in October 26, 1816, while resting at Exeter, he received his final knock-down, scarcely surviving the Jew three months. His connections in Devon were very respectable, and his manners, until depraved by excessive drink, pleasing, while his appearance was prepossessing.

BEN BURN (“UNCLE BEN”)—1810–1834.

There was nothing in the pugilistic exploits of the first of the Burn family (“Uncle Ben,” as he was afterwards termed, on account of the higher merits of his “nevvy”) to deserve particular record. He was well known as a sparrer with the “big ’uns” at the Fives Court, a match-maker, a second, a ring attendant, and a sporting publican. He beat J. Christie on Highgate Common, January 1, 1810, for 40 guineas. Fought Flanagan for 100 guineas, March 27, 1814, whom he also defeated. His after fights were with Dogherty, Silverthorne, Palmer Jones, Tom Spring, and Tom Oliver, by all of whom he was beaten. He also had a set-to with “Gibletts” (Charles Grantham), whom he beat in twenty minutes in a room fight in Bow Street, June 13, 1821. His last appearance (which is omitted under his name in “Fistiana”) was with Old Tom Oliver, in 1834, who defeated him at Hampton in six rounds, twenty-four minutes, for £25 a-side, as will be seen under the Memoir of Oliver.

HARRY HARMER, THE COPPERSMITH—1812–1815.

This scientific pugilist was allied to the family of the Belchers, and was born in the place known as the Horse Fair, Bristol, in 1784. His sparring was for many years the theme of admiration. His height, five feet eight inches and a half; his weight, eleven stone and a few pounds. It does not appear that Harmer, although reared in the hot-bed of pugilists, exhibited in any public scientific contest previous to his arrival in the metropolis.

The superior style he displayed in his first battle with Maltby, the latter having vanquished George Cribb and Cope, brought Harmer into notice with the admirers of pugilism. With Jack Ford, in his second contest, he also rose a step higher; and in his third and last battle, with Shelton, he established his reputation as a game and first-rate boxer.

Harmer entered the lists with Maltby on Thursday, June 12, 1812, at Wilsden Green, for a purse of £25 guineas. Maltby was the favourite six to four, and nearly a stone heavier than Harmer, who was a stranger to the ring. Tom Jones and Cropley seconded Maltby, and Belcher and Richmond attended upon Harmer. At one o’clock the men set-to.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Both the combatants seemed intent on fighting, and began without ceremony; they, however, soon disengaged from a close, and Harmer, with great dexterity, planted a severe right-handed hit on one of Maltby’s peepers without receiving any return. Maltby, with much determination, fought his way into a close, and, in a trial of strength to obtain the throw, they both fell, Harmer uppermost. (The odds rather lowered, and Harmer became attractive.)

2.—Harmer commenced in grand style, and planted a left-handed blow upon Maltby’s nose, which, added to his already damaged eye, changed the appearance of his face. A desperate rally occurred, and hit for hit took place, when Maltby was floored from a severe blow on his forehead. (The partizans of Harmer began loudly to applaud, and offered five to four upon his winning.)

3.—The men were both on their mettle, and considerable execution was done on both sides. Maltby stood up like a hero, and satisfied the spectators he had not a particle of flinching in his composition. A rally ensued, and much reciprocal hitting occurred. The right hand of Maltby punished Harmer’s body so severely that, from one tremendous hit, he went staggering away like a drunken man; but the latter, to the astonishment of the ring, returned hastily upon his opponent, and, in a finishing style of execution, Maltby went down. It was now seen that the reach of Harmer gave him the superiority, and his friends sported the odds without hesitation.

4 to 15 and last.—At this early stage of the fight Maltby was reduced. Harmer made play in every round, and kept the lead in gallant style. From the quickness of Harry, he literally beat his man stupid. Maltby contended, in the most determined manner, for thirty-seven minutes, when nature was so exhausted, that he was carried out of the ring by his seconds.

From this manly specimen Harmer became the object of considerable conversation in the pugilistic circles; his length, quickness, and punishing hitting deterred a few of the fighting men from entering the lists with him, till Jack Ford was matched with him for a purse of 25 guineas.

This battle took place on the 23rd of August, 1813, a mile to the eastward of St. Nicholas, in Kent, upon the land of Mr. Neale, a Kentish yeoman, a short distance from Margate. The veteran Joe Ward and Hall seconded Harmer; Paddington Jones and Clark attended upon Ford.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Harry commenced fighting with great confidence by making play right and left, but without much effect, Ford having stopped and returned. In closing, they both went down. The betting, which had been previously rather high upon Harmer, was now rather reduced, it appearing that Ford would not let his nob receive that severe punishment which Harmer had dealt out so liberally upon Maltby. (Five to four upon Harmer.)

2.—A good rally, and both the combatants upon their mettle. Ford most conspicuous, but did not like the right hand of Harmer. Strength on both sides was resorted to in falling; but the advantages in this round appeared on the side of Ford.

3.—The right hand of Harmer got into work, and the forehead of Ford received a severe taste of his quality. The game of the latter, however, was not so soon frightened as to deter him from attempting to adopt his favourite mode of in-fighting; and several teasers did not frustrate Ford from boring in upon his adversary, yet he still lost by comparison, and was thrown.

4.—The truth must be told: the bad training of Ford could no longer be concealed. His wind was treacherous, and he was sparring to gain time; but he guarded himself so scientifically, that a short time elapsed before any opening occurred whereby Harmer could derive any advantage, when he at length put in a heavy body blow on his opponent, and Ford, with considerable dexterity, returned a “sender” on the head of Harmer. Equality was preserved in this round; but Ford went down from a terrible blow. (Brisk betting upon Harmer two to one.)

5.—Ford, full of pluck, rallied with spirit, slashing away without any care respecting himself; and Harmer was no ways behind hand in hammering his opponent. Their hitting told, and the round was not terminated without considerable execution being manifest. Harmer threw Ford. Weakness now appeared on both sides.

6.—Harmer received a severe hit in the body and went down.

7.—In going in to rally, Harmer was repulsed by Ford, when the latter for a short period had the best of the milling. On getting near the ropes, Harmer got Ford’s nob under his left arm and fibbed him so terribly that he was glad to put an end to it by falling through his hands. Harmer was now the favourite in every point of view.

8.—Ford, always brave, showed he was determined not to lose his character, and the fortitude he exhibited in this round claimed universal praise. Punishing without ceremony took place upon both sides; and the right hand of Harry, from a terrible hit he planted upon Ford’s eye, was much injured. The combatants stuck to each other hard and fast, pelting away in all directions; but the strength of Ford was leaving him, and he held by the ropes, where the mastery of Harmer was evident, by holding up his opponent with his left hand and with his right putting in some weighty blows. The betting amateurs were now satisfied it was all their own way, and offered to lay any odds upon Harmer.

9.—Ford had now received so much severe punishment that it was evident he was losing ground rapidly. He had given such decided specimens of game in his other contests, that it was well known he would not relinquish fighting while anything like a chance remained. He therefore summoned all his courage to get a turn in his favour, but was reduced to that state where superior science and strength must be served. Ford, from one leg being shorter than the other, fought under peculiar disadvantages in this respect, and when retreating, it appeared very conspicuously. It now appeared that he fell without a blow, but it was owing to this defect.

10.—Humanity of character should never be forgotten, and it ought always to be recorded as an example to other pugilists. Ford was in an unfortunate situation against the ropes, where a blow must have finished him; but Harmer nobly disdained to take any advantage of a brave competitor while a more manly path presented itself; and he never could show manhood in a finer style than in walking away and leaving Ford to go down himself.

11.—Harmer now punished his antagonist with ease and address till he went down, and Ford was more enfeebled every round; but, notwithstanding the milling he met with, he could not be prevailed upon to give in until the twenty-third round, when he was completely told out.

Remarks.—Ford, although defeated, showed that his pretensions to boxing were good and scientific, and that he was not to be got at without some difficulty. The importance of training does not seem to operate on pugilists in general; or, if they do understand its value, it should seem that, in too many instances, they do not strictly comply with its regulations to obtain those essential requisites toward victory—sound wind and good condition. It was evident that Ford suffered considerably from this neglect. As an in-fighter he was able to do considerable execution, but the length of Harmer was too much for him. With Oliver, Ford contended for two hours and ten minutes; and, notwithstanding it was thought that he had generally improved, yet with Harmer he was disposed of in thirty-five minutes. Ford’s body exhibited some severe marks of punishment, and he was bled before he left the ground.

Harmer, after a year and a half had elapsed, was matched with Tom Shelton, the navigator. It may not be improper to premise the occasion of this battle. Shelton was introduced at the Fives Court, and ascended the stage with Harmer, at Cribb’s benefit, on May 31, 1814, as a complete novice. Shelton appeared determined for a downright mill, and attacked Harmer furiously, endeavouring to show his abilities. Harry, with skill and dexterity, parried off his strength, and put in some touches that drew forth the claret. To call it sparring would be erroneous, it was complete roughing. The impetuosity of Shelton was astonishing, and it was also curious to observe the decided mode in which Harmer drove the former away from him. During the contest Shelton was so sharply met by his antagonist, that he turned completely round twice, and recommenced his attack. The science of Harmer, however pre-eminent, was not enough to convince Shelton of his superiority, and it at length became necessary for Harry to add strength to his efforts to abate the rushing of his opponent. Harmer, at arms’ length, gloved him severely, but, upon Shelton rushing in to mill, Harry got his nob under his left arm, and with his right hand fibbed him so tightly that, to prevent its proceeding to an actual fight, it was deemed prudent that no more such sparring should take place between them in the Court. This was Shelton’s first appearance; and, from the spirit he displayed, he was much fancied by several of the amateurs. An opinion was entertained that he only wanted a better knowledge of boxing, in addition to his other requisites, to make him a dangerous customer for any of his weight. In the course of a twelvemonth he acquired considerable science; and, notwithstanding the character Harmer maintained as a first-rate boxer, the capabilities of Shelton were not viewed with indifference by many of Harry’s friends. The match at length being made for 100 guineas, it created considerable interest in the sporting circles, and on Tuesday, April 18, 1815, they met, in a twenty-four feet roped ring, on Hounslow Heath, near the rivulet which divides the heath from Twickenham Common. Shelton was the heavier man by some pounds. Seven to four on Harmer eagerly taken by the friends of Shelton. The spectators were exceedingly numerous. Richmond and Oliver were for Shelton, and Tom Belcher and Bill Gibbons with Harmer. At one o’clock the men shook hands and set-to.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The determined quality of Shelton was well known to the amateurs, and great anxiety was manifested. The navigator, eager to commence fighting, endeavoured to plant two left-handed blows, but his distance proving incorrect, Harmer floored him in a twinkling, and the claret was visible upon his face. (Loud shouting, and two to one freely offered against Shelton.)

2.—The Navigator, from his eagerness to do something, again hit short, as did Harmer in returning. The men now got into a sharp rally, when Harmer, from a slip, fell down upon his knees, and received an accidental blow from the suddenness of his situation. “Foul!” “Fair!” was vociferated, but the umpires knowing the real state of the case, the battle did not suffer the slightest interruption.

3.—This round was resolutely contested on both sides, and the combatants, in a tremendous rally, exchanged hit for hit with a firmness that claimed applause from all parts of the ring. Harmer, in point of quickness, put in the most blows, and finished the round by sending his man down. (It was current betting five to two upon Harmer.)

4.—Good reciprocal boxing, when, in closing, Harmer was thrown.

5.—Shelton, full of gaiety, made play, and Harmer, from a slight hit, was again on the ground.

6.—The science of Harmer was seen to much advantage in this round. From the Navigator’s hitting short, he received tremendously left and right from Harmer, and was ultimately floored. (This changed the betting again, and seven to four was sported upon Harry.)

7.—The blows upon both sides were so hard and fast as not to be described. It was a long round, and Harmer went down rather distressed.

8.—The time appeared to be called rather too quick for both men, as both showed symptoms of distress. Some sparring occurred, when Shelton was missing in an instant: he received a blow under his left ear, and he appeared stunned, lying on the ground.

9.—It was astonishing to see with what pluck Shelton again met his man. Another desperate rally took place, at the end of which Shelton went down.

10.—Some good blows exchanged, and both down.

11.—The Navigator was on the grass from a slight hit.

12.—A short round, and Shelton thrown cleanly by his adversary.

13.—Both the combatants were no strangers to the hammering they had received. However, they got into work, and desperation seemed the order of the round. Harmer manfully strove to take out the fight of his opponent, while the latter seemed to have that precise object in view. It was hard work on both sides; but the round closed to the advantage of Shelton, who sent Harmer down. The head of the latter unfortunately, in falling, came in contact with a stake.

14.—The appearance of Harmer was against him on coming to the scratch; and none but an extraordinary man could have returned so quickly to have commenced the round. His right hand appeared also to have given way, and some alarm was felt from this circumstance. Harmer went down from a slight hit. The backers of Harry were rather puzzled, and the partizans of Shelton now boldly offered six to four upon him.

15.—Affairs were materially changed. Shelton was now decidedly the favourite; he again sent Harmer down.

16.—Harmer was still in the back ground, notwithstanding he exerted himself to change this unfortunate aspect. Shelton again had it his own way, and Harry went down from a slight blow. The friends of Shelton looked upon victory as a matter of course, and betted seven to four without hesitation; many still greater odds.

17.—This round, to all appearance, seemed to have decided the fight. A rally took place, but Shelton was quite a hero in it; he planted blows in all directions, and, from a dreadful one that Harmer received on his nob, he was floored in a twinkling. (Five to one upon Shelton.)

18.—Harmer came up to the scratch in a tottering state. He merely placed himself in a fighting position, but was soon sent down.

19 to 21.—The game exhibited by Harmer under these circumstances astonished every one present. In all these rounds he seemed bewildered, and the advice of his seconds lost upon him. It was all against him, and in the twenty-first round Shelton was so much the superior man, that Harmer was hit out of the ring. (The odds were now so great, and the termination of the battle considered so certain in favour of Shelton, that no takers were to be found.)

22.—Harmer came almost reeling to meet his man. It was desperation in the extreme, or, in the bold language of the hero of Bosworth Field,

“I have set my life upon a cast,

And I will stand the hazard of the die.”

It was thought next to an impossibility that Harmer could last a round longer; but such is the uncertainty of battle, that he made a tolerable bout of it, and also had the good fortune to hit his opponent down. The surprise this circumstance occasioned cannot be described; even betting was the fact.

23.—Harmer appeared first upon his legs, and, strange to state, so sudden was the falling off of the Navigator that, on being brought to face his man, he seemed insensible to every object around him. Harmer hit him down.

24.—Considering the exhausted state of both the combatants, this might be considered a good round. The Navigator seemed to recollect himself, and ultimately sent down Harmer. (Shelton was again the favourite, and seven to four against his opponent was viewed as safe betting.)

25.—Harmer still persevered, in spite of all obstacles, and from the advantage of giving Shelton a dreadful cross-buttock, victory turned in his favour. The fall was so heavy that the breath seemed to be all shaken out of the Navigator, and one of his shoulders received a violent contusion.

26.—Shelton was completely stupefied from the effects of the last round, and Harry merely pushed him down. (The odds now rapidly changed again, and Harmer for anything.)

27, 28, and last.—The Navigator was all but done, and a blow from Harmer on the side of his head put a period to the contest, which was decidedly finished in thirty-five minutes.

Remarks.—It was impossible for superior courage to have been shown in any battle whatever than in this between Harmer and Shelton; a more truly sporting fight was never witnessed. It is true the amateurs felt some degree of surprise at the sudden falling off of the Navigator; but Harmer raised his fame from his manly conduct, and only won the battle from his unbounded game and perseverance.

Harmer, shortly after the above combat, in company with Fuller, crossed the water, in order to give the natives of France some practical ideas on the national sport of English boxing, and were liberally received. Their efforts were thus delicately announced in the French papers:—“Two English boxers have already given several representations in the Rue Neuve des Petits Champs. Persons of the most refined sensibility may be present, for these boxers do not strike so as to do each other any injury. In England, after every battle, one or two of the assailants must be declared hors de combat, and when they are obliged to carry him off the field in a wheel-barrow or on a shutter the pleasure is complete. At Paris we are not so greedy: we content ourselves with a few blows, and the demonstration of them is enough.”

Harmer set-to with Fuller upon a stage erected on the race-course, near Montmartre, between the heats. The Duke of Wellington was one of the spectators upon this occasion, and ordered five Napoleons to be put into the hat. This was shortly after the occupation of Paris by the allied sovereigns, and a number of distinguished characters belonging to various nations attended. At some of the minor theatres in Paris the sparring of these boxers not only contributed to fill up the ballet of action, but was loudly applauded. The liberality of Monsieur, however, was far behind the contributions of the amateurs at Moulsey. One lively instance presents itself. An English officer, a Captain of the Guards, went round to the spectators on the race-course with a hat, to collect subscriptions for Harmer and Fuller, and upon coming up to a fashionably dressed Frenchman, he generously threw in a single sous. The officer, by way of a set-off for the liberal donation, immediately held it up in his hand and, walking round the stage, exclaimed, “Behold this very handsome present given by a French gentleman!” This nouvelle mode of ridicule had the desired effect, and the Frenchman, not possessing nerve enough to encounter such an exposé, instantly took the hint and galloped off the ground, amidst the shouts and laughter of the assemblage, which was a complete mixture of English, French, Austrians, Prussians, Russians, etc.

From the conflict of opinion respecting the battle between Harmer and Shelton, the friends of the latter were induced to give him another chance. He was accordingly backed to fight Harmer, on the 26th of June, 1816; but Shelton, during his training, fell off altogether in constitution, and paid forfeit.

In December, 1817, Harmer’s ring career was ended by a severe ophthalmic disorder, which so affected his eyesight as to compel him to decline all challenges. As Harry had never been defeated, he was the object of some envy. He began business as a publican at the Plough, in West Smithfield, which he kept for many years. Shelton, having called at Harmer’s and quarrelled with him, he thereafter published a challenge, to which Harmer sent the following reply:—

“Sir,—

“I have only to observe, in answer to your challenge to me in Bell’s Weekly Dispatch, that you know the cause which compelled me to take off my coat and waistcoat in the affair to which you allude. It was to resent an injury; nay, more, it was to recover my money, the wager not being decided. Under the like circumstances, I hope I shall be always ready to resent an injury. Respecting my fighting again in the prize ring, it is well known to you and the sporting world that, from my defect of sight, I have left the ring. Indeed, I regret my defect of sight most seriously, that I am not able to meet you again in the ring, as I feel equally confident respecting the termination of it as it occurred about three years since in our battle.

“H. HARMER.

“The Plough, Smithfield, October 21, 1820.”

Harmer died in 1834, well respected by numerous friends.

HENRY JOSIAH HOLT, THE CICERO OF THE RING—1816–1820

Harry Holt was born at Islington on the 17th of May, 1792. In early life he was articled to a surveyor, but his master having failed, he was turned over for the remainder of his apprenticeship to a builder, in St. Martin’s Lane. Here he seems to have imbibed a love of “arms,” and, disdaining the jog-trot operations of the plane and saw, he appears to have determined to chisel his way through life in a more exciting path. That this resolution was prudent we are by no means disposed to believe, but “every one to his taste,” as the old woman said when she kissed her cow; and if he was unable to build for himself a fame equal to Sir Christopher Wren, he at least obtained a fame in other respects which, to the day of his death, made him acceptable in the eyes of the fancy circles.

Upon all occasions in the prize ring he evinced a tact and gallantry which obtained for him well-earned commendations; and his literary ability for some time made him the support of the milling department of the second sporting paper of the kingdom, the Era.

The first recorded conflict in which Harry Holt engaged was with a hero of the trowel, in the Five Fields, Chelsea, in the year 1810. His opponent was well known in the neighbourhood as a determined miller, and flattered himself he could dispose of the pretensions of the slight and fair-haired youth without giving him half a chance. But the science and quickness of Harry turned the scale, and he not only astonished the bricklayer, but carried off the laurel of victory in triumphant style. His next trial was with a life-guardsman (as recorded in “Boxiana”), and here again, despite the disparity of height and weight, Harry milled the swordsman till he laid down his arms.

The skirmishes of Holt ere he was out of his teens will be found related in “Boxiana,” vol. iii., pp. 372–5, in the usual loose, skimble-skamble, ungrammatical style of the uneducated editor of that undigested hotch-potch.

At the age of twenty-five Harry first shied his castor within the twenty-four feet ring (so called, upon the lucus a non lucendo principle, from its shape being a parallelogram), on the 20th of August, 1816, with Joe Parish, the waterman. This was indeed a manly, as well as a scientific, contest; and, although defeated, Holt earned “golden opinions” from all those whose good opinion was worth having. The victory was gamely disputed for ninety minutes, during which seventy rounds were fought. At the commencement Holt was thought to have the advantage, but the tide of fortune soon changed, and he “got into trouble,” out of which he never again was able to struggle. On one occasion during the fight Parish had Holt upon the ropes, in a position where he might in all probability have “finished” him, but he manfully threw up his hands and walked away, amidst loud and well-merited approbation from all parts of the ring. Holt felt so impressed with this generous behaviour of his adversary, that while his adversary sat upon his second’s knee, he shook him by the hand, saying, “I thank you, Joe, for your conduct.” After an hour and ten minutes, the termination seemed extremely doubtful, when Parish, like a true aquatic, watching the turn of the “tide which leads to fortune,” went in so strongly and determinedly that poor Harry, despite the most heroic efforts, was forced to succumb, and was led from the ring completely beaten. The result of this contest raised both men in the esteem of the milling circles, and Parish (this was his first appearance in the prize ring) was shortly after matched against the Nonpareil, Jack Randall, who, we need hardly say, in turn defeated the victor.

Holt now devoted some nine months to sparring, and acquiring a still further knowledge of his art. His manners were pleasing, his address engaging, and, as he sung a song somewhat above mediocrity, his company was sought, a dangerous thing for a young man in the great metropolis. Harry, too, from having received an education somewhat above the average of the society with which he mixed, and being moreover gifted with a command of words and a power of expression rather beyond the ordinary range, was generally elected to address the public on the occasion of benefits, etc., by such of his brother pugs who were “slow and halt of speech,” a deficiency to which those readiest with hands and feet are often doomed. From these oratorical displays, he soon acquired the sobriquet of “Cicero,” and, as the Cicero of the ring, Harry Holt for some quarter of a century figured in the public prints.

Holt’s next appearance in the prize ring was with Jack O’Donnell (said to be a relative of the once celebrated Irish pugilist of that name), at Arlington Corner, near Hounslow Heath, after a harassing journey of some miles across the country, in consequence of the interruption which took place on the day the first fight between Scroggins and Turner occurred, at Hayes, Middlesex. This was on Wednesday, March 26, 1817. The combatants stripped in a heavy shower of rain, and commenced fighting at a quarter before six o’clock in the evening. Tom Owen and Dolly Smith seconded O’Donnell; and Painter and Harmer attended upon Holt. Five to four on the latter.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Upon setting-to the attitude of Holt was extremely elegant, and his appearance altogether rather interested the spectators in his behalf. He commenced play without ceremony, by planting a severe facer under O’Donnell’s left eye, and got away with much dexterity. The latter endeavoured to return the compliment, but hit short. It was one of the most manly rounds ever witnessed, the men fighting at arm’s length; and, notwithstanding the rain descended in torrents, the combatants seemed insensible to its chilling effects, and opposed each other with the utmost gaiety. A number of good blows passed between them, materially to the advantage of Holt, who nobbed poor Paddy most successfully. Near ten minutes had elapsed, nothing like closing had occurred, and both appeared quite exhausted, when O’Donnell rushed in, and Holt was sent down. Such a first round was scarcely ever seen before. (Seven to four on Holt.)

2.—O’Donnell, finding that keeping out from his opponent was disadvantageous, endeavoured to bore in, but Holt stopped him by a tremendous blow on the jaw, that made his pimple rattle again. The Irishman was not to be dismayed, and he succeeded in marking one of Holt’s peepers. Some reciprocal fighting took place, when, in a struggle to obtain the throw, both went down, but Holt undermost.

3.—Holt hit and stopped with great facility, and his science was loudly admired throughout the ring. O’Donnell did not want for courage, and showed himself to much advantage in this round. A desperate rally took place, and in closing, O’Donnell endeavoured to fib Holt, but the latter resolutely broke away, and knocked O’Donnell’s head about like a spinning top. Both ultimately went down.

4.—A smile sat upon the countenance of Holt: he had all the coolness about his actions of the experienced pugilist, and he scarcely threw a blow away. O’Donnell’s mug, from the repeated attacks made upon it, appeared rather out of shape. Both again down. (Two to one upon Holt.)

5 to 17 and last.—It was most manly boxing throughout the whole of these rounds. O’Donnell put in some good hits, and always had the best of his opponent in throwing, but he never could keep his head out of chancery. The seventeenth round was truly desperate. O’Donnell repeatedly attempted to go in, but was as repeatedly kept out by a stopper on his nob. Holt put in six facers without any return. The jaw of O’Donnell was terribly battered, part of his chin laid open, and a tremendous blow, put in under his ear, brought out the claret instantaneously, and his senses seemed almost beat out of him. He could not come again.

Mr. Jackson made a collection of £9 to be divided between them. This battle proved a treat to the admirers of scientific boxing; so good a fight restored good humour to the amateurs for their disappointment at Hayes; and they retired well satisfied. The ring was kept in good order, although neither ropes nor stakes were used to protect the men from the crowd. The unpropitious state of the weather had not the least effect upon the feelings of the spectators, who never shifted an inch of ground in consequence of being so drippingly assailed.

The friends of Holt, from his decisive victory over O’Donnell, and the general improvement which had taken place in his fighting, were induced to match him with a better man, and, on the 20th of May, 1817, the sporting world was on the qui vive to witness the decision of the match between Harry Holt and the Nonpareil of the ring, the celebrated Jack Randall, who long preceded the subject of this sketch in his journey “to that bourne from whence no traveller returns.” Indeed, the friends of Holt and many of the most distinguished amateurs were much prepossessed in his favour, and, notwithstanding the known excellence of Randall, it was very generally thought that Holt would prove a worthy competitor. Coombe Warren was the locus in quo, and, on the appointed Wednesday, Colonel Berkeley (the late Earl), Captain Barclay, Mr. Jackson, and a muster of Corinthian patrons of popular sports, assembled at the above-named place. The combatants were equal in weight and height, namely, each about five feet six inches and a half, and ten stone two pounds to four pounds. Randall was backed by his patron Colonel Barton, and Holt by several amateurs of eminence. The stake was £50. This battle will be found in the Life of Randall, p. 332.

It was urged by many of Holt’s friends that he displayed no fight at all in this contest with Randall; but this complaint will vanish on a slight examination. Randall assumed the offensive throughout the battle, and his punishment was so electrifying and severe that he never gave Holt any opportunity of showing himself, save in the defensive department of fistic strategy. Holt did, in the earlier part of the battle, occasionally stop his opponent’s left; but the fact was, as Holt frequently afterwards observed, the fight was decisively hit out of him in the third round. Indeed, if Holt had not been a truly game man, he never could have stood before Randall twenty-five minutes, after the heavy milling he received at the outset, and in consequence of this opinion a few amateurs present collected £10, which they presented to him as the reward of his bravery.

After the battle between Turner and Cy. Davis at Wallingham Common, on Friday, June 18, 1819, a cessation of hostilities for upwards of an hour took place, during which period a purse was subscribed, but went begging for want of a couple of good ones. Sutton, the black, who had defeated the brave Ned Painter, wished to have a shy at Carter (once the soi-disant Champion of England), but the latter boxer pleaded indisposition. Hall, Jack Martin (the Master of the Rolls), and others were named, but it was “no go.” At length Harry Holt, to adjust all difficulties, shied his castor into the arena for any ten stone man, declaring (unlike our cavilling pugilists, “those of the modern time”) that he was not nice to a few pounds. His challenge was speedily accepted by David Hudson. Randall and O’Donnell waited on Holt, and Josh. Hudson and Tom Owen upon David Hudson. The purse was 20 guineas, and the odds on Holt five to four.

The “game” of Holt had been proved on more than one occasion, and his character stood high as a neat stopper, a pretty rapid hitter, and a well-scienced man. He was not, however, by any means in condition, and had walked all the way from London that morning to see the first fight. Hudson, too, was out of condition; nevertheless, they set-to with a spirit which might put to the blush mills of far higher pretence and more careful and expensive preparation, Holt taking the lead, and nobbing Hudson down.

Harry contested this battle up to the eighty-ninth round, but he could not stand the hitting of Hudson, and went down repeatedly; while, on the contrary, Hudson seemed to be getting fresher, and often ran and jumped to get in at Holt. The latter would not give in, and he was taken out of the ring by the desire of a noble lord and other amateurs. The fight occupied an hour and three-quarters.

It was a most distinguished, capital fight on both sides, and, in a word, the men covered themselves with pugilistic glory. Holt was rather too stale for his opponent; he had also some of his teeth dislodged. A handsome subscription was made for Holt.

Holt now bade adieu to the ring, in which, if he had not done what Addison declares is not within the power of mortals, namely, “command success,” he had done more, “deserved it.” Time, however, and the Fates brought round another scrimmage in the shape of a room fight, with the never-to-be-forgotten Jack Scroggins, whose “ghost” long “revisited the pale glimpses of the moon” in the poetic gaggeries of Bell’s Life.

On the 30th of November, 1820, after a sporting dinner at Randall’s house in Chancery Lane, there arose a difference of opinion during a discussion of the merits of various pugilistic professors. Spring, Purcell, Randall, Martin, the Birmingham Youth, Holt, etc., being among the parties assembled. Among matches proposed and talked of, was one between Holt and Scroggins, to come off in some six weeks from the first “time of asking.” This delay, however, the time being eleven o’clock at night, and the spirits mounting, did not suit the desperate Scroggy, who delivered his ideas on the subject somewhat in the following form:—

“Why, as to that there matter, it ain’t no match between me and Holt; I can lick him like a babby. I never was so ill with a cold in my life; but I will fight him any time you like, but I’d rather it ’ud be now.”

Holt returned Scroggins thanks for his candour, but, in return, thought Scroggins would have no chance to win with him. Nevertheless, he too was of opinion that the best way would be to decide it instantly.

“I am ready,” said Scroggins; “but the winner shall have the whole of the purse.”

“I am agreeable,” replied Holt.

The usual preparations were made for the contest. Turner and Martin seconded Scroggins, and Purcell and Sampson were for Holt. Spring was the time-keeper. Five to four on Scroggins on one side of the room, and five to four on Holt among the other party.

In this affair Holt, after taking the lead in scientific style, received a heavy fall from Scroggy’s rush in the twenty-fourth round; up to that period Scroggy had all the worst of it. Harry’s constitution, however, could not stand the wear and tear, and, after thirty-three rounds, Sampson declared Holt should fight no more.

For two men out of condition, nay, both unwell, particularly Scroggins, it was a much better fight than has frequently been seen when boxers have been in training for six weeks. Scroggins had always some tremendous points about him. It was a most gallant battle on both sides; but the blows of Holt were not hard enough to stop the rush of Scroggins. The accident Holt received in the twenty-fourth round lost him the fight; and he also complained of a sprained thumb before he commenced the battle. In a ring, some of the amateurs thought Holt might have had a better chance. The smiles of victory, which had not been familiar to Scroggins in his last six battles, now seemed to give him new life. He was, however, in the most exhausted state; and nothing but a lack of the physique to second his science and courage made Harry the loser of this most determined contest.

We here drop the curtain on the pugilistic career of Harry Holt, whereon, although the sunshine of victory seldom shone, he ever displayed, under the clouds of misfortune and ill-success, the brightest attributes of a British boxer, science, courage, self-possession, and honesty. “Some one must lose,” as a practical philosopher has remarked, and the mischances of war fell often and heavily on poor Harry. Henceforth his career was chequered and various in its character, sometimes basking in the sunshine of Dame Fortune, and at others reposing in the shade of her elder daughter, and tasting the bitters of vicissitude. He became publican, whether a “sinner” or not we will not take upon ourselves to state; but, as far as our experience has gone, the traits of his character were quite as estimable as any of those in whose sphere he moved. His early education enabled him to bring into useful operation the powers of his pen, and upon the retirement of Pierce Egan from the Dispatch, he was engaged by Alderman Harmer as the mentor of Mr. Smith, the new milling editor of that paper, now, like Harry, gone to that bourne from which no pugilist returns. Harry was found an excellent Asmodeus to Smith, and introduced him to all the eccentricities of London life, as well as to the mysteries of the London Ring, and found so apt a pupil that his protegé was soon enabled to go alone, and to obtain for the Dispatch a reputation for its advocacy of the sports of the ring, which it has long since lost, and which lies buried in the tomb of poor Smith. As a second in the ring, with his consummate judgment and “artful dodging,” Harry was only equalled by Tom Belcher and Dick Curtis; and these three men were always considered hosts of themselves in doubtful points, for, by their ingenious devices and careful husbanding the strength of their principals, they have frequently “brought their men through,” when the balance preponderated against them. In the course of his life Harry occasionally dealt in cigars and other “Parliament” commodities, and thus did his duty manfully for the support of a large family. He latterly devoted himself entirely to sporting literature, and proved himself a useful assistant to the Era newspaper, in recording milling and pedestrian occurrences, always reporting faithfully and impartially, and displaying a knowledge of his profession, eminently useful in describing the “ins and outs” and “ups and downs” of a fight. His inevitable exposure in this vocation to the change of weather in every season of the year, whether on the land or the water, now sitting for three or four hours up to his fetlocks in snow or mud in a slimy marsh, and then scorched by the rays of a mid-day sun, and again at night breathing the fœtid atmosphere of some fancy “re-union,” gradually operated upon a constitution injured by early exertion, seized his lungs, and threw him into a rapid decline. His last appearance in the discharge of his vocation was at the fight between Heffernan and Scully, in the Marshes of Kent, on Tuesday, April 9, 1844, to and from which he was conveyed with great difficulty to the steamer, and thence home. While committing to paper the result of his observations, he received his last awful summons from “the grim king of terrors,” and handing his pen to his son, left him to give the finishing stroke to his report. He left behind him a widow and six children, one of whom, Alfred, succeeded to his father’s post of Ring reporter, firstly on the Era, and subsequently on a daily journal.[^[167]] Holt was eminently known among his compeers for his “gift of the gab,” as it is vulgarly termed, hence his cognomen of “Cicero,” the speechmaking at benefits, etc., being entrusted to his care.

Would that he had left behind a goodly number of men in his profession, who, without his talents, were imbued with an equal share of honesty of purpose, integrity of conduct, and correctness in all the relations of life, both public and private; were such the case, the position of British boxers would not be degraded to the low ebb at which it stands at present. Highly respected by the patrons of the science of self-defence, and esteemed by many of the right sort yet remaining, his compeers in the ring, Harry Holt left behind him a name which may be envied by many of his fraternity who less deserve it.

WEST COUNTRY DICK, THE NAVIGATOR.—1816–1820.

A more manly and courageous boxer was not to be found among the records of pugilism than this little hero. In a short period he fought no less than sixteen prize battles in gallant style, and the smiles of victory proved propitious to his exertions in twelve, Curtis, Gipsy Cooper, and Jack Randall ranking among his conquerors; defeat by such men being no dishonour.

Richard West was a native of Bedminster, in Somersetshire, and was born in the year 1794. At the period of his first battle he was in height five feet five inches and a half, and weighed nine stone and half a pound. Dick ranked more as an active boxer than a fine fighter, and was conspicuous for being a slashing hitter; considering his weight, he certainly used his right in a tremendous manner. His courage was of so superior a quality that it often prompted him to fight men much above his own weight. The most prominent of Dick’s battles were the following:—

Dick’s first attempt at prize milling was with a man denominated the Grabbler, in Tothill Fields. It was a desperate fight, and one hour and twenty minutes expired before Dick was declared conqueror.

A man of the name of Reeve was disposed of by Dick in the short space of six minutes, at Coombe Wood. It was a match for seven guineas a-side, Dick putting down his own stake.

A gardener, of good weight, fought with Dick at Moulsey Hurst. This was also a short battle; and, as before, the confidence of Dick again prompted him to back himself. He gained the victory in good style.

Dick next entered the lists with the determined Jack Curtis, whose fatal termination of his fight with Turner we have already noticed in that boxer’s life. Dick was defeated in fifty-eight minutes, his right hand being disabled by an accident.

For a trifling purse, to make up a second fight after Carter had defeated Robinson, the man of colour, in a match against time, at Coombe Warren, on Wednesday, June 26, 1816, Dick entered the ring with Jack Payne, the butcher, but, in the course of only four rounds, the latter was so satisfied that he declared he would fight no more, and left the ring.

Dick was at length matched with Charley Martin for the sum of 20 guineas a-side. This contest took place at Moulsey Hurst on Tuesday, August 22, 1816. It was a spirited battle on both sides, and reciprocal milling occurred during forty-seven rounds; but the severity of Dick’s hitting brought him through in fifty minutes.

Martin, not exactly satisfied as to the merits of the above battle, requested a second trial of skill, which being granted, he entered the ring with Dick, confident of recovering his lost laurels, on Thursday, February 13, 1817, at Coombe Warren, for 20 guineas a-side. Richmond and Eales seconded Martin, and Dick had for his attendants Oliver and Clarke. This second encounter was bravely contested for thirty-four rounds; and sharper milling, for the time it lasted, thirty-five minutes, had not been often seen; for the last six rounds Martin had not the least chance, and left the ring much punished. The Grand Duke Nicholas of Russia, the late autocrat of that mighty empire, who witnessed this battle, seemed much interested in the event, and made many remarks upon the courage displayed by both boxers.

Dick was now thought a competent match for the Nonpareil, Jack Randall, who defeated him in thirty-three rounds. See Randall, p. 330.

To make up for a wretched burlesque on scientific pugilism, which took place on Tuesday, December 23, 1817, at Coventry Farm, on the Hale, Middlesex, Dick was suddenly called upon to enter the ring with Street, for a subscription purse of 10 guineas. No delay occurred, and Dick, attended by his seconds, Paddington Jones and Ballard, and Street by Dolly Smith and Lancaster, appeared within the ropes at thirteen minutes to three o’clock, and fought as follows:—

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Dick’s right hand soon got into work, and slightly nobbed his opponent. Street, in returning, hit short. They immediately fought their way into a close, and both went down. (Six to four on Dick.)

2.—Dick, as usual, full of bustle, put in a severe facer that made Street’s head shake again; the latter, with much confidence, stuck close to Dick, and gave him a sharp blow on the shoulder. In closing, both down.

3.—Street, on setting-to, planted a heavy hit under Dick’s ear and got away, laughing and nodding, by way of self-approbation. Some hits were exchanged and both down.

4.—Street made play with his left hand and got away. Hard fighting soon commenced, when Dick, with spirit and judgment, drove his opponent to the ropes, and hit him clean out of the ring. (Great applause. Seven to four against Street.)

5.—Street met his man confidently, but his blows, though often well directed, lost their force from being open-handed; the best of the hitting was on the side of Dick. In closing, both down.

6.—Dick went down from a hit under his left arm; but it appeared more owing to the slippery state of the ground than the force of the blow.

7 and 8.—In the latter round Dick took the lead in good style, hit his opponent quite away from him, and followed him with success, making several blows tell, till both went down.

9.—Street did not turn out quite so easy a customer as Dick had imagined. The nob of the former was rather the worse for the battle; but no claret was to be seen about either. Could Dick have used his left hand with any sort of effect, he might have made greater progress towards conquest. This was a milling round, and both down in the close.

10.—Dick was rather distressed from his exertions in the last round, and seemed rather slow in quitting his second’s knee, which excited much vociferation of “Time, time,” from Lancaster. Paddington Jones was angry at this, and offered to fight the former for his uncalled-for noise. When at the scratch some sharp hits were exchanged, and Street went down from the severity of his opponent’s right hand. (Two to one on Dick.)

11.—Street, it was evident, could not protect his head from repeated facers; but he planted a sharp body blow that moved Dick from his station. The ground was in such a wet clayey state that neither of the combatants could stand firm. However, Dick sent Street down in a twinkling. (“Bravo, Dick!” and five to two was offered.)

12 to 15.—In the latter round Street hit his opponent down, and planted so severe a blow on one of Dick’s peepers that made it wink again. Street felt flattered at this event, and clapped his hands at Dick while on the knee of his second.

16 and 17.—Dick slipped down from a slight hit; he was evidently distressed. Oliver handed the eau de vie to his seconds, who instantly administered the restorative cordial.

18 to 20.—In all these rounds Street appeared the fresher, though his opponent had rather the best of the milling. Dick’s eye was puffed up and seemed dark, and Street anxiously endeavoured to shut up the other.

21.—Street came to the scratch laughing and nodding at Dick by way of derision; but the latter gave him such a podger on the jaw that not only spoiled the grin on his countenance, but made him laugh on the wrong side of his mouth. He finished the round by hitting him down.

22.—Dick seemed to have recovered and reduced Street to his pitch; he made his hits tell as fast as he could plant them.

23.—The scale was now turning, Dick having it all his own way. He planted four severe facers without any return, and ultimately sent Street down. (Five to one.)

24 to 27.—In these rounds Street scarcely exchanged a blow before he was in the mud.

28 to 32.—It was all up with Street; he was down every round. Dick very politely inquired how he felt himself?

33.—Street, on leaving the knee of his second, was asked by Dick “To come to his place, and stand up like a man;” but he was again down, as soon as Dick stepped towards him.

34 and last.—On setting-to, Street almost laid himself down. He, however, got on his legs, but seemed to avoid meeting his man, and so the fight ended in thirty-one minutes.

Remarks.—Considering that the above contest was a made up mill on the spur of the moment, it was far above mediocrity, although there was more manhood than science displayed. The combatants, too, it seems, were equally unprepared for the event, Dick having been “navigating” early in the morning, and “padded the hoof,” as it was termed in what Ephemera calls the “faded flash era,” down to the Hale. Street also had pedestrianised it from Woolwich to the same spot, a distance of twenty-two miles, which must have operated as a considerable drawback upon activity. Dick’s mug was rather battered; and had not the frame of Street been of a close texture, the repeated punishment he received would have been much more visible. The latter, though defeated, was not altogether satisfied with the termination of the fight; and it was thought not unlikely, at a future period, it might lead to a more regular meeting. Dick was now not above nine stone and half a pound, and declared himself open to any man under ten stone weight in the kingdom.

Colonel Barton and several amateurs of rank appeared on the ground. Randall, Parish, Scroggins, Oliver, Gibbons, Tom Belcher, etc., were also present.

A match was now proposed to Dick to enter the lists again with Jack, the butcher. Our game little hero accepted the challenge without hesitation, and on Tuesday, February 2, 1818, upwards of eight thousand persons assembled on Old Oak Common, Middlesex, to witness the battle. The fight was for 20 guineas a-side, in a twenty-four feet roped ring. From the size, strength, and weight of the knight of the cleaver (added to his promise of fighting like a man for once in his lifetime), he was backed by the soi-disant knowing ones at six to four; but the steady amateurs who valued character, who admired pluck, and who were well assured that while a chance remained Dick would not quit the field, took the odds again and again as a safe thing. The event justified their judgment. At thirteen minutes past one o’clock, Dick, accompanied by his seconds, Randall and Paddington Jones, entered the ring and threw up his hat. Payne soon followed and answered the token of defiance, attended by the veteran Joe Ward and Dick Whale. The good old ceremony of shaking hands was then gone through, and the combat commenced.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Jack set-to rather eagerly, but hit short, when Dick’s right hand made free with his opponent’s nob. In closing, Jack endeavoured to fib West, but both went down.

2.—Jack seemed to feel as if he had still some character left, and endeavoured to convince the amateurs that he could fight. He gave Dick a precious muzzler, and exchanged some sharp hits; but when Dick put in a facer which produced the claret, a slight trait of his old system peeped out, and he went down not in the most gallant style.

3.—This was a good round, and two minutes of downright milling occurred. Jack put in two desperate facers with much dexterity, and likewise some sharp body hits. Dick was not behindhand with his opponent, and exchanged hits in a manly style till he sent Payne down.

4.—Payne hit his adversary till Dick got the turn, when he followed the butcher all over the ring; the latter’s mug was bleeding copiously. Both down.

5.—Sharp work was the order of this round, and reciprocal nobbers occurred. In closing, Dick threw his adversary.

6.—Dick evidently took the lead, although he did not escape severe punishment. Payne went down from a heavy hit he received on his body; he fell on his knees, and his nob bent forward on the ground in a singular manner.

7.—After an exchange of blows Jack curred it down from a facer. (“He’s coming it!” and disapprobation.)

8.—Dick went down from the force of his own blow.

9.—This round raised a blush upon the cheeks of the game pugilists who witnessed the fight. A boxer, at least twenty pounds heavier, and taller, than his antagonist, positively turned his back and ran away from a nine stone man, after receiving a few sharp hits, and in a manner laid himself down. (Loud hissing.)

10.—It was singular to observe how, when the butcher forgot his fears, he fought in manly style. In this round Jack had decidedly the best of the milling: he planted two facers right and left, and sent Dick down from a bodier. The latter, while on his second’s knee, appeared much exhausted, and brandy was applied with success.

11.—Jack again took the lead: he planted two dreadful hits right and left on Dick’s nob that seemed nearly to stupefy him; but Dick, game-cock like, went in with the most determined confidence, changed the scene, and the butcher rolled down from a hit.

12.—After an exchange of hits, Dick sent his opponent down.

13.—Dick slipped down on one knee, but recovered himself, and ultimately got his adversary down.

14 and 15.—Jack was down in both these rounds, but not before Dick had received much mischief.

16.—Dick again slipped; but recovering himself to meet his antagonist, received a desperate blow near the mark that floored him. This was bad judgment on the part of Dick.

17.—This was a singular round: both went down from counter hits.

18 to 20.—One of Dick’s peepers was nearly closed, and although he had not lost a single drop of claret, he had received an unusual degree of punishment. These rounds were rather in favour of Dick.

21.—This was a grand round on the part of the little one. He planted three facers with his right hand without return; but Jack at length got into work, and fought gaily till he went down.

22 and 23.—Jack down in both these rounds; in the latter he received so severe a facer that he crimsoned all over in a twinkling.

24.—The butcher again administered some heavy punishment. In closing, both down, when Jack laughed at his antagonist.

25.—Jack went down from a hit in the throat. (“Well done, Dick!”)

26.—There was nothing like stopping attempted between the combatants; and several of the round lunging blows told desperately. Dick again received some terrible punishment about his nob that made him stagger. Both down.

27.—Dick was now extremely weak, and his nob had been so peppered that he could scarcely tell what he was about; but his natural game prompted him to proceed, and in consequence he floored Jack from a desperate hit on his mouth. (Loud shouting.)

28 to 30.—Although Payne curred it down in all these rounds, it could not be considered exactly safe to Dick. The butcher always hit his opponent. In the last round the hats were thrown up, in consequence of Jack’s not liking to leave his second’s knee. (Five to one on Dick.)

31.—The butcher slowly appeared at the scratch, and the terrible long faces of his backers resumed a more cheerful appearance at the chance. He fought this round tolerably well, and, in closing, when Dick attempted to fib him, held his hands till both went down.

32.—On setting-to, Jack fell down. (Hissing.)

33 to 37 and last.—In all these rounds the butcher went down in a currish style, although he generally planted a hit before he fell. He could not have lost it had he possessed anything like the heart of a true English boxer. Thirty-five minutes and ten seconds had elapsed, when victory was decided in favour of Dick. The latter was led out of the ring almost deprived of vision; and Jack leant across the ropes to show, as usual, that he was quite sick of it. It, however, cannot be denied that he took a good share of milling, and was heavily hit about the loins.

Remarks.—Notwithstanding Dick’s well-known bottom, it was physically impossible he could have lasted three rounds more. Nature was completely exhausted by the heavy punishment he had received. Upon Dick s being put into a coach he was for a short period stupefied, which might have been owing to the heavy nobbing hits he had undergone; and, in consequence of not losing a single drop of blood, his head was much swelled. Had Dick been anything but a game cock, he could never have had the pluck to have fought a man twenty-three pounds heavier than himself, and in every respect a more skilful boxer. Upon the whole, it was not a contemptible fight. In this instance it was admitted that the butcher “did the thing that was right,” and was defeated against his will. In a word, he was a boxer without “a heart,” and it was a matter of great astonishment how the amateurs could have suffered him again to make his appearance in the prize ring, after his unblushing effrontery in previously acknowledging his being privy to a cross. His backers, it was said, lost considerable sums in consequence of his defeat.

Dick was matched with David Hudson, for 50 guineas a-side; but he was defeated, to the great surprise and mortification of his friends, in a few minutes. See David Hudson, Appendix, Period VI.

On Friday, September 11, 1818, Dick, for a purse of 20 guineas, fought with Davis, a navigator, belonging to the Chatham Dockyard, in a field near the Chatham Lines. For the first twelve rounds it was tremendous punishment and reciprocal fighting; but in the thirteenth round Davis dislocated his wrist, which compelled him reluctantly to acknowledge Dick as the conqueror.

Abbot, who had defeated Dolly Smith, at the Barge House, in Essex, after a long fight of 138 rounds, occupying two hours and fifty-five minutes, it seems looked forward to greater conquests. At a sporting dinner which took place on Tuesday, March 2, 1819, in the neighbourhood of Westminster, several of the milling coves looked in to see if any business had been cut out for them. Dick and Abbot, it appears, accidentally met each other, and, in consequence of some difference of opinion, Abbot threatened to mill the former. Dick replied with much spirit, it should not be long before he was served out for his insolence. A purse was subscribed by the amateurs, a large shed cleared and lighted up, and the combatants stripped, attended by seconds and umpire, with all the regularity of a Moulsey Hurst contest. Randall and a gentleman amateur took Dick under their especial care; and Abbot was equally well looked after by Richmond and Hopping Ned. Dick was terribly out of condition, much distressed, and totally unfit for fighting; and the state of Abbot was a few degrees removed from condition; but, it being election time, some excuse was admitted on account of his “voting for Lushington.” For thirty-five minutes the battle raged with manliness, activity, and hard hitting. The left hand of Dick was seen to greater advantage than usual, while his right dealt out tremendous punishment. Abbot was equally on the alert, the body of Dick serving for a drum. Abbot, it is said, gave in twice. At the expiration of an hour and ten minutes, when “time” was called, he left his second’s knee, but so completely exhausted that he could not put up his hands; the umpire requested Dick not to hit him in that defenceless state, and victory was declared in his favour. Dick cross-buttocked his opponent several times with great adroitness, but did not win without receiving heavily, and from the manliness he displayed, and the weight against him, he received much praise. It was three to one on Abbot in the early part of the fight, and a great deal of betting occurred, the tens and twenties flying about like waste paper. Dick was offered to be backed to fight Abbot in a ring for £50 a-side.

Dick fought a Clerkenweller of the name of Parsing, in a long but narrow room, in the neighbourhood of Smithfield, before a few swell amateurs, for a purse to the winner, and £1 to the loser, on Tuesday evening, June 13, 1820, at ten o’clock at night. Randall and Scroggins seconded Dick, and Purcell and Tisdale were for Parsing. It was all over in eleven rounds, occupying fifteen minutes. No claret was drawn. Parsing would not fight any more, observing, Dick was too much for him in a room, but he would fight Dick in a ring for £10 a-side of his own money. Parsing, though much taller than Dick, had not a shadow of chance. The latter hero challenged Tisdale to fight before he put on his clothes, as the battle just over had not afforded any amusement to the amateurs; but Tisdale refused, stating he should obtain no credit if he won it. “Never mind,” replied Dick, “I’ll risk it.” Tisdale then publicly acknowledged that he did not think himself competent to cope with Dick in a room.

Dick fought a most tremendous battle with Jack Cooper, the Windsor Gipsy, on Epsom Downs, May 16, 1820, but he was defeated in twenty-nine rounds. See Gipsy Cooper, Appendix, Period VI.

A small subscription purse, for a second fight, at Banstead Downs, on Tuesday, July 4, 1820, was contested for between West Country Dick and Parsing. Dick was the favourite six to four. Parsing had been defeated by Dick in a room, as we have just related, but flattered himself, from his length, that he could conquer Dick in a ring. Randall and Paddington Jones seconded the latter, and Purcell and Holt attended upon Parsing. Twenty-nine rounds took place, occupying twenty-eight minutes. The latter, it appeared, could not take punishment; and the severe bodiers given to him by Dick made him grin again. Parsing went down almost every round, and finally surrendered.

In consequence of the storm having separated the amateurs rather in a hurry at North Walsham, on Monday, July 17, at the close of Martin and the Birmingham Youth’s battle, the fancy found themselves weather-bound at Norwich, and in lack of amusement, when a novice of the name of Redgreaves offered himself to the notice of a London swell for a turn-up with Dick. It was thought Redgreaves was a yokel; but, upon further scrutiny, it turned out that he was a Clerkenweller, and, like some others of the milling tribe, fancied he could fight a bit, and was determined to chance it. Dick, the game little Dick, always ready to improve his circumstances, did not value giving a few pounds in weight to his opponent; and, after the London manner, this battle took place in an elegant room, by candle-light, only a few being admitted to the exhibition. At eleven o’clock on Tuesday night, July 18, Dick stripped, Randall and Shelton taking him under their especial care. Redgreaves was well attended by Purcell and O’Donnell. Five to four on Dick.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Dick, without hesitation, went to work to ascertain what sort of pluck this new customer possessed; but Redgreaves was not intimidated, and returned the compliment as quickly. The result was that Dick went down.

2.—Redgreaves seemed full of fight, and a hard hitter; exchanged blows with his adversary in a manly manner. Dick put in a tremendous nobbing right-handed blow, but in a struggle was thrown.

3.—Dick’s nob received some sharp pepper in this round; he, nevertheless, got Redgreaves down.

4.—A complete milling round on both sides. Redgreaves had none the worst of it. Both went down.

5.—Redgreaves got Dick under his arm and fibbed him heavily, but the latter extricated himself, turned round, and went down.

6.—Dick missed a heavy blow, and fell.

7.—This was a good round. Redgreaves showed he was a heavy hitter, and nearly stove in Dick’s ribs. The latter gnashed his teeth and went down.

8.—Dick was thrown heavily.

9.—Dick put in a tremendous bodier that gave his opponent some losing notions, but went down.

10.—Redgreaves came to the scratch cruelly distressed. Randall offered a guinea to a crown that he would not fight above another round.

11 and last.—Dick unscrewed the pepper-box, and dealt out the punishment so hard and so fast that Redgreaves went down, and could not come to the scratch. It was over in fifteen minutes. Dick got £9, and Redgreaves £ 2 10s. The ribs of the former were terribly swelled. Redgreaves was not a very easy customer, and the well-breeched yokels pronounced it a manly fight.

Dick, for a small subscription purse, fought Mason (well known at the Fives Court, for his repeated sets-to with Lennox) at Chesterfield Races, on Thursday, July 27, 1820. Mason had not the slightest chance whatever, and Dick was pronounced conqueror in sixteen minutes.

Dick entered the lists with a man of the name of Hellick, a shipwright, for a purse of £ 15, at Kit’s Cot House, three miles and a half from Maidstone, on Monday, August 21, 1820. The milling fame of Dick, who had fought nineteen prize battles, five of which occurred within the short space of four months, attracted a numerous assemblage of persons. Hellick was a well-known good man, upwards of a stone heavier than Dick. Bob Purcell and Jackson handled the former; Shelton and Cooper attended upon the latter. Dick was quite out of condition, but he was never out of pluck; and a good battle was the result of their exertions. It occupied twenty-six minutes, and nineteen rounds were spiritedly contested. Dick emptied the pepper-box upon his opponent’s mug in the first fourteen rounds, and made many severe attacks upon his victualling office; but the game of Hellick was not to be reduced, and in the fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth rounds, Dick had it in such severe style that the shipwright, it was thought, would come into harbour victorious; but in the nineteenth and last round, Dick, by a sort of coup de grace effort, gave Hellick a forgetter, added to a sharp cross-buttock; he fell upon his neck, and it was all U P, to the great mortification of the yokels, who had sported their money on the dockyard man.

We have met with no record of the death of this pugilist.

ABY BELASCO—1817–1824.

During the thirty years preceding 1820, it is but candid to admit that the Jews made a very prominent feature in the pugilistic circles; but from the period that “Old Time” compelled Mendoza to retire from the field of fame, and defeat and death removed Dutch Sam from the prize ring, the glories of the children of Judah became overcast. Indeed, such men as the two first-named were rather a disadvantage even to good ones who might come after them. A century might elapse before two such boxers as Mendoza and Dutch Sam appeared in the prize ring, although for some time the “peoplesh” endeavoured to set up the subject of the present sketch in their place.

Aby Belasco was born on the 9th of April, 1797, and when he first exhibited with the gloves, he gave such promising milling specimens that high hopes were entertained by the Israelites, and their expectations were increased from his conquests, in succession, over Cribb’s coal-heaver, Josh. Hudson, and Payne.

Belasco was in his day a boxer of superior talent, a master of the science, not wanting for game, not deficient in strength, of an athletic make, a penetrating eye, and in the ring full of life and activity. His fighting weight was ten stone and a half, and in height Abraham was five feet six inches and a half.

Belasco’s first battle of note was with a man denominated “Cribb’s coal-eaver,” in consequence of his being under the patronage of the champion. This contest was for a subscription purse of five guineas, collected for a second fight. The activity and science displayed by Belasco on this occasion attracted the attention of the amateurs, and he was viewed as a pugilist of rising abilities. In the course of thirty minutes the superiority of Belasco was so decisive that the coal-heaver was glad to acknowledge he had had enough. Belasco now obtained the general patronage of the Jews.

Near the Barge House at Woolwich, Belasco entered the lists with the afterwards renowned Josh Hudson. It was a well-fought battle on both sides, and was contested with great spirit and science for one hour and thirty minutes, when the smiles of victory again crowned the efforts of the promising Israelite.

Our hero, it seems, was down at Moulsey Hurst on Thursday, April 3, 1817, to witness the fight between Randall and West Country Dick, and, not to lose sight of the “main chance,” he filled up his time on the ground in disposing of oranges, thus uniting pleasure with profit, when he was unexpectedly called upon to enter the ring with “Jack the butcher” (Payne), for a subscription purse. Belasco, without hesitation, put down his basket of fruit, peeled himself instead of his oranges, and instantly prepared for action.

He was seconded by two of his own people; Jack was attended by Paddington Jones and Dolly Smith.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Jack, full of bustle, went to work, planted three hits, and had the best of the round till they closed, when Belasco got him against the ropes, fibbed Jack severely, and both went down.

2.—The latter did not appear to like the Jew, and held down his head. Belasco went in with great gaiety, again fibbed the Butcher, and dropped him.

3.—This was a spirited round, and Jack showed fight. Some good blows were exchanged, till the fibbing system was introduced by the Jew, when both went down, Belasco undermost.

4.—The Butcher’s nob now showed the handywork of the Jew, the claret was flowing copiously. In this round Belasco appeared to do as he liked with his opponent: he punished him in all directions, and, by way of concluding, like a good workman, floored the Butcher, and jumped over him as he lay on the ground. (Great shouting.)

5.—Jack appeared at the scratch, but he soon ran himself down.

6.—The Jew behaved like a true Christian in this round. He had it all his own way; but when he got the Butcher on the ropes, in a perilous situation, he was too manly to take advantage of it, lifting up his hands and walking away amidst thunders of applause.

7.—Belasco nobbed Jack with the utmost ease, and ultimately sent him down. It was rather a sharp round.

8.—In closing, the Jew fibbed his opponent terribly, till both fell over the ropes. (Seven to four on Belasco.)

9.—It was evident the Butcher wished to avoid the fist of his adversary: he held down his head. In struggling, both again out of the ropes.

10.—Jack turned away from his man, but got peppered for so doing, and was ultimately sent down.

11.—The Butcher could not keep his head out of chancery, and was floored. (Great applause.)

12.—Jack seemed quite sick, and curred it down without a blow. (Disapprobation.)

13.—Both down, but Belasco took the lead.

14.—After the exchange of a few blows, Jack was fibbed down, his face covered with claret.

15.—If the Butcher possessed anything like resolution or bottom he might have stood some chance; but his fighting was all momentarily, either desperate or currish. Cool judgment did not work any of his attempts. He, nevertheless, made some good hits; but, in closing, was again fibbed till both went down. (Any odds upon the Jew.)

16 and last.—The Butcher ran at the Jew furiously, but it was too late to turn the scale, and he received such a floorer that he would not again appear at the scratch. The battle continued seventeen minutes and a half. Belasco retired from the contest without a scratch, and proved the conqueror in first-rate style.

In consequence of the friends of Davis, the milkman, paying forfeit to Belasco, he was hastily matched with Reynolds. In this battle he sustained defeat.[^[168]]

Notwithstanding this reverse of fortune, Aby’s partisans did not desert him, and he was considered an able competitor for the accomplished Randall. He was accordingly matched with the Nonpareil, eight weeks only having elapsed since his heavy fight with Reynolds. It is true Belasco was defeated, but it is equally true that he gained much approbation as a skilful boxer; and the battle between the Jew and Randall, in a scientific point of view, stands equal to anything on the records of pugilism. See Randall, ante, p. 333.

While Belasco was on a sparring tour with Mendoza in Gloucestershire, in the summer of 1818, he fought the Winchcomb champion, on the race-course at Cheltenham, a thirteen stone man, for 20 guineas a-side. Abraham won in the short space of twelve minutes.

In the same year, on the 9th of December, Belasco entered the lists at Coventry with Joe Townsend, who was considered the leading boxer in that place. Townsend fancied that he could beat Belasco off hand, and put down his watch and five guineas to back himself. He was a twelve stone man. Aby at that period only weighed ten stone ten pounds. Belasco proved conqueror in twenty-four minutes.

On Aby’s returning to London he was matched with Phil. Sampson for 50 guineas a-side. The battle took place at Potter’s Street, in Essex, twenty-one miles from London, on Tuesday, February 22, 1819. This fight was brought to a wrangle, but the money was ultimately given up to Belasco. See Life of Phil. Sampson, Period VI.

The Jew and the Birmingham Youth were continually quarrelling upon the subject, and a second fight took place between them. See ibid. A third fight, with the gloves, at the Tennis Court (ibid); and a fourth also occurred before doubts about each other’s merits could be decided (ibid).

Belasco left London for Bristol to fight Cabbage for 100 guineas a-side, in October, 1820; but, on his arrival in the above city, the friends of Cabbage would not advance the money. Belasco, however, was well received by the Bristolians, who, to make up for his disappointment, gave him a most excellent benefit.

In the autumn of 1820 Aby was down at Norwich, with most of the London pugilists, to witness the second mill between Ned Painter and Tom Oliver (detailed in this history, in the Life of Painter, vol. ii., pp. 85–88), when, on the following day, some little misunderstanding occurred between an amateur of Norwich and Belasco, the latter challenging the swell with offering his brother, Izzy Belasco, a sum of money to fight a cross with the Bergh Apton groom; the amateur hereon offered Josh. Hudson £5 if he would give the Jew a thump on the head for his insolence. This, however, passed over; but when the sherry was circulating quickly, at Gurney’s Bowling Green, some chaffing occurred between these old opponents, and Hudson struck Belasco. This was enough, and which was better man was decided instantly upon an elegant Turkey carpet. Spring supported the claims of Josh. Hudson; the Master of the Rolls gave his assistance to the scientific Israelite; and thirty-five rounds were contested in the most spirited manner, occupying upwards of forty minutes. Hudson was terribly punished about the head; but such was his determined courage that, although his shoulder went out two or three times, and was reduced to its proper situation by Spring, yet he insisted upon renewing the battle, and continued to fight till Belasco observed, they were both weak, and that, as he should get nothing, he (Belasco) would not contend any longer, but that he would fight Hudson for £100 in London at any time the latter would appoint. Belasco unquestionably won the fight, as he twice waited upwards of one minute while the shoulder of Hudson was reduced. The Birmingham Youth gave his bets, two guineas, as did Spring, one guinea, to Hudson. Belasco received a dreadful hit on his right eye; but this blow, the Jew asserted, was given previous to fighting. Hudson was rather inebriated; and next morning, in company with Scroggins, went to an eminent surgeon, who not only pronounced that his shoulder had been “out of its place,” but advised Hudson to take great care of himself, as he would not be enabled to enter the ring again for at least a twelvemonth. This affair took place on Wednesday, July 19, 1820.

Aby’s next turn was with Phil. Sampson (third battle, December 21, 1820), a glove fight, already noticed in a paragraph above.

Pat Halton was about this time brought out as a wonder. According to report he had beaten all Irish opponents in an unapproachable style. He was in height five feet eleven inches, and in weight eleven stone. His fame, which had gone before him, was challenged by Aby Belasco for £50 a-side, and the event came off at Harpenden Common, near St. Alban’s, on the 8th of April, 1823.

Aby arrived on the ground in a barouche and four, supported by some swells of his tribe; and at one o’clock his seconds, Richmond and Ben Burn, threw up his topper. In a few minutes, Pat Halton, arm-in-arm with his backer, a sporting Irish captain, followed by Randall and Josh. Hudson, repeated the token of defiance. The odds were guineas to pounds on Belasco. Tho colours, yellow for the Jew, and green (à la Randall) for Halton, were tied to the stakes.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On stripping, the lathy appearance of Paddy astonished his backers beyond description: his ribs were bare, his legs and arms were thin, his countenance pale, his lips white, and, in fact, he was as light as a cork. Belasco, on the contrary, was never in more prime trim. Some little squaring at each other occurred, when the Jew gave his opponent a tap on the cheek; Paddy returned without effect. Halton again missed. A long pause. Belasco planted another facer without any return. Halton’s right hand missed the Jew. At length some exchanges took place, and Belasco hit Halton as he was going down.

2.—The Irishman showed first blood; he had napped a clumsy thump on his left ear. After a few exchanges, in a close, the Jew fibbed his opponent; but Halton got the throw, and Belasco was undermost.

3.—The Jews were in raptures, and the judges of milling had made up their minds as to the result. Belasco hit his opponent on the body without any return; a facer ditto. This conduct made Halton angry, and he missed the Jew. Belasco gave another bodier without return; also a nobber Halton missed; in fact, he did not come near enough to hit his opponent. Belasco again fibbed his opponent at the ropes, but Halton got the throw. (Six to four on the Jew.)

4 and 5.—Belasco bodied his opponent several times, and got away with the greatest ease. In the latter round Belasco caught hold of his adversary by the hip. Randall said, “Foul! and if Belasco did so again he would take Halton out of the ring.”

6.—It was evident the Irishman had no chance; he went down from a hit.

7.—Belasco received a severe lunging hit on the side of his head. The leariness of the Jew was peculiarly striking in this round. Belasco gave Halton a body blow, and got away cleverly; repeated this liberty, tried it on a third time with equal success, when Aby burst out into a loud laugh. Halton endeavoured to return, but his hits were all out of distance.

8.—Halton missed numerous hits. A short rally took place, and the Irishman’s head was sent out of the ropes; but he got it in the ring again, when his left eye was nearly hit up. A pause. Halton missed his adversary, when the Jew gave him a clean knock-down blow.

9.—This was a sharp round, and Belasco received two or three hits on his body and arms. Some exchanges took place, and as the Jew was endeavouring to get away he received a hit on the chest that floored him, but he jumped on his knees instantly. (A rare shout for Halton.)

10.—The Irishman’s face was clareted, and he had napped pepper: he never had a chance of winning. Some exchanges took place, but to the disadvantage of Halton, although the Jew went down. (Murmurs from Halton’s party; and exclamations, “The Jew went down without a hit!”)

11 and last.—On appearing at the scratch, Halton’s nob was materially altered, from the punishment in the last round; and Belasco made an attempt at finishing his work. Some sharp blows passed, and the Irishman went down. Belasco, in falling, touched the face of his opponent with one of his knees. Randall called out “Foul!” and said he would take his man out of the ring. Halton said to the umpires, “It is foul!” The latter replied they saw nothing unfair, and desired the fight to proceed. Randall, however, took his man out of the ring, regardless of their decision; and when time was called, Belasco appeared at the scratch. Hudson, who had not left his post, and in the bustle had lost sight of Randall and Halton, was looking after them; but the Jew, having no opponent to meet him, was declared by the umpires to be the winner. Considerable confusion ensued, and a comical scene tied up the matter, producing roars of laughter from the spectators in the wagons. Tho roped ring was instantly filled with persons of every description, all eager to learn the event. A Babel row commenced, followed by a general fight, and many blows were given and received. It was the general opinion that Halton could not have fought two more rounds. However all the bets, or nearly so, were paid, and the stakes given up to Belasco upon the stakeholder receiving the undersigned document.

“To the Stakeholder, the President of the D. C.

“Sir,

“We are of opinion, as umpires of the battle between Belasco and Halton, that Belasco won the fight fairly, and is entitled to the stakes.

“J. H.

“J. B. C.

“April 9, 1823.”

Belasco left the ring almost without a mark. The battle had lasted twenty-seven minutes when the interruption took place.

Belasco a fourth time met Sampson, at Crawley Hurst, August 19, 1823, and was once again beaten. See Sampson, Period VI.

Resolved not to close his fistic career in defeat, Belasco, though he had formally retired and become an L. V. in Whitechapel, presented himself, after Dick Curtis and Ayres had finished their battle at Shepperton Grange, May 25, 1824, with the enquiry whether George Weston, who had promised Aby a thrashing, intended to carry out his threat? The insult to Belasco, it appears, had occurred during the fight between Ned Neale and Tom Gaynor. Weston declared his readiness, and £16 were immediately put into a purse by the amateurs. The battle was a burlesque: Aby so punished Weston all over the ring, that he surrendered after three rounds.

From this period Aby figured merely as a second and a sparrer. His later career was disreputable, as a keeper of low gambling houses, night houses, supper rooms, and such like resorts of midnight and morning debauchery, which brought him into repeated conflicts with the law. His life no further concerns the history of the ring.

CY. DAVIS, “THE GAY BRISTOL BOY”—1818–1823.

Cyrus Davis was one of those boxers who shine with a reflected light, borrowed from the renown of the man they have conquered; his defeat of the game and scientific Ned Turner establishing his claim to notice, and also his extensive acquaintance as a tradesman, in after life, first in the vicinity of old Smithfield Market, where for many years he was landlord of the Bear and Ragged Staff, of the Plough, in Giltspur Street, and subsequently an L. V. at the New Cattle Market, Islington.

Cyrus was born in the Broadway, Bristol, November 27, 1795, and was, at fourteen years of age, apprenticed to a butcher. His height was five feet nine inches, his weight a trifle under eleven stone, far exceeded in his later days. His appearance was prepossessing, and his first lessons in the art were received from his townsman, George Nicholls, celebrated as the only conqueror of Cribb. Pierce Egan gives the usual early undated victories to Davis, which we pass to come to his first recorded London display.

Davis was introduced to the cognoscenti of the metropolis by Tom Belcher, and attracted much notice by his activity in sparring and decisive precision of hitting. Cy. was taken down to Rickmansworth by his patron, on Friday, June 10, 1818, to witness the battle between Neat and Oliver (see Neat, Vol. II., Period V., Chapter IV.) That event decided, there was a purse of twenty guineas to be disposed of, five guineas for the loser. Abraham Belasco offered himself, when young Cyrus, stepping into the ring, offered to accommodate the circumcised champion. The members of the P. C. were delighted. Tom Belcher and Tom Cribb volunteered themselves as seconds to the young Bristolian, and the Israelite was picked up by Tom Jones and Cropley. Two to one on Davis.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The style of fighting exhibited by Cy. was something after the manner of Tom Belcher when that pugilist first entered the London ring. Davis went to work rapidly, with one, two. It was a sharp round altogether; but Davis took the lead and sent Belasco down. (Great applause.)

2.—One of Davis’s eyes was a little touched, but he again went sharply to work. The Jew, in closing, endeavoured to fib his opponent, and also threw him.

3.—This was a short round. Davis went down from a slight hit, or rather a slip; he instantly jumped up laughing, ready to renew the attack, but Belasco sat down on his second’s knee.

4.—The liveliness of Davis was the admiration of the ring. He had it all his own way this round, and, with a tremendous right-handed hit, he floored Belasco. (Tumultuous applause.) 5 to 2 on Davis.

5.—Cy. endeavoured to repeat the dose, but without the desired effect. The Jew received some sharp facers, but in return got Davis down.

6.—In this round the fine science displayed by Belasco was much praised. He stopped six blows in succession of his opponent: nevertheless Belasco was sent down.

7.—Some sharp work, till Belasco, in closing, fibbed Davis severely till he went down.

8.—The milling talents of Davis in this round were conspicuous: he dealt out much severe punishment to Belasco with his right hand, and with great quickness gave the Jew a back-hander, when he went down like a shot. (Tumultuous applause, and “It’s all your own, Davis.”)

9.—Belasco looked rather queerish on arriving at the scratch, when Davis finished him with a right-handed flooring hit. It was all over in ten minutes. Belasco would not fight any more.

Remarks.—Davis throughout the above battle was as gay as a dancing-master. His appearance and mode of hitting prepossessed the amateurs in his favour. The quickness of Davis was truly astonishing, undressing himself, getting into the ring, and winning the battle only occupied our hero fifteen minutes. Belasco, it was urged by his own “peoplesh,” was not in condition; and therefore the £5 had some charms for him as a losing man. However, he could not have won that day.

Davis, soon after this battle, returned to follow his business at Bristol, but he had made so strong an impression on the amateurs that Cy. was soon brought to town and matched against Ned Turner for 100 guineas a-side. They fought at Wallingham Common, Surrey, on Friday, June 18, 1819. How he was defeated may be seen at p. 385, ante.

Moulsey Hurst, the delight of the fancy for its velvet turf, was, on Tuesday, August 24, 1819, again selected for a British and Irish pugilistic display of manhood. Boshell, recently imported from Paddy’s Land, was known on the Curragh from a spirited turn-up there, but an entire stranger to the London prize ring, except from the good character given of him by Randall. In a trial set-to with the latter it was thought by some of his countrymen that he might establish himself among the light weights; therefore he was backed for 50 guineas a-side. Davis’s recent defeat with Turner had placed him rather in the back-ground; but the good judges viewed it as an easy thing for the “Bristol Boy,” and two to one on Davis was offered on the preceding evening at the sporting houses. The old ring goers and a sprinkling of the Corinthians were present. On the Commander-in-chief[^[169]] and his party crossing the water, the combatants were ordered to prepare for action; and Boshell, with much confidence, threw his hat into the ring, attended by Tom Jones and Larkins. Davis, waited upon by Harmer and Shelton as his seconds, answered the challenge. The hands were crossed in friendship, and the men set-to.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Boshell looked compact and well, but the remains of a small blister appeared on his lower ribs. Davis was as fine as could be wished, and smiled as if confident of success. The attitude and manner of Boshell soon convinced the amateurs that science was not his forte. Davis tapped him on the arm and got away; ditto and ditto; some little sparring; when Davis let fly, and a sharp facer was the result. Two or three awkward exchanges occurred, and Boshell planted a heavy body hit. They fought into a close, and, after some little struggling, Davis was thrown, and undermost. (Seven to four, and two to one was loudly offered on Davis.)

2.—The Bristol Boy soon put in a facer, that not only drew the pink, but seemed like an electric shock on the upper works of poor Paddy. Some awkward blows again passed. The Irishman got the throw. (Three to one upon Davis.)

3.—Davis, with his left hand, put one of Paddy’s eyes into mourning. Boshell, however, made some good stops, but he had not a single point towards finishing a round well. Davis was again undermost. (All betters; and “It will soon be over,” was the cry.)

4.—Boshell showed himself as game a bit of stuff as ever peeled in this round. The hitting was sharp on both sides, but Davis got away, and Boshell, in following him, received one of the Bristol Boy’s lunging hits on the nose, when he instantly fell on his face, the claret flowing rapidly. (“It’s all up now; he can’t fight two more rounds.” Oliver offered five to one on the last event, and twenty to one he lost the battle.)

5.—Boshell came up distressed, but game as a Purcell, and endeavoured to lash out. He was, however, milled all over the ring, and fell at the ropes, rolling over on his face exhausted.

6.—The mug of Paddy was a picture of punishment; both his eyes damaged and his face altogether changed. Fresh milling was added, but he nevertheless threw Davis.

7.—This was a sharp round. Boshell went down exhausted. (“It’s poundable—take him away.”)

8.—The claret was now trickling down the nose of Davis. After some heavy exchanges they broke from a close, and Boshell fought till he fell on his knees, and caught hold of the ropes distressed.

9.—Davis winked to his friends that it was all right, and planted three facers in succession. Boshell, however, showed the fight was not taken out of him, and again threw his opponent a heavy fall. (“Bravo, Boshell, you are a game fellow!”)

10.—The face of the Irishman was piteous. Boshell went down.

11.—In struggling for the throw, Davis slipped on his knees. This was thought unhandsome; but Boshell held up his hands, not to hit him foul. (“Bravo!” from all parts of the ring.)

12.—Boshell endeavoured to make some hits, but went down exhausted.

13.—Boshell was floored like a shot, from a tremendous lunging blow on his nob. (Any odds.)

14.—Boshell, groggy, was hit down, but in falling he caught the ropes.

15.—Boshell came up staggering, and soon went down. Time was called, and it was thought he had given up. Davis’s hat was thrown into the air, and the outer ring broken.

16.—Boshell said he was not done, and another round took place, but he was hit down. Paddy was, however, so game, he declared he would not say “No.” He had no chance, and was taken away. Davis, elated with his success, jumped over the ropes out of the ring, without a scratch. It was over in fifteen minutes and ten seconds.

Remarks.—If any remarks can be made, a few words will suffice. Boshell is a game, a very game man, and his courage was the admiration of the ring; but as a fighter has no pretensions. Indeed he was little more than a plaything in the scientific hands of Davis.

At Spring’s benefit at the Fives Court, on Tuesday, November 2, 1819, our hero made a considerable impression upon the minds of the amateurs, by the display of science in a set-to with the Nonpareil. Upon the appearance of Randall, followed by Cy. Davis, the audience seemed extremely anxious for the set-to. The confidence of the “Bristol Boy” astonished all; he exhibited considerable improvement. In fact, with the gloves, the Nonpareil never met such a successful opponent before. Davis did not get off without a good receipt of Randall’s talents; nevertheless, the former put in two or three dexterous facers and made some fine stops. The fanciers were all alive; the Court rang with applause. It was generally admitted that the advantage was on the side of Davis. Upon pulling off the gloves another round was called for and complied with. Both the combatants were now upon the alert, and it was a fine specimen of skill and courage. A well-contested long rally occurred, and Davis again acquitted himself in such good style as to raise his character in the sporting world.

Davis felt so much mortified at his defeat by Turner that he was often heard to say that he should never feel satisfied until he had the chance at least of a second trial with his brave opponent. This feeling accounts in some measure for his not showing in the prize ring, or figuring in the “gag” correspondence and boxing challenges then so much in vogue in the “sporting” press. However, somebody made some letters for him about fights with Gipsy Cooper, Phil. Sampson, and Turner, which Pierce Egan prints with the curious foot-note, “This letter was a hoax!” (“Boxiana,” vol iv., p. 166.)

On the second match being made, at the Castle Tavern, Holborn, between Turner and Cy. Davis for £100 a-side, the following remarks appeared in the Weekly Dispatch:—

“Davis is decidedly the favourite five to four, and in a few instances, for small sums, six to four is betted. It is nearly four years since, June 18, 1819, at Wallingham Common, that Davis was defeated by Turner in thirty-two rounds, forty-five minutes. Turner also defeated Martin in forty rounds, one hour and seven minutes, October 26, 1819; but since that period Ned has in turn surrendered to Martin. Davis won with Boshell, August 24, 1819, in sixteen rounds, fifteen minutes and ten seconds. This might be termed no match. The most important point taken into consideration by the sporting men in this battle is the modes of life pursued by the combatants for the last three years. Davis has lived regularly, and added to the good effects of training; he is as fresh as a ‘four year old,’ ‘fine as a star,’ and as confident of victory as if the battle was over. Would we could say so much for ‘poor Ould Ned;’ indeed, a few months since an opinion was entertained by the supporters of pugilism that Turner was more likely to make his exit than to show again in the prize ring. However, Ned laughs at these remarks, and asserts he is quite well.”

The fight took place at Harpenden Common, twenty-five miles from London, and four from St. Alban’s, on Tuesday, February 18, 1823.

On the Monday night previous to the battle, the Castle Tavern, although overflowing with company, was a blank as to betting. This sort of silence on a night previous to a mill occasioned one of the most respectable ring goers, and a sound sporting man for the previous twenty-five years, to observe sarcastically—“It was a square fight between Turner and Davis, which accounted for chaffing instead of betting. Ready made luck,” said he, “is wanting, and therefore a certain Bet of people will not chance a crown without the office ‘to a certainty’ is to be had in private. Nevertheless, I am glad of it,” concluded the wag, “it will bring the prize ring back to the good old times (although ‘honesty is a ragged virtue’), when such men as the late Colonel Mellish and Fletcher Reid brought their men into the ring, exclaiming, without fear of anything being attempted on the part of the boxers to do wrong, ‘I’ll bet 600 to 400.’”

The weather on Tuesday morning was rather inauspicious to a long journey, yet it did not prevent the thorough-bred ones from starting for the scene of action. At one o’clock Cy. Davis threw up his castor, followed by Richmond and Harmer as his seconds. Turner, close at his heels, arm-in-arm with the President of the Daffy Club, followed his example, attended by Tom Cribb and Josh. Hudson. Five to four on Davis. Cy., smiling, went up and shook hands with Ned. The colours, blue for Turner and yellow for Davis were tied to the stakes by Cribb and Richmond.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The condition of Cy. was beautiful in the extreme; he was a perfect picture of a man in fine health. Turner, although not up to the above mark, was, nevertheless, well patched up as to the look of the thing. The skin of Davis was transparent, ruddy, and healthful, while Turner’s exhibited a yellowish hue. Both extremely cautious; and the great difficulty of getting at the Old One prevented Cy. from making play. Turner, at length, let fly, and put in a slight hit on the body with his left hand. More dodging. Turner stopped the right of his opponent well; both extremely active on their legs. Turner put in another bodier; some exchanges, but of no consequence. Cy. tried to put in his favourite blow with his right hand, but was again stopped. Cy., somewhat tired, put down his hands for an instant, but Ned took no notice of it. Exchange of blows at the ropes: a struggle for the throw; both down, but Cy. undermost. This round occupied six minutes; and the friends of Turner shouted, and said, “it was all right, the Old One behaves well.”

2.—Turner missed a well-meant left-handed blow at the body. Neither of them eager to go to work, both anticipating danger. The right hand of Cy. told, after a few exchanges, and Turner went down. (A shout for Davis from the Bristolians.)

3.—Although in such fine condition, Davis was piping a little, and Turner kept hitting at the body. Some exchanges took place, but the blows were light on both sides. Owing to the slippery state of the ground, Turner went down from a slight hit.

4.—It had been expected that three rounds would not have passed over without some mischief, nevertheless this was a good round. Cy. smiled with confidence, and made himself up to do severe execution with his right, but Turner, with considerable skill, stopped him. Nothing done yet, and in a struggle both went down.

5.—Whether it was from partiality to the Old One or not, the friends of Turner urged he had none the worst of it; in fact, no severity of punishment had passed on either side. In closing, Turner had the best of the fibbing, and Cy. showed first blood. Davis got the throw cleverly, and Turner was undermost.

6.—The left hand of Davis seemed of no use to him, except, after the manner of the late Gas-light-Man, to hold his opponent. Some good fighting occurred in this round, and the finish of it was to the advantage of Cy., who fell heavily on Turner. (Seven to four.)

7.—Turner placed many of his blows well; but the strength of his hitting, which on former occasions appeared prominent, seemed to have left him. The great forte of Davis was to put in his right hand; and had not Turner stopped it often, the fight would soon have been at an end. Turner again had the best of the fibbing, and Cy. was undermost. (Several of the partizans of Turner began now to flatter themselves that victory was within his reach. Loud shouting, “Turner for ever!”)

8.—If Davis had commenced play, and fought with both hands, another tale must have been told. However, in this round, some severe execution was done. Turner’s left hand drew the claret from Cy.’s nose and mouth, and he appeared for the instant a little abroad; he also received a heavy body blow, but recovered and sent down Turner with a right-handed hit on the head. (“It’s all over,” from the cutting tribe of Newgate-market. “You have won it, Davis.” Two to one.)

9.—The friends of Turner began to quake a little, recollecting the almost finishing blow Ned received in his last round. This hit took a little of the fight out of Turner, and he came up bleeding and weak to the scratch, but his game did wonders for him. Davis now went to work a little. Turner, game as a pebble, returned hit for hit, till he fell exhausted. While on his second’s knee, Randall, Holt, Curtis, &c., gave the Old One advice gratis, how he should act, so anxious did they feel for his success.

10.—Ned came to the scratch like a high-couraged man, determined to strain every nerve for victory, although the chance was against him. He, however, had no idea of losing at this stage of the battle. Yet the patch-work began to peep, and the effects of premature age could not be hid. Turner received a bodier that sent him down. (The backers of Davis now booked it as safe, and inspired their hero with shouts of approbation.)

11.—Davis commenced fighting, and planted a severe hit with his right hand on the body of his opponent. Turner, however, stood up and exchanged hit for hit, till a pause was necessary on both sides. Cy. was weak in turn, and kept sparring for wind, yet smiling at his opponent. Turner’s left ear was bleeding from a severe hit, and in following Cyrus he slipped, or went down from a slight hit. The truth could no longer be hid; Turner was going every round; he fought like a man; but the stamina was wanting.

12.—On the part of Turner this was an excellent fighting round. In spite of his distress, his stops were so excellent as to claim applause from all parts of the ring. Cy. also exhibited fine science. Hit for hit, but the hardest blows were in favour of Davis, and Ned kept up the game till he fell, overcome with fatigue.

13.—Turner was equal to his adversary in milling; but there was no comparison between the effect of their blows. They followed each other over the ring, exchanging hits in the most manly style, till an accession of wind was necessary on both sides. At the ropes a struggle took place, and in going down, Turner uppermost. (“Well done both,” from all parties.)

14.—Cy. made a blow with his right hand at the body, but it fell rather low. “Come,” says Josh., “fight fair; recollect you are to hit above the waistband.” A good round, but Turner down exhausted. (Ten to two. Several of the fighting men came to the ropes, and in their anxiety for his winning, gave Ned hints what to do.)

15.—Cy. had decidedly the best of the hitting in this round; he also threw Turner and fell on him heavily. This fall shook poor Ned, and he was placed on the knee of his second with difficulty. In fact, it won the battle. (Any odds.)

16.—Tom Belcher observed to Davis—“Why not use both of your hands?” Here Hudson said that Belcher had no business to interfere, it was unfair. “It was not my intention to have said a single word,” replied Tom, “if I had not seen so many fighting men breaking in the ring, and, like Trueman’s cocks, all on one side. I have not one farthing on the battle; all I want is fair play.” Cy. took Belcher’s hint, but Turner opposed him gamely till down.

17.—The Old One, good to the last, exchanged blow for blow till he was hit down.

18.—On coming to the scratch, Cy. immediately went to work with his right hand, met Turner in the body, and sent him down in a twinkling. The President of the Daffies (under whose direction Turner was brought into the ring) humanely stepped forward, and said, “he should not fight any more.” He (the President) would not stand by and see one of the bravest men of the ring wantonly cut up, when he had no chance. It was over in thirty-five minutes. Davis shook hands with Turner, gave a jump, huzzaed for joy, and left the ring.

Remarks.—However ill-natured it may appear, the truth is that Turner has no one to blame but himself,—he was in no condition to fight. A boxer, like a general, if he wishes to prove successful, ought always to be prepared for his enemy. Turner admits, with great candour, that he could not have fought another round. He was not defeated by the blows he received, but he attributes his defeat to fatigue and exhaustion, Nature having refused to second his mind. It was but the shadow of that Ned Turner who defeated the terror of the ring, Scroggins, twice; who fought with Randall for two hours and twenty-two minutes; and obtained a victory over the Master of the Rolls. It was, nevertheless, a brave, good fight on both sides; and it is but doing common justice to Davis, to state that his conduct was manly and interesting to the spectator. Cy. also fought under great disadvantage and pain. After the seventh round, his right hand went, and was much swelled. Davis possesses in his person the finest requisites for a fighting man. Mr. Jackson not being present, we are sorry to say not a shilling was subscribed for Turner. Davis was not hurt.

The above victory proved rather a dear triumph to Davis: he was disabled from appearing again in the prize ring. The fore-finger of his right hand met with so serious an injury, from the knuckle coming in contact with Turner’s teeth, that, after baffling the most skilful surgeons for a considerable time, Davis was ultimately compelled to submit to an operation which deprived him of his index finger. With this battle his fistic career closed. Not so his public life. Cy. was for many years a publican, but no more of a sinner than his neighbours. He died on the 8th of March, 1846, aged 51, at the house of his son, the White Bear, Kennington Common (now Kennington Park), of disease of the heart, and lies buried in the churchyard of St. Mark in that parish.

PEACE INGLIS, “THE PHENOMENON”—1822–1824.

Peace Inglis, known among his companions as “the Mattress Maker,” was a smart young fellow of five feet eight inches, weighing ten stone four pounds. His first appearance in the ring was with Hamilton, the waterman, for 20 guineas, at Moulsey, on the 22nd of October, 1822. On this occasion, Josh. Hudson, who had taken Hamilton, a “below-bridge man,” under his wing, seconded his protegé, Paddington Jones looking after Inglis. It was a brave battle on both sides for forty-two minutes, when Inglis was hailed as conqueror.

The young aspirant’s first essay had so much surpassed the expectations of his backers that he was matched against Bill Davis (Deaf Davis), a well-known good man, and the battle came off at Harpenden Common, near St. Alban’s, February 18, 1823, in the same ring in which Cy. Davis (see ante) had defeated Ned Turner. On this occasion, Josh., dissatisfied with the defeat of Hamilton, seconded Davis, having with him Jack Scroggins and the east end division. Inglis was attended on by Jem Ward (then rising into fame, having beaten Ned Baldwin a fortnight previous) and a friend named Rogers. The watch was held by an amateur.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The Deaf ’un had scarcely put himself into attitude, when in he went like a hammer-man at an anvil, gave his opponent a smash in the middle of the head, and floored him like a shot. (Six to four on Davis. “Where’s your clever fighter?”)

2.—The “feather-bed” hero proved himself to have no soft place about him. He stood up manfully, but received three facers in succession, was nobbed over the ring, and fell covered with claret. (Two to one on Davis.)

3.—Inglis came gamely up, when Davis once more punished him, and he turned his back on his opponent, set off running, and was only stopped by the ropes. Here Davis caught his adversary, and once more levelled him. (A guinea to a shilling was offered, but no takers; and “Take him away,” from all parts of the ring; “he will be killed.”)

4.—Contrary to all expectation, the feather-bed maker was not so “soft” as he appeared to be; he met Davis like a trump, hit out straight with both hands, and, after a desperate rally, Davis was hit down almost senseless.

5.—Inglis had now got the turn. He put a new face on Davis, milled him from one side of the ring to the other, and levelled the deaf one with his native dust.

6.—Davis, relying on strength, was determined not to be “told out.” He again took the lead, and nobbed the feather-bed hero, when Inglis, by a flush hit, sent him down. It was not quite a finisher, but it found out the condition of Davis. (Inglis was now the favourite.)

7.—This round was “portrait-painting” with a vengeance. A rally took place, in which Davis received a severe cut over the left eye, and was floored again. (Any odds. “Feathers for a trifle.”)

8 and last.—Such fighting as was seen in the above seven rounds, and hitting in the right places, must always produce short fights. Davis exerted himself in returning hit for hit, till another floorer put an end to the battle. On time being called, Davis observed to his second, “that he could not stand.” It was all over in twelve minutes.

Remarks.—Such a cutting-up had not been witnessed for a long time. In the exultation of the moment the friends of Inglis challenged Dick Curtis. Inglis was about ten stone. Dick replied he would not refuse the challenge. Davis was carried out of the ring. He was too stale for a young opponent.

Inglis, from his brave conduct in the fight with Davis, was next matched against George Curtis, the brother of the Pet, for £50 a-side.

Moulsey Hurst, on Tuesday, August 12, 1823, was again the scene of attraction. The umpires and referee were chosen, and, at one o’clock, George Curtis threw his hat into the ring, attended by Josh. Hudson and Harry Holt. Inglis, followed by Paddington Jones and Neale, also threw up his beaver. He was the favourite at five to four.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Curtis exhibited much activity on his pins, and, on peeling, displayed a more muscular frame than had been anticipated. His face was pale, his nob looked like a milling one, and altogether had a great resemblance to that of the Pet. Inglis was as well as he could be—a wiry strong young man, the taller of the two, and appeared to stand over his opponent. The attitudes of the men on setting-to were interesting. Inglis was in no hurry to proceed to blows; and Curtis, as a novice, deliberated before he went to work. George made an attempt with his left hand, but it told slightly. This movement led to an exchange of hits, yet nothing was the matter. A long pause. Curtis retreated from some heavy blows; Inglis, however, planted a severe nobber. “I’ll bet £100 to a tizzy,” said Paddington Jones, “it’s as right as the day; we shall win the fight.” “Walker! hookey!” replied Josh. The left hand of George told smartly on Inglis’s body; and, after some cut-and-come-again work at the ropes, in struggling for the throw, both went down, Curtis undermost. (Six and seven to four on Inglis.)

2.—The left eve of Curtis was winking. Inglis, on the alert, planted a hit; an exchange of blows. Curtis again felt for his adversary’s body. Inglis missed a well-meant blow for his opponent’s nob; he, however, tried it again, but George stopped him with great skill. (“Bravo, Georgy!” from his pals.) A pause. After some little time, both combatants made themselves up to do mischief, and, on getting within each other’s reach, they let fly, which produced the claret. (“First blood,” exclaimed Josh. and Jones at the same instant. “Upon my honour, it appeared first on your side,” said Josh., “and I hope you will not dispute the honour of the John Bull fighter, my Tommy!” It was rather a doubtful point at the moment.) Curtis went down weak.

3.—Inglis, to the astonishment of the spectators, did not fight first, and a long pause ensued. Curtis commenced milling on the retreat, and the feather-bed hero napped three nasty ones on his index. Another stand-still for a minute, looking at each other. Inglis stopped well, when the combatants got into a sharp rally at the ropes. In struggling for the throw, Inglis got his opponent upon the ropes; and, in this situation, Curtis received pepper until he went down exhausted. (“It’s all over. I’ll bet ten to one that Curtis can’t fight two more rounds,” was repeated by the betting men round the ring.)

4.—The left eye of George was nearly closed; but when time was called he showed himself at the scratch. Although the advantage was now decidedly in Inglis’s favour he did not commence fighting; and Curtis, recovering his wind, made play with his left hand, and had none the worst of it. This was altogether a milling round. Curtis threw his opponent. (Thunders of applause from the Bermondsey boys.)

5.—It was no secret to the spectators that Curtis at this period of the battle was the weaker man; but his coolness was the admiration of all present. Some good hitting and stopping were displayed on both sides. Curtis planted a rum one on the feather-bed’s throat that made him gasp for breath. Inglis also received three or four nobbers that stopped his exertions; but at the ropes he had the best of it, and punished Curtis down.

6.—This round was a fine display of manhood; punishment on both sides all over the ring. Inglis got Curtis on the ropes, and was pelting him with divers blows in sundry places, when, by an extraordinary effort, Curtis broke away, put in a facer, and drove his opponent to the opposite side of the ring, where he held Inglis for a short time at the ropes, and then sent him down. (The applause for Curtis was loud.)

7.—Short, but full of mischief. Curtis received a heavy fall on his back, which shook him sadly and added to his exhausted state.

8.—Another short round, but rather dangerous to Inglis. In struggling for the throw, Curtis went down. “Foul! foul!” The ring was broken: it was asserted Inglis had caught hold of his opponent’s thigh in a way not allowed by the laws of boxing.

9.—The right hand of Curtis was open; he, nevertheless, had decidedly the best of the hitting in this round till Inglis bored him down out of the ropes.

10.—The game which had been so conspicuously displayed by George induced many of his backers to stick to him. Inglis, with all his strength, did not take the lead of Curtis as was expected. In fact, George, in most instances, had the best of the milling; but, in finishing the round, Inglis generally had the advantage. (Two to one.)

11.—This round was truly an out-and-out one on both sides. Curtis vindicated the pedigree of his race for “bottom, bone, blood.” It would be detracting from Inglis to withhold from him that he showed himself as high-couraged and game as his brave adversary. It was hit for hit all over the ring—backwards and forwards, in and out of the corners, and round about, till the combatants were at a stand-still. To it again like true Britons, till nature could no longer assist their minds. At the ropes they were both so exhausted as to take hold of each other and push each other down, Inglis uppermost. (Applause. “Here’s a round for you!” “Why, they are both East-nders,” said Josh., “and that accounts for it. We can get nothing among the coves of the West, so we are obliged to fight amongst our own breed.”)

12.—Curtis threw his opponent.

13.—Inglis received several blows on his nob, and at times was much distressed. If he had not been a very game man he would have cut it. Curtis endeavoured to keep the lead, and fought till he fell exhausted. “Take him away, Josh.; he can’t win it,” said a patron of the P. R.; “it is a pity to witness so game a man cut to pieces.” Curtis, while sitting on the knee of his second, overheard the above remark, and he answered, “I will not be taken away; I am sure I shall not lose it; I will not lose it.”

14.—Curtis was so determined that to say “No” never entered his mind. After an exchange of blows Curtis received a severe fall. “Take him away,” from all parts of the ring. (Any odds upon Inglis.) George said he would not give it in.

15 and last.—Curtis planted a blow on his opponent’s throat; but it was too feeble to do much mischief. In a short rally Curtis was hit down, when “the Pet”[^[170]] threw up his hat, and declared George should not fight any more. It was over in fifty-five minutes. Inglis went up to Curtis, and shook hands with him.

Remarks.—If Curtis had been as fresh as his opponent a different tale might have been told. He fought like a brave man; and, although he could not achieve victory, he obtained a high character in the pugilistic circles. George was overmatched; indeed, any boxer who wishes to have a turn with Inglis, will find plenty of work cut out for him before the battle is at an end. Curtis was taken out of the ring by his brother, and exhibited severe marks of punishment. The nob of Inglis did not show much beating; but he received many hard blows during the fight. Four pounds were collected on the ground for Curtis.

Peace Inglis now stood so high in the estimation of his friends, that he challenged Harry Holt for £100 a-side; but a match being made on the spur of the moment with the brave Ned Turner, for £100 a-side, the fight with Holt went off. After a considerable time allowed for the training of Turner, the above match was decided at Colnbrook, seventeen miles and a half from London, on Tuesday, April 26, 1824.

The road was lively, but not thronged with company as heretofore; in fact, it was more select than usual. When “Time” was called, Turner walked coolly into the ring, followed by Josh. Hudson and Paddington Jones. He was well received by the crowd, like an old performer returning to play a favourite part. Some little delay occurred, when the John Bull boxer roared out, “Come, you Inglis! Where are you? Don’t you like it? We are ready.” Inglis appeared immediately, waited upon by Maurice Delay and Dan M’Kenzie, and threw his hat into the ring. The colours, light blue for Inglis and dark blue for Turner, were tied to the stakes. Everything being adjusted according to custom, the men stood up for

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Turner looked better than was expected; his face was tanned with the sun, and his legs appeared firm and round. His eye was bright, his countenance serene and placid, and the invigorating breezes of the Welsh mountains, where he had been training, had imparted vigour to his limbs. The heart, too, that just and indispensable attribute of a boxer, was sound, and Ned declared himself confident of victory. His opponent must not be passed slightly over. He is one of the bravest of the brave men belonging to the prize ring. The contrast between the combatants was striking. The youthful Inglis was a model; fine as a star, strong as a lion, game as a pebble, and confident as a Randall. The odds were decidedly in favour of Inglis, £20 to £30. Turner and Inglis are in attitude, and on the look out for the first blow. The superiority as to knowledge of fighting was conspicuous on the part of Ned, who let fly his left teazer, which told heavily on Inglis’s bread-basket. One or two stops occurred, when the left hand of Ned operated so sharply on the throat of the young one that he went down like a shot. (An artillery report of applause for Turner.)

2.—The mark of Turner’s fist on the throat of his opponent was visible to every spectator. Inglis tried to do something, but the Old One was too clever to be caught napping. Turner made both his right and left hand tell on Inglis’s nob. An exchange of blows to the advantage of Ned. The young one had two more “nasty hits” on the mouth, as Josh. termed them, at the same time exclaiming, “First blood! My eye, what a hobble you have got into, my covey.” Turner again planted two left-handed blows, and immediately afterwards put in a severe one, two. Inglis was now bleeding from his mouth. Turner made another hit. “Talk of Old Ones,” said Josh.; “is there anything like the good Old Ones?” An exchange of blows, but Inglis did no execution. The latter received another terrible hit on his mouth. Inglis did not know what to do with his adversary. A pause. “I’ll bet fifty to twenty,” said Randall. Turner’s left hand repeated the dose. In closing, Turner had decidedly the best of it. Inglis’s face bleeding in all parts of it. Both down, but the Old One undermost.

3.—Short. Turner’s left hand told, but he slipped down in endeavouring to make a hit.

4.—Inglis was piping a little, but not at all dismayed. He was a complete receiver-general; he would have returned many favours, but Turner did not accept them. This was a good round, yet Turner went down weak.

5 to 10.—The fighting was all on the side of Turner; the taking on the part of Inglis. In all these rounds the superiority of the Old One was evident.

11.—“Come, Scroggins’s ruin,” said Josh., “we are at home; we have won it.” Turner nobbed his opponent with the utmost ease; in fact, he had everything his own way again in this round, but went down rather weak.

12.—Turner again made play right and left with great success; he also stopped Inglis in the most beautiful style of the art. The game of Inglis was, however, so good that he presented himself in the most resolute way, and in a sharp exchange of blows Turner went down. Inglis was nearly falling, but caught by his second. (“Bravo! well done both sides!”)

13.—Turner did as he pleased in regard to hitting; nevertheless, Inglis was not to be got rid of; his youth and stamina were his safeguards. Turner down. (The Bermondsey boys did not know how to express their approbation of Turner’s conduct in terms strong enough.)

14.—Inglis could not plant any effective hits; if his blows could have reached their destination, a change might have soon been witnessed in the fight. Turner’s one, two, was well directed, and he also put in a heavy body blow. The Old One showed weakness and went down.

15.—“If Ned does not tire,” said an old ring-goer, “he must win the battle; but he has too much work to perform.” Inglis could not keep the Old One’s hands out of his face, and appeared rather distressed. Turner down, getting weak.

16.—The superior science displayed by Ned was the admiration of all the spectators. It is true Inglis now and then planted a blow, but it was not of sufficient consequence to reduce the activity of Turner. In closing, Turner got the throw. (A great shout from the Bermondsey lads.)

17.—“A fine old cock this Ned is,” said Josh.; “this is the weather for the old cocks to tip it them.” Inglis was advised to bore in upon Turner, as he was getting weak; but the young one lost ground by this attempt. He was hit away three successive times on the nob; in fact, he stood still for an instant quite confused, but, with game never excelled, he returned to fight till Turner went down.

18.—Inglis rushed in, and bored Ned down.

19.—Inglis repeated this conduct, but Turner stopped the feather-bed hero, by hitting up as he was rushing in. Turner down.

20.—This was a sharp round, but highly important to Turner. Inglis was floored by a tremendous left handed hit on the side of his head. (It is impossible to describe the applause which followed.)

21.—Inglis came to the scratch piping. Turner nobbed his opponent with success, but the strength of the Old One was going. Turner down.

22.—Turner met Inglis in the middle of the head, punished him in all directions, and had he not missed a well-aimed blow, in all probability the fight would have been at an end. Turner went down from exertion.

23.—Nothing. A struggle, and both down without a blow.

24.—Inglis was bleeding copiously; nevertheless, he bored in and received several jobbers, till both down.

25.—Turner planted four successive blows on Inglis’s face; in fact, the Old One had too much work to do. Turner down.

26.—This was a tremendous round on both sides. Inglis, although hit to death nearly, would not be shook off, but kept fighting like a hero till he was thrown. (“What a round! Here’s a fight! Why it is worth going to see, if it had been five hundred miles from London!”)

27.—It appeared to the feather-bed hero that he had no chance to win without boring his opponent, and he rushed in till both went down, Inglis undermost.

28.—This was a tremendous fighting round, and Inglis was hit away three or four times from his opponent. In going down, Inglis fell over Turner.

29.—At the ropes Turner was as good as Inglis, till both down.

30.—Inglis appeared extremely bad, and several of the judges thought Turner must now win. The feather-bed maker was jobbed about his already damaged head, and he slipped down quite weak.

31.—Both down. In the act of giving, the blow alighted on Inglis’s body after he was down. “Foul! foul!” “Fair! fair!” It most certainly was not an intentional foul hit on the part of Turner, and the referee pronounced it so.

32.—The face of Turner appeared little, if any, the worse for fighting. Inglis again napped it as he was boring in to mill. Both down, Inglis undermost.

33.—“The Elephant and Castle is yours,” said Josh., “if you win, Ned.” Inglis was getting a little better, and Turner received more punishment in this round than in any of the preceding ones. Both down.

34.—Nothing. A struggle, and both on the ground.

35 to 38.—In all these rounds the nobbing system was pursued with the greatest success by Turner; and had not Inglis been one of the gamest men that ever pulled a shirt off, he must have been licked long before this period of the battle. But the feather-bed hero would not be denied; and his courage, seconded by his fine stamina, enabled him to continue the battle, under the idea that the Old One could not last. Inglis fell heavily in the ropes on Turner.

39.—It was the astonishment of every person round the ropes to witness Turner take the lead in the superior manner he did over a fine young man, and a boxer who had had some experience in the prize ring, having defeated Deaf Davis and George Curtis. Turner, in order to spoil the boring in of Inglis, hit up; and whenever the Old One caught his nob the claret followed in profusion. Turner went down owing to his great exertions.

40.—This was a terrific round. Inglis would not be denied, although frequently nobbed away. Both down. (Randall, elated with the success of Turner, offered, in the warmth of his heart, £10 to £2. “I will take it,” said Inglis’s brother. Time was called, and the bet was not made.)

41.—The sun at this period was very powerful. Turner appeared languid while sitting on the knee of his second, but when fighting he seemed all energy. Inglis missed a terrific blow that might have brought the battle to a speedy termination. Turner down.

42.—Notwithstanding the state of fatigue which Turner laboured under, and which could not be kept from the spectators, he nobbed Inglis with the utmost ease. The young one was hit to a stand-still, and Turner was too tired to follow him. At the ropes Turner had also the best of it, till both down.

43.—“Go in, Inglis,” from his friends; “you can’t lose if you do.” Inglis took the advice of his friends, and went in, fighting pell-mell, till Turner went down. (Four to one upon the young one.)

44.—This round had nearly decided the battle in favour of Turner. Hit for hit for a short time, when Turner knocked his opponent to a stand-still between the ropes. Turner, resolved not to give half a chance away, came again and planted another heavy nobber in the middle of the feather-bed hero’s nob; but Inglis’s out-and-out game brought him through his trouble, and he fought like a lion till Turner went down. (The approbation bestowed upon Turner was immense. It was also “Bravo, Inglis! your fellow is not to be met with every day in the week.”)

45.—Inglis was determined to reduce the strength of his opponent, and again bored in; but this rush always cost him something, and Turner liberally discharged the account. Both down.

46.—Inglis again napped it in going in, but returned a heavy body hit. Turner fought at every point to win, but his strength could not keep pace with his skill, and he went down exhausted. “Take the good Old One away; if he wins he cannot raise himself higher in the estimation of the fancy,” exclaimed several friends; “the chance is against him.”

47 and last.—This was a well fought round, although both men were distressed. Inglis was, however, a fresh man compared with his opponent. Turner had the best of the milling as usual, but went down worn out. While sitting on the knee of his second several persons requested that he might not fight any more. Harry Holt jumped into the ring, and throwing up his hat, observed, “Permit me, gentlemen, to give in for Turner.” One hour and eighteen minutes had elapsed. Inglis left the ropes, but he instantly returned into the ring to shake hands with those hands which had so liberally distributed punishment only a few seconds previous. We wish sincerely that the inhabitants of all the countries in the world would imitate such a noble example in the moment of victory.

Remarks.—“Othello’s occupation’s gone!” Indeed, Turner may apply to himself the words—

“I’ve seen the day

That, with this little arm and this good fist,

I’ve made my way through more impediments

Than twenty times your stop.”

Yes; and we have “seen the day”—that day when Turner overcame the undaunted Scroggins; that day, also, when he stood before the accomplished Randall two hours and twenty minutes; and likewise that day when he conquered Jack Martin. We cannot offer an insult to a brave man, and it is far from our intention even to wound his feelings; but on any of the above days what chance would Inglis have stood with Turner? The fact is, Ned was not licked; he was tired, worn out, and Nature refused to second his efforts. Inglis won the battle fairly, and according to the rules of pugilism. Indeed, the fight was one of the best specimens of milling skill ever witnessed, and the courage displayed by Turner was of the highest order. It is but common justice also to state, that Inglis’s manliness, game, coolness, and honourable conduct throughout the battle placed him high in the list of boxers.

By an unpardonable oversight “Boxiana” (see p. 115, vol. v.) omits at this place all mention of Turner and Inglis’s second battle, on the 9th of November following, and gives an epistolary challenge from Inglis to Turner as being penned “a few weeks after the above battle,” i.e., the first fight, so that Inglis is made to challenge the man he had conquered. The second fight will be found in the memoir of Turner, ante, p. 391. After his defeat Inglis published the following in the Weekly Dispatch:—

“TO EDWARD TURNER.

“Sir,—

“My friends have agreed to give me another trial; I therefore challenge you to fight me for £100 a-side, within two months from the date hereof, and am ready to make a deposit within a fortnight. If this challenge be not accepted, I propose to retire from the ring altogether.

“I remain yours, etc.

“PEACE INGLIS.

“December 10, 1824.”

Turner immediately answered the above challenge.

“TO PEACE INGLIS.

“Sir,—

“I have seen your challenge in the papers, and in reply beg to state the only terms that will induce me to meet you, or any one else, in the ring, and which, considering the battles I have fought, will not, I trust, be thought out of the way. £200 a-side is the least I mean to fight for. And when you talk of two months, you must have forgotten the state of my left hand; but if the last Tuesday in April will answer your purpose, and your friends are willing to agree as to the sum I propose, I shall be most happy to accommodate you. I should be sorry to think my refusal the cause of your leaving the ring, in which I wish you success; but I must take care to leave off fighting before fighting leaves me.

“I am yours, etc.,

“EDWARD TURNER.

“Newtown, Montgomeryshire, North Wales,

“December 15, 1824.”

The health of Turner was, however, rapidly declining, and he retired from the ring without making any further match. Inglis also now retired into private life, but we have not met with any record of his death.

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At the close of the Fifth and Sixth Periods, opening the Second Volume, we propose to give an Appendix of the Remarkable Light Weights who especially illustrated this epoch of pugilistic history, thus collecting the lesser stars into a galaxy, instead of scattering them here and there among the larger lights—the planets of the pugilistic system.