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

CHAPTER VI.

JACK RANDALL, “THE NONPAREIL.”—1809–1821.

Perhaps the prize ring in its palmiest day never exhibited a more accomplished boxer than Randall. Though claimed (after his signal successes), by the Hibernian portion of the ring press, it appears that his birthplace was the now-desolated “Holy Land,” and that the 25th of the month of November, 1794, ushered Jack into the semi-darkness of the then foggy region of smoke, dirt, drabs, and drunkenness, hight “St. Giles’s.” Jack, who was always called by Pierce Egan and Co., the “prime Irish lad,” himself laughed, when primed with gin—he would not touch whisky—at his imputed Irish descent.

The Archery Ground, in the Long Fields, near where now stands Russell Square, was the scene of action whereon the youthful Randall exhibited his prowess. According to the authority of “Boxiana,” young “Snuff,” well known in boxing circles, was conquered three times by Randall in the above place; and at the age of fourteen, he fought a man of the name of Leonard in this ground, who was a stone heavier than himself, for three-quarters of an hour. Leonard was, at length, so terribly punished, that he was obliged to be led off the field. Size or weight, it seems, rarely operated as any drawback to the readiness of Randall; possessing courage of the first order, his pluck rose superior to the obstacles he had to encounter. Jack was unavoidably involved, in Marylebone Lane, with a man of the name of Henshaw; the latter was not only taller, but had the advantage of three stone in weight. Twenty-five minutes of hard fighting had occurred when the friends of both parties interfered and made a drawn battle of it. Notwithstanding the great difference between the combatants, from the superior style of fighting displayed by Randall, it was thought he must ultimately have proved the conqueror.

JACK RANDALL, “The Nonpareil.”
From a Miniature by G. Sharples.

One Murphy, an Irish labourer, an athletic young man, attacked Randall in Bainbridge-street, St. Giles’s; but the latter, undismayed by his gigantic appearance, milled Murphy severely in the course of a few rounds. Randall’s height was five feet six inches, his weight ten stone six pounds. His appearance when stripped indicated great bodily strength; his shoulders athletic, inclined to roundness, and his frame, altogether capable of great exertion, very compact.

The first recorded battle in which Randall is noticed was with Jack the butcher, in the Regent’s Park, Marylebone. It originated in a dispute respecting some improper conduct in a fight, in which these heroes had acted in the capacity of seconds, and, being a point of honour, it was decided instantly. In the course of twenty minutes Randall was declared the conqueror.

Randall now aspired to higher honours among the pugilistic corps, and, in the same ring in which Scroggins and Eales had contended, at Coombe Wood, on August 26, 1815, he made his debut with Walton, denominated the Twickenham Youth, for a purse of five guineas. Randall astonished the amateurs with the gaiety of his style, and the decisive action he exhibited. Paddington Jones and Whale were his seconds upon this occasion; and, in the short space of ten minutes, the Twickenham Youth, who in other battles had showed some talent for milling, was so peppered that he left the ring.

After Carter and Robinson had exhibited at Moulsey Hurst the first time, Wednesday, April 24, 1816, Randall entered the ring with George Dodd, for a purse of five guineas. It was a well-contested battle, and twenty-five minutes elapsed before victory was decided in favour of our hero. West-Country Dick and Clark were his seconds.

On Wednesday, May 28, 1816, at Coombe Wood, Randall entered the lists with a Jew, denominated “Ugly Baruk,” for a subscription purse of ten guineas, collected on the ground, towards a second fight. The amateurs were completely astonished at the milling capabilities displayed by Randall; more especially as his figure appeared so meagre and lank, that an opinion was generally entertained that “Young Paddy” must in the course of a few minutes be finished by this determined Israelite. But so opposite was the result that Baruk, “ugly” as his index had hitherto been declared, was now, owing to the sudden painting it underwent, not only rendered more “unlikely,” but so utterly metamorphosed as scarcely to be recognizable. The decisive qualities of Randall were so conspicuous as to elicit the unqualified praise of the best judges of scientific pugilism. Randall did not give the Jew a single chance throughout the fight—he one-two’d him with surprising celerity, and floored him in almost every round. The battle only continued twelve minutes; Randall was seconded by Tom Oliver and Clark. The abilities of Randall were now the theme of conversation among the amateurs; but, owing to a bad finger, and want of necessary time to generally improve his frame, he was not matched till Thursday, April 3, 1817, when he entered the lists with West-Country Dick, for twenty-five guineas a side.

A roped ring was prepared for the occasion, about a mile and a half from Twickenham, on the Common, and numerous vehicles of all sorts were placed round it, forming a capacious amphitheatre. Several marquees were also erected on the ground, filled with the good things of this life, to render the sports of the day pleasant and attractive to those lads who were “well breeched;” but such is the uncertain chance of war, that a gentleman who rode into the ring, having all the appearance of an amateur, unfortunately turned out to be a county magistrate. He very politely requested the official characters to remove the ring, and to disperse as soon as possible—a good deal of persuasion was tried to prevail on him to let the manly sport proceed; but he was good-naturedly inflexible, and observed, that he had been upon his horse ever since seven in the morning on the look-out, and that it was impossible the battle could take place in the county of Middlesex. This was enough; and, in less than half-an-hour, not a drag was left behind. Bill Gibbons, Richmond, Harmer, Scroggins, Cribb, etc., repaired to Hayes, followed by a great party of horsemen and carriages, and formed a ring, but this ultimately proved a hoax, to the no small chagrin of thousands. The better informed proceeded to Twickenham, where the subject was again discussed; and on a signal being given the carriage wheels went round like lightning, the water was crossed in a twinkling, and on the plains of Moulsey, in Surrey, about two o’clock, Randall entered the ring and threw up his hat, followed by Dick. Paddington Jones and Dick Whale seconded Randall; and Oliver and Clark were counsel for Dick. Two to one on Randall. Though both combatants were known to the ring, Randall was considered the better fighter. The spectators were of the first respectability, but not very numerous. A small delay occurred, owing, it is said, to Dick refusing to fight out of a roped ring.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On setting-to much caution was observed on both sides to obtain the first advantage; Randall, with great dexterity, put in a sharp facer. In returning, Dick hit short. Some few blows were exchanged in favour of Randall, who fought his way in to a close, and fibbed his adversary till both went down. (Three to one on Randall, who had drawn Dick’s cork.)

2.—Randall, full of fire, immediately took the lead, and nobbed Dick so successfully, that he turned round from his opponent. In closing, as before, he held Dick up and faced him till he went down. (Loud applause.)

3.—Dick set to with much gaiety, and put in a body hit, but he could make no successful impression upon Randall. The latter not only out-fought him, but again fibbed him down.

4.—The superiority of milling was decidedly on the side of Randall, who drove Dick from him. In closing, Dick went down rather rapidly from the numerous blows he had received in this round, and it was thought a foul blow had been given him; much vociferation took place of “Foul!” “Fair!” etc.

5.—Randall’s distances were well measured, and Dick’s nob was again in contact with Jack’s fist. At the ropes Dick made an ineffectual struggle to escape from the severe fibbing which Randall was so liberally bestowing upon him. (Five to one; but no takers.)

6.—Randall commenced work after the manner of a hammer-man at a forge, and although Dick kept plunging with his favourite right-handed hits, yet in closing Randall held him up with the tightness of a vice, beating a tattoo upon his mug, till he felt disposed to send him down. (Loud shouting.)

7.—The left hand of Dick seemed of no use to him, and his right did not perform the severe execution it had displayed on former occasions. Randall, indeed, got away from it with much adroitness. Dick was again fibbed down.

8.—Randall now satisfied the ring that he must win; he showed himself a scientific fighter; he worked well with both hands, and not only hit Dick away from him, but ultimately milled him down.

9.—Dick put in a facer. Randall, in returning, hit short and went round, but recovered himself; in closing, fibbed Dick severely at the ropes, and then dropped him in style. (Six to one on Randall.)

10.—The nob of Dick was fast losing its shape from the severe hammering of Randall, who applied his fist rapidly on his opponent’s mug. In closing, both down.

11.—A short round, which terminated in favour of Randall, as did also the 12th, 13th, and 14th rounds.

15.—Dick was desperately endeavouring to effect a change in his favour: he hit Randall on the face, put in a hard blow on his shoulder, and had the best of this round. (Both down.)

16 to 20.—Randall seemed rather blown in these rounds, and at times got away from Dick’s right hand. In fact he had not been idle for a moment, and the face of his opponent gave a strong specimen of his capabilities; he was fibbed down upon every set-to. (Five to one.)

21.—A good deal of sparring occurred before a blow was exchanged, when Randall put in four facers without any return. Both down. (Any odds.)

22.—The arm of Randall appeared to have the activity of a fiddler playing a country dance; his hand was never out of his opponent’s face.

23.—This round claimed much attention from its singularity. Dick put in two severe body hits, but in closing Randall fibbed him severely with his left hand, then changed it with the most apparent ease, and punished Dick down. (Great applause.)

24 to 27.—In these rounds the spectators were surprised to see the successful manner that Randall held up Dick with one arm, and punished him with the other. His head was now completely in chancery, his left eye quite puffed up, and he had been down so often, as to get the appellation of “Tumble-down Dick.”

28.—The battle was fast drawing to a close; the excellence of Randall was now acknowledged by all. Dick endeavoured to make some desperate hits; but Randall nobbed him at arm’s length with the utmost coolness, and in closing did as he liked with him.

29 and last.—On setting-to, Randall, with much severity, put in a blow on the breadbasket, that not only puffed the wind out of Dick, but he went down and instantly rolled up like a bale of cloth. Such a blow is rarely witnessed. Time was called, and upon Dick’s getting up to come to the scratch, he shook hands with Randall, and resigned the contest. Time thirty-three minutes and a half.

Randall, in the above contest, proved himself a good two-handed hitter, but was unusually successful with his left hand. Dick had not the slightest chance. Randall left the ring without a scratch upon his face.

The scientific qualities displayed by Harry Holt (See Holt, in Appendix), in a battle of an hour and a half’s duration with Parish, the waterman, and in his more recent conquest of O’Donnell, at Arlington Corner, had much prepossessed the amateurs in his favour; and, notwithstanding the excellence of Randall, it was generally thought that Holt would turn out a worthy competitor. In consequence of this opinion, a match for twenty-five guineas a-side was made between the above pugilists. Considerable interest was felt by the sporting world respecting its decision, which took place at Coombe Warren, on Tuesday, May 20, 1817, in a twenty-four feet roped ring.

The wet state of the weather in the early part of the morning prevented great numbers of the fancy from quitting the metropolis, and although it was extremely fine in the neighbourhood of Coombe Wood, there were not above six hundred persons present, among whom were Colonel Berkeley, Captain Barclay, Messrs. Jackson and Gully, Cribb, Carter, Oliver, Scroggins, Crockey, Ballard, Gibbons, etc. The combatants were nearly alike in weight, both under eleven stone.

It was upon the whole one of the most orderly conducted matches ever witnessed, excepting a slight fracas which occurred between Caleb Baldwin and the keepers of the gate. The latter, not immediately recognizing the veteran of the ring, refused his vehicle admittance, without the usual tip; but Caleb, finding argufying the topic would not do—instead of paying them in sterling coin, dealt out another sort of currency, which, although without the Mint impress, had such an effect upon the Johnny Raws that the gate flew open and Caleb rode through in triumph. At a little after one, Holt appeared in the ring and threw up his hat; Randall immediately followed. Paddington Jones and Whale seconded the latter, and Painter and Clark for Holt.

The usual ceremony of shaking hands having been performed, every eye was on the stretch, looking out for the first advantage. Seven to four generally on Randall, but two to one in many instances.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The combatants had scarcely placed themselves in attitude, when Randall’s left hand, with much severity, caught Holt on his mouth. He repeated it as quick as lightning, and was endeavouring to plant a third, but Holt stopped him. Randall again put in another desperate facer; a few blows were exchanged, when Randall went in with his usual sort of hook to fib, but Holt caught hold of his arm, and a sharp struggle took place for the throw. Randall showed the most strength, and Holt was undermost. (Three to one upon Randall.)

2.—On coming to the scratch in this very early stage of the fight Holt’s mug showed the painter had been busy. Randall’s left hand again successfully nobbed his adversary. Considerable science was now displayed on both sides; Holt stopped many blows in good style, and also planted a sharp blow on Randall’s cheek. Several hits were exchanged, but materially to the advantage of Randall, who, in finishing this round of three minutes, caught hold of Holt’s ribs in rather a singular manner, and threw him. (Three and four to one loudly offered upon Randall.)

3.—Randall, with the utmost coolness, again beat the tattoo upon Holt’s nob. It was altogether a long round; but the science exhibited by Holt was that of stopping instead of giving, and the spectators were astonished at the little execution he performed. Randall put in upwards of six facers, damaging the peepers of his opponent, and clareting his face all over, and sent him down from a tremendous hit on the side of his head. (Five to one.)

4.—Holt came to the scratch undismayed, but he had no sooner set-to than the left hand of Randall dealt out tremendous punishment. It was never out of his opponent’s face. Holt, it was now evident, had been deceived respecting the quality of his adversary; yet he contended in the most manly style, and planted so desperate a hit under the left ear of Randall that the latter bled prodigiously. The science of Randall was pre-eminent; he put in six facers almost successively; and when Holt at length stopped him on this boring suit, he used his right hand with nearly equal success till Holt went down.

5.—Randall was compelled to fight extremely different from the mode he had adopted with West Country Dick. Holt was not to be fibbed, and Randall convinced the admirers of scientific pugilism that he was a most effective out-fighter. His hits were tremendous, and Holt’s face was completely vermilioned. In this round, notwithstanding the damaged peepers of Holt, he put in so sharp a blow on the bridge of Randall’s nose that it pinked his index in an instant. The quickest eye could scarcely keep pace with the execution performed by Randall’s left hand in this round, and he repeatedly hit Holt from him till he went down. (All betters, and no offers accepted.)

6.—Randall appeared to suffer much inconvenience from the violent bleeding of his ear; his mouth was so overcharged that he could scarcely get rid of it. Had not Holt possessed excellent science, he must have been smashed in the very outset of the battle. He stopped a great number of blows; but it may be truly said that he only stood up as a mark to be hit at. It was curious to observe that, whenever the left hand of Randall was denied, he used his right with great facility, and put in some terrible ribbers. Randall closed this round by a terrible blow in the middle piece, that sent his adversary down in a twinkling. (Ten to one was offered upon Randall.)

7.—It was useless for Holt to contend; but his game and courageous nature prompted him, if possible, to rise superior to defeat. It was all up: Randall did as he pleased, and Holt was again down. (Any odds.)

8 and last.—Holt was emulous for conquest; the blunt, it seems, he did not value, but the fame of victory was dear to him; nothing else could have induced him again to meet his opponent. Randall worked sharply with both his hands, and with his right planted a tremendous hit on Holt’s nob, that instantly floored him. He was beaten out of time, but was anxious to renew the combat. He observed, “I am ready to fight;” but, in endeavouring to rise from his second’s knee, fell down from exhaustion. Holt’s friends were perfectly satisfied he could not win, and he was instantly carried out of the ring by Parish and Painter, put into a chaise, and proper attention paid to him. The battle lasted twenty-five minutes.

Remarks.—This contest firmly established Randall’s character as a first-rate scientific pugilist. He possesses the mastery of the art in an eminent degree, divests his actions of sameness with the most perfect ease, and promptly changes his mode of fighting as the necessity of the attack requires. In his former battles with Baruk, the Jew, and West Country Dick, his superior fibbing traits proved successful. With Holt a different system was required, and as an out-fighter he completely astonished the ring by the terrible punishing capabilities he exhibited. With his left hand Randall planted uncounted hits on Holt’s face, and several with his right. He threw little time away in sparring; and, like a good artist, his workmanship soon spoke for itself. As a finisher there seemed a great similarity between Randall and the late Dutch Sam, and as a two-handed hitter, the decisive mode of Tom Belcher. It was urged by the partisans of Holt, that he displayed no fight at all in contending against Randall. This complaint, upon a slight examination, will not only soon be removed, but the assertion proved unjust. Randall was the offensive fighter throughout the battle, and his punishment was so rapid and severe, that he never gave Holt an opportunity of showing himself, except on the defensive. The latter, notwithstanding his science, but in very few instances stopped his opponent’s left hand. The true statement of the case is, that “the fight” was hit out of him as early as the third round. In fact, if Holt had not been truly a game man, he could never have stood before Randall for twenty-five minutes, after the heavy milling he received at the onset. In consequence of this opinion being entertained by the few amateurs present, £10 were collected for his bravery.

Four months had scarcely elapsed when Randall again appeared in the prize-ring, in competition with Belasco, the Jew. This match produced one of the most interesting battles upon record. Since the boxing days of the scientific Tom Belcher and the renowned Dutch Sam, the amateurs and patrons of pugilism had not been more animatedly interested respecting the termination of any combat than the one which took place on Tuesday, September 30, 1817, at Shepperton Range, in a twenty-four feet ring, for fifty guineas a-side, between these heroes. The milling reputation of both the combatants was of the first order throughout the circles of the fancy. Randall was considered the best finisher of the light weights; the Jews, in Belasco, hoped to find another Dutch Sam. He was the rising star of their pugilistic hemisphere, and an awkward man to get at—a desperate in-fighter; one that would not be denied, and able to rally his opponent to the end of the chapter. Duke’s Place was all alive in the praise of the capabilities of Belasco, and, notwithstanding the love of monish by the tribes, it is said, in some instances, the odds were sported on the promising young Israelite. But if Petticoat Lane resounded with the strains of the Children of Judah, on the other hand the back settlements of the Holy Land were equally full of spirits upon the occasion, and from the turf cutter to the knight of the hod, all sported all their loose blunt from a sovereign down to a glass of whiskey, in honour of their “darling Jack Randall.” The Corinthians of St. James’ too were highly interested in the event; and the flash side (as they were termed), although they sported five and six to four on Randall, did not view it with anything like the safety of receiving a bank dividend. The men appeared in good condition—Belasco weighing a few pounds more than his opponent, and looking uncommonly fresh. The time having arrived, five minutes before one, the combatants commenced the attack. Randall was seconded by Paddington Jones and Dick Whale; Belasco was waited upon by Little Puss and Aby Swartscher.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Randall, who in all his former battles generally hit first, displayed unusual caution. The same care was manifested in the Jew. It was a complete system of tactics. The spectators were lost in amazement; and their optics were completely tired in watching the feints, viewing the steps, contrasting the manœuvres, stratagems, and snares resorted to by Randall and Belasco to get the best of each other, until nine minutes had elapsed before the first round was terminated, during which only four blows had been exchanged. In closing, Belasco went down.

2.—The same system of generalship occurred, and this round occupied eight minutes and a half. Belasco put in a sharp hit on Randall’s mouth, which brought forth the claret in a twinkling. Here the coolness of the Nonpareil was seen to great advantage; his steadiness was as if no blow had been struck. A rally occurred, in which some sharp hits were exchanged, and Randall received rather an unwelcome touch upon his eye. They separated and rallied again, when, in a close, the Jew went down.

3.—From this mode of fighting a long battle was anticipated. In this round the knowledge of the art was portrayed on both sides. Randall was rather unfortunate in his distances, for although his left hand bodied his opponent repeatedly, it did not touch the mark. It was not a coup de grace. Belasco down. Twenty-four minutes had elapsed.

4.—The conduct of the Jew was much to be admired. He fought like a hero, and followed his opponent with all the confidence of true game. He was, however, floored with the celerity of a shot, from a desperate left-handed hit of Randall. The latter put up his hand to his eye as if it was troublesome.

5.—It was now clearly seen that Randall was the great captain; he out-generalled his opponent with all the accomplishment of the art of war. If Randall was bored at any time to a corner of the ring, he fought his way out with such ease and safety that description falls short in conveying its excellence. It was also curious to observe, that the Jew at one period had got Randall in a position to fib him, when the latter, from his tact and courage, not only extricated himself from this perilous situation, but he returned the compliment upon Belasco with unparalleled adroitness, and fibbed the Jew till he went down. (Two to one upon Randall.)

6.—A most excellent round in point of science, but Belasco was again floored.

7 and last.—Belasco not only appeared a better, but a superior boxer in every respect than in his contest with Reynolds; and if he could not rank with Randall, he proved himself a difficult customer to be served. After some scientific movements, Randall put in such a tremendous hit on Belasco’s eye, that the latter instantly put up his hand to feel if it was there. The pain appeared so excruciating, that he staggered, fell, and fainted. Randall might have put in another hit before he went down, but his conduct was too noble to add the slightest punishment to a fallen rival. Upon Belasco’s recovering from his trance, he rubbed his body, as if suffering from severe punishment. The battle thus terminated in fifty-four and a half minutes.

Remarks.—The most experienced judges of boxing agreed that throughout the annals of pugilism such a display of scientific excellence as the above battle is not to be paralleled. It was a perfect picture of the art, and Randall justly acquired the appellation of “The Nonpareil.” His agility was surprising. Dutch Sam, in the best of his days, it was said, never fought with anything like the precision exhibited by Randall; and, in competition with the latter, the Jew phenomenon must have fallen beneath his superiority. This contest, it is true, did not altogether please, if we are to go with the crowd who are partial to downright milling; but by the admirers of scientific efforts, by those patrons who value the intent more than the effect, those amateurs who appreciate the advantages of hitting and getting away, of giving instead of receiving, and of seeing a fight won without ferocity and gluttony, the fight between Randall and Belasco may be pronounced one of the most perfect specimens of pugilism ever witnessed. The attitudes of the men were fine in every point of view, and their movements conducted on the true principles of science. The athletic beauty of the human frame was never more prominent. Randall retired from the ring scarcely scratched. This is the grand art of fighting—to give, and not to receive.

At a sporting dinner, given to the lads of the fancy at Tom Oliver’s, a few days after the above fight, by one of the highest amateurs in the scientific circles, no want of “game,” it appears, was discovered to render the table complete. When the cloth was removed, the cigars lighted, the lively glass replenished, and the merits and capabilities of various milling heroes became the animated subject of discussion among the company present, a set-to was proposed, by way of practical illustration, between Randall and young Burke, of Woolwich. The heroes immediately acquiesced in this request: the gloves were produced, and the men soon appeared in battle array. Burke, who is five feet ten inches in height, and wanting neither gluttony nor science, contended for the honour of having the best of it with much determination; but some doubts having arisen among the learned judges upon this precise point, a regular glove match was entered into, and a sum deposited on both sides accordingly. The first clean floorer was to decide the event! The contest was truly spirited, and after some tidy milling, Burke went down; but it not being exactly the thing meant, the point was reserved till another round. Thirteen minutes had now elapsed, and notwithstanding the advantages Burke possessed from standing over Randall, the latter at length measured his distance so correctly, that Burke was floored as if he had been shot! The point being now satisfactorily decided—the glasses went merrily round—mirth and harmony prevailed throughout the evening, and the company separated in the utmost good humour. It is said, that the amateur before alluded to observed that Randall should not want, if necessary, from 500 to 1000 guineas to complete any match, so high an opinion did he entertain of his milling talents. Randall was presented by his backer with the amount of the stakes.

Randall had made such rapid strides towards perfection in pugilism that some difficulty was experienced in finding a customer for him. However, the long-talked-of match between Parish, the waterman, and Randall was at length made for 100 guineas a-side. These boxing heroes met on Thursday, November 27, 1817, at Hayes Common. Parish, it seems, although not highly appreciated as a boxer, was well-known as a staunch man; he had also acquired first-rate science, under the tuition of George Head, a teacher of deserved celebrity. Nevertheless, so little was the Waterman esteemed in comparison with his opponent, that three to one was the current betting against him. True, Parish’s battle with Holt was highly spoken of, although it took him one hour and a half to win it; while Randall, on the other hand, beat Holt in twenty-five minutes. Wallingham Common, in Surrey, about six miles beyond Croydon, was the spot selected for this grand trial of skill. Thither the amateurs repaired at an early hour, but the clergyman of the parish (also a magistrate) saw the cavalcade pass his window, and hastening to the ring, declared that the battle must not take place in Surrey. A little persuasion was tried to divert the rev. gent. from his intention,—but he observed, “it was loss of time to remonstrate, as he was as inflexible as a rock.” In this dilemma, Hayes Common, in Kent, about seven miles distant, was suggested as an eligible place. The stakes were instantly removed, and the motley group followed like lightning, over a cross-country road, that had not been visited for months by anything but dung carts or wagons. It was almost impassable, but the game of the fancy was not to be beaten by trifling obstacles, and the scene that followed beggars description. Postchaises were floored in the deep ruts in the road—the springs of curricles and gigs were broken—the Rosinantes dead beat—the Eatoners puffing and blowing from top to toe, anxious to arrive in time—boots were dragged off the feet by the strength of the clay, and many of the light-shod coves stuck fast in the mud. The magistrate, very politely, saw the patrons of science to the extremity of the county before he took his leave. At length Hayes Common appeared in sight, and the ring, after some little time, was again formed. At ten minutes past three o’clock, Randall appeared and threw up his hat in the ring, attended by Paddington Jones and Whale, as his seconds; Parish shortly followed, and repeated the same token of defiance, followed by George Head and Spring. Several amateurs of rank were in the ring; and Colonel Barton, the patron of Randall, sat close to the stakes. After shaking hands the men set-to and began.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The positions of the combatants were extremely elegant; both appeared in good condition, but, if anything, Parish seemed the heavier man. Neither seemed eager to strike; and, notwithstanding the acknowledged excellence of Randall, considerable time elapsed before the attack commenced. At length the Nonpareil got his distance, planted a body hit with much dexterity, and got away. He was not long in giving his adversary another, when Parish returned, but not effectively. Considerable time again occurred in sparring, till a favourable opportunity occurred for Randall, when he let fly at the Waterman’s nob, producing the claret in a twinkling, and got away with the agility of a dancing master. The Nonpareil stopped in a masterly style, and showed his superiority by finishing the round in a winning manner. Using both hands equally, the left being applied to the body of his opponent, while the right hand put in so tremendous a hit on the head of Parish, that he fell forwards on his face. (Great applause. Eight minutes and three-quarters had elapsed, and four to one was offered with as much readiness as if the blunt was of no value.)

2.—Randall, notwithstanding the decided advantages he had obtained, like a skilful general, seemed to think discretion the better part of valour. He was as cautious as if no blows had passed, and again waited for a good opening. The attempts of Parish were frustrated, and Randall, with the most smiling confidence, again bodied his opponent. The already damaged mug of the Waterman was again peppered, and the crimson flowed copiously. In closing, the Nonpareil showed himself completely entitled to his appellation; he got Parish’s head under his arm, and fibbed him severely till both went down.

3.—The admirers of science were completely tired before any work was attempted, so much time elapsed; and the downright partisans of the old school of fighting, when milling was the order of the day, began to treat this sort of boxing contemptuously. In fact, Parish was so fatigued that he put down his hands. At length the combatants became more in earnest, and Randall finished the round most successfully. He planted a severe throttler, when Parish returned, but not heavily. Some blows were exchanged, and the Waterman so cleanly hit one of Randall’s peepers that he made him wink again. The Nonpareil soon returned this favour with compound interest, and made the Waterman bite the dust. (Uproarious applause.) In this round Randall cut the knuckles of his left hand against the Waterman’s teeth.

4.—The head of Parish, from the profuse colouring it exhibited, showed the handy works of the limner, but his confidence was not in the least abated. On setting-to he was nobbed without ceremony; he also received in the course of the round a body hit that sent him staggering away from his opponent. The returns of Parish were ineffective; and, in closing, Randall showed the amateurs the practical advantages of fibbing; for he here portrayed a feature peculiar to himself in this respect: when tired with one hand he changed it, then worked with the other, till Parish was thrown undermost. The gluttony of the Waterman was acknowledged by all present, and science was allowed him. Betting, nevertheless, was at a stand-still, so certain did the event appear to be.

5.—This was a sharp round; Parish appeared to more advantage than heretofore. The left hand of Randall was much lacerated; nevertheless, in this painful state, it did not prevent him from doing execution. In closing, Parish met with a heavy fall, and was undermost.

6.—The Waterman scarcely ever attempted to strike first; had he done so, in all probability a greater chance might have presented itself. In one or two instances he lost nothing by commencing the attack. In closing, a desperate struggle took place to obtain the throw, after fibbing had been administered; Randall got Parish down and rolled over him.

7.—It was evident Randall was the stronger man, the better fighter, superior on his legs, knew how to shape himself for every situation he had to encounter; in short, he appeared a complete master of the art of war. Some hard milling occurred in this round, and Parish made some good hits; but he could not turn the scale. Randall put in a bellier, and got away. The Waterman followed him in the gamest manner, and never showed anything like flinching throughout the fight. Randall put in a desperate hit in the Waterman’s neck, then laughed and nodded at him. In closing, both down. The friends of Randall were under some alarm, from the quantity of blood he had lost from his left hand; and a medical man of some eminence, who was among the spectators, was rather apprehensive it might produce fainting.

8.—Randall was not to be got at, and he distinctly took the lead in this round. Parish gave him a sort of half-arm hit in the mouth. Both down.

9.—On setting-to Randall drew on one side to void the claret from his mouth; but this was the most effective round in the fight. It was singular to view Randall hit, hit, and hit again till the Waterman went down on his back. (A guinea to a shilling was laughed at.)

10.—In this round the Waterman appeared conspicuous. He got Randall into the corner of the ring, and put in a body blow that made the Nonpareil wince again; in fact, he reeled a little, and had it been heavier it is likely he must have gone down. But the recovery of Randall was excellent, he got out of his perilous situation in the masterly style of a consummate tactician, and the marks of his left were seen imprinted on the body of his opponent. After some little traversing in the ring, Randall was again in the corner, when it was curious to observe the mode he took to obtain distance: he leaned his body back quite through the ropes, and planted, by this means, a heavy hit on the Waterman’s mouth, which soon gave him an opening, when he came lashing out. Some blows were exchanged, and Parish with much dexterity hit Randall under the ear, marking him. The Nonpareil now gave his man no quarter, and, in closing, he threw the Waterman so desperately that his shoulder was nearly dislocated. This was the most effective round in the fight, and Parish received considerable applause.

11 and last.—The Waterman was entitled to every consideration from the manly manner in which he contested every round. Although he did not gain much by in-fighting, he should have tried it at an earlier part of the fight; he could not have been worse off. In out-fighting in this round he was fairly beat to a stand-still; and although he endeavoured to stop scientifically his altered face was again punished. In closing, he received the usual severity; and, on going down with his brave competitor was not able to meet him any more at the scratch. The shouts of victory were loud and lasting, and the Nonpareil was carried out of the ring in triumph. The battle lasted fifty-three minutes.

Remarks.—The capabilities of Randall in the ring were so evident that comment is scarcely necessary. What the most skilful master of the sword exhibits with his weapon, Randall displayed with the fist. His mode of fighting did not appear to originate from the common advantages of teaching: it seemed completely intuitive, and looked more like a natural gift than resulting from the minutiæ of art. Randall gained nothing from chance blows; and rarely ever made a hit without its proving effective. If his blows were not stopped, his distances were so well measured they were sure of arriving at their destination. It was asserted he never hit past the head of his opponent; and though considerable time was lost in the caution observed before he struck, it was amply repaid in his coming off victorious without punishment. However unpleasing it may be to state, the positive fact is, Parish had no opportunity of turning the battle in his favour: it was all on the side of Randall from beginning to end; but, notwithstanding this remark, Parish must be allowed to have sustained the character of a brave man, and a good fighter. Although his face received such tremendous punishment, his peepers were never closed, and he showed himself on the same evening at the White Hart, on the Bromley Road, quite chuffy, refusing to be put to bed. The absence of Mr. Jackson was a severe loss to the combatants, particularly to the losing man, who, in this instance, had not one single farthing collected for him.

To conquer Randall seemed the enviable object of all the light weights; a new customer accordingly offered himself, of the name of Burke, from Woolwich, for 100 guineas a-side. He was a fine, strong young man, taller than Randall, and possessing great confidence in his own abilities. Burke was also thought highly of by the officers at Woolwich, from the capabilities he had displayed in two or three bouts, and he was backed without any hesitation; indeed, his friends had quite made up their minds as to his success. Equally confident were the partizans of Randall. As to himself, he viewed this contest with perfect indifference; in fact, victory appeared so easy to him, that he scarcely underwent the usual preparation of training. The day arrived, Tuesday, June 16, 1818, when the battle was to have been fought at Moulsey Hurst, but the magistrates interfered. Combe Wood was the next bit of turf selected for the contest, when a second interruption occurred from the presence of the beaks. However, this dilemma was soon got rid of, and the parties made the best of their way towards Wimbledon Common, followed by the anxious cavalcade. The ring was made in a twinkling, and Burke followed, by Oliver and Clarke, as his seconds, entered the ropes and threw up his hat. Randall immediately after repeated the token of defiance, waited on by Paddington Jones and Dick Whale. Seven to four on Randall.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Burke appeared an active, fine young man, and in good condition. He was anxious to go to work, and soon let fly. Randall also set-to. In closing the Nonpareil got his opponent’s canister under his arm, and served it out as a clown in a fair operates on a salt box; when tired, he threw Burke. (Rare chaffing from the Randallites; two to one.)

2.—Burke was not quite so eager; he found more caution and a little sparring necessary. Randall again felt for his nob, when the claret peeped, and first blood was declared for the Nonpareil. In closing, both down.

3.—This was a short round, Burke falling from a slight hit.

4.—Burke could not protect his nob; in fact, it was in complete chancery, and he had no idea of getting it out. His head was quite altered; in a close, both down. Burke undermost.

5.—More chancery practice on the part of Randall, and played off upon his opponent’s nob, without any return. Randall again got Burke down.

6.—This was a severe milling round. Burke showed Randall that he must not be treated with careless contempt lest he might prove a dangerous customer. Burke again went down in a close, undermost.

7.—Randall stopped well, but did not display himself to so much advantage as in his previous contests; he appeared more bent upon running in, and pulling his opponent down, than decisive hitting. Both down, but Burke undermost.

8.—All fighting: and Burke it was thought had rather the best of it.

9.—Burke, very cautious, tried to make the most of his science, but went down.

10.—This was a sort of scrambling round, catching hold of each other, and Randall had not only the worst of it, but in closing, was down and undermost. The Woolwich boys were all alive, and gave Burke a lift, by singing out, “Burke for ever, and you’ll win it now, if you mind what you’re arter.”

11.—This round consisted principally in sparring and hugging, till Burke was thrown.

12.—Confidence, in a boxer, is a most essential requisite, but he ought always to be prepared for his enemy. No strange pugilist ought to be looked upon indifferently, as he may, in the trial, turn out a good one. Burke was rather a difficult man to be got at, from his length and height; which, it seems, accounts for so much hugging. Burke was thrown.

13.—Similar to the last; disapprobation expressed by the spectators.

14.—Randall, in closing, got his opponent’s nob upon the fibbing system, but Burke gained the throw, and Randall was undermost.

15.—Randall did not make a hit, but rushed in, and got Burke down undermost.

16.—Of a similar description.

17.—After a few exchanges of no importance, Randall put in a tremendous hit on the neck of Burke, and he went down. (Applause.)

18.—In this round, if Burke did not absolutely frighten the friends of Randall, he convinced them he was a better man than they took him to be. The Nonpareil put in a heavy hit on his opponent’s nob, which Burke tremendously returned with interest upon Randall. The former also put in four heavy hits on Randall’s head without receiving any return. In closing, a sharp struggle occurred, till both went down. (This altered the face of things a little, and the betting dropped. The Woolwich boys were all shouting at the success of their hero.)

19.—Quite unexpected, Burke had also the best of this round. In a sort of hugging close, both went down. (Great shouting for Burke.)

20.—Randall now went to work sharply, and gave his opponent a tremendous facer; but Burke returned the compliment with interest. Some sharp hits also occurred, till both went down. (Seven to four, and two to one on Randall.)

21.—Burke resorted to science, but his nob was again in chancery, and the punishment it exhibited was terrific. In closing, both down.

22.—It was evident now that Burke was going: he appeared extremely weak, and went down from a slight hit. (“It’s all your own, Jack;” and four to one, but no takers.)

23 and last.—Randall seemed as if he was determined to wind up the contest with a grand climax. The already punished head of Burke again received three additional tremendous hits upon it which gave it the rolypoly; and, in closing, Randall threw his opponent with the utmost ease. When time was called, Burke could not come, on account, it was said, of his having dislocated his shoulder. It was over in three-quarters of an hour.

This contest did not exactly please the friends of Randall. It was thought he had been too careless, or that he entertained too light an opinion of his opponent. He, however made some skilful stops, which were much admired; but it was said he won the fight more from throwing, in the first instance, than from his usual method of hitting. It should be taken into consideration, that Randall had something to do in getting at his opponent, who possessed the superiority of length of arm and height of stature; and, in all probability, he would have fought for several rounds more if his collar-bone had not been dislocated. Randall, as usual, retired from the ring with scarcely a scratch about his face.

The Nonpareil had disposed of all his opponents with so much ease and certainty, that the sporting world appeared extremely anxious that Turner should enter the lists with him; an opinion being entertained that the latter was the only boxer of the light weights that would have any chance of defeating Randall. The superior tactics and other pugilistic qualities displayed by Turner in his victories over Scroggins, had rendered him an object of great attraction among the fancy in general. Randall was also anxious to fight Turner, by way of a finish to his efforts; in fact, the Nonpareil delayed commencing publican on that account alone; and two or three good houses had in consequence slipped through his hands. Randall was confident as to the result. Victory, and nothing else, appeared certain to him. This, however, was by no means the general opinion; but when the following meeting was announced between the above parties, the fancy were all alive:—

“Articles of agreement. October 13, 1818, entered into at Mr. Franklin’s, the Lion and Goat, Lower Grosvenor Street, Grosvenor Square, between John Randall and Edward Turner, to fight for the sum of £100 a-side, on Tuesday, the 1st of December. The above battle to be a fair stand up fight—half minute time, in a twenty-four foot ring. The place to be named by Mr. Jackson; but the distance from London not to be less than twenty-five, nor to exceed thirty miles. Randall, on the one side, to choose his own umpire, as to a time keeper, and Turner also to appoint a time-keeper, on his part; but to prevent any disputes, Mr. Jackson to appoint a third umpire as a referee, whose decision shall be final. The whole of the stakes to be made good on Tuesday, the 10th of November, at Mr. Franklin’s, between the hours of seven and nine in the evening; but if either Randall or Turner wish to increase the sum to £200 a-side, this latter sum to be made good on Tuesday, the 24th of November. Mr. Jackson to hold the stakes, or any person whom he may appoint. A deposit of £20 a-side was placed in the hands of Mr. Franklin; but if the whole of the stakes of £100 a-side are not made good on the 10th of November, the above deposit to be forfeited accordingly.

“(Signed)       “BAXTER,

“FRANKLIN.”

“Witness, P. E.”

Randall was generally the favourite; yet Turner was by no means in the back ground, for the Taffies swore, “Cot splutter her nails, hur’s sure to win it.” The cool knowing ones, who put national feelings out of the case, and who only looked to winning the blunt, declared it was a puzzling problem.

This great match made, Randall went into training on his favourite spot, Hampstead Heath; where he was rather under the eye and superintendence of a gallant Colonel, his patron, it being contiguous to that officer’s residence. He took up his abode at Bob Pilch’s, the Horse and Groom, Hampstead, which was a centre of attraction for the fancy, it being only a toddling distance from the town.

On the side of Turner, his friends were equally attentive and alert, and a “game” dinner was given to the amateurs on Tuesday, November 24, 1818, at the Chequers Inn, Brentwood, Essex, preparatory to the grand combat. It was a numerous and most respectable meeting. A livelier dinner was never witnessed; the cloth was covered from one end to the other with hares, pheasants, partridges, and venison, served in the highest style of culinary perfection; the table was also surrounded by live game, of the true British breed, not to be equalled in any other part of the world: Oliver and Purcell on one side, Turner and Richmond upon the other. The harmony was of the richest quality, and “the heroes of the ring” were toasted by the company. Turner returned thanks for the mention that had been made of his former exertions, and observed, with much modesty and candour, “that he would win if he could; but if he lost the match, he trusted that the amateurs would not have to complain that he had not done everything to give them satisfaction.”

In consequence of the death of Queen Charlotte, this great match was put off, by the consent of all parties, till Saturday, December 5. This circumstance tended, if possible, to increase the sporting anxiety upon the event. The day being altered, it was thought expedient by the backers, to prevent any misunderstanding, to give publicity to the following:—“It may be necessary to inform those who are not thoroughly acquainted with the rules of betting, that, on account of the above day being altered, all bets that have been laid since the match was made are off, unless agreed by the parties to be on; but all those bets which were laid before the match was made, stand good.” It was even betting at Tattersall’s on the Monday previous to the fight. This circumstance was attributed to the Welsh feeling upon the subject: five to four was difficult to be got at. The contest being a “war” question, the Stock Exchange dabbled considerably upon the event. When the challenge was first given by Randall, and received by Turner, the odds were seven to four and two to one on Randall; but this seemed rather to arise from the impetuosity and confidence of his friends, than from a due estimate of his merits. Consideration soon reduced the odds to five to four, then twenty-one to twenty, and at length only Randall for choice.

Even betting followed; and at last Turner’s friends, who had been upon the reserve, began to show out, and actually offered five to four the other way. This change was attributed to a report that Randall had got a cold in his neck, and was under the necessity of having leeches applied to reduce the tumour which arose in consequence. Turner’s father, it appears, had offered to take the odds against his son to any amount, and actually produced the blunt for a few hundreds, in order to prove his sincerity. The spirit of the Ancient Briton was up, and we understand that he was instructed by his friends in Wales to support the national glory. Tom Belcher had £200 sent up to him from Wales, to bet as he thought proper upon Turner.

The little hero on his leaving Brentwood, dined at Belcher’s, in Holborn, on Thursday, and in the course of the evening set off for Croydon, where he slept that night. He seemed in high condition and good spirits, and expressed a perfect confidence of success. Randall also shifted his quarters from Hampstead, and approached the scene of action. He was equally sanguine.

On Friday morning the bustle among the fancy was great. Post-chaises, gigs, carts, buggies, wagons, and every description of vehicle, were called into requisition; and, in the course of the day the road towards Croydon presented a motley assemblage of persons of all ranks. Many, too, who could not muster the means of other conveyance, depended upon their pedestrian abilities, and set out on foot. Every horse on the road was engaged, and hundreds were forced to take up their lodgings under circumstances of no ordinary privation; indeed it was considered but a trifling sacrifice, when compared with the pleasure to be derived from being present at the fight.

On entering the ring, which was pitched on Crawley Downs, Turner was waited on by Tom Owen and Bill Richmond, Randall by Tom Oliver and Blake. Odds six to four on Randall. Little time was lost, and at one o’clock they shook hands, and threw themselves in position for

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—It is impossible to describe the anxiety impressed upon the countenances of the spectators on the combatants shaking hands. The attitudes of both men were interesting to the admirers of pugilism, and neither of them seemed wanting in condition. They eyed each other with the acute precision of fencing masters, and seemed positively almost to look into each other’s hearts. It was dodging, dodging, and dodging again; and five minutes had elapsed before a blow had been made, touching the toes of each other all the time. At length, after some feints, Turner hit first, when the prime Irish boy laughed and got away. The latter, however, was not long in making a return, and he gave Turner a jawer and a ribber, but not heavily. More feints and dodging. Turner hit short with his right hand, when Randall rushed in and went to work. He tried to fib his opponent upon his old favourite system, and a severe struggle took place for the throw. Both down, but Turner undermost.

2.—The same caution was manifest on both sides on commencing this round, and long sparring again occurred. Randall gave a bellier, and got away; he was not long in repeating it, and adding a facer. Long sparring. Turner endeavoured to give a tremendous hit with his left hand, but Jack was wary, and jumped back two yards. Very long sparring; in fact, it appeared so tedious to those who are admirers of downright milling, that many persons called out, “When shall we get home?” Turner, with much dexterity, put in a good hit between Randall’s guard. (Great applause. “Go it, Neddy.”) The latter gave two facers, and plunged his way to work. The finish of this round was truly severe, fibbing and struggling till both went down. Twenty minutes had elapsed.

3.—The mouth of Turner seemed to show some tinge of the claret, but there was doubt about it. He, however, appeared to breathe very quick, and rather distressed. The tactics of both the men were of the first order of science, and it was viewed as astonishing by most of the old amateurs. Both of the men were so well prepared, that if the slightest mistake was made it was not overlooked; and this may account for the extreme caution on both sides. Randall had never anything like such a customer to deal with before; and Turner had no borer-in to beat off-hand. This round took thirteen minutes, and the pauses were so unusually long that some of the jokers advised Tom Owen to have a pipe. Cribb wished for his nightcap, and talked of supper. Old Caleb advised them to go to work, and hit each other’s nobs off. After numerous feints, the round was finished well, Turner undermost, and Randall fell over him rather awkwardly upon his neck.

4.—From the style of fighting displayed by both of the combatants, it was evident it must prove a long fight. Both anxious, and on the look out not to give half a chance away. Randall put in two body blows. Turner’s left hand also told on his opponent’s mouth. The hitting and stopping on both sides was masterly. Turner’s nose was now bleeding copiously, and Randall’s face was pinked. Both down.

5.—In this round Randall took the lead; he fibbed his opponent severely, and then fell upon him heavily in going down.

6.—To attempt to describe minutely the feints, the pauses, dodgings, etc., would fill a volume, and therefore we must confine ourselves to an explicit and short epitome. Randall spat blood, when Turner’s left hand caught his opponent’s nose, and the claret ran down into his mouth. A very long pause ensued, and it almost seemed that neither of the combatants wished to make a hit, so much caution was used. Fifty minutes had elapsed. Turner made a tremendous hit with his left hand, but Randall stopped its effect with fine skill. An exchange of blows. Turner aimed to do something with his right and left hands, but the blows were slight. Randall got away; the blood from his nose appeared rather troublesome to him. Trifling exchanges. Turner seemed tired, and put down his hands, but they were soon up again on Randall’s offering to hit. Turner threw two blows away, when Randall put in a severe body blow. Another long pause. Randall now put down his hands, just for a moment’s ease, when Turner run in, not to lose an opportunity, but Randall laughed, and was prepared for him in an instant. Long pause. Several feints, but no hitting. Randall put in a heavy blow in the body, but got a sharp header in return. The Nonpareil seemed to be changing his mode of attack, and trying all for the body. Turner was so extremely awkward and dangerous to be got at, that Randall displayed more than his usual caution. Turner stopped a heavy hit, and then hit Randall on the head; and he also endeavoured again to use his left hand with success, but Randall stopped him. Some fine science was again displayed, and in struggling for the throw, Randall was undermost. Turner was now bleeding copiously, and the claret was also running down from Randall’s nose.

7.—This was a tremendous round, and Turner seemed much distressed in coming to the scratch. After a few exchanges, Randall closed, and went sharply to work on the weaving system, till they both were down.

8.—This was also a fighting round, and Turner’s left hand got into his opponent’s face; but Randall, in turn, put in a sharp bodier. In closing, Turner was thrown.

9.—When time was called, Turner was about to commence play on Randall’s side of the ring, when the latter said, “Keep your own side.” This was a gallant round, and both fibbed each other in turn. In going down Randall had the best of the fall.

10.—This round was full of science; the hitting and stopping on both sides were of the finest order of the art. Turner complained that Randall had trod heavily upon his toe, and said, “Do you call that fair, Jack?” Randall, in reply, answered, “I did not.” In struggling for the throw, Turner threw Randall over him.

11.—The best judges were still between hopes and fears upon the subject. Randall seemed to have the best of it, but the goodness of Turner was so well known, that he did not even now want for plenty of backers. Randall got Turner into the sun, and put in a tremendous hit on his left eye, that made him wink again. He, however, recovered himself, and gave his opponent a severe one in the bread-basket. In going down Turner received a hit which Owen said was foul, and called out to the umpires respecting it but no notice was taken by the authorities, and it went off.

12.—Turner hit his opponent right and left, but they did not appear heavy enough to alter the position of Randall, or reduce his strength. However, it was a desperate round. (Seven to four on Randall.) Both down, and hard milling.

13.—Randall put in a desperate snorter, that sent Turner’s nob back, and the claret followed in torrents; he repeated it, and Turner went down. Randall had now got upon the head-work, and left pinking at the body. This was the first knock-down blow, and great shouting followed it.

14.—It was really astonishing to witness the coolness with which Turner came up to the scratch after the tremendous punishment he had experienced in the last round. He also hit out right and left, and some severe exchanges occurred between them. In closing, Turner fibbed Randall with some effect, but the former went down. (Randall for £100.)

15.—A very sharp round. Good fighting on both sides. In closing, Turner got Randall down, and also undermost.

16.—A considerable pause before a blow was made. Turner at length let fly with his left hand on the body; but Randall put in so heavy a blow in Turner’s mouth as nearly to dislodge his ivory, and the claret flowed profusely. In closing, Turner fibbed his opponent, but he fell rather weak.

17.—In this round, in struggling for the throw, Turner threw Randall out of the ring, and stood up, leaning over the ropes.

18.—Turner tried to use his left hand desperately, but was stopped. Randall rushed in to finish his man in style, but he missed his object. At length they both got into work, till Turner went down exhausted.

19.—In this round Turner put in a sharp bodier, when Randall’s old forte broke out with fresh energy. In closing, he peppered the face of his opponent; it was ditto, ditto, ditto, ditto, till Turner went down. One hour and thirty-five minutes.

20.—Turner came to his time undismayed, and hit left and right, which Randall not only stopped, but again planted a severe facer that brought forth the claret in torrents. In closing, both down.

21.—Turner hit with his left hand on Randall’s nose, and he also went down from the force of his own blow. Randall seemed a little exhausted from the work he had to perform, and was also bleeding at the mouth. In fact, this blow seemed to have had more effect than any he had received during the fight.

22.—Randall run Turner down, after an exchange of a few blows.

23.—Fibbing and Turner a bad fall. The latter appeared getting weak, but still full of courage.

24.—Turner came first to the scratch, with undiminished confidence, and put in a smart right-handed hit on Randall’s mug. In the struggle Turner also surprised the spectators with the strength that he possessed, throwing Randall with great violence. Two hours had now elapsed.

25.—Turner astonished the ring by coming up so cheerful, and some of the good judges did not know what to think of it; they said it was not altogether so safe as many might imagine. Randall planted a slight hit, and slipped down.

26.—Turner was first at the scratch, and hit Randall right and left, but the blows were not heavy. Randall gave a second knock-down blow.

27.—Randall looked at his fallen foe, and stooped down, winking to his friends, as it were, that he thought it all right. This was a well fought round, and Turner put in some good hits. In going down, Randall was undermost. The water of life was here given to Randall. At this stage of the battle, upwards of two hours having elapsed, it was truly extraordinary to witness such exertions on both sides. Turner hit Randall right away from him, but the latter followed Turner up till a terrible struggle took place in closing. Turner also stopped a severe blow aimed at him by Randall, and in return he planted a sharp hit on the Nonpareil’s jaw.

28.—Turner again nobbed his opponent with his left hand, but he was floored from a tremendous body hit.

29.—Notwithstanding the heavy flooring hit Turner experienced in the last round, he came up to the scratch as cool as a cucumber. He commenced fighting, and endeavoured to do some execution with his left hand, but Randall stopped him. In a close, both down.

30.—Turner left the knee of his second first, and quite satisfied the ring that that fight was not out of him. He made some good exchanges, till both went down.

31.—The face of Turner was severely punished, but his eyes were open, and he fought as coolly as if he had only commenced the fight. (“Take him away—he’s too game,” was the cry.) Turner was again floored from a severe hit in the body. In this round a circumstance occurred which might have proved the overthrow of Randall, if it had not been prevented. Baxter offered to bet £5 upon Turner, when Oliver warmly observed, that he would lay him £10 to £5 three times over, and was leaving his man to come and stake, but he was called upon by Randall’s patron not to quit him for an instant. Jem Belcher lost the fight with Cribb, it was asserted, in consequence of his second staking the money, thus giving time for Cribb to recover his wind.

32.—The brave Turner undismayed again met his man; but went down from a blow. While on his second’s knee, he was advised to give in, but his manly heart would not suffer him to say “No;” his tongue refused its utterance.

33.—The state of Turner now appeared so piteous, and his bravery so much the praise of the spectators, that several persons cried out, “Do not let him fight any more.”—“Don’t say that, gentlemen,” replied Owen, “he’s worth twenty beaten men!” Turner, however, went down from a facer.

34 and last.—The admiration of all present was expressed at Turner again coming to the scratch; and although in a state of exhaustion, he was cool, collected, and as game as a pebble. After some other hits, a blow on the left side of Turner’s head floored him, that he could not come to time. Two hours, nineteen minutes, and thirty seconds had elapsed.

Remarks.—The first act of Randall, on being pronounced the victor, was to push the crowd away from him, and to clasp the hand of his brave fallen foe with much zeal and friendship; while Turner, nobly disdaining animosity, gently patted Randall on the back, in token that he was the best man, and had won the battle nobly and in gallant style. The amateurs applauded both of them, and pronounced them the two best bits of stuff, of their weight, in this country. Turner, it seems, on being repeatedly solicited to give in, indignantly spurned such advice, asserting that he could yet win the battle. His brother, Mr. Baxter, at length insisted that he should fight no longer, which put an end to the contest.

On victory being declared in favour of Randall, Turner was immediately carried from the ground by Sutton, in a distressed state, to a neighbouring farmhouse, put to bed, and every attention and assistance administered to his wants that humanity could suggest. It is well known that, heavy as the blows were, added to the extremity of pain he must have felt from the severity of punishment he had received, these were “trifles light as air,” compared to the anguish which his mind suffered at the recollection, afflicting to a brave man, of defeat. He was very ill, but complained most of the body blows. Randall, in the course of the Saturday evening, arrived in town, anxious to meet his better half and son; the latter was about two years old.

The public interest was so great upon this occasion that hundreds surrounded the turnpike gates to learn the name of the winner.

Randall at this time announced his retirement from the ring, and his intention to serve the public as a publican. We find in Monday morning’s Morning Chronicle, after the fight, the following paragraphs headed:—

“Remnants of the Fight.—Daylight on Sunday morning discovered the remains of several gigs lying along the wayside, which had been floored by coming in contact with each other from the narrowness and badness of the roads. Beds could not be procured at any of the inns; and, in consequence, hundreds were compelled to travel in the dark. The horses were all dead beat, the long faces not to be described, and the cleaning out immense. Near the dwelling of Randall, the Cock, in Tottenham Court road, hundreds were waiting for the result of the event; and, upon the arrival of Jack, the applause he received rent the air. The mob round Belcher’s door was beyond all precedent. In the Borough Market, Cribb’s house was equally besieged, and those of Harmer, Oliver, and Burn, crowded and surrounded. The sale of newspapers was as great as if some important victory had been achieved on the continent, so much anxiety was felt upon this battle. The first news which arrived in London was that Turner had gained the day. Numerous bets were made upon the information, and the hoax was not dispelled till ten o’clock on Saturday night.

“Turner arrived in town last (Sunday) night; and notwithstanding the numerous blows he has received upon his face, it was astonishing to see how quickly the appearance of punishment had left it.”

At a sporting dinner at Franklin’s,[^[154]] on December 22, 1818, to celebrate Randall’s victory, a noble lord, a staunch patron of boxing, proposed to back Martin against the Nonpareil. Martin, who had just defeated “the invincible” Jack Scroggins (as Pierce Egan calls him after four defeats), in the previous week (December 18th), was then in the height of his fame; yet a backer of Randall not only accepted the proposal but offered, lest Martin’s friends should draw back, to fight £150 to £100; so good a thing did he think it; though Martin was a stone heavier, touching 11st. 5lbs. In a little row with the ponderous Burn, Randall displayed his skill upon the “big ’un,” and offered to fight him for £100, before his match with Martin. These were of course mere “wild and wandering words, my lord.” For the match with Martin, £50 on the part of Martin, and £75 for Randall, were posted on the last day of the year 1818, at Burn’s, and the 4th of May was fixed for the meeting, that it might not interfere with Newmarket.

Randall went into training at Hampstead, and in March, in consequence of some difference of opinion between his trainer and Martin’s, a foot-race of 100 yards was proposed for £5 a-side. The men agreed to run, and came together, when Martin beat Randall cleverly by seven yards. The reporter adds: “This was the first time Randall’s name was coupled with defeat, but then it was his feet that betrayed him, his fists had no hand in it.” “This was thought,” as “Elia” says in his “Essays,” “smart writing for newspapers thirty years ago.”

Randall generously volunteered to attend and set-to at Martin’s benefit at the Fives Court, which took place only a week before their fight, and did so. This is a little trait that speaks volumes for the manly character of the Nonpareil. We copy the contemporary report, as a specimen of the “road to the fight” some sixty years ago.

“The fancy were upon the alert soon after breakfast, on Monday, May 4, 1819, to ascertain the seat of action, and as soon as the important whisper had gone forth, that Crawley Downs was the place, ‘the toddlers’ were off in a twinkling. Gigs were brushed up, the prads harnessed, and the ‘boys’ who intended to enjoy themselves on the road were in motion. Heavy drags and wagons were also to be witnessed creeping along full of people, with plenty of grub. Between the hours of two and three o’clock in the afternoon, upwards of 100 gigs were counted passing through Croydon. The bonifaces chuckled with delight, and screwing was the order of the day. Long before eight o’clock in the evening, every bed belonging to the inns and public-houses in Godstone, East Grinstead, Reigate, Bletchingly, etc., etc., were doubly and some trebly engaged. The country folks also came in for a snack of the thing, and the simple Johnny Raws, who felt no hesitation in sitting up all night if they could turn their beds to account, with much modesty only asked £1 and 15s. each for an hour or two’s sleep. The private houses were thus filled. Five and seven shillings were charged for the stand of a horse in any wretched hut. But those customers who were ‘fly’ to all the tricks and fancies of life, and who would not be nailed at any price, preferred going to roost in a barn; while others, possessing rather more gaiety, and who set sleep at defiance, blew a cloud over some heavy wet; devouring the rich points of a flash chaunt, and thought no more of time hanging heavily than they did of the classics, chaunting and swiping till many of the young sprigs dropped off their perches; the ould ones who felt the influence of ‘the Dustman,’ were glad to drop their nobs to obtain forty winks. Those persons whose blunt enabled them to procure beds, could not obtain any sleep, for carriages of every description were passing through the town all night. Things passed in this manner till daylight began to peep. Then the swells in their barouches and four, the swift trotting fanciers, hurried from the metropolis; and the road exhibited the bustle of the great day of Epsom Races. The ‘brilliants’ also left Brighton, Worthing, etc., about the same period, and thus were the roads thronged in every direction. The ‘pitiless pelting shower’ commenced furiously at six o’clock on the Tuesday morning, but it damped nothing but the dust. The ‘fancy’ are too game to prevent anything like weather interrupting their sports. The ogles of the turnpike men let not half a chance slip through their fingers, and those persons who, either from carelessness or accident, had not preserved their tickets, were physicked by paying twice at the same gate. The weather at length cleared up, and by twelve o’clock the amphitheatre on Crawley Downs had a noble effect, thousands of persons being assembled. It is supposed if the carriages had all been placed in one line they would have reached from London to Crawley. The amateurs were of the highest distinction, and several noblemen and foreigners of rank were upon the ground. The short time previous to the combat taking place was occupied in betting and descanting upon the merits of the pugilists. The high condition and strength of Martin made a considerable impression upon the waverers, and some little hedging occurred, though seven to four was the current price with Randall’s friends.” Martin first appeared in the ring, and threw up his hat, accompanied by his seconds, Burn and Harmer. Randall immediately followed, attended by Oliver and Jones. The combatants, upon meeting, shook hands with each other in the most friendly manner. The signal was given for stripping, and a most extensive ring was immediately beat out. At thirteen minutes to one the men set-to:—

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Upon the combatants meeting at the scratch, the fine condition of Martin claimed the peculiar attention of the amateurs. The human frame could not possibly have attained a higher degree of perfection. He wore elastic drawers, and, from his hips downwards, the symmetry was so complete, that a sculptor could not have wished for a finer model. Randall was equally prime; but from comparison of height and weight the chance appeared against him, if it had rested upon these points. Reports had gone abroad that Martin meant to risk his fortune in the first two or three rounds; also that Randall could not bear punishment, and the baker was determined to smash him on the outset. The confidence of Martin rather alarmed a few of the amateurs; but the steady calculators were not to be moved; and the recollection that Randall had won eleven battles in succession—that he had never been defeated—and had likewise gained a victory over the skilful Turner, heightened their opinion, and induced them to lay it on thicker. The vast multitude seemed in breathless suspense on the men making their attitudes. Martin was cautious, and some time occurred in sparring for an opportunity to make a hit, when he at length let fly with his right hand, which reached his opponent’s body slightly. Randall made a hit, but the baker’s length of arm stopped it, when the latter in endeavouring to make a return, received a one-two on the right and left side of his face, which instantly created a pinky appearance. Long sparring occurred, and both on the look out to obtain a favourable opportunity. Martin made a hit, but Randall got away in style, when the latter was not long in planting a blow on the body. Counter hits took place, and Martin, rather encouraged from this circumstance, pursued Randall to the corner of the ropes. The Nonpareil, as heretofore, when placed in this perilous situation, extricated himself with promptness. He put in two facers; Martin went staggering away, and the claret was seen issuing from his mouth. He now raised himself upon his toes, when Randall, finding that the length of the baker’s “peel” was not yet practicable to get over, planted a severe bodier. Martin went a little to work, and in closing some sharp blows passed, and both went down, Martin uppermost. (Loud shouting, and “Well done, Martin.”)

2.—Randall’s left ear was slightly bleeding from the last encounter. Martin made a hit on Randall’s shoulder; and he also stopped the latter in making a return. Randall, however, was not long in putting in a bodier, that left the marks of his fingers as strongly imprinted as if they had been painted with vermilion. In closing the Nonpareil fibbed Martin severely, but the baker obtained the throw and was uppermost. (Two to one was now current upon Randall; and several took it, relying upon the length and strength of the baker.)

3.—Martin made a good nobber, and smiled at the event; but it was only temporary. Randall put in some bodiers with great dexterity, these affected the wind of Martin, and, in closing, Randall not only fibbed his opponent tremendously, but fell upon him.

4.—Martin’s face was bleeding and flushed all over; distress was coming fast upon him. He, however, made a hit which was stopped, when Randall, like lightning, put in so severe a facer that Martin’s head went with great force against the stakes. He appeared quite stunned, but did not go down, and came up tottering to fight with his opponent. In closing he again received terribly, and was undermost.

5.—The “upper crust” of the baker was now cracked, and Randall went in sharply to gain another point, adding more punishment, but in closing he was undermost. (Four to one).

6.—Martin got away from a tremendous hit; and some long sparring occurred. This was a severe round; but Martin was punished down, and Randall fell heavily upon him.

7.—The Nonpareil had now commenced his work, and satisfied the amateurs that he meant to finish it at his leisure; he had “got him,” as it is termed; but yet this safe hero to back thinks the battle is not over till it is positively won, and never gives the slightest chance away. This was a short round; when Randall again spoiled the upper crust, and got his opponent down.

8.—The face of Martin was not only red, but his mouth appeared full of blood. He made a hit, but Randall got away; he, however, again pursued him to the ropes, when Randall hit him on the right eye, and he went staggering away. Some struggle took place for the throw, but Randall got Martin down.

9.—Martin sparred a short time, seemed tired, and endeavoured to pull up his drawers, when Randall was going in to mill, the baker smiled and soon prepared for action. In closing Randall threw his opponent.

10.—Martin slipped from a hit, but he received such nobbers, and appeared so bothered, that it was observed, the “Master of the Rolls” had mistaken his place, and got into the “Court of Chancery.” Randall fell very heavy upon his opponent.

11.—It was evident that Martin could not gain a point to change the tide of battle towards victory. He received a dreadful blow in the wind; and Randall got away from nearly all his blows. The fibbing system was also again renewed with severity, and Martin was thrown.

12.—Randall put in such tremendous hits, that in struggling Martin fell down exhausted.

13.—This was a short round, and Martin was hit as he was going down in the struggle for the throw. “Foul! foul!” was loudly vociferated; and it might perhaps have appeared so to those persons at a distance from the ring; but the umpires, who were close to the ropes, and watched every movement, declared it to be fair.

14.—Another dreadful bodier was put in by Randall, and Martin went in rather furious, but he was punished down.

15.—The talents for serving out and improving the chance exhibited by Randall in this round, electrified the spectators, and astonished the most experienced and accomplished pugilists on the ground. In the very short space of time that Martin was falling to the ground from struggling, Randall planted three tremendous blows. (“It’s astonishing,” was the cry; “he is a phenomenon indeed!”)

16.—Martin still kept fighting, and this was a sharp round; but he was hit both on the head and body staggering away. In going down the coolness of Randall induced him to put up his arm to show that he did not mean to hit his opponent on the ground.

17.—Martin determined to try it on, and broke away from a close. Some exchanges took place, but he was hit down severely.

18.—It was all up. Martin was hit so severely that he fell upon his face. (A guinea to a shilling was offered, but no takers.)

19 and last.—It was doubtful whether Martin could come again. He did, however, appear at the scratch, in a terrible state, but it was only to be floored sans ceremonie. The battle occupied forty-nine minutes and ten seconds.

Remarks.—Randall never won a battle with more comparative ease; and, excepting a slight shade under his left eye, and a scratch upon his ear, he had no appearance of having been engaged in a contest. He is a complete master of the art of war, and his judgment truly conspicuous. He found the length of arm possessed by the baker was not to be got over at first; he then, with great promptitude, found out the vulnerable part of the body, till the head of his opponent became at his service, and then he won with all the coolness and science of playing a game of draughts.

It was the opinion of the best judges, that Randall ultimately must be cried down, like the famous “Eclipse,” as regarded fighting any man of his own weight. Martin was a very game man, and a hard hitter; but he had no chance with Randall, although it is said he weighed above twelve stone, and Randall only ten stone ten pounds. In point of civility, decorous behaviour, and quiet conduct in life, Martin yielded to no pugilist on the list; and these circumstances were not forgotten by the amateurs, who made a collection for him of £30 on the ground. He was taken to a farmhouse and humanely attended upon; while Randall put on his clothes, and sat down to view the fight between Carter (who styled himself the Champion of England), and Spring, which took place in the same ring.

Randall, it appears, received foul play early in the morning of the above fight; or, in other words, he was “hocussed.”[^[155]] This infamous scheme, however, had not the desired effect; but the dose operated as a purgative.

A silly Monday disturbance in Battersea Fields, which led to a not very creditable turn-up between Randall, who had been dining out, and a fighting tailor named Jem Wood or Hood, in October, 1819, is seized upon by Pierce Egan for seven octavo pages of slang and ungrammatical “patter;” “Fistiana,” too, has booked it as a victory, “four rounds for love,” to Randall.

Randall was now so popular that the manager of the Regency Theatre engaged him at a salary to exhibit his milling acquirements in a pantomime. Turner was his friendly opponent upon this occasion, and crowded houses were the result.

In June, 1819, Randall being then about to open in business at the Hole in the Wall, in Chancery Lane, was challenged by the dread-nought Jack Scroggins, and a backer of Randall put down a £10 note on his behalf, for a fight for 100 guineas to come off in August. Randall, not having been consulted, refused to meet Scroggins, and forfeited the £10.

On Tuesday, August 17th, 1819, Randall’s opening dinner was celebrated. As a specimen we reprint the advertisement from the weekly papers:—

“TO THE PATRONS OF THE NOBLE ART.

“A most interesting match will take place on Tuesday, August 17, 1819, at five o’clock in the afternoon, in which The Nonpareil will exhibit in a new character. The Commander-in-Chief will preside. It will be a game set-to, and cutting up will prevail, while the claret will be in full supply. The visitors, if they do not find themselves in Chancery, will be in the lane that leads to it. The Hole-in-the-Wall will be the rendezvous on this occasion, where friendship and harmony will do their best to crown Jack Randall’s latest hit.”

From this period we do not hear of Jack in the ring, though he constantly put on the gloves at benefits at the Fives Court, often donning the mufflers with the scientific Tom Belcher, his brother boniface and neighbour at the Castle. The following anecdote, headed “Gallantry of the Nonpareil,” is given on the authority of “Boxiana:”—

“On Thursday evening, June 28, 1821, as the Nonpareil was taking one of his ‘training’ walks, in company with Josh. Hudson and two amateurs, near White Conduit Fields, a lady and gentlemen were passing, when some very indecent and unmanly allusions were made to them by four fellows. The gentleman endeavoured to turn away from these blackguards, when they assailed him and the lady more rudely than ever. The Nonpareil immediately put in a small taste on one of the fellow’s nobs, that floored him. On his getting up, the Nonpareil took him up to the lady, and insisted upon his begging her pardon, which the fellow did upon his knees: the other three refusing to do so, were so severely caned that they could scarcely walk afterwards. Some brick-makers, who observed the circumstance, immediately left their work, and came to the assistance of the blackguards, when Randall floored two of them. Josh. Hudson also made some play with the ‘men of clay,’ and on some person crying ‘go it, Jack Randall,’ the name was quite sufficient, and the astonished brick-makers begged his pardon and bolted, sans ceremonie.”

During the two years of Randall’s retirement, Martin had shone as a bright star in the pugilistic sphere. He had conquered the renowned Josh. Hudson, the John Bull Fighter; beaten the “hard-hitting” Bristol hero, Cabbage; disposed of the pretensions of the “slashing” Phil. Sampson, the Birmingham youth; floored the pretentious Gipsy Cooper at Lewes races; and finally disposed of Josh. Hudson’s brother David at Moulsey. This led to a second match with Ned Turner, by whom in his early career Martin had been defeated. In this affair Randall backed Turner, and with Tom Belcher seconded him in the battle. Turner’s defeat at the hands of Martin so vexed Randall that in a moment of irritation he declared his readiness to fight Martin for £300. This was foolish and in bad taste, as Randall had formally taken leave of the ring two years previously, with a public challenge to all England at eleven stone, for 500 guineas. This sudden challenge was not immediately accepted, as the backers of Martin hesitated at the largeness of the sum; but the friends of Martin, upon weighing the facts of Randall’s recent illness, his life as a publican, and the supposed inroads of “blue ruin” upon his constitution, screwed up their courage and signed articles for the £300. It is stated in contemporary papers that upwards of £200,000 were dependent upon the issue of this fight, and that one gentleman had a book of £5,000, at six and seven to four on Randall.

On Tuesday morning, September 16, 1821, long before daylight, and all the preceding night, the roads leading to Crawley Downs, Sussex, were covered with vehicles of every description, so great was the interest excited throughout the sporting world to witness the Nonpareil once more display his skill in the art of self-defence. The ring was made in a field, within a mile of East Grinstead, in which Martin threw up his hat; but, owing to some misunderstanding between the persons conducting this business in the absence of the Commander-in-chief, the fight was removed to Crawley Downs, but not till hundreds had paid a heavy toll for passing through a gate, which sums of money of course were not refunded on changing the scene of action. For a long time it was thought no fight would take place. By this time the multitude had so increased that it was deemed necessary to enlarge the ring; and about three o’clock, Randall, in a white “upper Benjamin,” arm-in-arm with his backers, appeared, and, with much coolness threw his hat into the ropes. Shortly afterwards, Martin, accompanied by his backers, displaying their white toppers, also approached the ring, and answered the token of defiance by sending his castor into the ring. Martin was loudly applauded by the spectators. Tom Spring and an amateur were seconds for “the Master of the Rolls;” Paddington Jones and “Cicero” Holt officiated for Randall. The combatants on meeting each other shook hands in the most friendly manner. Current betting six to four on Randall.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On stripping, the frame of Randall was a perfect picture for the anatomist, and every person was astonished at the very fine condition he exhibited. The confidence he displayed was remarkable. His face had no trait of ferocity about it, but, on the contrary, cheerfulness and true courage. Martin was lighter in person than heretofore, but his condition was said to be, by his backers, equal to the finest racehorse. His legs, which were covered with striped silk stockings, were round and elegant, and the tout ensemble was that of a boxer capable of performing great execution. He smiled and appeared confident. On placing themselves in attitude, Randall was the object of attraction all over the ring; he stood as firm as a rock. The position of Martin was good, but he did not appear to stand so steady as his opponent. A minute elapsed in looking at each other, but the eyes of Randall seemed almost to penetrate his opponent. Both anxious for an opportunity to make a hit. Martin smiled. Randall made a sort of feint with his left hand, which was well stopped by Martin. Manœuvring and dodging each other for a few steps, which was succeeded by a pause. Randall endeavoured to put in a tremendous right-handed blow, but missed his object. Martin now ventured to take the lead, and exerted himself to make his right and left hand tell, but Randall with the utmost dexterity stopped them both. Martin felt tired and dropped his arms; but, on perceiving Randall ready to take advantage of this opening, he hastily resumed a defensive attitude, when the Nonpareil immediately went to work, and planted a severe right-handed hit just above the wind, which made the Master of the Rolls bite his lips. Another pause succeeded; but the attitudes of the men were uncommonly fine. The action of the muscles was beautiful; and the arms of Martin, and the shoulders of Randall, were studies for the artist. The combatants closed on Randall’s decoying Martin to follow him to his favourite corner of the ring, and in this situation, often as the Nonpareil had astonished the amateurs with his forte for fibbing, he now put forth such a “bit of good truth” as positively to terrify the spectators with the terrible execution he was capable of administering. He fibbed Martin with his left hand in the most rapid manner, and then changed him on his arm like a baby, and repeated four or five blows on his face and neck, operating so decisively on the jugular vein that the eyes of Martin turned up, and he foamed at the mouth. A few drops of claret followed, which appeared to have been drawn from his ear, and Randall did not leave him till he was within four inches of the ground. Martin was now so stupid that the back part of his head fell against the stake; but the mischief had been done before this period. “It’s all up,” was the cry; and to describe the consternation of the ring, or to depict the countenances of the spectators, would defy the talents of a Lavater. Martin was picked up in a state of stupor, and remained insensible for a long period after time was called. He was carried out of the ring; but in the course of half an hour, when in bed, and attended by the P. C. doctor, Mr. Hughes, a gentleman possessing superior talents as a medical man, he recognized Spring, and, on opening his eyes, with the utmost astonishment inquired where he was, and if he had lost it? Randall had only a slight mark on the tip of his nose and under his right eye.

Remarks.—This fight is without a parallel, it having been won in one round, occupying nearly eight minutes. Although so short, yet the excellence of Randall was so great that no one could have complained to go fifty miles at any time to witness such a display of the art. So finished a boxer as Randall was never seen in the prize ring. The attitude of Martin attracted great attention and praise; and the extreme caution evinced on both sides established the advantages of coolness and a knowledge of tactics. Till the closing occurred, the general opinion seemed to be that Martin had none the worst of it at out-fighting; but when the Nonpareil got in (and right truly is Randall named a Nonpareil, for where is his fellow to be found among the milling coves of his weight?) he held Martin as tight in his grasp as if he had been screwed in a vice. After the fight it was ascertained that Martin did not weigh more than two pounds heavier than Randall. The character of the Master of the Rolls had hitherto stood very high in the opinion of the sporting world for his scrupulous attention to training, and it is true he was never attached to wetting his neck; but, poor fellow, like our common ancestor, Adam, it is certain he was not proof against another temptation.

“Dear creatures, we can’t do without them,

They are all that is sweet and seducing to man;”

and “true ’tis pity,” and “pity ’tis, ’tis true!” Martin might have lost the fight on the above account, had the battle come to a long contest, and stamina been required; but in the present instance the repeated blows he received on the jugular vein must have finished him off hand.

As to Martin he attributed the loss of the fight to an accident, and issued a challenge for a third contest. Randall replied that he had declared beforehand that, win or lose, this should be his last battle, and moreover that his challenge was the result of a promise to Turner, that if Martin beat that boxer he would fight him himself.

We shall make no apology for transferring a letter from an eyewitness, who came up from Cambridge, to a university friend, as the best report of this eventful fight and its accompanying incidents.

“London, September 12, 1821.

“Dear ——

“Agreeably to promise, I sit down to write you some account of the great pugilistic events of yesterday, such as they appeared to my inexperienced eyes, and such probably as they would have done to yours. The intense interest excited in our minds by the sporting intelligence conveyed by the London press, and the difficulty of discriminating the plain, simple, unvarnished fact, amidst the eloquence and metaphorical colouring in which battles are narrated, renders it necessary that we ourselves should, once at least, see a prize-fight, in order perfectly to understand the events of the day, and be able to converse rationally on matters which are the subject of discussion in every body’s mouth. I was accordingly determined to see this fight, but it was a matter of tenfold more difficulty than I had anticipated.

“I had expected that our sporting friend’s letter of introduction to —— would have made everything easy, as that gentleman is supposed to be in the secret of all the sporting world. Nothing farther, however, could be learned, except that it was supposed that it would be on Crawley Downs, and a reason was given for this selection, that it would be an accommodation to the Brighton amateurs, who would in that case contribute £40 or £50 towards the reward of the performers. Nothing, however, was decided, and the amateurs, who were determined at all events to see the sports of the day, were written to by their friends to come up to London to head quarters, as the only means of making sure of not being disappointed. In fact, numerous amateurs arrived from Norwich, Canterbury, Cheltenham, Bristol, and other country towns, and at a tavern kept by Mr. Thomas Belcher, of fighting notoriety, friends from all these different places, attracted by kindred feelings, renewed their acquaintance.

“By-the-bye, you would be surprised how successful the fighting men are when they set up a place of public resort. In the country places, ale and strong liquors are best sold under the patronage of the Duke of Wellington; and his head being hung up over the door is a strong inducement for a genuine Englishman to enter, quench his thirst, and promote the revenue of his country. In Paris, at their coffee-houses, we observed they always had an elegant, young, and handsome female seated in a conspicuous place, as an object of attraction to the house; but the best painted head of the Duke of Wellington in the country, or the finest woman in Paris, never drew so respectable an assemblage as is brought together by the intense admiration felt for the heroism and manhood of Tom Cribb, Jack Randall, or Tom Belcher. The other sporting publicans all do well, and have their coteries of friends who patronise them, and find the liquors nowhere so genuine and constitutional as in the houses of these hardy supporters of English glory. It would have astonished you had you seen what an assemblage was at Belcher’s for some nights before the battle. You might have stood an hour before you could have got a seat, and barmaids and waiters were as much fatigued in serving out the liquors as the combatants after serving out to each other in the prize ring. The money was all alive. Five, ten, twenty, and fifty pound notes were common as waste paper, and were staked as freely on the event. It is wonderful how much the revenue must have benefited by the stimulus given to business before and after a great battle. One thing, however, I detest, and that is, that British amateurs should drink brandy, as many of them do. It is a suspicious liquor, and tastes of contraband. Let us stick to true brown, or real British dew; they accord best with the constitution. At Belcher’s there is a ‘Daffy Club,’ which makes this observance their leading rule. But to return to the history of the fights.

“A Council of War, as I was told, was held, at which were present a gallant general and three other amateurs, who had backed the men, and the historian of the prize ring; and, on comparing intelligence, and considering the letters from the various parts of the country, Crawley Downs was decided to be the place least likely to be subject to interruption. This was known at the sporting houses on Monday evening; and as it was upwards of thirty miles from town, and only known that night, it was put out of the power of the walking amateurs to attend. Here I cannot help regretting that the interruption given to sports occasionally by parsons and other ill-advised magistrates, should render it a matter of prudence to adopt such a course to prevent a numerous assemblage on such national occasions. It is depriving an immense mass of the lower orders of the benefits of the lessons of valour, forbearance, perseverance, and manly spirit, to be learned around the prize ring, and nowhere else. It is, I conceive, a most aristocratic proceeding, trenching on the liberties and pleasures of the people, and ought not to be continued. If we did not know our ‘patriots,’ as they call themselves, to be often mere humbugs, and to love nothing but what brings forward themselves in conspicuous characters, they would come forth and assert in Parliament and public meetings the people’s rights on such occasions. But, like the methodist and methodistical parsons, they hate all sport that withdraws attention from themselves. However, I do allow the assemblage was, in consequence of the absence of the pedestrian fancy, very select. Nine out of ten of the men on the ground had the dress and appearance of gentlemen, and the vehicles and cattle were certainly a show worth coming all the way from London to see.

“It was long before the business of the day commenced, and the amateurs walked about and friends from all parts of England met and exchanged salutations, and communicated intelligence of the state of science in their respective neighbourhoods.

“The carriages, waggons, and stands erected for viewing the fight, were arranged in some places three or four behind each other, in an oval of 200 feet by 250 feet, and were covered with spectators. The ring was at first of smaller dimensions, but it was necessary to enlarge it. There was immense trouble to the pugilistic characters on the ground with their whips in forcing back the multitude, who were within the enclosure, to the carriages. At last the men stripped and set-to. They stood before one another, with their eyes directed forward, watching every move. They changed their ground, but still their arms kept in parallel, marching and countermarching to prevent surprise. It reminded military amateurs of the parallel movements of Wellington and Marmont before the glorious ‘mill’ at Salamanca. At last they exchanged hits. Randall put in a blow on the breast, which made it appear red; he had a blow under the eye and on the nose, but made a most dreadful return, and came in on his man, caught him in one arm, and his other went to work so fast, it seemed like the motion of a mill wheel in full speed. Both fell, and were picked up; but Martin’s head hung down like an apple on its stalk. The seconds put it in its proper place, but it dropped again. They moved it backwards and forwards, like a baker rolling about a loaf in flour; they threw water on him, waved their hats to cool him, but all was not enough; and when thirty seconds had elapsed, time was called, but his senses were gone. Thus was the battle lost. The amateurs were sadly disappointed as to their hopes of a long and beautiful fight: and from the attitudes of the men, and their known science and game qualities, it was fairly to be expected. It was reported Martin was killed; but the feelings of the spectators were relieved by word that, on being bled he became sensible, and in a fair way of soon doing well.

“The conqueror walked about on the ground, and enjoyed the admiration in which he was held by the spectators, and a flight of pigeons was let off to convey the intelligence to town.

“After the first fight, the multitude inundated the ground, and there was no order observed afterwards. The commander-in-chief was absent, and republican government will never do. It was attempted to clear the ground, but the multitude was not forced half so far back as the carriages. If the circle had been larger, they might all have seen; but one half of them saw nothing, and attempted to push forward, and they partly hid the view from the spectators on the carriages. Individuals exerted themselves to keep a wider ring, laid on the whip, but there was no system of acting in concert, and if such were usually the case, few people would be induced to go to see a fight. The men hit away well; some beautiful stops of blows were made, but many told home. Their bodies, which were white at the commencement, exhibited patches of scarlet at a distance. They often closed and hugged, and their arms were in motion like two mill wheels. They threw each other down, and frequently over the ropes. The seconds applied the water, and rubbed them like the grooms do horses in the stable, put their men in condition, and made them respectable in their appearance. The contest was well supported to the last, and both men were very much punished.

“On a moderate calculation, I presume £10,000 or £12,000 would not cover the travelling expenses of the amateurs assembled. What a pity we do not enjoy the glorious liberty of the days of King George II. We might have had all the sport in a theatre in Oxford Street, or in Tottenham Court Road; and a fraction of the money now spent in travelling would reward the men for their exertions. Much valuable time might also be saved for business. But it is a matter of infinite regret, that the pretended friends of liberty abandon the interests of the people, and never defend public meetings, except those at which they themselves may exhibit. But let us hope for better times, and there are some promising symptoms, and we may have sports at once commodious, agreeable, and at a moderate expense. I shall tell you more when I return, and meanwhile,

“I am, dear sir, etc.

“* * * * *.”

A voluminous correspondence, some of it very angry and vulgar, appeared in Pierce Egan’s newspaper, in relation to a third fight between Randall and Martin, together with some “Lines to John Randall,” in the Morning Chronicle, from the pen of Tom Moore, which we must preserve. Of course the author of “Cash, Corn, and Catholics” adopted Pierce’s Irish origin for Randall.

“LINES TO JOHN RANDALL,

On the Subject of Mr. Martin’s Letter in the “Weekly Dispatch” of November 18.”

“Come, Randall, my dear! Come, the hodmen entreat thee

To idle no longer in Chancery Lane!

Shall the Baker out-write thee, who never could beat thee!

Come, up with thy beaver, my jewel, again!

The green turf of Crawley is soft to receive thee—

The voice of thy Patlanders never will leave thee,

And Martin, the divil, can’t ‘fib’ thee or ‘weave’ thee

So answer the troublesome cretur, and train!

“Oh! answer the letter, Jack, (Goneril nor Regan

Could ne’er use more hard-hearted words to ould Lear);

And I wonder, I must say I do, that Pierce Egan

Should let the word ‘cur’ be applied to thee, dear!

But answer the letter, in little; thou writest

A good fist at times, Jack—the best when thou fightest,

And settest thy mark on the bravest and brightest;

Write, write!—Mrs. Randall will look to the beer!

“Write, write, Jack! with fist quite as cool and as steady

As when it is raised at the ‘General’s’ call,

That the Randall is willing, the money is ready,

And both of them wait at the Hole in the Wall

For the love of the Holy Land, check this Drawcansir,

For thou art our footguard, our hero, our lancer,

In the Weekly Dispatch of next week print thy answer—

Oh! print it, my jewel, and silence them all.

“AN IRISH GENTLEMAN, BRED AND BORN

“Somewhere in St. Giles’s, November 23, 1821.

“P.S.—If the money runs short, we will aise us

Of all our spare linen to help thee a bit;

Our stockings will fetch us but little, by Jasus!

But then we can raise a small sum by our wit!

Only say, my dear boy, if the ‘nonsense’ is wanted,

And soon shalt thou have all thy wishes supplanted;

The stuff will drop in these parts, when ’tis chaunted

That Randall is short—Oh! the lad that hath fit!”

To this brilliant squib poor Pierce innocently puts it upon record that he “wrote a poetical reply,” which he forwarded to the editor of the Morning Chronicle, “who did not publish it.” We should have wondered if John Perry had done so. Accordingly Pierce resolved to “print it, and shame the fools.” Those who delight in doggrel will find this “rejected address” at pp. 112 and 113 of the fourth volume of “Boxiana.”

A third match was, however, hastily made on March 11, 1822, after a dispute; it ended in a wrangle, and a forfeit of Randall’s backers’ money, owing to failure in a deposit, fixed to be made good at Spring’s; Martin received the £200 down.

“More last words” appear from time to time in the papers, in the shape of challenges, acceptances, replies, and rejoinders, signed by Randall, Martin, and a host of pseudonymous friends, backers, “Impartial Observers,” “Justitias,” and the like, till the public became sick of this vamped up “literature of the ring,” as the historian innocently calls it. Pages of this rubbish are stuffed into the volumes of “Boxiana.” The “third great match between Randall and Martin,” was made for 1,000 guineas, and “the money all made good over a sporting dinner at Randall’s, November 5, 1822.” On the 15th of the same month, however (we condense from “Boxiana”), at Jackson’s rooms, Bond Street, it was announced that Mr. J. had received a letter from Mr. Elliot, the backer of Martin, requesting that he would send him a cheque for the £500, stating that his man should not fight against nothing, as Martin would be sued for the £200 forfeit he had received from the backers of Randall. Randall expressed himself warmly on the subject, declaring he had been ill-treated. He had lost his time, left his business to go into training, and spent a considerable sum of money. A benefit was accordingly organised for Randall, which took place at the Fives Court, on the 4th of December, 1822, and was overflowingly attended.

In January, 1823, Randall and Josh Hudson wishing to give Jack’s old Hampstead trainer, the well-known Bob Pilch, a turn, were enjoying themselves at the Horse and Groom. It is and always has been a penalty of celebrity in any line of life to be intruded upon by the impertinent, the curious, and the conceited. Jack Randall and his friend Josh. were soon objects of vulgar attention, when they went out to take the air in the village. An elderly man among their followers, who ought to have known better, and who had been indulging too freely, several times touched Randall in the back with an umbrella as he was ascending the steep hill, when the Nonpareil forbearingly asked him to desist; no further notice would have been taken of the rudeness had it not been for a brewer’s servant and his companions. This fellow, known as “The Cock of Hampstead,” six feet in height, and about thirteen stone, had, it seems, a hankering for a “shy at Randall,” and thought this a fine opportunity for the experiment. We quote from “Boxiana.” “He put out his tongue by way of derision, saying, ‘Who cares for Randall or Josh. Hudson, I wonder? They would be afraid to talk to a younger man so!’ and, without further notice, gave Randall a flip on his nose, by way of notice of his intentions. Jack returned the compliment with interest, not wishing to remain long in debt to the man of grains. During the first and second rounds nothing but sharp work was displayed, the fighting being all on the side of Randall, and the strength on that of the Cock. In the third round Jack received so severe a blow on the tip of his shoulder, added to the tightness of his coat, that he could not lift up his arm, and immediately tore off his Benjamin. The little trump, being disencumbered from his togs, then went to work with the big one in terrific style (something like the slaughtering mill in which he so dreadfully served out Baruk, the Jew); and in two more rounds the man of grains was so punished about his nob, that it was pitiable to behold. Randall, in going down with the Cock, never left him, but tremendously fibbed his opponent. On Josh picking up Randall, he felt a little surprised on viewing the face of the latter, which, to all appearance, looked as bad as his adversary’s; but, on wiping of it, Hudson laughingly exclaimed, ‘Oh, I perceive you have only fell into the paint-pot, you are not hurt; but you should not have robbed your opponent of any of his colour. A novice serve you so, very likely indeed!’ The sixth round put an end to the crowing of the Cock; he was quite done up, and was so altered in complexion, as scarcely to be recognized by his friends. His pal, another big one, also fell foul of Jack, when Josh was about to tackle him. ‘Never mind,’ said Randall, ‘I have got a little one for him presently.’ One round completely satisfied the second hero of the grain fraternity, who received in that small space of time pepper enough to last him for a twelvemonth. Randall and Josh now reached the Horse and Groom without any further molestation; but as they were blowing a cloud, and laughing over the various scenes which had crossed their career, a third hero of the grain department put in his appearance, with £100 to fight Randall. On Hudson chaffing this chap, that ‘he believed Jack could wap the brewery all round,’ he took fire, and thought he could punish Josh. ‘Well,’ replied Hudson, ‘perhaps you may; but if you will take a little bit of amusement with me on the heath, as I would not on any account create a riot in honest Bob’s house, you will then know a little more about the matter.’ The grain cove entertained an opinion, ‘the weather was rather too cold for the sport,’ fobbed up his blunt, and on his ‘better half’ looking into the room after him, he retired in a whole skin. The Nonpareil and John Bull fighter then spent the evening pleasantly, returned to London comfortably, and reached their places of roost in perfect safety.

“The name of Randall was now known in the religious world, for it is said one of the lower order of ranting preachers, not a hundred miles from Bolton-in-the-Moors, addressed his auditors in the following metaphorical language:—‘I dare say you’d all pay to see a boxing-match between Turner and Randall, and yet you don’t like to pay to see a pitched battle between me and Beelzebub. Oh, my friends, many a hard knock, and many a cross-buttock have I given the black bruiser for your sakes! Pull, do pull off these gay garments of Mammon; strike the devil a straight blow, and darken his spiritual day-lights! At him manfully, and I’ll be your bottle-holder. I ask nothing but the money, which I hope you’ll not forget before you go.’” “Boxiana,” vol. iv., pp. 120–122.

At Dick Curtis’s benefit (March 27, 1823), Randall asked Gipsy Cooper if he had challenged him for £200 a-side as was reported. Cooper replied, “No, I did not, you are too good a fighter for me, Jack.” At Spring’s benefit, however (May 5th, 1823), the Gipsy challenged Randall for £200 a-side, authorised by Mr. Elliott, his backer, so to do. Randall replied he would fight for £300 a-side; he was settled in business, and had a wife and three children to provide for, less would not suit him; indeed he did not mean to fight any more prize battles. Randall’s challenger did not persevere, and from this time Randall attended to his business at the Hole-in-the-Wall, which is frequently named in the progress of pugilistic matches and deposits for sporting events. One little episode of Jack’s publican’s life, as we find it reported in the papers for January, 1826, we will find room for, as it gives us a glimpse of the character for forbearance which has always marked, in our experience, the true-bred and courageous pugilist.

“Hatton Garden, January 24th.—A fashionably dressed man about the middle age was brought up from the Eagle Street Watchhouse, where he had passed the previous night, on the introduction of Mr. John Randall, mine host of the Hole-in-the-Wall, Chancery Lane, the unvanquished hero of the P. R. Jack’s science, every one knows, does not consist in sophistry, though his arguments have often been considered forcible, nay, irresistible. In his own straightforward way, he told Sergeant Sellon a round unvarnished tale, about ‘this ere bit of business,’ as he called it. On Monday night, about a quarter after eleven, the Hole-in-the-Wall was closed up, and Jack was settling the accounts of the day in the bar, as was his wonted custom, when a loud knocking announced the arrival of late visitors. ‘You can’t come in,’ cried Jack, ‘I wish to keep my house regular, and no man comes in here to-night, for it’s after hours, d’ye see.’ This, however, did not satisfy the thirsty party without, and a voice demanded instant admittance, in a rather peremptory tone. ‘You don’t know who I am, Randall,’ quoth the speaker. ‘No, nor I does’nt care,’ responded the Nonpareil. ‘Why, I am Cooper, the mayor of Canterbury; don’t you remember meeting me at the races at Doncaster?’ Randall’s reminiscences are often pleasing, but, at all events, without designing to admit his old acquaintance, he resolved to have the ‘ocular proof;’ he straightway opened the door, when in bolted the pretended mayor and his satellites. ‘Do you know me now?’ ‘No, I don’t,’ said Jack, ‘not a bit of it, neither now nor then; so you’ll please to bundle off, Mr. Mayor.’ This was not intended, and the latter replied, that as he was a ‘flash man,’ he had an undoubted right to accommodation in a ‘flash house,’ and stay there he would; and if Jack pleased, he would have a ‘turn-up’ for it. Jack very good-humouredly hinted, that he would rather see a ‘turn-out;’ whereupon the Canterbury Mayor struck him in the face. The hero of the fistic art, though accustomed to return compliments of this sort with cent. per cent. acknowledgments, very prudently held back, and calling in the watch to his aid, the mayor was put hors de combat, and found himself eventually in the watch-house. The defendant pleaded hard that he never did assume the character which Mr. Randall described. His name was simply John Samuel Powell, that he was a plain country gentleman, and never had the honour of filling the civic chair of Canterbury, though he certainly had met Mr. Randall in company with Mr. Cooper, who held that distinguished station, at the aforesaid races. With respect to the assault complained of, he would not deny the charge, though he had no recollection of it, his senses being steeped in forgetfulness. Having the highest respect for the talents of Mr. Randall, he was anxious to make the amende honorable, if it would be accepted. ‘There now,’ exclaimed Jack, extending his hand, ‘that’s enough, man; but if I had treated you as you treated me, you wouldn’t be standing afore his worship just now.’ The complaint was then dismissed at Randall’s request.”

Randall’s constitution—he was a persistent drinker of ardent spirits—gave way under the irregularities of a licensed victualler’s life; Jack never possessed the moral courage to say “No” to a drop with every customer who proposed to “wet an eye,” and but rarely with those who suggested to “wet the other.” He was a martyr to gout, complicated with a disorganisation of the liver and a fatty degeneration of the heart. These disorders prostrated him, and finally carried him off at the early age of 34 years. He died March 12th, 1828, at the Hole-in-the Wall, Chancery Lane.

A leash of sonnets, from an accomplished pen, which appeared in Blackwood’s Magazine, with a few passages from an obituary notice, will form an appropriate finale to the biography of Jack Randall, the Nonpareil

“SONNET.

“‘None but himself can be his parallel!’

“With marble coloured shoulders—and keen eyes

Protected by a forehead broad and white,—

And hair cut close, lest it impede the sight,

And clenched hands, firm and of punishing size,

Steadily held, or motion’d wary-wise,

To hit or stop,—and ‘kerchief too drawn tight

O’er the unyielding loins, to keep from flight

The inconstant wind, that all too often flies—

The Nonpareil stands! Fame, whose bright eyes run o’er

With joy to see a chicken of her own:

Dips her rich pen in ‘claret,’ and writes down

Under the letter R, first on the score,

‘Randall, John—Irish parents—age not known—

Good with both hands, and only ten stone four!’”

“TO JOHN RANDALL, THE FAMOUS PUGILIST.”

(In imitation of Milton’s celebrated Sonnet.)

“Randall, whom now the envious ‘millers’ own

Fighter indeed, cautious, and quick, and true,

Fit to stand up with those who science knew,

The master-spirits ‘grassed’ by death alone;

Big Ben, who made the great Tom Johnson groan,

And Pearce, who dext’rous Belcher overthrew,

Aye, and with him who turns black eyes to blue,

Cribb, negro conqueror,[^[156]] famous champion;

Well hast thou fought thy way to wealth and fame,

Jack Randall; and although there be who think

(For some are careless of the laurell’d brow,)

But little of thy glory or thy game,

Yet when they learn that thou hast touch’d the ‘chink,’

Some value to thy labours must allow.”

“RANDALL’S FAREWELL TO THE RING.

“Farewell to the ring, where my claret-stained glory

Arose and obscured the ‘prime dons’ with my fame,

I abandon her now, but ‘Pancratia’ thy story

Shall render quite fadeless the ‘Nonpareil’s’ name.

Oh, sad is the heart that can say the ‘deuce take her,’

To Fame when she’s backing a blade of the fist;

But Turner I’ve cleaned out, and Martin the baker

I’d very near put on the bankruptcy list.

“Then blame me not kids, swells, or lads of the fancy,

For opening a ‘lush crib’ in Chancery Lane,

An appropriate spot ’tis, you doubtless all can see,

Since ‘heads’ I have placed there, and let out again.

Farewell then, thou ring, whence I first drew my glory,

Farewell to Bill Gibbons—Tom Owen farewell;

And when to green-horns you’re telling some tight milling story,

Then think of Jack Randall, the prime ‘Nonpareil!’”

The “Laureate” of Bell’s Life, too, the facetious poetic illustrator of the Gallery of Comicalities, who so much extended the popularity of the ablest of sporting journals, penned a “warning” under the title of

“JACK RANDALL’S GHOST.

“‘I can call spirits from the vasty deep.‘

“When all in midnight gloom was lost,

All silent in the street,

In stalked Jack Randall’s slender ghost,

And stood at Fogo’s feet.

“Pale, wan, and wasted, was his frame,

So muscular of yore,

And thrice he called on Fogo’s name,

Thrice bade him cease to snore.

“‘Wake, Laureate, wake!’ exclaimed the sprite,

‘Start from thy peaceful rug—

Though ’tis an awkward time of night

To sport my dismal mug.

“‘With friendly feeling fraught I come,

For well I know thy merits—

Perhaps you’ll think a visit rum

Paid from the land of spirits.

“‘Look at this lean and wither’d shape,

These cheeks as white as paper—

Alas! ’twas drinking too much tape

That made my system taper.

“‘When the past follies I review,

Which hasten’d my undoing—

I often rue with visage blue,

My fondness for blue ruin.

“‘O Laureate! warning take in time.

And let a ghost exhort,

Think of Jack Randall in his prime

Subdued at length by short.

“‘Peace might have reign’d within my breast,

And Time his honours shed—

Alack! from swallowing Deady’s best,

I’m number’d with the dead.

“‘My pugilistic deeds recal—

His men whoe’er beat quicker?

Successively I floor’d them all,

Till I was lick’d by liquor.

“‘Bard of the fancy, seize your lyre,

In solemn warning strike it!’

‘I wish,’ growl’d Fogo, ‘you’d retire;

For blow me if I like it.

“‘To your last home vy can’t you keep,

I do not vant your varning—

I’d like to have a nap of sleep,

For now it’s nearly morning.

“‘Indeed, I vish you’d say farewell,

And hasten under hatches—

I judges by your brimstone smell,

That you’ve been making matches.

“‘And can you find no soul but me

To tease about your noggins—

Suppose you go, by vay of spree,

And vorry ould Jack Scroggins.’

“‘Cease,’ cried the ghost, ‘at once desist,

And hold your idle jaw,

Or straightway with my phantom fist

Your frosty face I’ll thaw.

“‘To you I came with kind intent,

Such was my purpose here;

But if on max and swipes you’re bent,

You’ll soon be on your bier.

“‘Henceforth you’ll see this mug no more!

A long adieu, my Fogo!’

He said, and vanish’d through the floor,

In clouds of Oronoko.”

Randall’s pugilistic and personal merits are thus summed up by a contemporary:—In a twenty-four feet ring a better general or a more consummate tactician was never seen: judgment and decision were manifest in all his movements. His heart is in the right place; his head cool and collected, to take advantage in the most prompt style of the disorder of the opponent before him; his mind looking confidently forward to nothing but victory. In short, as a pugilist, he is the Nonpareil. Randall’s style seems the ne plus ultra of the art of self-defence. Out of the ropes, however, he is one of the most simple of human beings. Yet Lavater, with all his knowledge of physiognomy, might have looked at his mug, and looked at it again and again, and not have discovered his real character from the lineaments of his face. If Randall cannot express himself in the sentimental manner of Sterne, gammon the tender path of society with the Platonic taste of a Rousseau, or wind up a tale with the speciousness of a Joseph Surfage, he can be backed against them all for the possession of genuine feeling. A common observer might say he was a rough, illiterate fellow, for he does not attempt to conceal his deficiencies. He has no affectation about his composition—deception does not belong to him, and bluntness is his forte. He is indignant at what he thinks wrong; and is not over nice in his expressions, whenever such a subject is the theme of argument. He admires truth; and his honesty, if not Brutus-like, is as staunch and incorruptible. A liar will be sure to hear of his faults from him. Though education has done little for him, experience has given him “the time of day.” But, kind reader, if thou hadst seen him relieve an ould Irish woman, at “peep of day,” with the only half-crown he was master of, as she was going to market with an empty pocket and basket, anxious to support two of her orphan grandchildren to prevent their going to the parish, when she had solicited him for only two-pence to aid her charitable design;—if you had seen the effect of her plaintive tale, and the blessings she invoked upon his head for this real act of benevolence; his turning aside to weep; and the jeers he experienced from his companions upon the weakness he had displayed;—if you had also witnessed him pushing the crowd aside the instant he was proclaimed the conqueror over Turner, to grapple with the hand of his great rival in friendship, and seen the big tear stealing down his cheek, in admiration of the bravery of his opponent;—if you had known, as the writer did, of his refusal to prosecute a man and his wife, whom he had trusted in the bosom of his family, and who, under the mask of friendship, had robbed him at various periods of £300—I don’t know what you might have said of him, but Burns would have told us, despite his defects, “a man’s a man for a’ that.” And such a man was Jack Randall.