CHAPTER VI.
BENJAMIN BRAIN (BIG BEN). CHAMPION—1786–1791.
Benjamin Brain (called in the chronologies Brian and Bryan) was a native of Bristol, where he was born in the year 1753. His familiar nickname, “Big Ben,” was scarcely justified by his size, his weight being rather under that of Johnson (14 stone), and his height 5 feet 10 inches. Brain was a powerful pugilist, celebrated for his straight and severe right-handed deliveries, though remarkably good with both hands. Ben’s early years were passed as a collier at Kingswood, near his native place; and it was here that the future champion first signalised himself by a battle with Clayton, “the Shropshire champion.” A fellow collier, also of Kingswood, called Bob Harris, who had earned a provincial reputation in that nursery for pugilists, Bristol, also succumbed to Ben, after a game and determined conquest.
Brain arrived in London in 1774, shortly after these battles, and passed several years as a coal-porter, at a wharf in the Strand. He was a good-looking man, and when out of his business always appeared clean and respectable, mild and sociable in his demeanour, and never ridiculously presuming upon his qualities as a boxer.
Ben’s first set-to in London was with “the Fighting Grenadier,” in the Long Fields, Bloomsbury, on October 31, 1786, in which, had it not been for the assistance of a medical man, who witnessed the contest, Ben must have been defeated. The soldier was a first-rate punisher, and Ben’s eyes were so swelled, from the heavy blows he received, that he could not see, when just at this juncture the ring was broken, during which accident the swellings were skilfully lanced by a surgeon, and Ben restored to vision. A fresh ring was made, and the combat renewed; and in the course of a few minutes the Grenadier gave in.
Corbally, an Irish chairman, fought Ben, upon a stage, twenty-five feet square, at Navestock in Essex, on December 31, 1788, after Bill Warr had defeated Wood, the coachman. Notwithstanding the weather was extremely severe, the combatants stripped with the most perfect indifference, and the fight was carried on with determined courage on both sides; Corbally was eventually defeated. Mr. John Jackson seconded Ben on this occasion.
In 1789 he forfeited £100 to Johnson, as already noticed, which sum was deposited in part of £500, Brain being in a bad state of health.
Ben received a challenge from Jacombs, a Birmingham pugilist, which he accepted (See Johnson and Perrins), and the battle came off at Banbury, in Oxfordshire, on a twenty-four feet square stage, October 23, 1789. Jacombs[[45]] was a stout made man, of high courage, and not without science. In the early part of the combat, Jacombs exhibited determined resolution, and went into Brain in a style that would take no denial. Whether Ben felt any doubt about the battle, he did not conduct himself after his accustomed method, but fought on the retreat, shifting often to avoid Jacombs’ blows, and fell frequently. Jacombs, on the contrary, received Ben’s attacks undauntedly. Considerable disapprobation was expressed by the spectators, particularly the Warwickshire men, who were getting outrageous at Ben’s manœuvring. Brain at length stood to his adversary, and showed what he was capable of performing by putting in a tremendous floorer, which quickly convinced the spectators of his quality. First-rate courage was displayed upon both sides; but after a most dreadful battle of one hour and twenty-six minutes, the brave Jacombs was conquered.
Tom Tring (the Big Porter at Carlton House) was matched, as a sort of bye-battle, with Ben, who, as we gather from contemporary prints, had so very “little” opinion of his really “big” opponent’s boxing qualifications, that he met him at Dartford, for the paltry stake of 10 guineas a-side. Pierce Egan has invented a dreadful battle, in which “Ben was nearly blind,” “the blows that passed between them were tremendous in the extreme,” and that Big Ben “refused to enter the lists with Tom Tring a second time, but declared before his death that his constitution had suffered most materially from the severe blows which he had encountered at Dartford,” etc. (see “Boxiana,” vol i., pp. 298, 299, Tom Tring). The fact is, Tom could not hit his man, and was thoroughly beaten in twelve rounds, occupying under twenty minutes.[[46]]
In the following year (1790), the battle, long anxiously looked for between Big Ben and Hooper, the tinman (see Hooper’s other battles in Period II.) at Chapel Row Revel, near Newbury, Berkshire, on August 30, for 100 guineas.
Hooper’s patron had completely miscalculated his man’s powers. The affair could not be called a fight. Ben treated his opponent with perfect contempt. In a close at the end of the first round Ben hit Hooper so heavily in the body, that he could not be induced again to come within distance. He fell every time Ben’s hand reached him, and even before; ran all over the stage, filled his mouth with water and spirted it in Ben’s face, accompanied by provoking and blackguard epithets to irritate Ben and throw him off his guard. It is true Hooper got in some few “facers” by his trickery and activity, and he was on the ground before Ben could get in a return. At length Ben determined not to follow him, and none of the stratagems of the tinman could induce him to break ground. He stood firmly at the scratch, in the middle of the stage, and called upon Hooper to face him: this the latter did for a few seconds, and was then off and away. This piece of diversion took place on August 30, 1790, at Chapel Row Revel, near Newbury, in Berkshire, and continued for three hours and a half. The night coming on fast, several of the amateurs asked Ben if he should be able to finish the battle that day? He jocularly replied, “That it entirely depended upon his antagonist;” and observed, “they had better begin the next morning at six o’clock, and have the whole day before them.” The Fancy were completely disgusted with such treatment. After what was termed one hundred and eighty rounds had taken place, and it being nearly dark, it was declared a drawn battle, and Ben walked off without receiving any particular hurt.[[47]]
And now came Ben’s crowning victory over the renowned, brave, and skilful, but imprudent and reckless champion, Tom Johnson.
Towards the close of the year 1790, the Duke of Hamilton, the patron and firm supporter of Ben Brain in all his matches, was anxious to match him against the hitherto invincible Johnson, and offered to back his man for 500 guineas. We have already noticed Tom’s reckless prodigality and gambling, and necessity spurred him not to let pass the chance of such a golden prize. “Public expectation,” says the Oracle newspaper, “never was raised so high by any pugilistic contest; great bets were laid, and it is estimated £20,000 was wagered on this occasion.”
On a stage twenty feet square,[[48]] at Wrotham, in Kent, on January the 17th, 1791, the two best boxers in England met to decide the Championship. Punctually at one o’clock, the time named in the articles, Johnson ascended the theatre of combat, followed by Joe Ward, as second, and Dan Munday as his bottle-holder. He bore an aspect of steady composure and modest confidence. Big Ben immediately followed, with a cheerful countenance, having Will Warr as his second,[[49]] and Humphries as his bottle-holder. “The betting, from the first making of the match,” says the reporter, “was seven to four in favour of Johnson.” Truly our grandfathers were bold, nay reckless, layers of odds. What follows is a verbatim transcript of the contemporary report.
“The combatants being prepared, set to, and in the first round, which was much more violent and quickly terminated than usual, Johnson fell upon his forehead, from a violent blow on the nose. This blow determined the fate of the battle, for Johnson never was capable of recovering himself.
“In the second round he also fell by a severe blow; bets became even.
“Third round he knocked Ben down, and odds again increased in his favour.
“After this, Ben reassumed his advantage, and kept it to the end. In this round (the fourth) both combatants seemed to throw aside skill, and, entering upon a rally, totally depended on strength and courage. At the expiration of twenty minutes, Johnson drew back, and springing in with a desperate blow at Ben, which the latter evaded, broke the metacarpal bone of his middle finger by striking the rail of the stage. At first this severe accident did not seem to affect his spirits and he manœuvred actively; but shortly afterwards Ben put in two successive blows which decided the turn of battle. One struck him in the ribs, another dreadfully cut his lip.” Another account describes Johnson as “holding Ben by the hair to prevent his striking, so unlike his conduct in former fights.” All, however, did not avail; the die was cast, and Ben Brain was the undisputed conqueror in eighteen rounds, occupying no more than twenty-one minutes. We resume the report:—“Johnson, in this battle, did not preserve that coolness and regularity of temper which hitherto have caused him to be considered so admirably pre-eminent as a safe boxer. His wind was good, but the first knock-down blow so much disconcerted him that he frequently shifted, and went back. Ben, however, seldom advanced, at least not at the instant, and when he did, he kept up good guard, and penned Johnson in without room to manœuvre, compelling him to fight out of it if he could. Though Johnson was so heavily punished, in appearance Ben seemed little hurt, and on the Monday following he displayed great agility in a sparring match at the Grecian Theatre, in the Strand.”[[50]]
After four years’ interval, during which Ben appears now and then as a second, our hero accepted a challenge from Will Wood, the coachman, to fight on the 24th of February, 1794. Though Ben’s health had been in a precarious state, the odds were largely in his favour. But a more formidable adversary declared himself: a scirrhous liver deranged Ben’s vital functions; his disease ran on rapidly, and on the 8th of April, 1794, the Champion died in full possession of the honour, at his dwelling in Gray’s-Inn-Road. On the Friday following (the 11th) we find him among the burials in St. Sepulchre’s churchyard. His funeral, which was conducted with the solemnity such occasions demand, was attended by his old friends and professional brothers, Johnson, Warr, Wood, Symonds, and several others of inferior note.
A pugilist wrote the following epitaph for his tombstone:—
“Farewell, ye honours of my brow,
Victorious wreaths, farewell!
One blow from Death has laid me low,
By whom such brave ones fell.
Yet bravely I’ll dispute the prize,
Nor yield, though out of breath,
’Tis not a fall—I yet shall rise,
And conquer even Death!”
Of which rhymes we can conscientiously say the anonymous “brother pugilist” of Ben need not have been ashamed; for far worse have been written on marble by “unco’ guid folk” who would scorn to bestow a glance on the grave of a boxer.
END OF PERIOD I.