“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;”