Round 1.—Upon setting-to the attitude of Holt was extremely elegant, and his appearance altogether rather interested the spectators in his behalf. He commenced play without ceremony, by planting a severe facer under O’Donnell’s left eye, and got away with much dexterity. The latter endeavoured to return the compliment, but hit short. It was one of the most manly rounds ever witnessed, the men fighting at arm’s length; and, notwithstanding the rain descended in torrents, the combatants seemed insensible to its chilling effects, and opposed each other with the utmost gaiety. A number of good blows passed between them, materially to the advantage of Holt, who nobbed poor Paddy most successfully. Near ten minutes had elapsed, nothing like closing had occurred, and both appeared quite exhausted, when O’Donnell rushed in, and Holt was sent down. Such a first round was scarcely ever seen before. (Seven to four on Holt.)
2.—O’Donnell, finding that keeping out from his opponent was disadvantageous, endeavoured to bore in, but Holt stopped him by a tremendous blow on the jaw, that made his pimple rattle again. The Irishman was not to be dismayed, and he succeeded in marking one of Holt’s peepers. Some reciprocal fighting took place, when, in a struggle to obtain the throw, both went down, but Holt undermost.
3.—Holt hit and stopped with great facility, and his science was loudly admired throughout the ring. O’Donnell did not want for courage, and showed himself to much advantage in this round. A desperate rally took place, and in closing, O’Donnell endeavoured to fib Holt, but the latter resolutely broke away, and knocked O’Donnell’s head about like a spinning top. Both ultimately went down.
4.—A smile sat upon the countenance of Holt: he had all the coolness about his actions of the experienced pugilist, and he scarcely threw a blow away. O’Donnell’s mug, from the repeated attacks made upon it, appeared rather out of shape. Both again down. (Two to one upon Holt.)
5 to 17 and last.—It was most manly boxing throughout the whole of these rounds. O’Donnell put in some good hits, and always had the best of his opponent in throwing, but he never could keep his head out of chancery. The seventeenth round was truly desperate. O’Donnell repeatedly attempted to go in, but was as repeatedly kept out by a stopper on his nob. Holt put in six facers without any return. The jaw of O’Donnell was terribly battered, part of his chin laid open, and a tremendous blow, put in under his ear, brought out the claret instantaneously, and his senses seemed almost beat out of him. He could not come again.
Mr. Jackson made a collection of £9 to be divided between them. This battle proved a treat to the admirers of scientific boxing; so good a fight restored good humour to the amateurs for their disappointment at Hayes; and they retired well satisfied. The ring was kept in good order, although neither ropes nor stakes were used to protect the men from the crowd. The unpropitious state of the weather had not the least effect upon the feelings of the spectators, who never shifted an inch of ground in consequence of being so drippingly assailed.
The friends of Holt, from his decisive victory over O’Donnell, and the general improvement which had taken place in his fighting, were induced to match him with a better man, and, on the 20th of May, 1817, the sporting world was on the qui vive to witness the decision of the match between Harry Holt and the Nonpareil of the ring, the celebrated Jack Randall, who long preceded the subject of this sketch in his journey “to that bourne from whence no traveller returns.” Indeed, the friends of Holt and many of the most distinguished amateurs were much prepossessed in his favour, and, notwithstanding the known excellence of Randall, it was very generally thought that Holt would prove a worthy competitor. Coombe Warren was the locus in quo, and, on the appointed Wednesday, Colonel Berkeley (the late Earl), Captain Barclay, Mr. Jackson, and a muster of Corinthian patrons of popular sports, assembled at the above-named place. The combatants were equal in weight and height, namely, each about five feet six inches and a half, and ten stone two pounds to four pounds. Randall was backed by his patron Colonel Barton, and Holt by several amateurs of eminence. The stake was £50. This battle will be found in the Life of Randall, p. 332.
It was urged by many of Holt’s friends that he displayed no fight at all in this contest with Randall; but this complaint will vanish on a slight examination. Randall assumed the offensive throughout the battle, and his punishment was so electrifying and severe that he never gave Holt any opportunity of showing himself, save in the defensive department of fistic strategy. Holt did, in the earlier part of the battle, occasionally stop his opponent’s left; but the fact was, as Holt frequently afterwards observed, the fight was decisively hit out of him in the third round. Indeed, if Holt had not been a truly game man, he never could have stood before Randall twenty-five minutes, after the heavy milling he received at the outset, and in consequence of this opinion a few amateurs present collected £10, which they presented to him as the reward of his bravery.
After the battle between Turner and Cy. Davis at Wallingham Common, on Friday, June 18, 1819, a cessation of hostilities for upwards of an hour took place, during which period a purse was subscribed, but went begging for want of a couple of good ones. Sutton, the black, who had defeated the brave Ned Painter, wished to have a shy at Carter (once the soi-disant Champion of England), but the latter boxer pleaded indisposition. Hall, Jack Martin (the Master of the Rolls), and others were named, but it was “no go.” At length Harry Holt, to adjust all difficulties, shied his castor into the arena for any ten stone man, declaring (unlike our cavilling pugilists, “those of the modern time”) that he was not nice to a few pounds. His challenge was speedily accepted by David Hudson. Randall and O’Donnell waited on Holt, and Josh. Hudson and Tom Owen upon David Hudson. The purse was 20 guineas, and the odds on Holt five to four.
The “game” of Holt had been proved on more than one occasion, and his character stood high as a neat stopper, a pretty rapid hitter, and a well-scienced man. He was not, however, by any means in condition, and had walked all the way from London that morning to see the first fight. Hudson, too, was out of condition; nevertheless, they set-to with a spirit which might put to the blush mills of far higher pretence and more careful and expensive preparation, Holt taking the lead, and nobbing Hudson down.