Four rounds occurred, in a very confined situation; in the first and second little, if any, mischief was done between them; but in the third and fourth rounds Hickman let fly without reserve, when it was deemed prudent by the friends of Rawlinson to take him away to prevent worse consequences, the latter having received a severe hit on the left eye. In a short time afterwards a hasty match was made, over a glass of liquor, between an amateur, on the part of Hickman, and Rawlinson (but completely unknown to the Gas-light Man), for £10 a-side, to be decided in Copenhagen Fields. The backer of Hickman had to forfeit for his temerity in making a match without consulting him. Hickman was ten miles from London on the day intended for him to have met Rawlinson, who showed at the scratch at the place appointed.
On the production of Tom and Jerry at the Royalty Theatre, Mr. Davidge, the acting manager, went down to Bristol to engage Neat, at £30 per week, and a benefit, in order to induce him to come to London for a month. Hickman was also engaged; but not upon such high terms, in consequence of his residing near the theatre. The exhibition of the Art of Self-defence answered the manager’s purpose, and good houses were the result of this speculation; but it was more like fighting than setting-to. The Gas-light Man could not, or would not, play light; yet he frequently complained of the bruised state of his arms in stopping the heavy hits of his opponent. As a proof of his irritable state of mind, Hickman bolted on the night of his benefit, not thinking the house so good at an early part of the evening as it ought to be, and supposing that he should be money out of pocket. Mr. Callahan, in the absence of the Gas-light Man, set-to with Neat. It, however, appeared that the house improved afterwards, and that Hickman’s share would have been nearly £20.
When perfectly sober, Hickman was a quiet, well-behaved, and really a good-natured fellow; but at times, when overcome with liquor, he was positively frightful, nay, mad. It was in one of those moments of frenzy that he struck old Joe Norton, in Belcher’s coffee-room, merely for differing with him in opinion. Like Hooper, the tinman, Hickman had been spoiled by his patron, who made him his companion. That Hickman was angry about losing his fame there is not the least doubt; and he must have felt it severely after boasting at the Fives Court that “the Gas should never go out!” In his fits of intemperance and irritation, he often asserted that he had received more money for losing than Neat did by winning the battle.
We now come to his melancholy death. Hickman, accompanied by a friend, left his house early on Tuesday morning, the 10th of December, 1822, to witness the fight between Hudson and Shelton, at Harpenden Common, near St. Alban’s. He was in excellent health and spirits during the battle, walking about the ground with a whip in his hand, in conversation with Mr. Rowe. At the conclusion of the battle he returned to St. Alban’s, where he made but a short stay, and then proceeded on his journey to London.
On returning home in the evening Hickman drove, and endeavoured to pass a road wagon on the near side of the road instead of the off side. Whether from unskilful driving, the darkness of the night, or some other cause, in clearing the wagon the chaise was overturned, and, dreadful to relate, both were precipitated under the wheels, which went over their heads. Hickman was killed instantaneously: his brains were scattered on the road, and his head nearly crushed to atoms. Mr. Rowe seemed to have some animation, but was soon dead. Randall had parted with them at South Mimms shortly before, and stated that they were both sober.
It was in the hollow, half a mile north of the Green Man, Finchley Common, where Hickman and Mr. Rowe were killed.
It appears that the last place where the two unfortunate men, Hickman and Rowe, drank, was at the Swan, between Whetstone Turnpike and the Swan with Two Necks, and within half a mile of the spot of the catastrophe. Hickman observed upon the darkness of the night, and spoke of the fog coming on when he got into the chaise. His friend anticipated some danger, and refused to accompany him in the gig unless he drove. Hickman positively refused, and, unfortunately for Mr. Rowe, the latter occupied the place of Hickman’s friend. The horse escaped unhurt, and the chaise was perfect, and in it the sufferers were conveyed, more than a quarter of a mile, to the Swan with Two Necks. This shocking accident had such an effect on the nerves of the landlord of the Swan that he was also a corpse in less than a week afterwards.
Mr. Rowe left an amiable wife and three small children to lament his loss.
Immediately after the fight between Hudson and Shelton, Hickman said that, on his own account, he was sorry Hudson had lost the battle, it being the intention of the friends of Josh., in the event of his having proved the conqueror, to have backed him against Hickman for £100 a-side; and he laughingly observed, “Blow my Dickey, if I shouldn’t like it vastly.” It it rather a curious coincidence that, on the same day a twelvemonth previous, a report reached London that Hickman was dead, in consequence of the blows he received in his battle with Neat.
On Wednesday, December 11, 1822, an inquest was held at the sign of the Swan with Two Necks, Finchley Common, before T. Stirling, Esq., coroner, on the bodies of Thomas Hickman and of Mr. Thomas Rowe, silversmith, of Aldersgate Street, St. Luke’s.