Remarks.—In taking a review of the whole of this fight, it would be impossible not to say that both men exhibited courage and game of the most unquestionable description; in fact, a better battle had not been fought for many years. Independent of patience under severe punishment, great skill and science were displayed. The stopping of both men, under trying circumstances, was admirable. Neither flinched from his duty, and, with the exception of Ward’s slipping down on his knees in the early part of the battle, there was not a suspicion that he was not as game a man as ever peeled. In the second round Josh. Hudson described Ward as having been nearly blinded by the force of the blow on his head, but he very soon recovered his presence of mind; and in the last round there were not wanting some who were disposed to think that he might have come again. Judging impartially, however, from all that passed before us, we should say there was not a shadow of ground for complaining of Ward’s conduct in the ring, or for doubting the sincerity of his intention to win throughout. His deliveries were severe, although their effect might not have been so decisive as we had anticipated. It was clear that he tried his utmost to gain the ascendancy, and in this endeavour he reduced himself, in the tenth round, as well as his antagonist, to a state of complete helplessness, hitting with all his force, until both fell without the power of striking another blow. Had his object been other than honest, this never would have been the case. In plain truth, however, he had been over-rated, whilst the probable improvement which Crawley might have obtained in two years was altogether lost sight of. In point of length, and weight, and bodily strength, we may also say Ward was overmatched, while in science he was fully equalled; for although Crawley’s style of setting-to may not be so elegant, nor his stops so frequent, still the severity and quickness of his counter-hitting, and the rapidity of his motions, added to his calm reception of punishment, gave him on this occasion equal advantage; added to which, Peter, in having Tom Belcher for his second, had at least two points in his favour, for a better second never entered the ring, nor a man whose knowledge of the art better qualifies him to give good advice. We must admit that we have seen Ward fight in better style, and make a better use of his acquirements. We do not say this with a view of disparaging his good qualities; but had he exercised a better judgment, we think he would not have rushed into desperate rallies, intent only on administering punishment, without regard to the consequences which might follow to himself, but would rather have availed himself of his tact of hitting and getting away, and only going in when an opportunity occurred of closing for the fall—and his superiority in throwing has been repeatedly established. In the present instance he seemed to have lost his usual caution, and to have forgotten that in fighting against superior weight and strength he was completely giving a chance away by standing to be hit in close quarters. Such another fall as that he gave Crawley in the seventh round must have decided the battle, but the opportunity when offered was neglected, and having at length become weak, he was unable to keep his right hand sufficiently high, and thus lay exposed to the terrific jobbing of Crawley’s left. We have no doubt his seconds acted to the best of their knowledge; but situated as Ward was towards the close of the fight, it was anything but good advice to incite him to go in to rally: he should rather have played round his opponent, and kept at a distance till his wind was restored, and fresh opportunities were afforded for bringing his scientific and wrestling powers into play. With so vigorous an opponent as Crawley, it was clear he must have the worst of in-fighting; and that this was the case the result of the conflict has shown. These are points which naturally strike an observer, but which a man in the heat of combat, and unassisted by a cool and dispassionate counsellor, may not duly appreciate. It is certain that Ward never had so good a man to deal with before, and, barring the few remarks we have felt it our duty to make, it was impossible for him to have done more to attain the ends of his backers. In falling, he has fallen nobly, and must only hope for better luck another time. We may add that he has still few equals in the ring. We cannot close these remarks without stating that, in losing Tom Oliver as a second, Ward may be said to have lost his battle; for Tom’s prudence and good sense would have taught him the folly of bustling with superior weight. The fight lasted twenty-six minutes.
Ward was conveyed in a state of unconsciousness to the Red Lion, at Royston, and was immediately put to bed between warm blankets. A surgeon was then sent for, who found his pulse scarcely perceptible; he, however, took proper precautions, and by six o’clock he recognised those about him. He complained very much of his head, where he received the knock-down blow in the second round, and said that such was the effect of that hit that four rounds elapsed before he had recovered himself. Ward arrived in London on the following Wednesday, much cut up in mind, but still determined to put in a claim for another trial to recover his laurels. He declared he had lost the fight by holding Crawley’s abilities as a boxer too cheap, and had resorted to an attempt to fight him down, in which he had exhausted his strength and his power of hitting. He considered, too, his chances in milling Crawley as greatly increased from the fact of the latter having hernia. This would seem without good foundation. It is a singular fact that Joe Grimaldi—than whom, in his pantomimic exertions, no man encountered more violent exercise—had been ruptured from his youth, but never experienced inconvenience in his labours.
On the 4th of January, 1827, two days after Peter’s victory, the Tennis Court was crowded for the joint benefit of Harry Holt and Ned Baldwin, and to get a peep at the heroes who were admitted to “show.” Ward, on mounting the stage, was loudly applauded. His nob was covered with a handkerchief, and his face exhibited marks of severe punishment. The “Cicero of the ring” (in buff) addressed his patrons for Ward. He said, “Ward had lost the battle, and, what was dearer to him, his proud position; but still it was cheering to him to think that he had not lost his honour. (‘True,’ and applause.) It was not in man to command success, but he had done all that a brave man could do to win the battle. One must lose, and Crawley was the conqueror. By every person who had seen the battle it was admitted that Ward had established his character as a game man, and he had no doubt, by such conduct, he would never want friends. (Approbation.) He was sorry to observe the subscription on the ground was trifling indeed (25s.); but he well knew the generosity of the fancy would be displayed to him in town. For himself, he would subscribe a sovereign; and he was perfectly satisfied other persons would subscribe their mite.” (“Bravo, Harry!”)
Jem’s backer presented himself, and said he would back Ward, without any hesitation, against Crawley, or any other man in the kingdom, for from £100 to £1,000. (Great applause.)
The hero of the tale, Peter Crawley, now mounted the stage, and was welcomed by loud plaudits. His face was rather damaged, but not so much as his opponent’s. With considerable modesty Peter stated, “He had been a winning man, but he had never been opposed to a better one than Ward; in fact, he thought him as good a man as himself. He had been lucky, and gained the fight; and he felt proud he had obtained that honour, because Ward had been considered the best man in England. It was impossible, therefore, that he could have got more honour, or gained a higher conquest. (‘Well done, Peter; you are a liberal, brave fellow.’) He was determined not to accept any challenge, and he had also made up his mind to give up all pretensions to prize-fighting, and, to please the King of England, he would not again enter the ring. He meant no disrespect to the patrons of the art of self-defence; but if he were to fight for seven years, he could not have obtained a higher place in the fancy. Fame was his object, and not money; he therefore left the championship open for those who wished to fight for it, and gave up all pretensions to that high milling honour. He hoped Ward would be dealt with according to his merits; and, as a losing man in general stood in need of support, he should give him two sovereigns.” (Cheers.) Peter made his bow amid loud applause.
Peter, acting upon the adage that “all’s well that ends well,” and having obtained a most brilliant conquest in the eyes of the sporting world, sensibly made up his mind to leave the P.R. for aspiring heroes to bustle in, and commenced publican. He therefore, without delay, opened the Queen’s Head and French Horn, in Duke Street, West Smithfield, and the fancy in general gave Peter their support.
Crawley’s “free and easy,” aided by the musical talents of his father, brought overflowing houses. Mr. Crawley, senior, was a first-rate chaunter, and, as a room singer, his voice in “Tom Moody,” “The Sapling Oak,” etc., was the delight, again and again, of admiring audiences.
At the Queen’s Head and French Horn, soon after Crawley became landlord of the house, he was visited by a blade of the name of Grays, and with that respect and civility which always marked the conduct of our hero, he invited Mr. Grays into his bar, to drink his wine and crack his walnuts. But before the bottle was finished, and during the short absence of our hero, who was waiting upon his customers in various parts of his house, Mr. Grays made free with the character of Peter to Mrs. Crawley, or, to use the vulgar phrase, he was nosing upon the inconstancy of our hero, and his amours out of doors, and boasting that he was a better man at any price than the host of the Queen’s Head and French Horn. On Crawley becoming acquainted with his conduct, he told Mr. Grays that he had not conducted himself like a man or a gentleman, when Grays repeated the insult, that he was a better man in every point of view. “That shall soon be decided,” said Peter, with a contemptuous sneer. An appeal to arms was the result, and, in the course of two short rounds, Mr. Grays so napped it for his impertinence that he staggered about like a man overcome with liquor, and the boaster, as he lay sprawling on the ground, gladly acknowledged, to prevent further punishment, that he had been egregiously deceived in his estimate of his own prowess, and promised Peter the next time he took wine and walnuts, not to crack jokes at his expense behind his back, and to keep his tongue within proper bounds.
Although Peter was one of the mildest and most inoffensive of men, the lion slumbered within him. We will cite a small specimen of this. When Harry Broome fought the Tipton Slasher, at Mildenhall, in September, 1851, there were strong misgivings of a wrangle, and the writer and others firmly declined the thankless office of referee. It looked as though there would be no fight, for the Tipton’s friends rejected several gentlemen nominated, as being backers of Broome. Johnny Broome rode up, and proposed to fight “without a referee.” This was very properly declined; but at last Peter Crawley was agreed to by both sides as an impartial arbiter. The details of the fight will be found under the Life of Harry Broome, in the Seventh Period. Suffice it to say, the Tipton hit Harry foul, and Peter gave it against “the Tipton.” Remonstrance did not shake Peter’s decision, and the Slasher, who thought himself hardly dealt by, used disparaging language to Peter. Fired at the imputation on his honesty, Peter proceeded to uncase his huge carcass, declaring he was “good for a few rounds,” and nothing but the gentle violence of his friends, and those of the Slasher, who separated them, prevented the brave Peter from there and then having a turn-up with the well-trained Tipton for “love and a bellyful.” We have seen other instances of Peter’s readiness to resent insult, though the most placable of men if an apology was offered.
From the period he retired he held but one house, the Duke’s Head and French Horn, in Duke Street, West Smithfield, a house interesting for years to “country cousins,” the fancy, and those who wished a “wrinkle” upon sporting topics. As a teacher of the art of self-defence Peter acquitted himself with great credit, being perfectly master of the science. Several of his Guardsmen pupils have shown their acquaintance that they can hit, stop, and get away with the best of glove amateurs. Peter died, generally respected, on the 12th of March, 1865, in the 66th year of his age. Peace to his manes!