Spring rode through the town in a stylish barouche and four (Colonel Berkeley’s) about twelve o’clock. The postilions were in red, and everything en suite. He arrived on the ground by half-past twelve, amidst the shouts of the spectators, and drove close up to the ropes in a post-chaise. He threw his hat into the ring, accompanied by Tom Cribb and Ned Painter. He was dressed with striking neatness. At this period all were on the look-out for Langan, but a quarter of an hour had elapsed, and no Langan—half an hour gone, and no Paddy—three-quarters over, and still no Irish Champion in sight. Spring pulled out his watch, and said, “It is time.” In the midst of the hour, waiting for the arrival of Langan, the right wing belonging to the stand gave way, and fifteen hundred persons, at least, were thrown in a promiscuous heap. It was an awful moment. To give any description of the feelings of the spectators baffles attempt. Spring turned pale, and said, “How sorry I am for this accident.” In a few minutes composure was restored, it being ascertained that nothing material had occurred, except a few contusions, and some of the persons limping away from the spot. “Thank God!” ejaculated Spring, “I would not have had it happen while I was fighting for a hundred thousand pounds!” The John Bull boxer had now become impatient, and exclaimed, “This is strange! Where’s my man?” “I’ll bet ten to one,” said a swell, “he don’t mean to come at all.” “I’ll take it, sir,” said an Irishman, “a thousand times over.” “No,” was the reply—“I meant I would take it.” The stakes would certainly have been claimed by Spring, but no precise time was specified in the articles. It was, as the lawyers say, a day in law—meaning “any time within the day:” the time had not been mentioned in black and white. Nearly an hour had elapsed, when several voices sung out from the stand, “Josh. Hudson! Josh. Hudson! Langan wishes to see you.” The John Bull fighter bolted towards the place like lightning, and in a few minutes afterwards shouts rending the air proclaimed the approach of the Irish Champion. He did not, like most other boxers, throw his castor up in the air, but in the most modest way possible leaned over the ropes and laid it down. He immediately went up and shook hands with Spring. The latter, with great good nature, said, “I hope you are well, Langan.” “Very well, my boy; and we’ll soon talk to each other in another way.” The men now stripped, when Reynolds went up to Spring, and said, “I understand you have got a belt on, and whalebone in it; if you persist in fighting in such belt, I shall put one on Langan.” Spring replied (showing a belt such as are worn by gentlemen when riding), “I have always fought in this, and shall now.” “Then,” replied Reynolds (putting on a large belt, crossed in various parts with a hard substance), “Langan shall fight in this.” “No, he won’t,” said Cribb; “it is not a fair thing.” “Never mind,” urged Spring, “I’ll take it off;” which he did immediately. Josh. Hudson and Tom Reynolds were the seconds for Langan, and the Irish Champion declared he was ready to go to work. The colours were tied to the stakes; and, singular to state, black for Langan, which he took off his neck and blue for Spring. “This is new,” said Josh.; “but nevertheless, the emblem is correct as to milling (laughing); it is black and blue; I’ll take one hundred to one, we shall see those colours upon their mugs before it is over.” The time was kept by Lord Deerhurst, afterwards Earl of Harrington, who was also Spring’s umpire, while Sir Harry Goodricke was umpire for Langan; Colonel Berkeley acted as referee. Five to two, and three to one on Spring.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On stripping, the bust of Langan was much admired for its anatomical beauty; his arms also were peculiarly fine and athletic; and his nob looked like a fighting one. His legs were thin; his knees very small, and his loins deficient as to strength. It was evident he had been reduced too much in training. Langan did not exceed twelve stone four pounds, and was nearly two inches shorter than his opponent. Spring was in fine condition; cool and confident, and a stone heavier than his adversary. On placing themselves in attitude, the advantages were manifest on the side of the English Champion. The combatants kept at a respectful distance from each other; both on the look-out for an opening. Spring at length made a hit, which Langan stopped with skill. The Champion slowly advanced, and Langan kept retreating, till he was near the stake at the corner of the ring. At this instant the position of Langan was not only fine but formidable, and Spring did not view it with contempt. The latter let fly right and left, and Langan’s left ogle received a slight touch. Spring got away from a heavy body blow. A pause. An exchange of blows, but no mischief done; Langan broke ground well. Another pause. Langan again in the corner, smiling, in a position armed at all points; Spring’s eye measuring his opponent, but hesitating to go in. Langan endeavoured to plant a body blow with his left hand, when Spring jumped away as light as a cork. Here Langan put his thumb to his nose, by way of derision. The latter stopped Langan’s left hand. “Fight away, Jack,” said Josh. Hudson, “he can’t hurt nobody.” Some blows were exchanged sharply, when the John Bull fighter, and Tom Reynolds, exclaimed, “First blood!” “No,” replied Spring. “Yes,” urged Hudson, “it is on your lip.” A long pause. Langan made a good stop with his right hand. Some hits passed between the combatants, when they closed, and a severe struggle ensued to obtain the throw; both down, but Langan uppermost. This round occupied nine minutes. “This battle will not be over in half an hour,” said a good judge.
2.—It was seen, in this early stage of the battle, that Langan would require heavy work to take the fight out of him. Spring was very cautious, and appeared as if determined not to receive any of Paddy’s clumsy thumps. A long pause. Langan hit Spring with his left hand on the body. The latter planted a tremendous facer on the top of Langan’s nose, that produced the claret; but the Irishman shook it off. Science displayed on both sides. After a long pause Spring put down his hands. The English Champion appeared to have made up his mind not to be hit, but to be liberal in the extreme—to give and not to take. Langan again displayed skill in stopping. (At this juncture the left wing of the temporary scaffold erected for the accommodation of the spectators, gave way with a tremendous crash, and upwards of one thousand persons, from the height of thirty feet, were precipitated one upon the other in one confused mass. The countenance of Spring, whose face was towards the accident, underwent that sort of sensation which did honour to his feelings and to his heart—he appeared sick with affliction at the circumstance, put up his hands, indicating that his mind was perplexed whether he should quit the ring or proceed with the battle.) Langan received a heavy blow on his left eye; and both went down in a close.
3.—Both cautious. Spring put down his hands. Langan tried his left hand twice; but Spring jumped away. “Take care of your plum-pudding, boy!” said Josh., “he’s coming.” In closing Langan went down.
4.—The slightest offer on the part of Langan to make a hit never escaped the wary eye of Spring, and the latter got away with the utmost dexterity and ease; Langan followed his opponent to the ropes; but Spring stopped a heavy hit. In closing, at the corner of the ropes, both went down, but Langan uppermost.
5.—This was a short round. The Irish Champion ran in, hit Spring, and also bored him down. “You have got the great man down, at all events,” said Josh.
6.—Langan’s left peeper was nearly closed; but, in struggling for the throw, Spring went down heavily on his head.
7.—Twenty-five minutes had elapsed, and nothing like mischief to either combatant had yet taken place. A long pause. Langan made two good stops, when he run in, and by dint of strength got Spring on the ropes; a severe struggle took place till both down. The spectators were now getting close to the ropes; and the whips were hard at work, to keep the space allotted to the boxers.
8.—Langan received a nobber without giving any return. Another tedious pause. Spring, as lively as an eel, jumped backwards from a hit. Pause the second. The attitudes of the men were considered peculiarly fine at this instant. Langan appeared formidable. The English Champion put in two facers left and right. Langan could not reach the body of Spring effectually: the left hand of the latter could not get home. In struggling for the throw Langan was undermost.