Young Sam, though occasionally exhibiting his skill with the gloves at the sets-to of the “Pugilistic Association” established about this period at the Westminster (now the Lambeth) Swimming Baths, by Tom Spring, Cribb, Crawley, the editor of Bell’s Life, and other leading friends of the P.R., was not popular with his brethren of the Ring, and did not care to associate with them. He became a publican first in Castle Street, Leicester Square, and then at the “Coach and Horses,” St. Martin’s Lane; but in both he was unsuccessful—it was said from inattention to business, which we can well believe. At length, in 1840, Sam wedded the daughter of a respected publican, and with her as a helpmeet he became landlord of the “Black Lion,” in Vinegar Yard, Drury Lane. From this house he migrated to the Old Drury Tavern, in Brydges Street, Covent Garden, and here his wife’s experience and management, together with her influence over his erratic disposition, seemed to be fast maturing the “Young ’Un” into a respectable and steady Boniface. For some time, however, the effects of early dissipation were visible in recurrences of inflammation of the lungs at the approach of winter or exposure to cold. In 1842 a severe relapse, accompanied by spitting of blood, reduced him almost to a shadow, and on the 4th of November, 1843, he died of decline, at the early age of thirty-six. The following appeared in an obituary notice in the leading sporting journal of the day:—
“In the sparring schools Sam was a master of his art to an extent but seldom seen and rarely equalled by professors. He often showed, and remarkably so when in conversation with his ‘betters (?),’ that his acquaintance with ‘letters’ was not merely of a mechanical description. He spoke well, and when he chose could ‘do the agreeable’ with a suavity highly creditable to his class, securing to himself throughout his career the patronage of many noblemen and gentlemen of the highest distinction. His temper was cheerful, and he possessed a flow of natural humour which rendered him an agreeable companion in social circles. A reckless disregard to his own interests, and an unhappy disposition to mix in those scenes which constitute what is called ‘Life in London,’ and in which he was often the companion of sprigs of nobility, to whose wild vagaries he was but too much inclined to pander, led him into scrapes from which he had some difficulty in escaping. It is not our wish, however, to speak ill of the dead; and knowing as we do that there are those of a higher grade whose example he was but too prone to follow, equally deserving of censure, we shall throw a veil over the past, and let the recollection of his faults lie hidden in the grave. As a pugilist he was always successful, for he never lost a fight, and as a skilful sparrer he has left no equal of his years. It was not till he married a woman who was his faithful and attached companion till the moment of his death that the foundation of prosperity was laid. She, luckily, was a woman of good sense, and considerable experience in the public line, which enabled her to ‘carry on the war’ with success. Throughout his last illness he was attended with exemplary kindness by his wife, who spared neither pains nor expense to alleviate his disease. He died calm and collected, surrounded by several of his friends, who while they pitied could not but condemn the headlong folly which had distinguished his passage through his short but eventful existence. Many of his faults and follies may be fairly ascribed to the nature of the associations into which the deceased, from his earliest outset in life, was accidently thrown. He was ‘a spoilt child’ of the Fancy, and like all spoilt children was wayward.”
Sam lies buried in the vault of his wife’s family in Kensal Green Cemetery.
MONODY ON THE DEATH OF YOUNG DUTCH SAM.
Scarce the illustrious Pet[[53]] his eyes had clos’d,
When in Death’s cold embrace Dutch Sam repos’d;
As brave a fellow from life’s scenes dismiss’d
As ever faced a foe or clench’d a fist;
Brave without bounce, and resolute as bold,
And ever first fair fighting to uphold;