Remarks.—When Oliver recovered from the state of insensibility into which the last blow had thrown him, he rose (as if from a trance) from his second’s knee, and going up to Painter, said—“I am ready to fight.” “No,” said Painter, “I have won the battle;” upon which Oliver, in the utmost astonishment, asked his second why he had not picked him up sooner? The reply was, “Why, Tom, I could not wake you.” Painter walked two or three times round the ring after the fight, and then returned to North Walsham. Oliver, after resting himself on his second’s knee for about a minute, dressed himself, put the yellow handkerchief round his neck, and sat himself down upon some straw to see the next fight. Oliver has declared to several of his friends since, that the blow operated upon him like a shock of lightning, rendering him totally insensible. Oliver’s face bore scarcely any marks of punishment. Painter, in point of appearance, had received most about the head; but neither could be said to be much hurt. Painter showed great activity and goodness upon his legs, and stopped in good style. The Londoners were much mortified at this “chance blow,” as they termed it. Oliver appeared greatly dejected at losing the battle; but the punishment the combatants received was so light for such heavy men, that they were up at an early hour next morning to breakfast.
It is remarkable that Painter, at the first attempt, was defeated by Oliver, Sutton, and Spring, but that in each case on demanding another trial, he reversed the verdict, and proved the conqueror in all three instances.
At a public dinner at North Walsham, after the battle, Painter, on his health being drunk, repeated the declaration he had made, previous to his encounter with Oliver, that he would never fight again; and this resolution he adhered to.
Painter now lived retired from the ring, but was a publican for many years at the Anchor, in Lobster Lane, Norwich; he afterwards removed to the Market Place, and died in that city on the 19th of September, 1853.
CHAPTER IV.
TOM OLIVER (COMMISSARY-GENERAL OF THE P.R.)—1811–1831.
Tom Oliver, originally a member of the most ancient of callings—a gardener—lives in the memory of hundreds of modern ring-goers as the civil, active, diligent, and respectable custos of the P.R. ropes and stakes; enjoying in a green old age, despite occasional twinges of the gout, the post of “Commissary,” assisted latterly in his duties by his son Fred, also known as a pedestrian. Tom, who was a fine specimen of manhood, entered the ring somewhat late in life. An anecdote is preserved that his first appearance in the ring was owing to his accidentally witnessing the battle between Silverthorne and Dogherty, at Coombe Warren, in January, 1811, where Tom was engaged in digging and planting. He is said to have remarked on their display—“Well, if you call this prize-fighting, I’ll be hanged if I don’t think I could fight a little,” and he determined to put his abilities to the test of experiment. At his début Tom received the appellation of “The Battersea Gardener,” from his general place of employment; he was, however, born at Breadlow, in Buckinghamshire, in June, 1789. He left his native place a mere boy, and lived in the service of Mr. Baker, a gardener at Millbank. Here he made his first attempt at milling, with one Kimber, a stonemason from Walham Green. The battle took place in the dominions of old Caleb Baldwin, Tothill Fields, Westminster, for a couple of guineas a-side. Oliver was seconded by Silverthorne and Byrne. It was a heavy fight for an hour and forty minutes, when Oliver’s strength and game prevailed, and he was hailed the conqueror.
Oliver’s second engagement also took place in Tothill Fields, with a fighting man denominated “Hopping Ned.” The sum fought for was four guineas a-side. Oliver, rather diffident of his own abilities, when pitted against a scientific pretender, proposed that the loser should receive two guineas by way of consolation for defeat; but Ned, confident in his own prowess, scouted the idea, and declared the entire sum should go to the conqueror, which was ultimately agreed to. But such is the uncertain fate of war, that “Hopping Ned,” who had congratulated himself with what ease and dexterity he would serve out the Gardener, was, in the short space of a quarter of an hour, so completely milled out of all conceit of his fighting, that he was reluctantly compelled to cry, enough! He was convinced of his error by retiring severely punished, without the benefit of the two “quid.” Oliver was so much in obscurity at this period that the fighting men present seemed rather shy in seconding him, and a novice must have performed that office, if Silverthorne and old Dick Hall had not appeared, and stepped forward to bring their friend through the piece.
On the 2nd of June, Oliver fought with Harry Lancaster, at Newman’s Meadow, near the turnpike, at Hayes, Middlesex, for a subscription purse of twenty guineas. Caleb Baldwin seconded Oliver, and Paddington Jones attended upon Lancaster. Harry, who had a sparring reputation, cut a sorry, figure before Oliver. In fact, on the part of Lancaster, it was a most contemptible fight. Oliver was everything, and in the short space of eighteen minutes was proclaimed the conqueror. So easy a thing did it appear to the spectators, that it was the general opinion Oliver could have won without taking off his clothes.
Oliver, somewhat more experienced, next entered the prize ring with Ford, for a subscription purse of twenty guineas to the winner, and five guineas to the loser, on the 6th of October, 1812, at Greenford Common, Middlesex. Caleb Baldwin and Silverthorne were his seconds; and Tom Jones and Joe Norton officiated for Ford. The latter was deficient in weight, but considered the most effective boxer. Little more was known of “The Gardener” than that he was a good man; but an opinion was entertained that his milling abilities were rather moderate. He was slow in hitting, and not looked upon as anything of a punisher. Previous to the battle it was even betting. During a contest of two hours and ten minutes, his patience, courage, science, and fortitude, were completely put to the test. It was not only a battle of experience, but a proper day of trial to him; and it will hereafter be seen that he completely profited by it. To detail the numerous rounds would be superfluous, but the odds changed several times during the fight. Ford, in the fifth round, put in a tremendous blow on Oliver’s eye, which nearly closed it up; this raised the betting six to four on Ford. From the tenth to the fifteenth round Oliver took the lead, when Ford, recovering from his weakness, again kept the advantage for some time. It might be said to be reciprocal fighting for about an hour and a quarter, when Ford felt convinced that every art and stratagem must be adopted. Oliver received heavy punishment in the face repeatedly, and had few opportunities of returning, as Ford generally fell on making a hit. Every manœuvre was practised to tire out “The Gardener;” but he at length triumphed over all the shifting, notwithstanding he was nearly blind the last half hour of the battle. The game of Oliver claimed universal praise; for few men possess fortitude enough to have endured such an irritating opponent. They were both terribly punished.