62.—Langham got home on Sparkes’s neck, Sparkes returned on the ribs. A close followed, in which Langham was down, with Sparkes on him. Sparkes unfortunately had his right arm under his man, who fell heavily on it, and, as it afterwards appeared, broke the bone of his forearm. On coming up for the 63rd round, Sparkes held his right arm up, but was quickly compelled to drop it, from the pain he suffered. Langham went in and milled away until the Australian went down. From this to the 67th and last round Sparkes came up bravely, keeping his right arm close to his side, and attempted to plant upon his man with his left; it was of course in vain. Langham was too good a strategist to be planted on, and working in with both hands upon the game fellow in each round, punishing him until he went down. He was repeatedly asked by his seconds to give in, but in vain; his game was such that he almost disdained to sit on his second’s knee until the call of time. At length, in the 67th round, Johnny Broome entered the ring and threw up his hat in token of defeat, after a contest of 68 minutes, and even then it was with the greatest difficulty that Sparkes’s seconds could prevent his rising and rushing at his man to have another “shy.” A gamer or more fearless boxer never entered the Ring.
Remarks.—Langham in this contest confirmed the opinion we entertained of his former fight with Gutteridge. He is a clever, scientific fighter, good on his legs, and a heavy hitter; and although the practice of getting down is anything but commendable, still, with a determined adversary, possessing superior bodily powers, every allowance must be made for the caution of a wily general. He evidently saw that to struggle with such a man as Sparkes would be attended with no advantage to himself, and he therefore determined not to throw a chance away. His superior length, and his quickness in meeting the Australian hero as he came in, in a great measure protected his mug from damage; but the fact of his leaving the ring with scarcely a scratch was mainly to be attributed to the style of Sparkes, who, when he fought at the head, invariably hit too high to do damage. Sparkes proved himself one of the gamest fellows that ever pulled off a shirt; he is a hard hitter, and stops with great neatness; but in Langham he contended with an adversary who had the advantage of him in every respect except in strength and courage (the latter attribute was not, however, wanting in either man). Notwithstanding the severe punishment he received about the head, however, he came up as strong on his legs at the end as at the commencement of the fight, and in almost every round declined all assistance of his seconds to carry him to his corner. Had it not been for the accident to his arm in the 65th round, the contest would, no doubt, have lasted longer, possibly with a different result. As to style, however, Langham was the superior fighter. The affair concluded, all returned to town per train, and “The Nymph,” in attendance at Nine Elms, conveyed her cargo to the port whence they embarked. The battle money was given to Langham at Ben Caunt’s. This is the first time that Sparkes was beaten, having fought in and out of the ring in N.S.W. with several men. His last four adversaries were Chas. Wooten, of Nottingham (N.S.W.), for £25 a side; Joe Marshall, of the same place, for £50 a side; Bill Davis, of Liverpool (N.S.W.), for £100 a side (after the conquest of whom he received his belt); and “Tom the brewer,” for £100 a side.
The stakes were presented to Langham at Ben Caunt’s, when a collection was made for the losing man. This was considerably augmented on the Friday week following at a benefit given to Sparkes at Johnny Broome’s. Of course the “tuggites,” and some of those thrown out by Johnny’s strategic movement on the previous Tuesday, were loud in their denunciations of his “shameful conduct,” as it was termed. At these Johnny laughed, while the sporting Press reminded them that “they had only themselves to blame for their disappointment.”
Nat’s victory over Sparkes was certainly calculated to place him in the very front rank of middle-weight boxers, and from this time until the beginning of the year ’51 he was “laid up in lavender,” until after all sorts of negotiations, and breaks-off with all sorts of men, some too heavy, and others thinking themselves too light, unless Nat (who had never much to get off in the way of flesh) could consent to reduce himself, Harry Orme, though more than half a stone heavier, was proposed. Orme’s defeat of Aaron Jones, in December, 1849, had proved him a strong, resolute, and formidable, if not a scientific boxer, and his friends, thinking his chance a good one, entered into articles for £50 a side, the battle to be decided on the 6th of May, 1851. On this occasion Nat was doomed to experience his first and only defeat, after a contest which Bell’s Life characterises as “one of the gamest battles the annals of the Ring can boast;” the details of which will be found in the ensuing chapter in the Life of Harry Orme.
Langham, who was always a well-conducted, steady fellow, now went into business as a publican at the Ram Inn, Bridge Street, Cambridge, where he won “golden opinions from all sorts of men,” securing the patronage of many University undergrads, and for two years none cared to dispute his title as “Champion of the Middle-weights,” a distinction a quarter of a century ago fully recognised at a period when the heavy weights had certainly sadly degenerated, though the time had yet to come in which “the Championship of England” should be held by a boxer under 11 stone!
So highly were Langham’s capabilities in his contest with Orme esteemed by all who witnessed that gallant fight, that his name was continually to the fore, not only in Cambridge, but among the Corinthians who held their conversaziones at Jem Burn’s, at the “Rising Sun;” at Owen Swift’s “Horseshoe;” at Limmer’s Hotel, and “The Corner;” while among the knowing ones who frequented Ben Caunt’s “Coach and Horses,” at Peter Crawley’s “Duke’s Head,” and places further east, all were of opinion that “Clever Nat” was not to be beaten by any man who had not a great pull in respect of weight.
There was, however, a sporting-house, unnamed by us as yet, situated in a street off the once-famed Seven Dials, where lived an ex-pugilist (recently deceased) who was unquestionably as good a judge of the merits of a fighting man as ever lived. This was Alec Keene, of the “Three Tuns,” Moor Street, Soho; and there were not a few Corinthians who often threaded their way through the intricacies of Soho to have a palaver with Alec Keene, and learn his straight opinion as to the chances of the competitors in some coming fight, or as to the advisability of backing this or the other candidate for a match. Among these we remember “young” Sir Robert Peel, his gallant brother William (both of them splendid boxers), Lord Ongley, Lord Drumlanrig, Sir Edward Kent, Colonel Higgins, Lord Winchilsea, cum multis aliis.
Now, among the special pets of Alec foremost stood Tom Sayers, whose merits Keene was the first among the professionals to fully perceive and boldly declare; and he never ceased to use his influence in finding him backers, in which he was zealously seconded by Harry Brunton.[24]
After Tom had beaten Jack Martin, in the January of 1853, both he and his friend Alec (who acted as his second on that occasion) were confident that the championship of the middle-weights was well within his reach, notwithstanding the admitted excellence of Nat Langham. Consequently, after many discussions and conferences, the money was made all right, and a challenge was issued from Moor Street, in which Tom announced his readiness to meet the redoubtable Nat on his own terms. There was some laughing in Air Street at Tom’s audacity, and in St. Martin’s Lane, although in the city on the Cam lots of “collegians” were ready to find a bit of Nat’s money. It was soon ascertained, however, when Langham had accepted the challenge, and a match had been made to fight for the sum named, on the 18th of October, 1853, that although Langham was the favourite, his adherents had only to offer the slightest shade of odds in Tichborne Street or Soho to be at once accommodated to any amount they desired.
Both men went into active training at an early period. Nat, whose long rest had rendered him somewhat rusty, retired to country quarters, under the care of Jemmy Welsh, who had to give him a full dose of work to bring him, without any loss of power, within the stipulated 11st., though at this period Nat’s fighting weight was only two or three pounds in excess of that point. However, his training went smoothly on, without a break or a hitch of any kind, and, as will be seen presently, he was brought to the post in prime fettle. Tom, on the other hand, who had, as usual, gone down to the neighbourhood of Brighton—his mentor and attendant being the celebrated pedestrian, Bob Fuller—encountered quite a series of mischances. He first caught a severe cold, almost deserving to be called an influenza, which stopped him in his work. This was followed by an ugly breaking out on his face and chin, which certainly did not indicate that his blood was in its ordinary healthful condition. No difficulties of this kind dismayed either Tom or his backers, and, consequently, Bell’s Life on the 16th of October was enabled to announce that both men were well and full of confidence. In consequence of the day fixed for the fight being the opening day of the Warwick Meeting, there had been an endeavour to alter the day to the Monday previous, but as this was the settling-day for the Cesarewitch, the alteration would have been no improvement, if, indeed, not rather the reverse, as backers and bookmakers would both be compelled to show at Tattersall’s—the lucky backer of Haco to receive, and the unfortunate followers of the ill-fated Nabob (who was second that year in both the great handicaps to the turned loose youngsters, Haco and Little David) to part with what had so nearly brought them safe home.