12.—The Tipton bored Harry to the ropes, was on to him before he got his chance for a lunge, and had him down in a scramble.
13.—Harry retreated to the ropes. The Tipton followed. Broome stopped his left, and shifted from his right, but got a slight taste as he broke ground, and moved round his man. Harry dashed at the Slasher, and got within his guard. There was a short scrambling rally, when the Tipton got down to avoid the lock. Offers to take evens, and then to bet the short odds on “the Young’un.” Bob Castles retired from Broome’s corner in this round, and his place was supplied by Macdonald. An objection to the change of seconds overruled.
14.—Broome milled prettily on the retreat, the Tipton hitting remarkably short with his left. Harry unclosed his hands, and shifting round towards the Slasher’s corner, said, cheerfully, “I’ll take odds ‘the boy’ licks him without a black eye.” The Tipton was evidently more bothered than beaten, and the facility with which he was thrown made him put on his considering cap. Broome went up to his head, as if to attack, but as quickly stepped back. The Slasher followed, and let go both hands, his right alone getting home. Harry turned at the instant, hit up sharply with the left, and weaving away, the Tipton got down. In the in-fighting there were some heavy hits exchanged, and Broome’s over-weight told sadly on his bellows, which heaved and jerked like those of a pumped-out steeplechaser.
15th and last.—There was a little squabble about time, the Slasher slowest from his corner. Both sides seemed somewhat inclined to spar for wind. Harry dashed in, evidently with the intention of closing and trying for a heave. He hit the Tipton on the chin, but the Ould’un got away, as if to get room for his right. Harry advanced, closed, and a struggle took place, each attempting to hit. The Tipton grasped him tightly with his left, and was trying to hit with his right, when Harry slipped down on both knees. The Tipton let go his right just as he reached the ground, giving him a decided nobber, which certainly did not reach its destination till Harry was down. It was the work of a moment. The shouts from all sides were tremendous. Broome’s seconds ran to the umpires and referee, as did the ever-active Molyneaux, on the side of the Tipton. There was a short pause, during which “Peter the Great” declared he had not yet been formally appealed to. This was done, the umpires, of course, disagreeing. “A most deliberate foul,” said “Peter the Great,” and the ring broke up. Thirty-three minutes had sufficed for the present decision of the question, “Who is the Champion of England?”
As the ponderous Peter left the roped enclosure, another instance was added to the many previous of the suicidal conduct of the present race of Ring men. The referee was surrounded by a vociferous and violent mob, whose language was of the most outrageous description. The Tipton himself, too, so “raised the dander” of the referee by his remarks and conduct, that the veteran Crawley declared he would fight for his credit and integrity, and, to the no small amusement of many, was disencumbering his portly person of his outer coat, to inflict summary punishment on his assailants, when the Tipton was forced away.
Remarks.—Upon this battle, ending in a manner so unsatisfactory, few remarks are necessary. The style of fighting will speak for itself. It was clear that the Tipton was surprised by the vigour and determination of his youthful opponent, and not less so at the manner in which he exhibited his throwing powers; for, in closing, not only was Harry the better wrestler, but apparently the stronger man. How the battle would have terminated had it proceeded in the ordinary way it is impossible to say, and in this respect opinions naturally differed. For, on the one hand, the little punishment that was administered came from the Young One, while the Old One had evidently lost none of his personal confidence, and no doubt anticipated that Harry would out-fight himself, and, by the rapidity of his movements, increase that exhaustion which had already shown itself at the conclusion of some of the earlier rounds. The sudden termination of the battle came upon all by surprise, and few believed that there was a “deliberate” intention on the part of the Tipton to administer the blow which was pronounced “foul.” That Harry was on his knees when he received the ugly hit we can aver, as we were seated by the side of the referee at the time of the appeal. The men were certainly in a scrambling close at the moment; and it was obvious that, while Harry desired to get out of trouble, the Tipton felt inclined to make the most of his fancied advantage. Crawley’s experience thoroughly enabled him to form a correct opinion, and we have no reason to believe that his judgment was not given fairly and impartially. Of course those not over-honest persons, who always attribute unworthy motives to others, assert that Crawley’s prepossessions were in favour of Broome, and that this was the reason why the Tipton originally objected to his being selected as referee. To this we can distinctly oppose that, to our own knowledge, the bias of Peter, if he had any, would have carried him the other way. Such, however, was not the opinion of the Tipton nor of his friends, as the latter, on the following day, served the stakeholder with notice “not to part with their money,” and the Tipton still asserted himself to be “Champion of England.”
Upon this unsportsmanlike proceeding the Editor commented with much severity, arguing that if such practices were pursued, there would be an end to all confidence between man and man in sporting matters, and would assuredly deter any one from posting money on any similar event, as well as from holding stakes.
Harry Orme having, as we have seen in the preceding chapter, defeated Aaron Jones a second time, was strongly urged to put forth his claim to the Championship, and to meet Harry Broome on his “advertised” terms. Months, however, passed before the match was made. First Broome made one stipulation, and then Orme’s friends showed their “stupid cleverness” in a counter-proposition, and there was a cannonade of angry correspondence of the most futile controversial character. Late in the year 1852, however, articles were signed and delivered for a fight to come off on the 18th of April, 1853, for £250 a side, the Editor of Bell’s Life to name the place of fighting, and also appoint a referee.
Harry, who since developing into a Boniface had become excessively corpulent, at once placed himself under the care of Levi Eckersley, at Cleave Hill, near Cheltenham, and here diligently subjected himself to an immense amount of work. Orme went into training near Maidstone, whence, the Monday before the battle, he removed to Greenstreet Green, in Kent.
It being stipulated in the articles that the stakeholder should name the whereabouts for the event, a special train was engaged on the Eastern Counties Railway, for “an excursion of 100 miles or thereabouts,” the exact spot being undivulged to the general sporting public, lest the gentry then known as “Cheapsiders” should get down “by hook or by crook,” and, by alarming the county, spoil sport. The arrangements with the railway company were made with despatch, and the gentlemen at the Shoreditch Station took every care to make such dispositions on the eventful morning as effectually to prevent any of the unprivileged classes from obtaining admittance. The time for starting was nominally a quarter-past eight, but long before that hour the neighbourhood of Shoreditch was in a perfect ferment; the streets and the station-yard were crowded with spectators anxious to get a glimpse of the chief performers in the forthcoming drama; but in this they were disappointed, as they had both proceeded a certain distance on the line of march on the previous day. As the time for starting approached, the arrival of cabs and other vehicles was incessant, and it was perfectly clear that there would be a very large muster of patrons of the sport, the majority of whom were what Pierce Egan would have called “reg’lar nobs and tip-top swells,” but who are, in the present Ring vernacular, classed as patrician and Corinthian patrons of the noble art. At no fight for many years past had there been such a congregation of noblemen and gentlemen; and certainly at no encounter since that between Caunt and Bendigo, in 1845, was so much interest excited. Among the company present we were glad to observe some patrons of the Ring of the Old School—gentlemen who remembered the battles of Cribb, Spring, Hickman (the Gas-man), Oliver, &c. There was also a good sprinkling of Turfites present, attracted partly owing to its being a bye-day in the racing world, and partly by the fact that Orme’s backer was a gentlemen well known in the betting-ring. Among the latest arrivals at the station was the “Arch” Bishop of Bond Street, with a considerable number of his flock. The reverend “gent.” although suffering from gout, had strained a point to be present at such an important contest, no doubt anticipating that the winner would insist upon his “crowning” him upon the spot; but in this the “mad priest” was disappointed: his services were not required, and he had to return to town after the battle, without being called upon to distinguish himself in any manner except in the voracious devouring of the contents of a huge sandwich-box, which he was compelled to attack by the calls of appetite, and in the ceremony of swallowing which he highly distinguished himself. At length the train was full, the station-doors were closed, and at half-past eight precisely the whistle sounded, and we were off. The caravan, consisting of some sixteen carriages, all of which were crammed, proceeded steadily on its way until we reached Bishop Stortford, where we took in Orme (for the fight), and water (for the engine). The next stoppage was Elsenham, where Broome got into the train, and the engineer received his orders as to the final destination. He, acting under directions, pulled up at Ely, where a pilot, who had gone on the previous day, took up his position on the train, and informed us of that of which we had already our misgivings—viz., that an immense number of persons had gone by parliamentary train from London to Mildenhall, early in the morning, and were there in waiting to receive the combatants and their friends. This being the case, proved the correctness of the precautions we had taken in sending on a pilot beforehand. That gentleman now undertook to conduct us to a spot where business could be proceeded with in peace and comfort, and the train once again sped on its way. As we passed Mildenhall, we saw hundreds of disappointed travellers, who had been patiently waiting all the morning, and who were thus, very properly, baulked in their parsimonious intentions. At Lakenheath, the next station, we perceived a company of mounted blues in readiness to spoil sport. These worthies, like the would-be spectators at Mildenhall, also had their trouble and expense for nothing. There was no intention of breaking the peace within their bailiwick, so still the train went on. At length the appointed spot was reached, between two stations, and about 108 miles from London. Here a hasty debarkation was effected, and the train returned to the nearest station. Tom Oliver, his son, and Tom Callas, at once proceeded to erect the lists, while Dan Dismore carried on a brisk business in the sale of inner-ring tickets. Some idea of the number of gentlemen present may be gathered from the fact that the tickets so disposed of realised between £40 and £50. There were, of course, a great number of outsiders on the ground, but owing to the precautions that had been taken in keeping things dark, the total number of spectators did not exceed 2,000. All these persons, by the admirable arrangements, and the activity of the ring-keepers of the Pugilistic Association, obtained an admirable view of the contest throughout, and we did not, during the day, hear of a single disturbance calculated in the slightest degree to interfere with the sport, or those anxious to witness it. By a quarter-past one o’clock the ring was completed. Orme immediately pitched his castor within the ropes, and followed himself, attended by Tom Sayers and Jack Grant. He looked well and hardy, and wore a smile of confidence on his good-humoured mug. In about ten minutes more the other Harry made his appearance, closely followed by Bill Hayman, of Birmingham, and Callaghan, of Derby, his brother Johnny being, as he had promised, “in the corner.” Harry smiled, and shook hands with t’other Harry, and both were loudly cheered. The ceremony of peeling now commenced, and by half-past one the men were delivered at the scratch in fighting undress.