On the Tuesday morning, on reaching the ground, we found an excellent ring, which was quickly surrounded by a large number of Corinthians and other Ring patrons, prepared to witness what many expected—a real good battle. To their disappointment and surprise, however, when all other preliminaries were arranged, Mace and his friends stepped forward, and formally objected to Dan Dismore as referee, on the ground that he had money on the fight. Dan instantly replied that he had not a shilling on the result, and that he should not have been present had he not received the letter appointing him referee. Mace’s party persisted in their objection, and various propositions were made, among others one by Mike Madden himself, who said he was willing to fight with two umpires and without any referee; but to this Mace objected, as “contrary to the articles.” Several gentlemen were proposed for the onerous and thankless office, who either declined or were objected to; so at last what was to have been the second fight (between Clamp and Gibbs) was got off amidst disgraceful confusion, Clamp proving himself the best man in one hour and thirty minutes. Both Madden and Mace remained in or at the side of the ring while the men were fighting, and after some more discussion of the vexed question of a referee, all returned to London. On the Wednesday, after a patient hearing of both sides, the stakeholder declared that Mace having refused to go to the scratch, when called upon by the duly-appointed referee, had thereby deliberately violated the articles and forfeited the stake, £100, which in due course was handed over to Madden. An unusual amount of irrelevant correspondence, statements as to shares of stake-money, training expenses, unpaid bets, promises and defalcations, from Mace, Madden, and Messrs. Lockwood, Hayes, Dismore, Keene, &c. followed. Finally, after six months’ quibbling, a new match was agreed on, and the 10th of March, 1858, named as the day of battle.
Well do we remember the early muster on that spring morning at the Eastern Counties Railway terminus at Shoreditch. There was “old Mike,” whose deafness, solidity, and stolid look had already earned him the prefix of “old,” though he numbered but thirty summers; he was buttoned up to the chin, in an old-fashioned drab box-coat, with a deep-red neckerchief, and a sealskin cap, the ears of which completely covered his ears and cheeks. He was anxiously inquiring of the group around for his “friend the enemy,” as the time for starting was near. We entered the station. Could it be true? We had the word of the traffic station-master for it. After a brief conversation on the platform, in which some “d—d kind friend” inopportunely alluded to the lamentable result of “ould Mike’s” last battle—that with Jack Jones, of Portsmouth—Jem, with a nod of the head and a cheerful expression, left his friends, and seating himself in an Ipswich carriage just about to steam out of the station, coolly waved a “good-bye” to the astonished group! Another account states, that after Madden and Co. had gone down by the appointed train, Mace was found in a neighbouring coffee-house, whither he had taken refuge from an impending arrest by the police! It is not of much consequence which is the correct version, as the claim of Madden to forfeit from the absence of his opponent was made and fully admitted.
That the pugilistic qualifications and cleverness of Mace were still believed in by some of the best judges of boxing is shown by the fact that “George Brown’s novice,” as Jem was now called, was thought good enough to back against Bob Brettle of Birmingham, whose conquests of Roger Coyne, Sam Simmonds, and Bob Travers were then fresh in the memory of Ring-goers. George Brown, Billy Richardson, and Jack Macdonald were sponsors, and these knowing ones declared that the 21st September, 1858, would show “the coming champion.” Nevertheless, serious misgivings haunted the public mind, not only when the last deposit of the £200 stakes was “tabled,” but even on the short railway journey which preceded the voyage per steamer to Shell Haven, odds being taken that there would be “no fight that day.” Great, therefore, was the satisfaction when it was found that Mace was on board the boat, not only well but cheerful, and apparently confident. After a pleasant run down the river, a fitting spot was selected on the banks of the Medway, where Tom Oliver and his assistants pitched an excellent ring on a lovely piece of greensward.
The Champion of the Midlands was first to cast his beaver into the ropes, amidst hearty cheering, Alec. Keene and Jem Hodgkiss attending as his esquires. Mace soon after showed, advised by Jack Macdonald and Jemmy Massey. It wanted ten minutes to twelve when the men shook hands, the seconds retired to their corners, and the men threw themselves into position for
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—There was very little time lost in manœuvring, both men surprising their friends by an almost nervous eagerness to get at it. Mace at once made play, and let go both hands in the style that had so disconcerted Thorpe; Brettle, however, making a good stop or two, and returning wildly, getting two or three severe cracks, one on the ear so specially heavy that the blood appeared from his auricular organ, and the first event was scored to Mace. After a short rally Brettle closed; Mace hit up sharply, but Bob got the crook and fell over him. The friends of Mace thought their man meant fighting, and the odds which had been offered—5 and 6 to 4 on Brettle—subsided to evens.
2.—The men threw themselves into good form; Brettle tried to lead off with the left, but was stopped neatly, and after another offer and a shift, Jem landed his right smartly on Brettle’s left ear. Again there was a stop or two, and Mace got home slightly; Brettle retreated, and measuring his man as he came in, let go his right on the left side of Mace’s head, on the temple; down went the Norwich man, and the round was over. Alec Keene claimed “first knock-down” for Brettle, and the referee awarded it. Mace was picked up by his attentive seconds, when a strange commotion was seen in his corner; he glared round for a few seconds, then suddenly swooned in Jack Macdonald’s arms. Mac and Massey shook him, and the latter bringing a stool into the ring, tried to seat him thereon. In vain: his legs fell about like Mr. Punch’s, or the nether limbs of a fantocchino, and his toes determinedly found their way under the ropes. The syncope was so determined that the Brums began to roar and jeer, and the Eastenders to swear; when the enraged Mac administered such a vice-like pinch to his man’s ear, that he roared lustily, but the next moment was as insensible as ever to all outward things. “Time” was now called, and “Time!” was repeated by the referee. Jem was set up in a perpendicular position, but those recalcitrant legs sent up their heels, and Jem would have assumed a devotional attitude, but that the “stunted lifeguardsman” held him up by main strength, while his head fell sideways on Macdonald’s shoulder. “Time!” the eight seconds’ “grace” were counted. “There are none so deaf as those that won’t hear,” was once more verified, and Bob Brettle was declared the conqueror, the actual fight having lasted three minutes. On the boat it was observed that Brettle’s last hit had raised a very blue mouse on Jem’s cheek-bone, but that it had knocked him out of time—credat Judæus Apella—indeed we are sure no Sheeny from Houndsditch would believe it.
The elation of Brettle’s friends at this victory led them into a mistake. They matched their man against Tom Sayers, and on September 20th, 1859, in a short quarter of an hour, seven rounds disposed of the Brum’s pretensions, as may be fully read in our last chapter.
Mace’s next match remains a yet-unexplained riddle. He was backed on this occasion by Bob Brettle—the man who had defeated him with such apparent ease—against one of his own townsmen, Posh Price, at 10st. 10lbs., for £50 a side. Price was a boxer of proved game and no mean capabilities. The deposits were posted by Brettle in the name and on the behalf of a man called in the articles “Brettle’s Novice,” and it was not until the last deposit that it was declared that Jem Mace was the “Novice” thus described.
On the 25th of January, 1859, after the gallant battle between Dan Thomas (the Welshman) and Charles Lynch (the American), in which the former was victorious, a special train having conveyed the spectators and combatants from London Bridge to Aldershot Common, the ring was cleared and re-formed by Fred Oliver and his assistants. No sooner, however, had the ropes been tightened, and the stakes driven firm, than, to the chagrin of the expectant assemblage, a detachment of the rural constabulary made their appearance, and a move into the adjacent county of Surrey became imperative. The transit was quickly and safely effected, and no sooner was the ring adjusted, than “Brettle’s Novice,” attended by his backers, tossed his cap into the ropes in token of defiance, and stood revealed to all as Jem Mace of Norwich. His condition and bearing not even the most prejudiced could find fault with. The men went to scale on the previous day at George Brown’s, “The Bell,” Red Lion Market, both being well within the 10st. 10lbs. Posh Price, who was born in 1832, and won his first victory in the Ring at eighteen years of age, was as yet unbeaten. He had successively defeated Mush, Boucher, Leighton, Benson, Holland, Liddy, and lastly the once renowned Ben Terry, who fought a draw with Harry Broome. In all these battles he had borne himself bravely, and showed no mean amount of skill. It was not, therefore, to be wondered at that Price was favourite in the betting at 5 and 6 to 4. The Birmingham man was seconded by Sam Simmonds and Joe Wareham, while Mace had behind him Jem Hodgkiss and Brettle. Price, whose age was twenty-seven—Mace being one year older—was all his friends could desire in point of condition, and his hardy, good-natured mug wore a smile of confidence in the result of