“Ben has also paid us a personal visit, and repeated the statements contained in his letter, and in addition has given up all claim to the forfeit, which, from the first, we believe was not his own doing.”

The atmosphere thus cleared, all went on serenely, the bona fides of the match, which had been sorely doubted and even ridiculed in sporting circles, being now placed beyond dispute. If “there is only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous,” however many gradations there may be before arriving at the last step but one, we think the reader will agree that it was taken by Caunt in the affair we will now briefly relate. In the month of June Tom Sayers (see Life of Sayers, post) beat the “Old Tipton Slasher” (Wm. Perry) in a battle for the Championship and the “Belt,” from all claim to which Caunt had years before publicly retired. Among the challengers of Sayers’s remarkable position as a 10-stone Champion we find—​risum teneatis, amici?—​Caunt, although then engaged in articles with an 11-stone man. Ben shall here speak for himself:—

“To the Editor of ‘Bell’s Life in London.’

“Sir,—​Unaccustomed as I am to public challenging, long laid upon the shelf as I have been, it may perchance startle the sporting world to learn that Ben Caunt is once more a candidate for the Championship. Win or lose with Langham, I challenge Tom Sayers for £200 a side and the Championship, the contest to take place within six months of my forthcoming fight. My money is ready at your office, and I trust that this offer will be accepted, in order that the world may be as speedily as possible undeceived with regard to the merits of the much-vaunted new school of British boxing.

“Yours obediently, BENJAMIN CAUNT.

“June 18th, 1857.”

“Note.—​Caunt has left £10 in our hands to prove he is in earnest.”

This Waterloo Day flourish of trumpets was followed the next week by the fearless little Tom covering Big Ben’s “tenner,” announcing that, if his match with Caunt did not go on, he was prepared to meet his other challenger, Tom Paddock. The “lame and impotent conclusion” of Caunt’s challenge is soon told. Ben proposed that Sayers should come to his house (of course as a “draw”) to draw up articles, &c. Tom didn’t see it; and as he was engaged in the provinces making hay while the sun shone, he offered to sign articles, if transmitted to him, and duly post the needful with the editor of Bell’s Life. This, on the other hand, didn’t suit Ben’s fireside, and so the incongruous affair ended in smoke. Meantime Paddock had a severe accident, which put his right hand hors de combat, and a disabling illness followed. Ben now announced his departure for “sea breezes and strict training,” and Nat did the same, which brings us to the 22nd day of September, 1857.

As we have already remarked, the match from its first inception was considered so extraordinary, not only from the great disparity in the size of the men, but from the supposed irreparable state of Nat’s constitution (he having, as was known to many, sought the advice of the principal physician of the Brompton Hospital for Consumption), that the public generally looked upon it with distrust and suspicion, and up to the very last deposit sporting men refused to believe that it would ever come to a fight. Indeed, so strong was this impression on the minds of many, and not a few of them influential patrons of the P. R., that they pooh-poohed the whole affair, absented themselves from the houses where deposits were made good, and also from the fight itself. Great therefore was their disappointment, and no less their disgust, when they learnt that not only had the men met, but that they had actually fought a battle which was certainly as well worth seeing as almost any modern battle between big men.

Those with whom we conversed appeared to hold but two opinions on the subject. Either one or the other of the men would be apprehended and held to bail, or there would be police interference on the day. At one time, indeed, so infectious is suspicion, we began to participate in the general distrust, and awaited expectantly the bursting of the bubble, by the news of a domiciliary visit from Sir Richard Mayne, or some of his satellites, to one or other of the rival houses; both Caunt and Langham announcing flying visits to their respective hostelries on more than one occasion. Up to the eleventh hour this or some other obstacle was confidently predicted. On the Monday, however, it was known that arrangements had been agreed on by Dan Dismore on the part of Nat Langham, and Jemmy Shaw and Ben Butler on the part of Ben Caunt, to hire two steamboats between them, one for first and the other for second-class passengers. It was also arranged that the boats should rendezvous at Tilbury, and that the men and their friends should proceed to the same place by the 7.50 a.m. train on the eventful morning. In the course of Monday, however, it seems that apprehensions arose in the minds of Nat’s friends that it would be unsafe to start from Tilbury, and they telegraphed to the owner of the boats to change the venue and muster at Southend. They did not seem to think it necessary to communicate with Caunt or his uncle, concluding of course that they would be at the London terminus at the time arranged, and that then everything could be settled. At the time appointed Ben Butler and Young Ben (Caunt’s son) were at Fenchurch Street, but Caunt did not show, and we thought of course he had adopted some other means of conveyance. At Tilbury, however, Uncle Ben and Jemmy Shaw came to us, and said that Caunt expected the boat at Tilbury, and had not heard of any alteration. Here again our suspicions arose that some casualty had happened, and that there would be no fight. Ben’s friends could give no reason for his not being at the appointed station in the morning, and all seemed quite nonplused. To add to other difficulties there were no signs of young Fred Oliver, who, as the deputy of Old Tom, had charge of the ropes and stakes, although he had distinct notice on Friday at what time the expedition was to leave London. This state of things cast a gloom on the travellers, many of whom had serious thoughts of returning to town. On persuasion, however, they made up their minds to “see it out,” and as the train could not be stopped, all resumed their seats and sped on to Southend, hoping to find Caunt there, or, at any rate, to hear some tidings of him. On reaching this spot all at once made their way to the pier head, but not a word could be heard of the ex-Champion, or of the ropes and stakes. Butler at once went on board one boat (that reserved for first-class passengers), while Dan Dismore remained on the pier to supply tickets for the voyage.