Volume 2 — CHAPTER I. JEM WARD (CHAMPION).—1822–1831. (continued 2)

“Both men were far beyond their weight when the match was made, topping, perhaps, not less than fifteen stone each, and to the reduction of this Ward immediately applied himself, by constant exercise; while Byrne remained in Ireland till within six weeks of the day of action, without taking any steps to qualify himself for the important task he had in view, and at that time arrived in London with all his work before him. That this was imprudent no judge will deny, and the consequence was, that a week before fighting he was full a stone heavier than he ought to have been; and even on the Thursday previous to entering the ring he took a sweat, which reduced the strength he then possessed and gave a shock to his system which common prudence should have induced him to avoid. On Sunday also he got drenched to the skin in a shower of rain, and caught a cold, from the effects of which he laboured on entering the ring. Ward, on the contrary, neglected nothing which either sense or judgment could dictate, and could not have been in better trim. We state these things as matters of fact, forming some apology in the minds of Byrne’s friends for his defeat; but we have no hesitation in saying, had he been as well as skill and strict training could make him, he would have had no chance against the matchless tactics of his antagonist, who fully realized the high opinion that had been formed of him.”

It being known that Warwick was the fixture, an extraordinary number of patrons of milling betook themselves to that celebrated fistic locality several days before that appointed for the contest. On the Saturday, however, a meeting of “beaks” took place, at which it was resolved to stay proceedings, either in the town or county, and a polite justice called upon Tom Spring, who was in attendance on Byrne, to inform him of the determination of those in authority. It being clear that their worships were in earnest, a council of war was held, when it was determined that as the inhabitants of Warwick had given the men £60, the affair should be settled as near as possible to the town, without infringing upon the bailiwick of those who had interfered. Accordingly the neighbourhood of Stratford-on-Avon, a very few miles distant, was selected, and in a field at Willeycutt an admirable ring was formed by Tom Oliver and his then assistant, the renowned Frosty-faced Fogo. There was a good gate to the field, at which a considerable sum was 228collected. As it was not known in London and elsewhere that Warwick had been tabooed, that town, despite the officiousness of the “blues,” reaped considerable benefit from the mill, since almost all the cognoscenti betook themselves thither on the Saturday and Monday, and sojourned there until the morning of fighting. This was exceedingly fortunate for the inhabitants, who were thus in some degree enabled to repay themselves the sum they had disbursed to induce the men to come into their district. The interest was not quite so strong as it had been on the occasion of the fights between Cannon and Hudson, and Ward and Cannon, but still the muster was very great, and on the morning there was such a demand for vehicles as far exceeded the supply; in fact so great was it that poor Simon Byrne was compelled to proceed to the ground in a mourning coach, which was looked upon by the superstitious as a most decided ill omen. The morning was anything but favourable for milling: the rain descended in torrents from an early hour until twelve o’clock, soaking many of the “toddlers” to the skin. Happily, however, at this period the clouds disappeared, and left the sky free from speck, a change which had an immediate effect in raising the spirits of the company.

At five minutes past one o’clock, Ward, attended by Harry Holt and Peter Crawley, flung his castor into the ring amidst the deafening cheers of his friends. The brave Irishman was not long after him, and on entering the arena, attended by Spring and Tom Reynolds, he also received a warm welcome. The betting at this time was £300 to £200 on Ward. On the latter being completely unshelled, he looked in admirable condition. His countenance was clear and healthful, and his eye bright and playful; his deep chest and broad shoulders gave him the appearance of prodigious strength, while the general symmetry of his person presented a fine study for the anatomist. He had evidently paid great attention to his training, for, despite the immense reduction he had undergone—from fifteen stone to twelve stone eight pounds—his vigour and muscle were unimpaired.

On turning to Byrne there was a wide contrast. He was heavier than Ward by a stone; but this bulk was more to his prejudice than in his favour, for it threw a shade of sluggishness over his form that forbad the impression of active vigour: the fat hung in loose collops over his drawers, and his full habit of body showed that he was not the thing; still he assumed an air of confidence, and prepared for action with a smiling mug.

The men and their seconds having crossed mawleys, and umpires and a referee having been selected, the heroes were left at the scratch to commence—

229THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Both men stood on their guard, eyeing each other with steadiness, and each waiting for the other to commence. Byrne made a slight dodge with his left, but Ward was prepared. Byrne held his right low, and his left ready for a counter-hit. Ward made a feint with his left; Byrne drew back alarmed. Ward now covered his man in good style, and gradually drove him back to the corner of the ring. Byrne was ready for the assault, when Ward, quickly playing with his right and left, rushed in to hit. Byrne stopped the blows and closed, when both tried the fibbing system. Byrne hit up slightly, and Ward caught him on the mouth. In the close and try for the fall both went down, and on rising Byrne showed first blood from a slight scratch under the nether lip. Shouts for Ward, who showed a slight flush on the chin and right ear.

2.—Ward came up all life and smiling. Byrne steady on his guard, his right still low, and his left ready for countering. Jem made play to try his man. Byrne again gradually retreated to the corner, when Jem made himself up for mischief, rattled in, and planted his left on Byrne’s mouth. A short rally followed, in which Ward had the advantage; and in the close Byrne went down to avoid in-fighting.

3.—No great harm done on either side. The friends of Ward on the chaffing system, and exclamations of “We want no Irishman for champion.” Byrne’s friends called on him to be leary; he smiled, and said, “don’t bother me.” Ward stretched out his left and nearly reached Byrne’s face, but Byrne still kept his right down. “He’ll stand it,” cried Dick Curtis, when counters were exchanged from the left. Ward stopped Simon’s blow, but popped in his own. A short rally, in which Ward stopped beautifully, and closed. Byrne would not have it, and got down.

4.—Ward made a feint with his left. Byrne steady on his guard, but made no attempt to commence fighting. Ward again made play, left and right, and darting in, planted his left on Byrne’s mug. In the counter-hitting which followed, Byrne was too short, and his right no use. He caught it again on his muzzle, and fell on his knees. Ward hit up with his right as he was going down, and Byrne showed more claret from his mouth.

5.—Cheers for Ward, who evidently out-fought his man; and Byrne gave symptoms of timidity, his legs trembling under him. Ward again made a feint with his left, and Byrne drew back. Ward smiled. Byrne tried his left, but was stopped with great precision. He then hit round with his right, but Ward caught it on his shoulder, and got away laughing. Counter-hits with the left, Ward getting home first, and drawing more blood from Simon’s mouth. Byrne’s left was short of its mark. Ward again planted his left and rushed to in-fighting. Byrne was confused, and went down amidst cries of “Stand up and fight like a man.”

6.—Jem exhibited his generalship in fine style, and Byrne could make nothing of him. Again did Ward pop in his left on Byrne’s nose, and got away. A sharp rally, in which both stopped well. In getting away, Ward fell on his knees, but was up in a moment and at it again; popped in his left twice in succession on the old spot. Byrne weak on his legs; Ward all alive. In the close, Byrne down, amidst renewed cries of “Cur!” Byrne saw he had no chance in the close, and was coming the cautious.

7.—It was clear Byrne could not hit his man, who was always so well covered as to render assault dangerous. Byrne looked bothered, and was evidently alarmed for the result. The ruby was flowing from his nose and mouth. He stopped Ward’s left cleverly, and tried his right on Ward’s canister, but Ward caught it on his shoulder, which he threw up so as to cover his lug. Jem jobbed twice in succession with his left. Byrne’s left, in attempting to counter, fell short. Jem stopped right and left. Byrne open-mouthed. Jem again busy with his left. A rally, in which slight hits were exchanged right and left, and Jem fell on his inexpressibles. The first knock-down blow was here claimed for Byrne, but disputed. The referee, we understand, pronounced it a knock-down.

8.—At the commencement of this round a wag let go a crow from a bag, which flew across the ring. Some cried “a pigeon,” others “a crow,” and a Hibernian praty-dealer exclaimed, “Oh, by Jabers, you’re not going to crow over us neither.” Loud laughter from all parts of the ring. Ward stopped a left-handed compliment, and smiled; he then popped in a left-handed snorter; but Byrne, in return, caught him a heavy body blow with his right. Ward popped in his left twice in smashing style, and in a third visitation of the same sort hit Byrne down. This was proclaimed a decided knock-down blow.

9.—Byrne weak, and bleeding profusely. Ward jobbed him with his left several times in succession with great severity. Byrne, still game, tried to plant his left and right, but was beautifully stopped. A rally, in which Ward, busy as a bee, planted right and left, hit up with his left, and, as Byrne was going down, caught him across the throat with his right, and dropped him on his seat of honour.

10.—The fight had now lasted twenty-eight minutes, and Jem had not a mark visible, save on the chin, and a trifling effusion of blood from the gums. Byrne tried 230his right, but Jem up shoulder and stopped him. Jem now made play, and in went his left at the mouth and nose and no mistake. Byrne tried to return, but was stopped, and in the close Byrne went down weak.

11.—Jem walked strong from his second’s knee. Byrne tried his right at the mark, but Jem caught it on his elbow, and Byrne having dropped his head, he caught him cleverly an upper-cut as he recovered himself. Byrne was broken-hearted from the scientific way in which he was stopped, but again tried a rally, in which he received pepper left and right, and in the close went down weak. (Cries of “Byrne, you’re a game fellow, but you haven’t a chance.”) This was obvious, but still Byrne’s friends looked forward to Ward becoming weak.

12.—The punishment had been heretofore all on Byrne’s mouth and nose, and they continued to bleed freely. Ward caught a visitation on his mouth, amidst cries of “Well done, Byrne.” A rally, in which Byrne missed his hits, but received on the nose, and went down by the ropes.

13.—Ward ready, and determined not to throw a chance away. Byrne tried a body blow, but was stopped, receiving in return a smasher on the nose—more claret. Jem’s shoulder again shielded his lug from a visitation. Counter-hits: Ward’s told first, and Byrne’s was stopped. Byrne rushed in; Ward hit up heavily, but missed, and Byrne went down.

14.—Thirty-three minutes had now elapsed, and Jem showed slight symptoms of fatigue. (“Take your time,” cried his seconds, “the day is long, and you must win without a scratch.”) Byrne appeared to have got his second wind, and went in with spirit, but was stopped right and left. Ward was busy with his left, and again stopped a right-hander with his shoulder. A short rally, in which Byrne was unable to plant a blow, but was hit down with a flush hit from the left. (Twenty to one on Ward, which Neale offered to take, but no go.)

15.—Ward made a feint with his left, and the next instant popped it in in good earnest. Counter-hitting. Byrne could not get home, and had it smartly on his mouth. Several left-handed jobs, and a dreadful upper-cut from Jem, when Byrne went down groggy.

16.—Byrne tried, the left at the body, but missed, and went down without a blow.

17.—Jem jobbed twice with his left, and got away. Byrne’s hits were well meant, but out of distance. Byrne received an upper-cut from the left, and went down.

18.—Ward, all confidence, had recovered his temporary weakness. Byrne tried his left, but was stopped. Jem, after his feint, popped in his left three times, and Byrne was dropped.

19.—Counter-hitting with the left. Ward’s blows told, but Byrne’s were short. Jem stopped right and left, and got away. Byrne was completely puzzled, and did not know what to be at. Jem tipped him a left-hander. Byrne once more tried the right, but Jem’s shoulder was in the way, and he laughed at the impotent attempt. A rally, which ended in Byrne being hit down by Ward’s right.

20.—One hour had now elapsed. Ward was as fresh as a kitten, completely belying the rumour that he could not stand forty-five minutes. Poor Byrne received several severe jobbers, and went down.

21.—Things were now apparently fast drawing to a close. Ward did as he liked, hitting left and right. Byrne down.

22.—It was now admitted on all sides that Byrne showed game. He would not be taken away; and after receiving additional jobbers, was hit down, catching the upper-cut as he fell. (“Take him away,” was the general cry.)

23.—Byrne made a bold effort to get a turn in his favour, and rushed to a rally, but his opponent was too good a general, stopping him at all points, and returning with great severity; in the end hitting him down with a sweeping blow from the left.

24.—Jem tapped his man with his left. Byrne nodded, showing that he was still in hopes. Byrne made play with unexpected vigour, but Jem out-generalled him, popped in his left-hand teazer, and dropped him.

25.—A guinea to sixpence on Ward. Byrne made a desperate effort, and left-handed counters were exchanged, Byrne catching Ward on the throat. (Cheers for Byrne, and the Wardites astonished.) Byrne fought away, and gave Ward his work to stop him. He at last fell from a left-handed nobber.

26.—Byrne rather exhausted by his exertions in the last round, but still determined to do his best. Hits were exchanged—slight on the part of Byrne, but heavy from Ward; and in going down, poor Byrne received a heavy upper-cut.

27.—Ward’s friends again up in the stirrups, twenty to one going a begging. Ward ready at all points and full of confidence. Byrne a heavy receiver, and hit down with a flush tap in the mouth.

28.—Ward, fresh and jolly, hit with his left twice. Byrne bored in, and tumbled Ward down at the ropes, falling upon him.

29.—One hour and ten minutes had now elapsed, and Ward, instead of getting weaker, gained strength, showing the excellence of his condition. Byrne got away from a left-handed finisher. In a new attempt he was caught. He popped in his left at Ward’s bread-basket, but as he went down had a left-handed upper-cut.

30.—Counter-hits with the left on the mouth; both told, and were allowed to be the best exchanges yet made, all before being on the side of Ward. Byrne went down, but Ward caught him as he fell with a left-handed muzzler.

31.—A slaughtering round for poor Byrne, who had it repeatedly on the mouth with the 231left, and in going down received the upper-cut from Ward, who was never astray.

32.—Byrne greatly distressed. Ward went in to finish; planted his left three times. Byrne down.

33 and last.—Byrne now came up to make his last effort, but he was too far gone to make a change, and this more from exhaustion than hard hitting, for the blows were not delivered in dangerous places; still he was constantly receiving, and now again he had pepper in abundance, without being able to make any adequate return. In going down, Ward made a desperate back-handed offer with his right, but missed. It was clear to Spring and Reynolds that their man had no chance, and they prudently acknowledged Ward to be the better man. Jem immediately gave an active bound, shook hands with his fallen foe and his friends, and quitted the ring amidst loud cheers. The fight lasted one hour and seventeen minutes.

Remarks.—Thus ended Ward’s last battle for the championship of England, to which it may now be said Byrne had not the slightest pretensions. He had the vanity to hold his antagonist too cheap, and, unfortunately, deceived his friends, who followed his example. Ward, throughout, proved himself a consummate general, and never gave his opponent a chance, nor did he himself throw a chance away. He fought skilfully and scientifically, and has fulfilled that high character of his talents which was never doubted. Byrne proved himself an easy customer: he was clearly not in tip-top-condition; but it was never in his nature to beat a man like Jem Ward. He must now look for a second-rate customer, and profit by experience. That he is a game man at receiving, no one will doubt; but he was clearly afraid of his opponent after the first few rounds. It puzzled his friends to account for his never trying to stop Ward’s left, nor to rush to a ruffianing fight; but the fact was, his spirit was broken, and he had not his wits about him. He says, after the third round his arms felt as heavy as lead, and that he never was so transmogrified before. It is a singular fact that neither of the men had a black eye; neither had an external cut worth mentioning; nor was there a single good fall or cross-buttock throughout the fight. Byrne was beaten solely by exhaustion and repeated slaps on the nose and mouth, which would not have prevented his coming again had such a step been wise.

The men reached London on Wednesday night, Ward without a scratch, and Byrne only exhibiting a swollen mouth and nose, rather a surprising state of his phiz considering the repetition of Ward’s left-handed jobs.

On the Thursday following the fight Jem Ward was presented with a second champion’s belt by Tom Spring, at the Tennis Court, Windmill Street, on the occasion of Reuben Martin’s benefit; and on the following evening, when the battle-money was given up, he (Ward) offered to make a match to fight any man in the world for any sum from £100 to £500 a-side. This challenge was not accepted. Young Dutch Sam, however, offered to fight Ward if the latter would confine himself to twelve stone, and stake odds; but of course, as Ward could not so far reduce himself, the offer was not accepted. On the 25th of June, 1832, Jem wrote a letter to the editor of Bell’s Life in London, in which he stated that he had taken the Belt public-house at Liverpool, that it was his intention to retire from the ring, and to hand over the champion’s belt to the first man who proved himself worthy of it. Several challenges were subsequently issued to Ward, but none of them ever led to any meeting, and Jem adhered to his intention of not again entering the prize ring. He carried on business as a tavern keeper, first at the Star and then at the York Hotel, Williamson Square, Liverpool. In 1853, Ward removed to London, and became host of the Rose, in Jermyn Street. This speculation proving unsuccessful, his friends placed him in business at 232the Three Tuns, in Oxford Street, renamed the Champion’s Stores. Thence Jem Ward removed to his native locality, the east end of London, becoming landlord of the George, in Ratcliff Highway. The generation, however, who knew Jem as “the Black Diamond,” had passed away, and Ward once again migrated westward, this time opening the theatrical house, opposite Old Drury, known by various signs, and then as the Sir John Falstaff, in Brydges Street, a name now merged in Catherine Street, of which it is a continuation. We last saw Jem at the ring-side, looking, as a daily paper observed, “like a grey-moustached half-pay major,” at the wretched burlesque of a championship-fight, performed by Jem Mace and Joe Goss, at Farningham, Kent, on the 17th of May, 1866.

We must not omit to note that Ward possessed an inborn gift of artistic talent. His favourite pursuit was the wielding of the painter’s brush and maulstick. On several occasions Ward’s pictures were received with credit at the Liverpool Exhibition, and were mentioned approvingly by the public journals as displaying a remarkable degree of natural talent; so much so that an art critic wrote, “had Ward devoted himself to the study and practice of painting in his earlier years he would doubtless have attained eminence.” The writer, on his visit many years ago to Williamson Square, inspected in Jem’s studio, paintings (some sea-pieces especially) which bore marks of peculiar talent and no mean skill in manipulation. At this time too (she has retired from professional life), Miss Eleanor Ward, a pupil of Sir Julius Benedict, was fast rising in public esteem to the first ranks of pianoforte performers in the best of our concert-rooms. Ward’s hobbies, painting and music, adopted late in life, we fear injured his worldly calling as a sporting boniface, and, after several failures, he retired, by the assistance and votes of his friends, into that admirable institution, the Licensed Victuallers’ Asylum, in the Old Kent Road; in the parlour of one of the snug separate dwellings of which we conversed with him, still cheery and animated, in the month of June of this present year, 1880, in his 80th year; Jem dating his birth, as we have already stated, from “Boxing Day” in the last twelvemonth of the last century.

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