Chapter I · (continued 3)

Remarks.—​We question whether it is not an insult to the understanding of the reader to offer any remarks upon this singular exhibition of incapacity upon the part of the would-be champion. Of Tom Sayers we have nothing more to say than he did what he was called upon to do with the utmost nonchalance, and that he performed his task even easier than he had all along anticipated. The Novice did not exhibit a single point which would entitle him to be called even an “outsider.” From the time that he was foiled in his very first move he cannot be said to have even “tried.” All his senses seemed to have left him, and, as far as we were able to judge, the only predominant thought in his mind was how to escape from the dilemma in which he had been placed, with the least damage to himself. Doubtless he was hit very heavily, but still he had not received even half enough to justify him in crying “a go,” had he meant winning 401 at all hazards. That he must eventually have been beaten by such a man as Sayers, barring an accident, is a positive certainty, and that he exercised a sound discretion in not submitting to further punishment is equally true; but that he has done more than heap ridicule upon himself and those who brought him out, by his miserable performance, is a proposition not to be disputed for a moment. How such a judge of fighting as Harry Broome could have made the mistake he did we cannot understand, but the task of bringing out a candidate for the Championship once undertaken by a man of his known “talent,” it is easy to understand how the public were induced to come forward and take the long odds offered on Sayers. Among the deceived was the renowned Jemmy Massey, who, liking the appearance of the man, and being led on by the reports of Harry Broome as to his man’s cleverness and gluttonous qualities, took the odds of 2 to 1 to a considerable amount. The whole affair was carried out from first to last in a quiet and orderly way, and there was no fault to find with the partisans of either man for either unseemly language or noisy demonstrations. All that was required to render it a model fight was a little more devil and resolution on the part of the loser. The battle money was handed to Tom Sayers at Owen Swift’s, “Horse Shoe” Tavern, Tichborne Street, on Wednesday evening, January 13th, when he was again adorned with the Champion’s belt, which, according to rule, was deposited with the stakeholder to abide the event of his next battle for the permanent possession of the trophy.

After this victory Tom appeared in a fair way to rest upon his laurels, but soon, to his astonishment, as well as every one else’s, it was announced that Tom Paddock had recovered, and did not intend to let the belt pass without a struggle. He issued a challenge to Sayers, in which he intimated that, it being dead low water in his exchequer, he was as poor as a church mouse, and that unless Tom would extend him the hand of charity, and meet him for £150 a side, instead of the stipulated £200, the darling wish of his heart could not be gratified. He thought he could win the belt, and hoped Tom would not let a paltry £50 stand between them and prevent a friendly mill. Sayers, like a “brick” of his own laying, promptly responded to the call, and intimated that the meeting would afford him the highest gratification. With such an old pal he could not allow the paltry “rag” to stand in the way. The match was at once made, and came off on the anniversary of Tom’s fight with the Slasher—​viz., on the 16th of June, 1858. After some narrow escapes from police pursuit and persecution, the two Toms met on a place selected as “maiden ground,” at Canvey Island.

And here the phrase, “the two Toms,” tempts us to a brief digression. The baptismal name of “Tom” has, indeed, furnished more than its calculable proportion of Champions of the fistic Ring; and hence we have pictured on a previous page the “three Toms” whose deeds made their names, in the first three-quarters of the present century, among admirers of pugilistic prowess, “familiar in men’s mouths as household words.” This curious pre-eminence of name may be further extended; for though the Christian name of John, the familiar Jack, and the royal one of George (during the reign of “the four Georges”) twice outnumbered the 402 Toms, yet Tom Johnson, Tom Paddock, Tom Sayers, and Tom King—​the ultimus Romanorum—​make up the mystic number of Seven Champions bearing that designation, while Jack Broughton, John Jackson, and John Gully are the only three to be credited to the far more numerous family of “Johns.”

The first to shy his wide-awake into the ring was Tom Paddock, who was loudly cheered. He was attended by Jemmy Massey and that accomplished master of the art Jack Macdonald, and looked as red as beet-root, and as strong and healthy as though he had never in the course of his life assisted at the ceremony of turning off the gas. His demeanour was the same as ever, that of extreme confidence, and the smile on his mug was more that of one who had merely come out to enjoy a little gentle exercise than of a candidate for honours preparing to meet the Admirable Crichton of the P.R. There was, however, nothing of bravado about him; he merely took the affair as a matter of course, which would soon be over. He was not kept many minutes before he was joined by his opponent, who, attended by Bill Hayes and Harry Brunton, was also received with a complete ovation of applause. Tom, like his brother Tom, also looked in rude health, but his good-tempered mug struck us as if anything too fleshy, and in this we were confirmed when he stripped, for it was then apparent that he was some three or four pounds heavier than he should have been under such a tropical sun. The lads shook hands good-humouredly, and while they were completing their half-finished adornments, the betting round the ring was of the liveliest and heaviest description: £25 to £20, £50 to £40, and similar odds to smaller sums upon Sayers were offered and eagerly accepted in all quarters, and it was as much as the stakeholder could accomplish for some time to collect and enter the names and amounts of perhaps some of the heaviest investments for many years.

We feel it incumbent upon us here to perform an act of justice to Alec Keene, which speaks volumes for his kindness of heart, and without which our account would be incomplete. After the men had been fighting about twenty minutes, Alec, who had followed the belligerents in a tug from Gravesend, made his appearance on the ground, and, finding that things were not going altogether smoothly with Tom Paddock, at once betook himself to his corner, offered him the hand of fellowship, and throughout the remainder of the fight stood by him, to afford him the benefit of that experience and advice which he is so capable of imparting.

403

THE FIGHT

Round 1.—​Both came grinning to the scratch, and manœuvred for a brief space for an opening. Paddock looked, as usual, big and burly, but it was evident he was no longer the active, fresh man we had before seen. His mug was more marked with age, and there was a dulness about his eye we never remember in former days. His condition was good and he was in good health, but still he looked only Tom Paddock in name. Sayers was more fleshy than he should have been, but this was the only fault to be found with him. His eye was as bright and clear as a hawk’s, and the ease of his movements was a picture to behold. His attitude was, as usual, all readiness for a shoot or a jump. Paddock, instead of rushing, as had been expected, steadied himself, and felt with his left for an opening. It was not long before he attempted it, but Sayers stopped him easily. He made a second attempt, and Sayers stepped back, shaking his noddle and laughing. After a little sparring, Paddock tried again, and got on Tom’s brow, but not heavily. Again they dodged, and at length two counter-hits were exchanged, each getting on to the proboscis. After this Paddock again reached Tom’s nozzle rather sharply, but was stopped in another attempt. Another bit of cautious sparring eventually led to very heavy exchanges, in which Sayers left a mark on Paddock’s left cheek, and napped a warm one over the right peeper, slightly removing the bark, and giving Paddock the first event. Several rapid passes were now made on both sides, but they were evidently mere trials to find out what each intended. After a pause Sayers tried his favourite double, which he succeeded in landing on Paddock’s cheek, but not very heavily. More sharp exchanges followed, the advantage being with Sayers, until they both retreated and stood to cool themselves, the heat being intense. After a few seconds thus employed, they again approached one another smiling, and after a dodge or two they exchanged slight reminders on the side of the nut, broke away, and then got at it again, when heavy counter-hits were exchanged, but Sayers was first, and inflicted a cut on Paddock’s left brow, calling forth the juice in abundance. Paddock landed on the cheek, but not heavily. After this slight exchanges with the left took place, and they again stood, Sayers awaiting the onslaught, and Paddock puzzled. At last the latter dashed in, and was easily stopped twice in succession. He rushed after Sayers, who ducked under his arm, and, as Paddock turned round again, nailed him very heavily over the left peeper, renewed the supply of carmine, and then got out of harm’s way. Paddock, nothing daunted, dashed in, but Sayers stopped him most beautifully, and then, putting in his double, got well on the old spot. Paddock once more bored in, and was neatly stopped, but, persevering with his usual gameness, heavy exchanges ensued, all in favour of Sayers, who was as straight as a die, and got heavily on the left cheek and brow. Paddock, wild, rushed after him; Sayers ducked, and then planted his left on the left cheek, another hot one, and then on the snout, renewing the ruby. As Paddock bored in, he made a cannon off the cushion by putting his double heavily on the mark and nose without a return, and Paddock then rushing after him, bored him down. This round lasted fifteen minutes, and at its conclusion the backers of Sayers offered 2 to 1—​an offer not accepted by the Paddock party, who looked indigo. It was patent to all good judges even thus early that Paddock was only Paddock in name, and that all the steel was out of him; and he has since informed us that he felt tired and worn out, and that he had no chance from this time. His gameness, therefore, in persevering so long and so manfully against his own conviction is the more commendable.

2.—​Both came up grinning, but while Sayers was almost scatheless, Paddock’s mug showed that Sayers had been there. Paddock, nothing daunted, rattled in, and got on to the top of Tom’s nob. Sayers returned, but not heavily and sharp counter-hits followed, Sayers on the damaged ogle, and Paddock on the left cheek. After this, Sayers got home his dangerous right on the side of Paddock’s nob, and the latter fell.

3.—​Paddock seemed slow, while Sayers was as fresh as a daisy; Paddock attempted to lead, but was very short. He, however, stopped Tom’s return. Heavy exchanges followed, Sayers receiving on the left cheek, and getting heavily on Paddock’s damaged squinter. Paddock, nothing daunted, made several desperate efforts, but Sayers got away with the greatest ease, and at length, as Paddock persevered, he once more countered him on the old spot, drawing more of the red port, and stopped Paddock’s return. Twice again did Sayers repeat this visitation, and get away from Paddock’s kindly intentions. Sayers then tried to lead off, but was well stopped. He made another attempt, and lodged his favourite double on the mark and nose, and then stopped Paddock’s return. Paddock now endeavoured to force the fighting, but Sayers danced away under his arm, came again, and, as Paddock rushed in, delivered a tremendous left-hander on the cheek, by the side of the smeller, drawing more home-brewed from the fresh cut. Paddock, angry, made several desperate efforts, but was well-stopped. At length they got close, and in the heavy exchanges, Sayers got his right heavily on the side of the nut, and received on the mouth. Paddock 404 now dashed in, and although Sayers pinked him on the nose and eye, he persevered until he forced Sayers down.

4.—​Paddock’s physog. seemed a good deal out of the line of beauty, while Sayers had scarcely a mark. Paddock still smiled, and attempted to lead, but the dash and vigour we remember of yore were all gone; his blows seemed but half-arm hits, and did not get near their destination. Almost every time Sayers stopped him with ease, and at last, as Paddock came boring in, he met him heavily on the cheek, producing another streak of cochineal. Still did Paddock persevere but only to be nailed again, and to have the Red Republican once more called forth. After this he got home on Tom’s chest, and then on the cheek, but the blows lacked vigour. Exchanges ensued, in which Paddock removed the bark from Tom’s sniffer, and turned on the main, but it was not a material damage. After a rest, in which both piped for wind, they again got at it, and a tremendous rally took place, in which Sayers was straightest and heaviest; he, however, got a hot’un on the mouth, which drew the Badminton. This was a tremendous give-and-take round, and Paddock caught it heavily on the left side of his nob, while Sayers received chiefly on the hardest parts of his cast-iron canister. In the end Paddock was down, amidst the vociferous cheers of the Sayers party.

5.—​Paddock made two ineffectual attempts to deliver, each being short, after which Sayers missed his favourite double. He then stopped Paddock’s one, two, and exchanges followed, in which Paddock reached Tom’s chin, and received with interest on the damaged cheek. Again did they deliver left and right, and Paddock drew more gravy from Tom’s sucker. Paddock rattled to it, but Sayers countered heavily on the snorer, again calling forth the ruby; he, however, napped one on the kisser, which must have shaken his false ivories. After this they piped for wind, the perspiration oozed from every pore, and they were evidently both tired. Paddock retired for a wipe, and after a pause Sayers went to him, and Paddock, seeing this, rushed in but Tom danced away, followed by Paddock, who eventually got a reminder on the cheek, and Sayers, in getting away from the return, fell.

6.—​Sayers feinted and dodged until Paddock came to him, when Tom got home a very hot one on the snuff-box, turning on the vermilion galore. Paddock, wild, dashed at him to deliver the right, but Sayers getting quickly out of mischief, the blow fell on the stake, and evidently caused the poor fellow intense pain. He was not cowed, however, but followed Sayers, who fell, and Paddock’s umpire appealing, the referee desired Sayers to be cautious.

7.—​Paddock slow, came up cautiously, and after a few dodges, led off, but was short, and received a reminder on the beak from Tom’s left. Sayers then got heavily on the mark with the left, and stopped the return. This led to heavy exchanges, in which Paddock received on the nose, and lost more juice, while Sayers only got it on the brow. Paddock tried again and again to lead off, but Sayers danced away, or ducked under his arm, and each time nailed him heavily on the nose or left cheek, and, finally, Paddock fell weak.

8.—​Paddock’s left peeper was now completely closed, and the left side of his knowledge-box much swollen. He was sent up very clean, however, and again tried to lead off, but Sayers was too quick for him, and got away. Still did the gallant Paddock persevere, but Sayers stopped him with ease, and returned on the damaged visual organ very heavily. Paddock again dashed in, but was short, his blows lacking vigour; and Sayers returned on the mark. Again and again did Paddock make an onslaught, but there was none of the vigour of the Paddock of former days; he was repeatedly stopped with ease, and Sayers caught him again and again on the mark and damaged chop. At last they got close together, and Paddock succeeded in knocking Sayers off his pins by a heavy right-hander on the whistler, which inflicted a severe cut, and drew the carmine (loud cheers for Paddock, who had thus won the two first events).

9.—​The blow in the last round had evidently shaken Sayers, who was slow to the call of time, and came up with a suspicious mark on his potato-trap. Paddock tried to follow up his advantage and incautiously went in, when Sayers met him with a beautiful left-hander on the snout, which sent him staggering, and put an end to his rushing for the time. This enabled Sayers to recover a little, and then, as Paddock afterwards came in, he made another call on the cheek, and got cleverly away from the return. Paddock followed him up, and heavy left-handed exchanges took place in favour of Sayers, who afterwards stopped Paddock’s right twice in succession. Good exchanges ensued to a close, and Paddock got down, just escaping Tom’s right.

10.—​After slight harmless exchanges, they stood piping, until Paddock took the initiative, but Sayers danced under his arm, and, as he turned round, pinked him on the blind goggle, and then, putting in his double, renewed the home-brewed from the cheek. Paddock tried a return, but was stopped twice in succession, and then got another little ’un on the out-water. After some neat stopping on both sides, Sayers made another call on the cheek, then on the chest, and after sharp exchanges, as Paddock rushed after him, he slipped and fell, but obviously from accident.

11.—​Paddock at once rushed to close quarters, but found Sayers nothing loth; they struggled for a brief period, and in the 405 end both fell, it being obvious that Sayers was the stronger man.

12.—​Paddock, who was piping and evidently fatigued, tried to lead off, but was miserably short. After a slight exchange they again closed, and, after a short struggle, Sayers threw and fell on his man, amidst the cheers of his admirers. One hour and two minutes had now elapsed.

13.—​Paddock, whose mug was all shapes but the right, and whose remaining goggle glared most ferociously, rushed in and missed. Sayers, in getting back, fell, and there was a claim of foul; Massey and Macdonald, according to the custom of modern seconds, neglecting their man, and rushing to the referee. There was not the slightest ground for the claim, Sayers evidently having fallen from pure accident; but the usual complimentary remarks were offered by the card-sharpers and other blackguards, whose only interest was, perhaps, the value of a pot of beer depending on the result, and who were proportionately anxious to win, tie, or wrangle rather than lose their valuable (?) investments. After some time the ring-keepers succeeded in clearing these gentry away, and inducing Macdonald and Massey to return to their duty; and the referee having said “Fight on,” the battle proceeded.

14.—​Paddock, to whom the delay had afforded a short respite, dashed in, caught Sayers on the cheek, closed, and both fell.

15.—​Sayers feinted, and got on to Tom’s nozzle, drawing more claret, and, in getting away from a rush, crossed his legs near the stakes and fell.

16.—​Paddock, who was evidently fast getting worn out, at the instigation of his seconds dashed in, as if to make a final effort to turn the scale; he let go both hands, but was short, and Sayers once more pinked him on the swollen smeller. Paddock still persevered, and more exchanges, but not of a severe description, took place, followed by a breakaway and a pause. Again did they get at it, and some heavy counter-hitting took place; Sayers well on the mouth and nose, and Paddock on the brow and forehead. Paddock then rushed in and bored Sayers down at the ropes. (Another claim of foul disallowed.)

17.—​Paddock, desperate, rushed at once to work; and they pegged away with a will, but the punishment was all one way. At last they closed and rolled over, Sayers being top-sawyer. In the struggle and fall the spikes in Sayers’s boot in some way inflicted two severe wounds in Paddock’s leg, and Massey declared that the injury had been committed on purpose; but this every one who saw the fight was convinced was preposterous. Even supposing it was Sayers’s spikes, it was evidently accidental, but so clumsily did they roll over that it is not impossible that it was done by the spikes in the heel of Paddock’s other boot, which spikes were much longer and sharper than those of Sayers. The idea of Sayers doing such a thing deliberately when he actually had the battle in hand is too ridiculous to admit of a question.

18.—​Paddock rushed in and caught Sayers on the side of the head with his right, and they closed and pegged away at close quarters until Sayers got down.

19.—​The in-fighting in the last round had told a tale on Paddock’s nob, which was much swollen, and the left eye was now beginning to follow suit with the right. At last they got close, and both fell, Paddock under. Massey made another claim that Sayers fell with his knees on Paddock, but it was evidently an attempt to snatch a verdict.

20.—​Paddock tried to make an expiring effort, but was wofully short, and Sayers countered heavily with the left on the damaged cheek, then repeated the dose with great severity, staggering the burly Tom, who, however, soon collected himself, and once more led off, but out of distance. He then stood, until Sayers went to him, popped a heavy one on the nose, and the right on the cheek, then closed at the ropes, where he fibbed Paddock very heavily, and both fell, Paddock under.

21 and last.—​Paddock came very slowly to the scratch, evidently without the ghost of a shadow of a chance. He was groggy, and could scarcely see; the close quarters in the last round had done their work, and any odds might have been had on Sayers. Paddock tried a rush, but, of course, Sayers was nowhere near him, and as he came again Sayers met him full on the right cheek, a very heavy hit with his left. It staggered poor Tom, who was evidently all abroad, and all but fell. He put out his hands, as if to catch hold of Sayers to support himself, and the latter, who had drawn back his right hand to deliver the coup de grace, seeing how matters stood, at once restrained himself, and seizing Paddock’s outstretched hand, shook it warmly, and conducted him to his corner, where his seconds, seeing it was all over, at once threw up the sponge, and Sayers was proclaimed the victor in one hour and twenty minutes. Paddock was much exhausted, and it was some time before he was sufficiently himself to realise the fact that he had been defeated, when he shed bitter tears of mortification. That he had any cause for grief beyond the fact that he was defeated no one could say; indeed if ever man persevered against nature to make a turn it was he, for notwithstanding the constant severe props he got whenever he attempted to lead, he tried it on again and again, and, to his praise be it said, took his gruel with a good temper exceeding anything we have ever witnessed on his behalf during the whole of his career. As soon as possible after the event was over, the men were dressed and conveyed on board the vessel, where Paddock received every 406 attention his state required; but it was long before he recovered from the mortification he felt at his unexpected defeat. Sayers in the meantime went round among the spectators, and made a collection for him amounting to £30.

Remarks.—​Although the above battle tells its own tale, our account would not be complete unless we appended a few remarks, not only upon the contest itself, but also on the general management and other concomitants. From the very commencement it was obvious to us that the fight was out of Tom Paddock. All the devil and determination for which he had been so famous had completely left him, and he was almost as slow and ineffective as the old Tipton. True, he left no stone unturned, and never once flinched from the severity of the punishment administered to him. He took all that Sayers gave with apparent indifference, and although it was obvious his powers of delivering had departed, his extraordinary gifts as a receiver of punishment were fully equal to his olden reputation; and, as we have before remarked, his good temper exceeded anything we have ever witnessed on his part. It was supposed by many that had he not injured his right hand by the blow delivered upon the stake he would have done better; but, as he used that mauley afterwards so effectually as to floor the Champion, and as he admitted to us that he felt his cause to be hopeless previous to that accident, such speculations go for nought. That both his daddles eventually became much swollen and innocuous is true, but that he could have turned the tide in his favour had this not have been the case, we do not believe. It was not the mere hardness of the hammer that was wanting, but the steam for driving the hammer was absent. The principal cause of regret was that he should have been induced, after his severe illness, to try conclusions with one so much fresher, and, as it turned out, stronger than himself; but, however much his physical powers had declined, it was all along evident that his old spirit of daring everything was as strong in him as ever. From the first moment he entered the ring he did all, and more than all, that could be required of him to make a turn in his favour, but in vain. As may be gathered from our account, he once or twice seemed to gain a slight advantage, but it was very short lived. Enough, however, was done by him to convince us that had he been the Paddock of five years ago, the chance of Tom Sayers retaining his proud position would have been anything but “rosy.” The collection made for Paddock proved the estimation in which his gallantry was held by the spectators.

Sayers, throughout the contest, fought with that extraordinary judgment of time and distance which so much distinguished him during the last few years of his career; and from the first it was apparent that any diffidence he might have displayed in his mill with the Slasher had completely disappeared. He abstained, to a considerable extent, from the harlequinade which he displayed in that encounter, and often stood and fought with his ponderous opponent with steadiness and precision. He fell down, it is true, three times, but only on one of these occasions could it be fairly said that it was not accidental, and even then we do not believe that it was a wilful act, especially as it was clear that the tumbling system was farthest from his thoughts, and his great desire was to keep Paddock on his legs.

Tom had now reached the very pinnacle of his fame, for among the not very extensive range of big ones then in the field—​Harry Poulson, Aaron Jones, the Tipton Slasher, and Tom Paddock had fallen beneath his punishing arm, while Harry Broome, having struck his flag to Tom Paddock, and Harry Orme (who had also retired) surrendered to Harry Broome—​there was a clear title made for the Little Wonder, Tom Sayers, the first ten-stone Champion.

This state of things seemed likely to leave Tom to enjoy in otium cum dignitate the laurels of his many hard-fought days. The year 1858 grew old, when once more “an Unknown” was talked of, who would be backed to try conclusions for the £400 and belt against the redoubted Tom. Again these rumours came from the head-quarters of the erewhile Champion, Harry Broome, in the Haymarket; and to the astonishment of every one who recollected the “lame and impotent conclusion” which, sixteen 407 months before, marked what was supposed to be the first and last appearance within any ring of Mr. Bill Bainge (Benjamin), that worthy was named as the man for the coming fight.

It was urged by himself and his friends that he did not have fair play in his training for his former battle; that he was very far from well on the day of fighting; that these drawbacks, coupled with his novelty of his position in entering the ring for the first time, and going through the ceremony of peeling, &c. before the assembled throng, had quite unnerved him, and rendered him almost oblivious as to what had actually taken place. The weather, too (it was January, and bitterly cold), had a great effect on him, his frame not being accustomed to the exposure in a “state of buff;” and besides all this, he himself asserted that the suddenness and severity of the punishment he received was something that had more paralysed than hurt him. He had felt ever since that a stigma attached to his name, which he felt conscious was not deserved. He believed himself at heart to be no coward, and, being anxious to vindicate himself, he had begged his backer to give him an opportunity of clearing his character, and that gentleman, believing his version of the case to be true, had kindly granted him a new trial. Of course, when Sayers heard of the challenge he was nothing loth, feeling, as he did, certain of victory, while further calculating that what he considered such an easy job would bring him six months nearer to the retention of the belt as his own private property, he threw not the slightest difficulty in the way of settling preliminaries, and articles were signed and delivered at once.

The men did not go into training immediately, as they had nearly six months before them, but Benjamin took every opportunity of gaining such knowledge as might assist him in his undertaking, and acting under the advice of an experienced ring-goer, he lost no time in securing the services of “ould Nat Langham,” whose judgment could not but prove of the greatest assistance. Liberal offers were made to Nat to go down to Shirenewton, where Benjamin was resident, to take the entire management of him, but Nat rightly judged that his own business was such as to require his presence; he, therefore, contented himself with an occasional run down for a couple of days, when he enforced upon his pupil some of his own peculiar style of practice in many a heavy bout with the mufflers. As he could not undertake the whole training, however, Nat recommended Bill’s backer to send a retaining fee to the bold Bendigo, whose country habits, sobriety, vigilance, and judgment he knew could be depended upon, and the appearance 408 of his protégé on the day of battle proved that his confidence had not been misplaced, for his whole bearing was the very perfection of condition. Bendy, however, had a corporation of most Daniel Lambert-like proportions, no doubt much increased by good living, in which he had indulged while superintending his new pupil, and was therefore a curious choice for the trainer to a candidate for the championship.

As to the gallant Tom, he occupied the next four months after the articles were signed in starring it about the country, and exhibiting himself, his cups and his belts, to hosts of admiring friends. He took a benefit here, a benefit there, and a couple of benefits in one week somewhere else, and so on, and was everywhere so well received, that he must have returned to town, prior to his going into work, with a perfect sack full of “shiners.” He further announced at these gatherings his retirement from the Ring, which he had already fixed for June, 1860, when the belt would become his private property.

From the very first Tom held this match extremely light, and had expressed the most entire confidence, a confidence which at one time during the fight now under description we thought was very near proving his downfall, from the fact of his having split on the same rock which has proved fatal to many a good man and true under similar circumstances. We allude to neglect of training. The first portion of Tom’s exercise, which did not extend over more than seven weeks, was taken, as on former occasions, in the neighbourhood of Tunbridge Wells, but about a month later he removed to Rottingdean, another favourite locality of his, for the purpose of sea bathing, and it was during his stay at this place that his practices were anything but conducive to high condition. During his so-called training, Tom, instead of the usual walking, running, &c. was repeatedly seen on horseback in full career after the harriers which meet in the neighbourhood, and during these gallops his falls were anything but few and far between. Had the champion, by an unlucky purl, dislocated a limb or sprained an ankle or a wrist, what a pretty pickle his backers would have been in, and how he would have cursed his own folly! His backers’ money would have been thrown away, his belt would have been forfeited, and he would have had to recommence his career of three years as its holder, in addition to losing the confidence of those who were behind him. As it was, on entering the ring, the general remark was that he was too fleshy, and there were signs of a protuberance in the neighbourhood of his bread-basket which told an unmistakable tale. Many a 409 brave fellow has suffered severely for this reckless despising of an adversary, and has thereby lost a position which he has never been able to regain.

The rumours and speculations anent this match were of the most extraordinary character. Tales of deep-laid conspiracies to rob the public—​such as it has never been our ill fortune to see put into practice during our career as chroniclers of this truly British sport—​were rife. The croakers and slanderers, who always look at the dark side of the picture, and by listening to the statements of those who attempt to decry the ring by blackening the characters of its members, are always ready to see “a barney” in every match, could not be persuaded to believe that Tom Sayers had far too high a notion of himself to listen to any suggestions on such a subject; and that, even admitting, for the sake of argument, that his principles might give way (which we were confident they would not), his pride and vanity were such as to forbid the supposition. While on the subject of “barneys” we may be permitted to remark, that such occurrences are much more common in the imaginations of some would-be knowing ones, who are literally know-nothings, than in the actual practice of the P.R.; and that we firmly believe, and we state it earnestly and seriously, that there is far less of this kind of thing in the doings of the members of the Prize Ring than in almost any other sport. Besides these rumours about “Mr. Barney,” there were whisperings that Benjamin was in reality an extraordinary good man, and that the winning of the former fight by Sayers was purely a piece of accidental good fortune. How these various “shaves” were received by the general public and by the cognoscenti may be best gathered from the fact that as the day approached no one would take less than 4 to 1 about Benjamin winning, and that many persons laid 5 to 2 that Sayers would win in a quarter of an hour. The betting on the whole, however, was small in amount, the cause no doubt being the preposterous odds demanded, which, as the backers of Sayers said, was actually buying money.

Shortly after eleven o’clock Tom Sayers modestly dropped his castor over the ropes, and then as modestly crept under them himself. He was attended by Jerry Noon and Harry Brunton, and was received with enthusiastic cheers. He had wisely donned his milling boots and drawers, and had therefore only to remove his outer shell. After an interval of five minutes he was followed by Benjamin, who made his entrée in an equally unpretending way. He also was well received. He was waited on by the Bold Bendigo and Jack Macdonald. At this time there were several 410 offers to bet £20 to £5 on Sayers, but there were no takers. Despatch being the order of the day, no time was lost by the men in preparing for action. Benjamin, like Sayers, had taken the precaution to make ready beforehand, so that a very few minutes sufficed to strip and tie the colours in their appropriate places. Sayers sported a pink and white striped brocaded silk of the richest description, while Benjamin adhered to the old-fashioned blue and white spot. By twenty-three minutes past eleven o’clock, under a burning sun, the men were delivered at the scratch and stood ready for hostilities amidst the most profound silence. Benjamin appeared in perfect health and condition; he had a smile of confidence on his mug, and he stood well up in a fearless manner, presenting a wide contrast to his début on the former occasion. He stood well over Sayers, whose height is only 5 feet 8½ inches, and struck us as decidedly the more powerful man. Although Tom was evidently too fleshy, there was a dash and calm self-possession about him which denoted the more accustomed boxer. He moved about in a business-like way, and evidently had no fears for the result.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—​Benjamin stood well on the defensive, and there was much in his position to remind us of his mentor, Nat Langham. He fixed his eye on Tom, and sparred for a short time to see what could be done. His whole bearing, indeed, was such as to call forth a general remark that he was a different man. Tom dodged in and out in his usual style, evidently trying for his favourite double, but Benjamin was ready. At length Tom dashed in, and delivered his left on the cheek, but was beautifully countered on the smelling bottle, and Benjamin had the honour of gaining “first blood” from that organ, a success which was hailed with much cheering from the Taffies. Sayers seemed pricked at this, and making his favourite dodge, he popped the left on the body and then on the left cheek, knocking Benjamin off his pins, thus gaining the second event, and equalizing matters.

2.—​Benjamin, nothing daunted, came steadily to the scratch, and, after a feint, let go his left, which was well stopped. He got away from the return, and after some sparring got home the left on the chest, and they got to close quarters, when the in-fighting was of a heavy description. Each got pepper on the nozzle and whistler, and Sayers also planted heavily on the side of Bill’s nob. In the close at the ropes Benjamin was forced down.

3.—​Both came up a good deal flushed, and each seemed blowing. Benjamin looked serious, and was rather cautious. Sayers, anxious to be at work, dashed in, and got home a very straight one on the proboscis, but Benjamin with great quickness countered him on the left cheek, just under the eye. This led to desperate exchanges, in which there appeared to be no best. At length Sayers caught his man round the neck, and holding him tight, pegged away with a will on his dial, and finally threw him heavily, his nob coming with some force against the stake.

4.—​Benjamin, desperate, at once rushed to work, and after some tremendous exchanges, each getting it on the left eye, Benjamin fell.

5.—​Sayers tried to lead off, but Benjy walked away, in obedience to his seconds. Sayers followed until they got close together, and a magnificent rally followed, in which Sayers drew the claret from Bill’s right brow, and also paid a heavy visit to the conk. Bill got on Tom’s left cheek, but his blows had not the precision and weight visible on the part of Sayers.

6.—​Benjamin was evidently shaken by the punishment he had received, which even at this early period was very severe. He sparred, and was evidently in no hurry. Sayers seeing this went to him, but was exceedingly wild in his deliveries. At last he got home on the bread-basket, but without effect, and Benjamin missed his return. Tom now 411 feinted, and just reached Bill’s smeller, but it was a mere flyblow. He tried a body blow, and was well countered on the cheek and mouth. A close and in-fighting followed, in which both were very wild, but in which Tom again turned on the main from Benjamin’s nose. After a struggle both fell through the ropes.

7.—​Benjamin looked savage. He lost no time in dashing at his man, and a tremendous round followed. Sayers let go the left at the nose, but Benjy countered him straight and well with the same hand, opening a fresh bottle. Several tremendous counters with the left followed, Benjamin astonishing every one by his calmness, and by the precision with which he timed his hits. Each got pepper on the nose and eyes, and Sayers napped a nasty one on the middle of the forehead. Sayers now missed his left, and Bill returned well on the cheek. They broke away, and after surveying one another again went to it, and more heavy exchanges took place, in which Tom again turned on the main from Bill’s nasal fountain. Benjamin persevered, and again did they dispute the ground inch by inch. Both were blowing, and the confidence of Bill’s friends was looking up. It was plain both men meant to do all they knew in this bout, and that each felt that it was to be the turning point, one way or the other. Sayers now got heavily on the left eye, which began to close, while Bill caught him on the mouth. The fighting was tremendous, and the way Benjamin stood to his man was beyond all praise. Sayers now and then was extremely wild, and had Benjamin possessed more knowledge of the art the result might have been serious, for Tom was evidently tiring fast, but still the greater force of his hitting was evidently telling a tale. As hit succeeded hit Bill’s dial grew more slantindicular; but he was undaunted, and evidently had made up his mind to do or die. At length they got to close quarters, when some heavy fibbing took place, and both fell, Benjamin under.

8.—​Bill’s left eye was all but closed, the bump at the side telling of Tom’s powers of delivery. Sayers was much flushed, and puffing like a grampus; he lost no time, however, in going to work, evidently hoping to frighten his man. Benjamin was ready, and after some sharp exchanges in his favour, he retreated. Tom followed, and as Benjamin attempted to plant his left, Tom cross-countered him heavily with his right on the jaw, and knocked him off his pins. He was almost out of time, and it required all the exertions of his seconds to get him round.

9.—​Benjamin shook himself, and came up resolutely, but evidently much shaken. He sparred a little, and on Tom going in, he timed him neatly on the middle of the dial, but without much force. Again did Sayers try it with a like result, and Benjamin then dashed in, but was short. Sayers returned with great quickness on the bad eye, and poor Benjamin was again floored.

10.—​Benjamin struggled up gamely, although requested to give in; he held up his hands, and tried to counter with his man, but Tom with great neatness got well home on the good eye, avoiding the return, and Benjamin once more dropped. His seconds threw up the sponge, but the poor fellow broke from them, with an intimation that he was not licked, and wanted to prove he was no cur, and commenced.

11th and last.—​Benjamin tried to lead off, but it was evidently a mere flash in the pan; he missed and stumbled forward, when Tom gave him a slight tap on the nose, which sent him for the last time to grass. He was conveyed to his corner, and his seconds then declared he should fight no longer. Sayers went to him to shake hands, but Benjamin, who was all but blind, wished to commence another round. This, of course, could not be listened to, and the poor fellow was forced from the ring against his will, Sayers being proclaimed the winner in twenty-two minutes, amidst the enthusiastic cheers of his friends. Benjamin was much exhausted, and his punishment was as heavy as one generally sees in double the time. He took it, however, unflinchingly, never complaining from first to last; and on this occasion, although defeated, his most determined enemy (if he has one) cannot say he was dishonoured. Sayers also was much exhausted, but this arose not so much from his punishment, although in this respect he did not come off scatheless, as from his want of condition telling upon him in a battle which was disputed for some rounds with unwonted quickness and desperation.

Remarks.—​Having commented upon the want of condition of Tom Sayers, and having gone at some length into a description of this short but busy fight, it is unnecessary to trouble our readers with many remarks thereupon. That Benjamin succeeded in redeeming his character, and proving that he can receive punishment and struggle hard for victory when properly looked after, is not for a moment to be denied, but that he will ever make a star in the pugilistic horizon we do not for a moment believe. He is, at 34, too old to learn the rudiments of the business; at that age even the limbs of a practised boxer begin to get stiff, and it is therefore extremely improbable that those of a man trained to other pursuits can acquire that quickness and readiness so necessary to a finished pugilist. Had he begun some years ago, we think it not improbable, with such strength and activity as he possesses, he might have hoped to rank in the first division. The desperation with which he contested the seventh round—​which was one of the sharpest and severest we ever 412 saw—​evidently showed what he might have done; but as it is we think, having fulfilled his mission and proved to his friends that he is composed of more sterling metal than they gave him credit for, the best advice we can give him is to shun for the future the attractions of the P.R., and devote himself to the duties of his station in his own country. We are glad for his own credit sake that he determined to undergo this second ordeal, and equally glad that he came out of it so successfully. It also gives us pleasure to know that he has good and staunch friends at his back, who having witnessed his performance on Tuesday, are perfectly satisfied with him. Of Tom Sayers we have only to say that he did not fight so well on this as on former occasions; and, as we think this was entirely owing to want of condition, we feel we are only doing him a favour in impressing upon him the necessity in future of leaving no stone unturned to retain that confidence which has been hitherto so implicitly placed in him.

Thus ended the second attempt of the Broomes (Harry and Frederick) to wrest the belt from the great little Champion, but there were other “Richmonds” now in the field. Bob Brettle, of Birmingham, could not persuade himself that he was unable to interpose a check to the victorious career of the hardy Tom. Bob had his own reasons, too, for believing in his chance. He had tried conclusions with the Champion with the gloves, and felt assured he had the best of it; and in this, perhaps, he was not far wrong, for it was pretty generally known that Tom was much more at home with his digits in nature’s habiliments, and in a four-and-twenty-feet ring, than when they were muffled in horsehair in the sparring-school. The backers of Tom at first laughed at Bob’s propositions, but he declared he was in earnest, and went so far as to say they would wish they had let him alone before they had done with him. After much palaver Sayers offered to stake £400 to £200, but Brettle then required the belt to be thrown in. This, of course, was rejected, Tom considering that as holder of that trophy he was only bound to defend it on even terms. Brettle was extremely loth to give up his chance for the belt, but still he did not think it equivalent to the extra £200 which Sayers had offered to stake, and eventually he waived all pretensions to the “ornamental,” and closed the bargain on the chance of obtaining the “useful,” which would have sufficed to purchase a belt of double the mere intrinsic value.

At the meeting at Owen Swift’s, where the articles were finally ratified, a friend of the Champion’s treated the match with such ridicule that he ventured to suggest the probability of Bob being licked in ten minutes, whereupon Brettle, in the heat of the moment, offered to bet £100 to £10 against such a contingency. “Make it £200 to £20,” said Tom’s friend, “and it’s a bet.” “Done,” said Bob, and the money was staked in the hands of Alec Keene. All these preliminaries were adjusted before the second fight for the Championship in April between Tom Sayers and 413 Bill Benjamin, it being stipulated that Tom should name a day after that event was decided.

At Tattersall’s, on the previous Monday, September 18th, the event seemed to attract as much attention as the speculations on either of the great handicaps, and in the yard a regular ring was formed, where betting, or offers to bet, went on very briskly. The backers of Tom commenced by offering 5 to 2, at which some few investments were made, but the Brums soon opened their mouths for longer odds, and would take no less than 3 to 1, and at this price again money was laid until the Sayersites in their turn held back, and speculation left off at offers of 5 to 2. In the evening, at the sporting houses, 3 to 1 might have been got in some few instances, and a sanguine admirer of Tom’s actually laid 4 to 1, but we believe he was a solitary specimen.

For at least a month, Mr. John Gideon, one of the most earnest backers of Sayers, had been on the look-out for a scene of action which might be reached with ease and comfort, and which, at the same time, should be so situated as to be beyond the reach of the rough and ready attendants at boxing matches, whose presence is anything but desirable, and also tolerably safe from the too-prying eyes of the powers that be, who do not love a mill, and who will in the most unaccountable manner interfere with the pleasures of the Fancy, on the ground that a friendly boxing-match is a breach of the peace. A few consultations with other managers of excursions, and a considerable expenditure of time and trouble, ended in the perfect success of Mr. Gideon’s arrangements, and not only did he carry the expedition to a triumphant dénouement, but ensured the utmost comfort to all the travellers. Of course the profits of the expedition were equally divided between the backers of both men, and the figure being tolerably high, and the company unusually numerous, there is no doubt each realised a handsome sum. Owing to the distance to be travelled, a very early start was found absolutely necessary, and seven o’clock being the hour named, the “lads wot loves a mill” had to be early afoot; and many there were who having, as usual, devoted the first two or three hours of the morning of the 20th of September to “seeing life,” found some difficulty in opening their eyes in their very first sleep to enable them to get to the starting-post in time. Many a one started breakfastless, and many were the wistful glances cast at the victualling department under the able charge of Mr. Dan Pinkstone, an old and well-known caterer, long before the end of the journey was attained; but as the train could not be stopped there was 414 of course no chance of an issue of stores from the commissariat until the goal was reached—​a field near Ashford, in Kent, being the champ clos for combat.

The train comprised thirty-six carriages, every one of which had at least its full complement of travellers, and many were over-full. The start was effected by a quarter before eight, and with the aid of two powerful engines a rapid and pleasant journey was effected to the scene of action, on entirely maiden ground, some sixty miles from the Metropolis, which was reached shortly after ten o’clock. The vast multitude lost no time in clearing out from the carriages, and a pioneer, who had gone on ahead the previous evening, placing himself at the head of the army, proceeded, closely followed by the veteran Commissary and his posse comitatus, to the proposed scene of action. No time was cut to waste in preparing the lists, which were in readiness before eleven o’clock. While these preliminaries were being arranged, a brisk business was carried on in the sale of inner ring tickets, and our readers may judge of the class of spectators and their number when we tell them that the sale realised a sum of £54 10s. for the benefit of the P.B.A. This done, Billy Duncan and his constables proceeded to clear out the ring, and experienced the usual difficulty in persuading the company to seat themselves at a sufficient distance from the enclosure. All were naturally anxious to be as close as possible, and accordingly had seated themselves in compact rows, those in front close to the ropes. The consequence was, that all were crowded together, and many were scarcely able to get a glimpse of the ring. And now as we have brought the men en face, we will say a few words concerning Tom’s antagonist, as we do not purpose to devote space to him in a separate Memoir.

Bob Brettle was born at Portobello, near Edinburgh, in January, 1832, and was therefore, six years younger than Tom Sayers. On the present occasion he just turned the scale at 10st. 4lb., and did not appear in any way too fleshy. By calling he was a glassblower, and it was while he was engaged in one of the larger establishments in the hardware districts that he first became connected with the P.R. His first essay of which we have any record was with Malpas, of Birmingham, whom he fought for £50 a side, on the 14th of February, 1854. There were 80 rounds, principally in favour of Bob, but eventually there was a claim of foul on his part. A wrangle took place; the referee gave two decisions, and ultimately the stakes were drawn. Brettle’s next encounter was with 415 old Jack Jones of Portsmouth, for £100 a side, on the 21st of November, 1854. Jack had only been out of the hospital a few weeks, and was in anything but condition; but still he had the best of the mill, Brettle resorting to the dropping system. Forty-nine rounds were fought in 105 minutes, when darkness came on, and as neither man was much punished, the referee ordered them to fight again on the following Saturday. On that day Jones was at the appointed place, but Brettle did not show, and it being discovered subsequently that he had been apprehended, either through the kind offices of his friends or by his own negligence, the stakes were awarded to Jones. After this Bob was idle until the 20th of November, 1855, when he defeated Roger Coyne, of Birmingham, for £25 a side, in 49 rounds and 48 minutes. Then came his match with Sam Simmonds, for £200 a side, which took place near Didcot, June 3rd, 1856, and was won by Bob very easily in 13 rounds and 16 minutes.

Another year, or rather more, elapsed before Bob made another essay, his next opponent being Job Cobley, dubbed by his patron Baron (Renton) Nicholson, “the Enthusiastic Potboy,” whom he fought for £100 a side, August 4th, 1857. Here Bob’s greater weight and superior strength enabled him to take a decided lead, and Job, finding it too hot to be pleasant, resorted to dropping, and finally lost the battle by falling without a blow in the 47th round, at the expiration of 90 minutes.

On the 25th of January following, Brettle met Bob Travers for £100 a side at Appledore, when, after fighting 42 rounds in 65 minutes, the police interfered. An adjournment took place to the following day, when they met again at Shell Haven, and after fighting 100 rounds in 2 hours and 5 minutes, Bob Travers, who had, like “the Enthusiastic Potboy,” found the earth the safest place, was decided to have lost the battle by falling without a blow.

Bob’s only subsequent encounter was with Jem Mace of Norwich, who, as may be seen in our next chapter, met him, for £100 a side, on the 21st of September, 1858, and at the end of two rounds and three minutes, although with none the worst of it, hid his diminished head, and declined to have any more. This was Bob’s last appearance prior to the present, and it was imagined by most people that he would retire from the Ring, but the temptation of a turn at the Champion was too great for him, and induced him to try a flight at the top of the tree. It is difficult to understand whence he got the confidence to match himself against Sayers, unless it was from his supposed superiority with the gloves—​in the case of Tom Sayers an unusually 416 delusive test. This brings us to the eventful 20th of September, 1858, and the ring at Ashford.

So soon as all were seated a cap was seen to fly over the heads of the dense mass, and in a second Bob Brettle, aided by his seconds, Alec Keene and Jem Hodgkiss, of Birmingham, was seen elbowing his way through the crowd. He was vociferously cheered on all hands, and his good-humoured mug brightened up with a broad grin of delight at the hearty welcome. Tom Sayers was not long behind him, and as he entered on the scene, attended by Jack Macdonald and Harry Brunton, he too was greeted with a tremendous ovation, which he acknowledged in a becoming manner, and then shook hands good-humouredly with his opponent. The spectators now began to make their final investments, and several bets of 3 to 1 were made and staked to considerable amounts. The last, however, that we heard was £25 to £10 on Sayers. After the lads had completed their toilettes Brettle came forward and offered to take £150 to £50 from Tom, but the Champion declined, as his money was all on. Bob then held up the note and offered to take the same odds from any spectator, but silence was the only reply, and he had to return the flimsy to his “cly.” Tom’s colour was a very handsome blue and white stripe, with blue border; and Bob’s a dark blue, with a white star. Brettle’s boots having been examined by Tom’s seconds, it was found that the spikes were beyond the regulation length, and had to be filed, but this was so inefficiently done that they were still far too sharp and long for the purpose for which they were intended. Had Sayers’s seconds done their duty resolutely they would have shown them to the referee, who doubtless would have ordered a still further curtailment, but Tom personally requested them to make no bother about it, as, in his own words, he “could give all that in.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—​On throwing off their blankets there was a great disparity in the appearance of the men, much greater, indeed, than would have been expected from the slight difference in weight. Tom, whose condition was superb, was broad-shouldered, thick-loined, and muscular, the weight being just where it ought to be; while Brettle looked narrow and round on the shoulders, and had not the upright, firm bearing of the Champion. In height, too, there appeared more than the actual difference of a bare inch. Tom’s mug, of the two, was fleshier than his opponent’s, but it looked hard as nails. In point of age it was evident there was a considerable difference in favour of the Brum, whose fresh, fair skin and healthful country appearance contrasted strongly with the Champion’s bronzed but somewhat stale complexion. The wear and tear of fifteen contests, and the gay life he had led, had evidently left their mark. Each had a pleasant, good-humoured smile on his phiz, but the Champion seemed to be more at home than his adversary. Bob looked cunning and shifty, walking round his man with a kind of crab-like, sideway movement, and leering out of the corner of his eye, evidently on the look-out to catch the Champion tripping, and make a dash at him with his right. Tom was awake, however, and though not moving far from the scratch, stepped with 417 his adversary, and contrived to keep continually facing him. At length Bob, finding his man so “fly” to his “little game,” dashed straight at him, and let go the left, which caught Tom very slightly on the nose. Tom nodded and smiled as much as to say, “Wait a minute;” and Bob renewed his journey round his man, who remained in the middle of the ring. At length Brettle again dashed in, and exchanges took place, in which Tom left his mark on Bob’s forehead, the bump being of considerable size. Brettle retreated, came again, and lunging out his left was prettily countered on the mouth, from which “first blood” was instantly visible, the blow being a hot ’un. Some neat exchanges followed on the side of the head; they then broke away, and, as Sayers followed his man, Bob ducked his head, but Sayers caught him a sharp spank on the proboscis, which led to counter-hitting, when Tom got well on the forehead, and Bob fell. A claim of first knock-down for Tom was made but disallowed, as Bob was evidently getting down when the blow reached him.

2.—​Bob’s nose and mouth showed that Tom had been there; he, however, dashed in, and heavy exchanges took place, Tom getting on to the left peeper and Brettle the body. Brettle now broke away, and resorted to his cunning peripatetic dodge, but Tom only grinned, turned as he moved, and waited for him. At length Bob dashed in, and got on the chest very slightly, Sayers returning well on the kisser. Brettle, after another pedestrian excursion, came again and let go the left, which was stopped, and he again “walked round and showed his muscle.” Tom stepped with him, and each tried to draw the other, until Brettle at last let go his left, and sharp exchanges followed on the cheek with the left, and Sayers fell. A claim of knockdown for Brettle not allowed, Tom being on the hop, and partially slipping down.

3.—​Sayers, on owning up, had a slight mark on the left cheek, which caused the Brums to cheer vociferously. Brettle, seeing it, made a dash to force the fighting, but Tom stopped him by a straight one on the whistler, and then closed. This led to some sharp but very wild in-fighting in Tom’s corner, and at last Brettle was down on his knees with all the worst of it.

4.—​The Brum came up blinking with his left eye, which had evidently got pepper in the last wild rally, and seemed as if about to close. It was now discovered that the ten minutes had just expired, and that his bet of £200 was saved. He lost no time in getting to work, but giving one or two sideway steps he dashed in, planted his right on the ribs, and then one or two sharp counter-hits were exchanged. While dodging and stepping in and out, Brettle’s spikes came into dangerous collision with Tom’s shin, and inflicted a serious wound; Tom pointed to the injured spot and shook his head, whereupon Bob apologised, assured him that it was unintentional, and promised to be more careful for the future. The wound was excessively deep, and only shows the extreme danger of using such absurd spikes, which are utterly useless to a man who intends really to keep on his legs. Tom, after a little dodging, got heavily on the nose, and counter-hits were exchanged, Tom getting very heavily on the left peeper, and receiving a hot one on the jaw, which knocked him clean off his legs. (“First knock down” for Brettle, who was enthusiastically cheered as he went to his corner.)

5.—​On coming up there was no mark of Bob’s visitation on Tom’s jaw, but the effect of Tom’s blows on Brettle’s mouth and eye was very visible. His nose and left eye were swollen, and the claret was still visible from his mouth. (The backers of Tom offered 4 to 1, but in only one instance was it taken—​viz., by Bob Travers, who invested “a tenner” on the Brummagem pet.) Brettle, after a little queer manœuvring, rushed in left and right, and got the latter on the body, but not heavily. He looked serious, and walked round and round, but finding Tom ready he tried a dash, succeeding in landing the right on the body. Tom got heavily on the forehead, and then, counter-hits being exchanged, Brettle got slightly on the neck, and Tom, with his right, caught Brettle very heavily on the left shoulder, and Bob went down in Tom’s corner. Sayers ran after Brettle as he was being carried to his corner, with a curious look of anxiety and alarm on his countenance, evidently thinking that he had inflicted some dangerous injury. Finding, however, that the blow had not had the serious effect he feared, he walked smiling to his corner.

6.—​Brettle came up looking very serious, and several times led off left and right, but quite out of distance. Tom then stepped in and tried his left, which Brettle cleverly avoided, and then returned on the chest. They quickly got to close quarters, and after a sharp exchange on the neck, Brettle fell forward on his hands in Sayers’s corner, Tom missing a terrific upper-cut with his right as he fell.

7th and last.—​Brettle missed several well-intended lunges with the right, and then walked round the ring; he came again, and tried the left with a similar result. He kept hitting out of distance, as if afraid of Tom’s right, which had already missed him so narrowly. Again and again did he step in and out, and as Sayers tried to catch him on the hop he would point and grin; at last he got slightly on the chest, receiving a little one on the cheek. Brettle retreated, and then hit out with his left most furiously, but missed, and Tom countered him heavily on the shoulder; Brettle immediately 418 put his right hand to his shoulder as if in pain; he, however, shook himself together, and tried to stand and prop his man with his right, but from the expression of his countenance something evidently was amiss, and on Tom’s approaching him he got down in his own corner, apparently suffering considerable pain. Solid Coates, his umpire, at once went to his corner, and on inquiry found that he had dislocated his shoulder, either by the force of his own blow, or from the effect of Tom’s heavy counter; and this being the case, of course he had no option but to resign the victory to Tom Sayers, who was hailed the conqueror in fifteen minutes. Tom at once went to shake hands with his fallen foe, and then resuming his clothes, quickly reappeared among his friends without a mark to show that he had been fighting. A medical friend who was on the ground quickly attended upon poor Brettle, and lost no time in restoring his arm to its position, and the poor fellow, more injured in mind than body, was soon sufficiently recovered to enter freely into conversation with his friends, many of whom believed, and still believe, that he had to the full as good a chance as Tom Sayers at the time so disastrous a termination to the battle occurred. That this was so is, of course, but a matter of opinion; our ideas on the subject will be found in the remarks appended. That Bob’s own opinion did not coincide with that of his friends may be gathered from the fact that he subsequently called upon us to state his intention of retiring from the ring. He says he knows of no man of his weight who is likely to try conclusions with him; that he has no intention of again overmatching himself as on the present occasion, and as he has a good business in Birmingham, he thinks he can well afford to leave fighting alone, at any rate as an active professor of the art. In this resolve we think he is perfectly right, and as he is a thoroughly honest, upright young fellow, and of an excellent temper, we do not doubt of his success.

Before closing this part of our account we should not be rendering justice where it is due did we not mention that Jack Macdonald, one of Tom Sayers’s seconds, on finding the nature of Bob’s injuries, rushed to his corner, and rendered very material assistance to the surgeon in attendance in restoring the dislocated arm to its socket.

Remarks.—​Where the battle was of such short duration, it is, of course, difficult to find much to say in the shape of remarks. To every judge of milling who was on the ground, not excluding some of Brettle’s own friends, it was obvious from the very first round that, bar an accident, the victory must lie with the favourite. In fact, in our own hearing, at the conclusion of the first round, where Tom drew the crimson from Brettle’s mouth, and set his sign manual on his forehead, one of the backers of the latter said, “It’s all over; we shan’t win.” It had been anticipated that the Champion, in his anxiety to win the bet of £200 to £20, would at once take the initiative, and that thereby he would throw himself open to the dangerous right-handed counters of Bob; but those who knew Tom Sayers were too well acquainted with his judgment and tact to believe any such thing; hence their confidence and the great odds they so freely laid. From the very commencement it was obvious Tom saw the game he had to play, and the calm way in which he shifted his position so as always to present a square front to the enemy delighted every one. He was, of course, taken by surprise at Bob’s getting home first, but this only rendered him steadier, and convinced him that he must act in a cautious manner. We do not believe he for a moment contemplated going for the bet, although we feel convinced that had one vicious upper-cut got home he must have won it to the greatest certainty. In all his recent fights he has been the one that has fought in the jump-about, dancing-master style, but here he was the steady old stager, quietly biding his time and seldom throwing away a hit. The knock-down blow in the fourth round was indubitably a fair knock-down, but it must not be forgotten that although matters thereby looked favourable for Brettle, the real fact was that Tom in his counter got home much heavier than his opponent, and that had he been stepping in instead of back at the moment he would not have been floored. The proof of the effectiveness of the blow was seen on the men again appearing at the scratch, when Tom showed no mark, while the evidence of his visitation to Bob’s eye was unmistakable. That the battle terminated as it did we cannot help feeling was fortunate for Brettle. Tom’s dangerous right—​never brought into play until he has his man “safe,” as he says—​was already busy; true, he missed once or twice, but he is not the man to do this often, and had it got home effectively there is no telling what injury he might have inflicted. The actual cause of Bob’s accident it is impossible to fathom. Some aver that it was partly caused by the heavy blow in the fifth round, others that the shoulder was injured by the fall on his hands, but, as he was able to use it so vigorously in the last round, we believe both these suppositions to be wrong. Possibly they may have rendered the muscles weaker than usual, and predisposed the arm for such a contretemps, but our own idea is that Bob, swinging his arm out so very viciously at a distance from his man, and receiving a tap on the collar-bone at the same moment, the joint was jerked out entirely in that manner. That his arm was dislocated there was not the slightest doubt, for we have the evidence not only of the surgeon himself, but also of Jack Macdonald, as to the dislocation being reduced: 419 and even if we had not, the expression of poor Brettle’s countenance and his contortions when in his corner were far too natural to have been put on for the occasion. We should not have thought it necessary to make these observations had we not heard it whispered that a set of idiots, who think everything connected with the ring is “a barney,” or something tantamount to it, have been going about saying that there was no accident at all, and that the statement as to Brettle’s accident was all moonshine. The gentry who make these remarks should look at home, and before throwing mud at persons in a different walk of life, should consider whether in the event of a similar compliment being paid to themselves, there would not be a much larger portion of the sticking part attached to them, and whether they could be as easily whitewashed as their humbler, though perhaps, honester, brethren of the P.R. Of Brettle’s performances we need say but little. He evidently found himself out-generalled from the first; and this being the case, all that remained for him to do was to make the best of a bad bargain, and this we are bound to say he did to the utmost of his ability. Our own opinion was, before the battle, that he had not the ghost of a chance, and that opinion was borne out by the result. We are sorry that he was disappointed in his expectations, which were entirely raised by his underrating his man; but as we do not believe he will be a loser by his defeat, he is, perhaps, not to be so much pitied as some of his less fortunate compeers. He has been always a general favourite, and so long as he perseveres in his present straightforward course he must retain the good wishes of all parties. As we have stated above, we think he has taken a wise resolution in retiring from the Ring, and we hope that no vain flattery on the part of any interested admirers will induce him to change his resolution.

These excellent remarks of the writer, on the readiness of silly persons to impute dishonesty to the losing pugilist, are as laudable as they are just and honest. We shall elsewhere have occasion to remark upon a recent work devoted to the resuscitation and reassertion of these defunct, discreditable, and often dishonest “shaves.”

With this very easy defeat of the Birmingham Pet, Tom Sayers, as was generally supposed, had disposed of the last of his competitors for the belt; but it was not to be so. A breeze, whispering of war, was heard from across the broad Atlantic. Aaron Jones, not long after his defeat by Sayers, had emigrated to the land of the stars and stripes, and being a fine-looking young fellow, of good address, and of quiet and civil deportment, had found much favour as a teacher of the art pugilistic among our Yankee cousins. His anecdotes of British boxers and exemplifications of the English method became fashionable among the young bloods of New York, and the subject of pugilism grew to be the talk of the town. John Heenan had been selected by a party to “whip” John Morrissey, who for some reason had become obnoxious to some of them, and Heenan’s friends made choice of Aaron Jones as trainer and ring adviser of “The Benicia Boy.” Heenan, however, being attacked by illness, was stopped in his work, and thus forced to go into the ring with a stone of superabundant flesh, and suffered defeat at the hands of Morrissey. About the close of the year 1858, distance lending enchantment to the view, the Transatlantic papers told us that Aaron did not think Tom Sayers such a very formidable customer after all, and “Had a mind to return and have a second (third?) shy for the belt.” 420 Rumour added that, failing Aaron, Uncle Sam was about to send over one of his champions, to see what he could do towards humbling the pride of the little Englishman. Early in 1849 rumour ripened into certainty, and a letter reached Bell’s Life office from Mr. Wilkes, inquiring on what terms Heenan could be placed on the rota to have his turn against Sayers. A good deal of astonishment was created at the time by the fact that the defeated man, and not the winner of the American fight for the championship, had been selected; but when it came to be remembered that Morrissey, the winner, was an Irishman by birth, and not a native American, the wonderment ceased, and Heenan was recognised as the proper representative of America. The Editor of Bell’s Life replied to Mr. Wilkes’s letter, intimating that immediately on the receipt of a deposit from Heenan he could be placed on the list. He further stated, however, that, in the event of his winning, he would not be permitted to take the belt back to America, without leaving its equivalent in value or remaining here three years to contest its possession against all comers on the usual terms. By the next mail, after Mr. Wilkes’s first letter, came a second, dated New York, March 29, 1859, which was as follows:—

“Office Wilkes’s Spirit of the Times, New York.

“March 29, 1859.

“Dear Sir,—​Enclosed please find a draft for £200 sterling, drawn in your favour on the Bank of Liverpool, which I have been requested to forward to you, on the part of Aaron Jones, in order that you may deposit for him the necessary sum for a meeting with the Champion of England within six months of the date of the battle of the 5th April, between Sayers and Benjamin; and in case the winner of that fight do not accept, you will please hold the money subject to my order. The language with which Jones accompanies this draft is as follows:—​‘I, Aaron Jones, hereby challenge the winner of the coming fight for the championship, to fight me in six months from that time for two hundred pounds and the Champion’s belt. The fight to take place near London, and to be governed by the rules of the London Prize Ring.’ Jones also requests me to say to you for him that ‘he would prefer having the forfeit or first deposit to be as much as fifty pounds, as he does not wish to be at the trouble of crossing the Atlantic for nothing, though he is willing to pay his own expenses over and back to get the fight.’ He also hopes that Sayers will, for old acquaintance’ sake, give him the first chance; but this is a consideration which I have no right to press, after having previously consented to lay before you the wishes or the claims of Heenan. Your sense of propriety will find a law for the matter, and will, I hope, likewise permit me to remain, yours, very truly at command,

“GEO. WILKES.

“P.S.—​I am also desired by the backers of Jones to say that the stakes will be increased to five hundred pounds a side, if the Champion wishes it.

“G. W.”

To this letter Sayers at once replied, closing with the proposition of Jones, and thus placing that hero first on the list of candidates after his second battle with Benjamin. Hardly had the missive of the gallant Tom been despatched when another letter arrived from Mr. Wilkes—​who throughout acted as the adviser and amanuensis of both Jones and Heenan—​enclosing 421 a sum of £50, which he had been directed by his friends to stake on the part of Heenan. In that letter he requested the stakeholder, if not contrary to rule, to give Heenan’s claim the preference, as that aspiring youth had been the first to challenge Sayers, and was fearful that if he was not at once placed on the list of candidates, his chance of encountering Sayers might be entirely lost by some unforeseen accident. Inasmuch, however, as Jones, with prudent foresight, had been the first to post the coal, the stakeholder felt bound, according to practice, to give him the priority, and Heenan was compelled reluctantly to moderate his impatience; Heenan, like Jones, offered, if Sayers wished, to increase the stakes to £500 a side.

Shortly after the second defeat of Bill Benjamin, Tom Sayers was called upon to meet Jack Macdonald, who had been delegated by Aaron Jones to act the part of plenipotentiary on his behalf. Another conference was held, and after many pros and cons., articles were signed, sealed, and delivered, under which Jones was bound to fight the Champion early in the current year, a margin of one month being allowed on either side as to the actual day of battle. For this match £50 a side was deposited. It was not long after this that a further communication was received from Mr. Wilkes, requesting the stakeholder to return him £50 out of the £200 he had sent for Jones, to pay the passage of Aaron to Europe, and to transfer the remaining £100 to the account of the match between Heenan and Sayers. He added, that if Jones intended to go on with his match he would have to find the remainder of his money himself, his American friends having some reason to be dissatisfied with him, and being desirous of transferring all their interest to the Benicia Boy. By the very next mail came another letter intimating that Jones would be able to find all his money himself, and therefore the match was still to be considered “on,” and so for several months the matter rested.

In the following October the public were startled at reading the following letter from Mr. Wilkes to the Editor of Bell’s Life in London:—

“Office, Wilkes’s Spirit of the Times, New York, Oct. 7, 1859.

“My dear Sir,—​I take pleasure of informing you that Aaron Jones, conceding to the common desire on this side of the Atlantic to see Heenan have the first chance at Sayers for the Championship (after the Unknown), has desired me to have forfeited the £50 which now remain staked for him in your hands against Sayers. Enclosed I send you Jones’s letter authorising me to take this course; and as I represent the money of his backers, your authority for declaring the match “off” will, I suppose, be considered complete. I forget, as I write, whether Sayers has already covered a deposit of Heenan’s for the Championship; if not, please let the same deposit be made and covered in his case (£50) as was made and covered in the case of Aaron Jones. I am very solicitous about this point as, for special reasons, I want Heenan regularly upon the record at as early a moment as possible. I send 422 with this a note to Sayers, directed to your care, in which I apprise him of Jones’s forfeit. Please preserve the note of Jones to me, and believe me to be yours, ever truly, at command,

“GEO. WILKES, Editor Wilkes’s Spirit of the Times.”

This communication was of course made known to Sayers without loss of time, and having now no business on hand, the way was clear for the Benicia Boy, and Tom’s backers being anxious that he should finish his career as quickly as possible, and get into business, at once covered the £50 of Heenan, and signed articles for Tom to fight him on or about the day originally fixed for the fight with Jones, supposing it was the wish of Heenan to step into Jones’s shoes. In this, however, the English managers of the affair had mistaken the meaning of Mr. Wilkes’s letter, for on their writing to him, with details of what had been done, the following reply was forwarded:—

“Office, Wilkes’s Spirit, New York, Nov. 23, 1859.

“My dear Sir,—​Your letter of 3rd inst., enclosing copy of articles for a fight between Heenan and Sayers, and signed by the latter, for our acceptance, reached me yesterday, and have been communicated to Heenan. We are all, however, taken by surprise at the proposal that the fight should come off in February next, instead of at the expiration of the regular six months, as was stipulated in the original proposition, and I am requested on Heenan’s part to say, that he expects the usual preparatory term will be granted to him. By reference to his cartel you will find he challenged Sayers to fight him near London for £200 and the Champion’s belt, in six months from the date of his (Sayers) reception of that challenge, or the date of the first deposit under it. This challenge having reached England during the pendency of the engagement between Sayers and the Unknown, was kept in abeyance in your hands, and having been further kept back by the next succeeding engagement of Sayers with Jones, was not recognised or received by Sayers until after he had accepted forfeit from Aaron Jones. Being thus left free of all engagements, he responded to the challenge of Heenan, and on the 26th October (I believe) covered the £50 deposit which you had, for months, held in Heenan’s name. The articles for this new match, however, were not signed by Sayers until the 3rd Nov. inst., and consequently Heenan claims that he is entitled to six months’ preliminary time from either one or the other of those dates. He, however, desires me to say that if there be anything in the rules of the P. R. Benevolent Association which entitles the Champion to reduce the term for meeting on his acceptance of a regular six months’ challenge, he will conform to those rules, and fight Sayers at the indicated time, even though it will leave him deficient of the due preparation; but he utterly repudiates the idea (which the selection of February by Sayers perhaps infers) that his match with Sayers is a continuation of the match with Jones. With this explanation he desires to state that he will be ready to put up his second deposit of £50 at Owen Swift’s in London, on the 15th December next, and if he be not represented at that time by any agent from this country, he begs you will continue your past kindness and again put up the money for him. Waiving no right, but conceding to all rules, he remains your obedient servant, though very respectfully yours,

“GEORGE WILKES.”

At first it was feared this would occasion a hitch in the match, but it was not the case. Tom was nothing loth to let the affair take its course. He had promised to give Heenan a chance, and would not disappoint him. He proposed, therefore, to extend the time to the end of March, and a missive with this proposition was despatched across the Atlantic, together with a proposition from Tom that the stakes should be £500 a side, or as much more as Heenan could get. Before, however, it could reach its destination, a Mr. Falkland had left that country as the representative and 423 forerunner of Heenan, prepared, immediately on his arrival, to do the needful on his behalf. Early in December, Mr. Falkland presented himself at the stakeholder’s, where he was met by some of the friends of Sayers, but as Tom was not present it was agreed that the evening of December 15, which was set apart for staking a further sum of £50 a side at Owen Swift’s, should be selected for coming to terms. At Owen’s, on the night in question, Tom made his appearance, and quickly fraternising with the ambassador of his foe, found not the slightest difficulty in arranging everything on that satisfactory footing upon which the match afterwards stood. Mr. Falkland had instructions not to make the match for more than £200, as Heenan could lay out the remainder of his money to more advantage in bets, the odds being against him. The following day articles were drawn in the approved form, and information was forthwith despatched to Heenan that his presence in the Old Country was at once required.

In the meantime, on the other side of the Atlantic, things had well nigh tended to prevent the consummation of the wishes of the Fancy. John Heenan and his quondam opponent Morrissey had got to loggerheads, and Heenan proposed to fight Morrissey a second time before fighting Sayers. Through the timely diplomacy of Mr. Wilkes, however, the difficulty was solved, by Morrissey promising to give Heenan another chance, in either England or America, for his own sum, should he prove fortunate enough to defeat our Champion. With this promise the “Boy” was forced to be content, and after innumerable hair-breadth escapes from warrants out against him for an alleged breach of the peace, he succeeded (again thanks to the good management of Mr. Wilkes) in getting on board the “Asia,” which brought him to this country, landing at Liverpool on the 16th of January, 1860.

Thenceforward all went serenely and smoothly; the whole of the deposits were made good, and the 17th of April, 1860, was waited for with feverish expectation.

Though it was made known to those who invested their gold in the ticket for “there and back,” that the start must be made as early as four o’clock, this had no effect in diminishing the number of those who resolved to be “thar,” as our Yankee visitors expressed it.

The scene at Owen Swift’s and Harry Brunton’s, where tickets were obtainable, beggars description, the rush was terrific, and many were entirely unsuccessful in getting tickets at all. Nat Langham’s, Alec 424 Keene’s, and other sporting houses were also crammed, but there was not the same difficulty in carrying on the business of the landlord as at the first houses named, where at one time trade was at a standstill. Many of the frequenters of the sporting hostelries evidently determined to make a night of it in order to make a certainty of being up betimes in the morning, and that they carried their intentions fully into effect was plainly visible in their countenances on their emerging into daylight. The more prudent ring-goers, however, took time by the forelock, and early ensconced themselves in their beds until the summons to be up and doing should arouse them.

The scene at London Bridge Station was one of continual bustle for at least an hour before the time appointed for the start, and, judging from the early arrivals, all seemed impressed with the necessity of taking time by the forelock. The precincts of the station reminded us of the crush on the Derby Day, but the effect was far more striking from the circumstance of its being a “midnight flitting.” The company’s arrangements, however, were such as to meet the pressing requirements, and the travellers by the late trains from the provinces, and those who had postponed the purchase of their tickets until the last moment were enabled to provide themselves with the necessary passport at the last moment. Two monster trains were prepared, and as early as half-past three the first, which consisted of thirty-three carriages, was so full that the non-arrival of the men, both of whom were accommodated at private lodgings close by, alone delayed its departure. The Champion arrived first, and his fresh, brisk, and natty appearance indicated a good night’s rest, and especial pains with his toilette. He was soon followed by Heenan, who seemed to wish to avoid recognition, and instantly proceeded to a compartment reserved for him and his seconds. The tickets were then collected, and at twenty minutes past four they started on their journey. By this time night had cast off her sable mantle, and day dawned with that peculiar tint which foretold the brilliant sunny weather with which the expedition was favoured. Throughout the whole of the metropolitan district, which extends for fifteen miles from London, the police, both mounted and on foot, and all armed with cutlasses, were on the look out on each side of the line even at this early hour, but the speed at which the train proceeded at once satisfied those watchful guardians that the mill was never intended to take place within their bailiwick, after leaving which scarcely a soul was to be seen beyond husbandmen proceeding to their daily avocations.