CHAPTERVIII.TOM PADDOCK.1844–1860.Inthe little world as in the great, “history never tires of repeating itself,” according to the Napoleonic axiom; and so in the period in which the rustic, ruddy, round-boned, pugnacious Tom Paddock flourished his fists, the interregnum of the Ring exhibited a parallel to our ancient Heptarchy, the combats of which were compared by David Hume, the historian, to “the battles of the kites and the crows.” Big Ben Caunt, the crafty Bendigo (William Thompson, of Nottingham), Tom Paddock (of Redditch), Con Parker (for a few months), the Tipton Slasher (William Perry), and, finally, Harry Orme and Harry Broome, bandied and buffeted about the title of “Champion of England,” until the scarcity of “good men” reminded us of the lines of Juvenal:—“Good men are scarce, indeed so thinly sown,They thrive but ill, nor do they last when grown;And should we count them, and our store compile,Yet Thebes more gates could show, more mouths the Nile.[26]and so went on the “confusion in the camp” until little Tom Sayers came, and, by disposing of Perry and Paddock, united England in one “Championship of all the weights.”Paddock’s claims to a niche in our gallery of celebrities are indisputable, as it was his lot to encounter almost every big man of repute in his day. He fought, as we shall see, Nobby Clarke (twice), Bendigo, Harry Poulson (three times), Aaron Jones (twice), Harry Broome, the Tipton Slasher, Tom Sayers, and Sam Hurst. With this anticipation of his career we will proceed to a more detailed account of the doings of the “Redditch needlepointer” than has been hitherto given; merely noting that this nickname, which we many times heard from his intimates and other provincials, seemedrather derived from the staple trade of Paddock’s native town than from any employment at “needlemaking” by the burly Tom himself, who was but slightly polished up from a rough and ready rustic chawbacon by his fourteen years of incidental town life.Tom’s birth dated from 1824, and his pursuits, as we have intimated, were those of a farmer’s boy; indeed, Tom might have lived and died unknown, and taken his long nap in a nameless grave—“Beneath those ragged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep”—had not his good, or evil, fortune led him to “seek the bubble reputation” in the roped lists of the Prize Ring.On the third day of the last month of the year 1844, a battle was fought between a brace of rustics, which soon after introduced yet another “Champion” candidate. The day above-named was a bustling one for the Fancy of the Hardware Town, there being no less than four fights on the far-famed battle-ground of Sutton Coldfield. The first of these, between William Shakespeare (of Brierly Hill) and Tom Jenkins (of Dudley)—in which the namesake and possible kinsman of that other “Warwickshire lad,” renowned for all time, got an exemplary thrashing in about half an hour—concerns us no farther than that the said Jenkins, in January of the same year, had beaten Elijah Parsons, of whom we shall hear more presently.Illustration: Title or descriptionTOM PADDOCK.From a Photograph byWatkins.Shakespeare and his conqueror having quitted the stage by the early hour of half-past eleven, and the Birmingham Commissary having rearranged his “properties,” the spectators resumed their seats for the second performance, in which the principal actors were our hero, announced as “Young Tom Paddock, of Redditch,” and his opponent, “Old Elijah Parsons, of Tambourne,” a village near Dudley. Parsons, who stood six feet and weighed 13st., was liberally backed by his local friends, he having in his younger days (he was then thirty) won some very hard battles. Paddock, who weighed a pound or two under 12st., and was in his twentieth year, had already stripped on one occasion in theP.R., when, at Mapleborough Green, he defeated Fred Pearce, of Cheltenham, for a purse, after Sam Simmonds, of Birmingham, had defeated Tom the Greek, on January 29, 1844. The country folk seemed to fancy “Old Elijah,” who for a fortnight had been under the care and tuition of Nobby Clarke, who, on this occasion also acted as his second, assisted by Bob Rowley. Ben Terryhad trained Paddock for the same short period, and now seconded him with Jem Hodgkiss. Parsons, who was in attire and staidness of demeanour a counterpart of a field-preacher, sported a white ground kerchief with a small yellow spot, Paddock the orthodox blue birdseye. Some time was lost, through local jealousy, in selecting a referee; but that and every other necessary preliminary settled, at half-past 12 o’clock the business began.THE FIGHT.Round 1.—As the men stood up Parsons looked big, bony, and formidable, Paddock round, rosy-red, and blooming with rude health. After a little rustic dodging and sparring, both went in right and left. Paddock succeeded in planting the first hit, a slashing left-hander on the Old’un’s mouth. Parsons missed a heavy hit, his right going over Paddock’s shoulder, who nailed him with a one, two. Parsons, evidently not knowing what to make of it, turned half-round and went from his man. Paddock followed him, and, hitting up, caught him a tidy smack with the left; Parsons, swinging completely round, made a good hit on the side of Paddock’s head, when they closed, and both fell. (5 and 6 to 4 offered on Paddock.)2.—Parsons came to the scratch looking serious, with his right eye already damaged and a bleeding cut on the left cheek-bone. (First blood claimed for the Young’un.) Parsons rushed in, chopping away with both hands, but with little effect. Paddock propped him, but was first down. (Cries of “2 to 1 on Redditch!”)3.—Parsons’s right eye showing symptoms of closing. Exchanges, Paddock nailing Parsons with his right on the damaged cheek, and Elijah retaliating on his opponent’s ribs. Both men pegged away at give and take; in the close, Parsons bored Paddock down.4.—Parsons tried to force the fight, but napped it severely; Paddock fought on the retreat and got down in the close, laughing.5.—Paddock sent in a staggering hit on Parsons’ left ear, but the Old’un stood it bravely, and grasped his opponent, but he could not hold him to fib, and Paddock slipped through his hands cleverly.6.—After a few seconds of sparring, Paddock shot out his left, reaching Parsons’s damaged ogle, and then got in one on the mouth. Parsons rushed in for a close, but again Paddock faced him and got down.7.—The Old’un again led off, both hitting away with mutual good will, a close, and Paddock under.8.—Ding-dong work so soon as the men were at the scratch, Parsons bleeding freely, while Paddock as yet had scarcely a mark.9.—Paddock dropped his left again on Parsons’s mug, and his right on the body, and fell. (Cries of “Stand up and fight like a man, you have got it all your own way.”)10.—Paddock again shot out his left on Parsons’s cheek, which was assuming a sorry appearance. Parsons closed, in-fighting, and Paddock down.11.—Paddock again made his left and right on Parsons’s dial, nevertheless, the Old’un did not flinch, but fought his man to the ropes, where Paddock fell.12 to 17 were similar to the preceding, in favour of Paddock; still Parsons was game, and did all he could to turn the tide in his favour, but it was useless, his day had gone by.18.—This was a slashing round, and the best in the fight, Parsons making his right tell on Paddock’s ribs, but caught it awfully on his damaged mouth from Paddock’s left. A close, good in-fighting, and both fell together.19 and 20.—Parsons closed and bored his man to the ropes, where Paddock fell.21.—Parsons at the scratch, game, but it was no go. Paddock again shot out his left on the dial, and made an upper cut with his right. Parsons closed, a struggle for the throw, and both fell, Paddock under.22.—Parsons first at the scratch, with his left eye nearly closed and bleeding freely. (Cries of “Take him away.”) Parsons closed, both hitting away; at last Paddock got down.23rd and last.—Paddock went to his man, hit out left and right, and caught Parsons a tremendous smack over the left eye; it was a stunner. A close followed, Paddock getting his right arm round Parsons’s neck, hitting up with severity; the punishment was severe. Both men struggled, and fell together. Parsons was taken to his corner in an exhausted condition. His seconds, perceiving it was useless to prolong the contest, threw up the sponge, and Paddock was hailed as the winner. The fight lasted twenty-two minutes. Another instance of the folly of backing an Ould’un against Young’un.Remarks.—This was, certainly, a promisingdébut; for though “Old Elijah” was too stale to contend with such an impetuous, hard-hitting, and resolute youngster as the “Redditch needle-grinder,” he certainly tested the Young’un’s game, who showed he was “all there,” if he did not possess the higher attainments of a scientific boxer.As a proof that the Brums at this time kept the game alive, we may mention that another pair, Blackman and Chadwick, not choosing to lose time, actually made an extempore ring, and got off a hard fight of forty-three rounds in fifty-six minutes, in which Blackman was the victor, while Shakespeare and Jenkins, and Paddock and Parsons were settling their differences. Of course as, unlike Sir Boyle Roche’s bird, we could not be in two places at once, we saw nothing of this; but we did see the fourth fight, between Frazer Brown, of Walsall, who fought George Giles, a West Bromwich youth, for a purse, which, after an hour’s hard work, to the damage of both, but with no advantage to either, was divided, and so ended a full day’s sport.In the month of September, 1844, a fine, fresh young fellow, aged 22, standing 6 feet, and weighing 12st.6lbs., came up to London, and displayed such capabilities with the mittens that Johnny Broome at once “spotted” him for a competitor for the yet-untried Bob Caunt, younger brother to the Champion, Ben, who was just then being “trotted out” by theSt.Martin’s Lane coterie. The new-comer, whose pals had denominated him, on account of his smartness and good looks, “Nobby” Clarke, was articled with “brother Bob” for £25 a side, and on the 22nd of October, 1844, he gave his opponent such a skilful thrashing in seven rounds, occupying the brief space of a quarter of an hour, that his friends, too hastily judging from this very short spin, announced the “Nobby One” as ready for any 12st.man for £50. Our hero, who was on the look-out for active service, replied to the challenge, and on the 27th of January, 1846, they met at Coleshill Castle, near West Bromwich; the battle exciting great interest in Birmingham and the Midlands. “Nobby” Clarke was seconded by the Tipton Slasher and Tass Parker; Tom Paddock by Hodgkiss and Sam Hurst. Clarke was in splendid condition, and in looks fully justified the 6 and 7 to 4 laid on him by the Brums. At a few minutes after eleven, the men stood up and beganTHE FIGHT.Round 1.—Clarke, who was a model of symmetry, had a noticeable superiority in length and reach over the round and ruddy Redditch man, who, however, not only seemed undismayed, but lost no time in sparring, and rattled in right and left. The “Nobby One” stopped him neatly and retreated; then let go his left at Paddock’s head, but did not seem to leave a mark. Paddock bored in, but Clarke caught him in his arms, and both were down, Paddock under.2.—Clarke sparred and broke ground; as Paddock came on, hitting out viciously, Clarke caught him an ugly crack on the cheek-bone, and also one in the mouth. (“First blood” for Clarke.) Paddock would not be denied, and there were some ding-dong exchanges, in which Paddock got in a smasher on Clarke’s eyebrow, making a cut,which balanced the account; in the embrace which followed Paddock was undermost.3.—A rattling rally, in which Paddock showed most determination, the “Nobby One” breaking away twice during the hitting; but coming again to close quarters there were some sharp deliveries on both sides, and Paddock was first down.4.—Paddock made play, but Clarke avoided him, popping in one or two hits cleverly. Paddock persevered, and after an exchange or two, Clarke got the Redditch man undermost.5.—Clarke nailed Paddock left and right, but Tom bored in, caught Clarke a rib-roaster with the right; the “Nobby One” at the ropes made an attempt to butt, and then got down. Cries of “Foul.” A number of people forced themselves into the ring, declaring a “foul.” The referee called on the men to “go on.”6.—After some confusion the ring was cleared. Clarke had still, in appearance, the best of the hitting, Paddock’s cheek looking like a scored beefsteak. A merry bout, but Clarke would not get near enough; and, at last, as he launched out his right and closed, Paddock slipped down laughing. The ground was a perfect quagmire, and foothold very uncertain.7, 8, 9.—Paddock first to fight in these rounds. Clarke considerably shy in the rallies, and getting down amidst some disapprobation.10, 11, 12.—Paddock’s style a little improving. He, however, did not shine at out-fighting, “Nobby” getting on prettily now and again, but never following up an advantage. In the last-named round Paddock was hit down in a scramble.13.—Clarke began with more confidence, and nailed Paddock sharply twice in the head. Tom got in on Clarke’s ribs, a sounding thwack, and down went “Nobby,” to finish the round. (Applause for Paddock.)14.—Clarke shy and sparring, Paddock on to him, when “Nobby” threw Tom a back-fall in the close.15.—Exchanges; Paddock missed both hands; Clarke caught him heavily in the mouth, and Paddock was under in the throw.16 to 21.—Paddock, game as a pebble, went in, and though “Nobby” met him in the head, he never failed to get home on the body. Clarke clever at stopping and saving his head, but shifty and shy. (5 and 6 to 4 on Paddock.)22.—Clarke standing out and retreating on the saving suit; Paddock, resolute and determined, forcing the fighting. Clarke but little marked, except the cut over the eye in the second round though his left side showed some red bumps from Paddock’s right-hand body-blows, while Paddock was bleeding from half a dozen cuts on the cheek, nose, lips, and forehead. Still he was gay, and driving “Nobby” into his own corner, the latter dropped to avoid. (Hisses.)23 to 30.—Similar in character, Clarke going down almost every round.31.—Clarke, urged on by the Tipton, went in to fight and got the best of several exchanges, nearly closing his opponent’s left eye. Paddock got in a hit on “Nobby’s” neck, from which he turned round, and as Paddock was repeating his blow fell.32.—This ought to have been the last round. Clarke caught Paddock on the forehead, jumped back, ran away, and as Paddock threw out his left fell without a blow. (Great confusion, the ring broken in, and a minute or two expired before the referee’s decision could be obtained, who gave Clarke the “benefit of the doubt,” from the slipperiness of the ground.)33–40.—Paddock, despite the punishment he appeared to have received, was little the worse in wind or strength, while in pluck he was the very reverse of his clever antagonist. “Nobby” sparred cleverly, but was evidently afraid of his man, and when they got close and a half-arm hit was got in by Paddock, he was always a consenting party to going down; in fact, he was “on the go” before the blow reached him.41.—Another wrangle; “Nobby” getting down questionably after getting in a left-hander. (Hisses.)42.—Great wrangling and confusion. Paddock standing in the middle of the ring protesting, and calling on “Nobby” to come on, which he did after a minute or so of disputation. Paddock went at him, and “Nobby” slipped down. It was announced that Clarke would “fight no more.” Paddock again “orating;” the referee handed over the watch to a friend, called “Time!” and declared Paddock to be the winner. The Tipton created some amusement by his denunciations of the “Nobby One’s” cowardice, and was with difficulty prevented from striking the man he had just been seconding; politely addressing him as a “robber,” “cur,” “thief,”&c.with a variety of expletives which we decline to report, and ending by declaring he would “pay no bets on such a rank cross.” He had, however, to do so, as well as many others, and the stakes went to Paddock, as of right they were due.Remarks.—There was nothing so worthy of note in this battle as the utter unreliability of mere sparring skill when pitted against a fair amount of boxing acquirements, backed with those indispensable qualities, courage and endurance. Clarke had weight, length, skill, and, if properly applied, superior strength on his side; nevertheless, the Redditch man, by mere resolution and never losing trust in himself, literally frightened his opponent out of his victory. Paddock, though inferior to the “Nobby One,” displayed great improvement on his previous performance, and we did not hesitate to predict for hima successful career, provided that he possessed temper, discretion, and teachability, which, for some time, he certainly did not. Strength, pluck, stamina, and fearless courage he had; the regulating and guiding qualities he had not.Paddock having failed in meeting with a customer after his defeat of Clarke, did not again appear within the ropes in 1846; but, on the 27th of December in that year, the clever “Nobby One” having somewhat wiped off the stain of cowardice which had attached to his name, by a triumphant defeat of a 12st.7lbs.man of the name of Jordan, calling himself “the Welsh Champion”—his friends took “heart of grace,” and again offered to back their man for £50 a side against our hero. The second trial took place on the 6th of April, 1847, at Stony Stratford. We shall not inflict upon the reader a full report of this battle. It was, with little variation in its incidents, a mere replica of the first, except that it lasted seven minutes less—48 minutes—and the close of the 35th round brought Tom’s labours to a victorious conclusion. In the first few rounds Clarke, as on the former occasion, took a triumphant lead; but his game and hardy opponent stuck to him so determinedly, and, when he did get on, so completely—as his half-reconciled and again-deluded friend the Tipton said—“Knocked all the fight out of him,” that the result was merely a question of minutes more or less; the fight being finally declared to Paddock from a “foul” by the miscalled “Nobby One.”In our Life ofBendigo(antepage 37), we have fully narrated the circumstances under which Paddock, as “Johnny Broome’s Unknown,” took up the gauntlet thrown down by Bendigo for £200 and the Championship; and how Paddock, after what appeared a winning fight, threw away his advantages, and lost the battle by losing his temper—striking his shifty opponent a “foul” blow. This took place on the 5th of June, 1850, and as the Tipton had already pledged himself to fight the winner (Bendigo having announced his retirement from the Ring), the Slasher, then and there, challenged him for £350, which was afterwards reduced to £200 a side. This came to nothing, for on the 22nd of August, 1850, both parties failed in their deposits, and the money down was drawn. A new match was then entered into for £100 a side, and on this occasion, as the battle ended in a draw, we shall merely refer the reader to the Life ofPerry(seeantepage 157), where, also, will be found the account of his defeat by the Slasher, at Woking, December 17th, 1850, again from the delivery of a “foul” blow.These defeats, greatly due to obstinate violence and ungovernable temper, seem to have induced some rash challenges to Paddock. In March, 1851,Jack Grant was hastily matched with Paddock for £100, and £5 deposited; but at the next meeting Grant’s backers took second thoughts, and Tom pocketed the £5, as one of the “little fishes,” which are proverbially “sweet.” In June, at an evening at Jem Burn’s, Con Parker (who at that time kept the “Grapes,” in Aylesbury Street, Clerkenwell) proposed a battle for £50 a side, to come off July 24th; but on the following Wednesday Master Con’s courage, like Bob Acres’s, “oozed out at his fingers’ ends,” and Paddock pocketed this affront also, and a “fiver.”Harry Poulson, of Nottingham, a sturdy, game, and resolute man, a trifle over 12st, was now thought good enough to dispute superiority with Paddock, and on the 23rd of September, 1851, the men met at Sedgebrook, near Grantham, for the small stake of £25 a side. This battle, which was lost by Paddock, after a desperate fight of 71 rounds, occupying 95 minutes, will be found under Poulson, in theAppendixto PeriodVII.Paddock, who was under a passing cloud, seemed now to be shut out from the front rank, Harry Broome having attained the honours of the belt by beating the Slasher, on the 29th September, 1851. (See Life ofBroome,post.) He was, in fact, at this time under articles with his former antagonist, Poulson, for a second trial, and the day fixed for December 16th, 1851. This proved an unfortunate affair for both parties. They met at Cross End, near Belper, Derbyshire, and the deposits being entirely carried out in Nottingham, no reporter from the London Press was on the ground, nor were any of the known patrons of the Ring present. The battle was gallantly contested, and Paddock, avoiding a fault conspicuous on a former occasion, had been most assiduous in his training. As usual, in gatherings where the roughs are predominant as partisans, there was a tedious waste of time in the appointment of a referee: any person of respectability who might have been present being either objected to, or himself objecting to take the thankless and often perilous office. The fight began at a little before one, Paddock gaining “first blood” and “first knock down,” by a delivery on Poulson’s left eye. After the first six rounds, Paddock forced the fighting, and had it nearly all his own way, Poulson’s want of condition telling against him. Eighty-six rounds were fought in 95 minutes, when Paddock was declared the winner amidst the plaudits of his friends.Poulson was severely punished about the body. Paddock by no means escaped unscathed. Had the fight been conducted in a quiet manner, itwould have been an affair which would not have discredited the older days of the Ring; but we regret to say the worst part of our tale remains to be told. The magistrates of Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, and Leicestershire, aware that the fight was likely to come off in one of those counties, had for some days previously been on the look-out to ascertain the place of meeting, but had been put on the wrong scent; consequently, at the commencement of the battle, no efficient force was in attendance to prevent it. After the fight had continued some time, however, Messrs. John and Jedediah Strutt, with Captain Hopkins and another Derbyshire magistrate, arrived, and proceeded to dissolve the assemblage, with no other assistance than that of William Wragg, chief constable of Belper, to enforce their commands. The mob, however, refused to allow interference, when Mr. Jedediah Strutt rode up to the crowd, and ordered them to disperse. Paddock seem inclined to give over, but was told that if he did he would lose the money. The men, therefore, continued fighting, whereupon Mr. Jedediah Strutt attempted to force his way into the ring, for the purpose of reading the Riot Act, and Wragg, single-handed, endeavoured to clear a passage for him. A cry was raised of “Keep them out,” and about fifty roughs pounced upon the superintendent, and beat him savagely with sticks. The injured man was conveyed to Belper, where Mr. Allen and Mr. Lomas, surgeons, by skilful attendance, restored him to consciousness. The fight being concluded, the men set off for Derby, to which place Captain Hopkins had galloped off for assistance, and having obtained the co-operation of the borough-force, he met the combatants as they entered Derby, in different conveyances, with the intention of proceeding by train to Nottingham. Paddock and his second were taken out of a cab, and Poulson was apprehended amidst his friends in a “drag.” When taken, one of Paddock’s first observations was that “If he had won the toss for the choice of place, he would have chosen any place rather than that confounded county;” that he was sorry “the p’liceman was hurt; and he would have given over when the magistrates ordered them to disperse, but he was told that if he did he would lose the money; and, as he had been served so once before, he determined to go on with the fight.”In this disgraceful riot and violence, we are happy to say, the men and their immediate seconds and backers took no part, as the subjoined letter from an eye-witness fully shows:—“To the Editor of‘Bell’s Life in London.’“Derby, December 24th, 1851.“Mr. Editor.—Believing that a few words on the outrages committed at Paddock andPoulson’s fight may not be out of place, I send you the following: At the close of your Pedestrian Intelligence last week you gave some excellent advice to all connected with manly sports, and expressed a hope that those who by their ruffianly conduct thus disgrace the Ring, may receive their full deserts at the hands of the law. Were I the judge to try them, I would transport the whole; indeed, their conduct furnishes the opponents of prize-fighting with weightier arguments than could be found elsewhere. If pugilism, they may say, encourages fair play, and insists on equal strife, how comes it that one man shall be set upon by fifty of its supporters, and ill treated until it is doubtful whether he be dead or alive? But now let me say a word upon the state of the law in general, and the conduct of its instruments in this particular case. The same journal that reports the disturbance at the fight, details also the particulars of a murderous affray among the ‘navvies’ of the South Wales line; and, did we but alter the names of the places and persons, the whole of the latter skirmish might very well pass for a massacre among Malays or cannibals; stabbing, burning, maiming, and bruising—a dozen nearly dead, perhaps quite so, by this time. Yet I will venture to predict that the perpetrator of these villanies will reap no heavier punishment than would a poor fellow, professed boxer or not, who may have chanced in fair and honourable fight—such a thing occurring, perhaps, once out of a couple of thousand times—to have caused the death of his antagonist. Such being the case—the law looking with equal eyes at a butchery that would disgrace the Caffres, and a combat conducted with all possible fairness—men have no reason to choose the latter mode of settling their quarrels, but may as well, they think, adopt the method which inflicts the greatest injury on their enemies. Where men get two or three months for ‘knifing’ an opponent, and others get imprisoned for a twelvemonth for seconding or being present at a prize fight—although no harm may be done beyond the breach of our Sovereign Lady’s peace—it does not require a prophet or a Solomon to tell us to what state of things such a course must lead among the lower orders of people. And now I must ask, in the name of common sense, what the magistrates who interfered at Paddock’s fight expected? I would as lieve venture among a pack of wolves, as go single-handed to thwart a mob of midland counties roughs. Had the officer died, his death would have been owing to sheer foolhardiness, or the obstinacy of those who urged him on. I have seen hundreds of men, more than once, quietly disperse at the order of a magistrate, though he was quite alone, unsupported by even a single officer. So it ought to be, so I hope it will be, and so it must be, if pugilists hope that the next generation may know anything of their doings, except by tradition. Allow me to add that none but the ‘roughs’ took part in the brutal assault on the constable, Wragg. Yours, &c.,“LYDON.”The upshot of this regretable riot was that Paddock and Poulson, being by law responsible as “principals,” were sentenced each, in March, 1852, to ten months’ imprisonment with hard labour.Paddock’s forced seclusion in Derby Gaol, although it appears to have had a favourable effect on his violence of temper, did not diminish his readiness to play the “rubber game” with Poulson; inasmuch as we find him articled to meet his old antagonist on the 14th of February, 1854, to try a final appeal, with £200 deposited to abide the issue.Paddock at once went into assiduous training in company with Tom Sayers, at Mr. Patton’s, mine host of the “Old Hat,” Ealing; and Poulson did the same at the Neptune Inn, Hove, near Brighton, under the guidance of Jerry Noon; it being thought advisable to fix his training quarters far from the too friendly visits of his Nottingham admirers. Poulson was, on this occasion, backed from Caunt’s, Paddock from Alec Keene’s. As this battle was arranged for the London district, a trip per Eastern Counties rail was agreed on. By the time named, half-past eight, the crowd in the neighbourhood of the Shoreditch station gave evidence that something unusual was on thetapis, hundreds of East-Enders surroundingthe terminus to catch a glimpse of the heroes of the day. The first to show was Harry Poulson, who entered the station accompanied by Jerry Noon, Callaghan, of Derby, and a dozen of Nottingham friends; he looked hard as nails, bright-eyed, smiling, and confident, and in rare preservation for an old’un, 37 summers having shone on his nob. He was soon followed by the Redditch champion, attended by Tom Sayers, Alec Keene, and Mr. Hibburd (one of his principal backers). Both men now began to distribute their colours to the voyagers on the platform, and, from the numerous handkerchiefs of both designs which were seen knotted round the throttles of the ticket-holders, the sale must have been satisfactory. At a quarter before nine the bell rang for the start, and although the town air was foggy, no sooner were we well on our way than the sun ofSt.Valentine shone out brilliantly, the hoar-frost deposited overnight vanished, and the pairing birds chirruped their courting notes from every hedge and thicket. The commissariat, under the care of Dan Pinkstone, occupying a saloon carriage, was first-class, as in an after-part of the day we had occasion to prove. The train sped merrily; and at a quarter-past eleven o’clock all disembarked, in high spirits, at the appointed station, Mildenhall, where the veteran Commissary and Tom Callas formed the lists in double-quick time, and the men soon after made their appearance. Poulson was attended by Jemmy Welsh and Jerry Noon, and Paddock esquired by Jemmy Massey and Jack Macdonald, to our thinking the best of all seconds of the present day. On shaking hands Paddock offered to back himself for “an even tenner,” which Poulson accepted; but the backers of Paddock in this “the rubber game” stood out for odds, and so little business was done. At length, umpires and a referee being chosen, at half-past twelve the rival pugs, stood up forTHE FIGHT.Round 1.—On the men throwing themselves into attitude their appearance was carefully scanned; the enormous development of muscle on Poulson’s arms and his blade-bones excited astonishment among the Londoners, who now saw him stripped for the first time. Still they were confident in the man of their adoption, for Paddock was indeed in robust health, and appeared to have so much the superiority in length and height that they now laid evens on him. No time was lost in sparring or in striking attitudes; Poulson at once dashed in, made his right on Tom’s ribs, and directly after on his mouth. Paddock was with him, and a shower of half-arm hits followed, each getting pepper on the left side of the nut until both were down.2.—Poulson went to work without delay, and began by pounding away with his right; Tom did not flinch, though he got it on the nose heavily, and then on his potato trap, from which the first vintage of the season was instantly perceived. (First blood for Poulson, amid cheers from the Nottingham lads.) Paddock slipped down.3.—Paddock, first to the scratch, led off with his left and gave Harry a tremendous crack on the forehead, Poulson returning almost a counter-hit on Tom’s left cheek. This led to a slogging rally, in which Poulson again visited Paddock’s cheek, while thelatter tapped the claret from Harry’s left eyebrow, and Poulson fell.4.—Paddock again led off, and just reached Poulson’s right eye, Poulson was with him, and some sharp counters took place, Paddock catching it on the nozzle from Poulson’s left, while Tom retorted with a swinging crack on Poulson’s left ear. They now broke away, but soon returned to work; Paddock let fly right and left viciously at Harry’s frontispiece, when Poulson countered him steadily on the snout and forehead. Poulson was first on the ground.5.—Paddock again opened the ball with a sharp rap on Harry’s cheek, but the latter retorted with such a sounding rib-bender that it was heard all round the ring. Soon after Tom landed a little one on Poulson’s right brow, cutting it, and producing the crimson. Both now banged away at close quarters, and in the end both came down.6.—Both sparred for wind; indeed, the fighting had been very fast; some random shots were exchanged, the men closed, and rolled down together.7.—Paddock let go his left, but it went clean over Poulson’s cranium. A second shot reached his forehead, but for this Tom caught a smasher on the mouth, that drew the Oporto copiously, and seemed for a second or two to puzzle Tom seriously. However, he went in, and more yard-arm to yard-arm cannonading followed; no quarter was given or asked for, but at the end of the ding-dong Paddock was down with the worst of the hitting.8.—Paddock came up crimson as the “Red Lion,” at Brentford, but he led off without delay, and they were soon at infighting; Paddock got on his knees in the scrimmage, and Poulson dealt him a “hot one” on his snuff-box. A claim of “foul” from Paddock’s friends, but disallowed. Poulson’s blow could not be withheld, as it was delivered simultaneously with Paddock’s knees reaching the ground.9.—Paddock, twice foiled in leading off, went in furiously, reaching Harry’s nose, and removing the bark, but getting a Roland for his Oliver in a smasher on his own olfactory organ that sadly spoilt its symmetry. Hitting right and left, and no stopping on either side, until Paddock went down in the exchanges.10.—Both were distilling the crimson from their left eyes; Paddock led off with the left, and got again heavily countered in the face. Poulson slipped and dropped on one knee; Paddock might have hit him, but he withheld his hand, and walked to his corner amidst applause.11.—Poulson dashed in, delivering his right heavily on the side of Tom’s nut, but the blow seemed open-handed. A merry rally ensued, in which some sharp, half-arm hits were exchanged, Paddock receiving some sharp thumps in the ribs, and retaliating on Poulson’s knowledge-box. Both down in the close.12.—Paddock feinted, and then let go his left, a cross hit on Poulson’s cheek; he got away, and repeated the dose on Harry’s smeller. Poulson seemed stung at these visitations, rushed in, and after some busy half-arm work Paddock was down.13 to 20.—Busy rounds, but short, and very similar in character, Paddock opening the ball and getting on by his superior length, but Poulson winding up the rounds by fear-nought hitting, and Paddock ending them by being first to grass.21.—Paddock still first, got in his left on Poulson’s bread basket, and his right on the side of the head; the latter was retaliated by a severe body-blow, and Paddock broke away. Paddock nailed Poulson on the nose, and on the left brow, still Poulson pegged away, but was first down from a wild hit of Tom’s on the side of his head.22.—Poulson tried to open the ball, but his left was stopped, and then his right, and Tom got home an ugly one on Harry’s left eye, which showed symptoms of the early closing movement. Poulson went in, but Tom planted an upper-cut on the damaged ogle, and Poulson slipped down.23.—Paddock, on time being called, rose and walked rapidly across towards Poulson’s corner. The latter had hardly time to turn round from his seconds, when Tom let fly at his forehead. Poulson let go both hands without aim; Tom missed a vicious hit with his left, and Poulson slipped down in a scramble.24.—Poulson was quickly up at the call of time, determined not to be stolen a march on; he opened the pleadings by a declaration with the right on Tom’s ribs, but got it on the mouth, and in a second attempt was stopped neatly; he, however, persevered, and some ding-dong exchanges ended by Poulson slipping down.25.—Both men slower, as well they might be, Paddock giving his adversary a crack on the bridge of the nose that compelled him to snuffle and wink; half-arm hitting, in which Paddock dropped.26.—Poulson took the initiative; he stepped in, caught Paddock a heavy spank with the right on the left cheek, and slipped from the force of his own blow.27.—Poulson again rattled in; Tom countered, and Poulson was down in the hitting.28.—Both seemed of opinion that a turn of the tide must be at hand. No time was lost on either side; Paddock made play, but Poulson was with him, and at close quarters they pegged away, Paddock with his straight left and Poulson with his dangerous right; but Jack was as good as his master—or rather Harry was as good as Tom. Though Poulson was first on the ground he had not the worst of the hitting.29 to 34.—Alternate leading off, but Paddock best at the attack. Poulson’s eyes were much damaged, though he was still the stronger man on his legs. The left side of Paddock’s face was awfully swelled, andas Jerry Noon said, “Was polished like a newly lasted boot.” At the end of round 33, Poulson fairly sent down Paddock in a close rally, and the seconds of the latter cautioned him to “keep away” from infighting.35.—Paddock adopted the advice. He measured his distance with his left got it in, but not heavily, on Poulson’s forehead, and jumped back; Poulson followed, but Tom retreated and shifted, hitting out as opportunity offered. Paddock got home on Harry’s right peeper, but could not prevent a visit to his ribs, and a sharp crack on the nose, from which the ruby distilled copiously. Poulson closed, and Paddock got down.36.—Paddock’s mug, on coming up, was a curious mixture of the comic and the serious. The right side, which was untouched, bore a sort of grin, while the left side, which was swollen to twice its natural size, buried the other half of the laugh in its tumefied recesses. He had, too, a cut on the bridge of his nose, and a blue mouse under his left eye. Poulson’s hardier mug was less battered in appearance, but his left eye was nearly closed, and the remaining window damaged. Paddock got on to Poulson slightly, and after some exchanges, both were down.37 to 50.—As before; alternate leads, followed by half-arm hitting, and one or the other down. Anybody’s battle.51.—Poulson’s left eye was now entirely in darkness, but he dashed in. Paddock caught him round the neck with his left arm, but could not screw him up for fibbing. Poulson kept pegging away, although getting the worst of it, and got down through Paddock’s hands.52.—Paddock let go his left on Poulson’s nose, but Poulson rushed in and pelted away till Tom got down to finish the round.53.—Paddock kept working in, and twice reached Harry’s eye and brow without a return. As they got closer there were some sharp exchanges, Poulson getting home a heavy hit on Paddock’s left eye, and also on his bruised ribs; Poulson was, however, down.54.—Paddock several times attempted to get in his favourite blow on the mark, but he was not quite near enough; at last he got home effectively, and Poulson reeled from the blow; Paddock followed him up, caught him on the head with the right, and Poulson was down.55 to 60.—Poulson’s right eye seemed to be in danger of following suit with the left. He evidently thought there was no time to be lost, and as Paddock would not come to close quarters, he rattled in somewhat wild and round, and in the 59th and 60th rounds was down.61.—Both came tired and slow, with but little to choose as to which was the weaker man. Paddock caught Poulson in the neck, changing his aim to the body, then caught Poulson on the proboscis, who closed and fell.62 to 65.—Paddock commenced business in each of these rounds; in the last-named Paddock delivered a spank with the left under Poulson’s right eye which knocked the brave fellow off his legs, and was pronounced to be “First knock-down to Paddock.” There was loud cheering, and many thought the fight over, concluding that Poulson’s right eye must now be closed. To the surprise of all, however, Harry came up at the call of “Time,” looking little, if any, the worse for the knock-down.66, 67.—Poulson steadily stopped two attempts with the left. Paddock at length got in a blow on the mark, and Poulson missed his return. Paddock hit over Poulson’s head with the left, and Poulson closed and fell.68.—Both slow; after some ineffective exchanges Paddock concentrated his energies, and, letting go his left straight from the shoulder, gave poor Poulson a nose-ender that again knocked him off his legs.69 to 75.—Poulson, losing precision in his deliveries from his failing eyesight, was nobbed almost at pleasure by his opponent, yet he never failed to get in a hard blow when they were at close quarters.76 to 88.—In all these rounds Poulson came up with unshrinking courage and determination, and his friends clung to the idea that a chance blow might yet reward his exertions, while Paddock’s friends, though they thought themselves on the winning side, feared that he could not finish his day’s work satisfactorily, and that a “draw” might yet disappoint their hopes. Round after round Poulson came up, amid cries of “Take him away!” But the brave fellow refused to give in.89.—Poulson, to the astonishment of all, was no sooner at the scratch, than he rushed at his opponent with such vigour and determination, pegging away right and left, that Paddock, in retreating, fell on his south pole in a ludicrous state of surprise and bewilderment at this unexpected but ineffective onslaught.90.—It was clear that this was the last flickering effort. Poulson came up weak and shaky, and, on Paddock letting go his left, fell.91 to 102 and last.—It was clearly all over with the gallant Harry. Paddock, by the advice of his seconds, kept away from his man, and just popped in a hit when he saw an opening, whereon Poulson fell. Noon vainly urged him to give in, until, in the 102nd round, his seconds and several of his backers, seeing the hopelessness as well as danger of prolonging the contest, threw up the sponge, and Paddock was declared the winner, after a desperate battle oftwo hours and thirty-two minutes.Remarks.—Few remarks will suffice upon this game and manly encounter. Experiencedring-goers tell us that second fights, still more third battles, between the same men are, as a rule, unsatisfactory. This was indeed an exception to that rule. It was, in courage, active work, and endurance, the best fight between big ones for many a day past. Poulson, for a man pronounced “stale” by many, is an extraordinary quick and punishing hitter, but he depends too much on his right, and thus throws open his face to the blows of a superior tactician. With any man not more skilful than himself he must yet prove the victor, but not even his game and gluttony can enable him to conquer a clever two-handed boxer possessed of resolution and skill like Tom Paddock. We must give praise to Jerry Noon for his humanity in throwing up the sponge when he did, and this we the more insist on as we know that he has been most shamefully censured and even abused, since the affair, by persons who ought to know better, and who have even brought to us their complaints of what they call his “unauthorised giving in against the wish of Poulson himself.” No impartial spectator can support such an argument for a moment, and the stakes were accordingly given up, with the approbation of the referee, despite a notice served upon the stakeholder.Paddock, having thus retrieved his first defeat by the hardy Harry Poulson, by a second victory, was soon after called to the field by his old opponent Aaron Jones, who now sent forth his cartel from the domicile of Jem Burn, who had moved his head-quarters westward from Windmill Street to the erewhile domus of Johnny Broome, the “Rising Sun,” in Air Street, Piccadilly. Paddock, as before, was backed from Alec Keene’s, the “Three Tuns,” in Moor Street. The stakes, £100 a side, were duly made good, and the 18th of July, 1854, saw both parties embarked on board “The Waterman, No. 7,” which was the craft chartered to convey the men and the managers to the battle-field. On this occasion Paddock trained at Brighton, under the supervision of Alec Keene; Aaron first at Newbridge, in Ireland, near the Curragh, and later on at Shrewsbury, under the auspices of some distinguished military officers, and the mentorship of Jerry Noon. “The loquacious” Jerry won the toss for choice of corners, and took the corner with Jones’s back to the sun. Paddock, after an ineffectual attempt to lay an even “tenner” with his adversary, offered Jones 2 to 1, but there being no response, Tom, much disappointed, replaced the flimsy in his pocket. All being in readiness, and rumours of Jones’s inferior condition spread about the ring, offers to lay 2 to 1 on Paddock were taken to some amount. The colours were tied to the stakes, the men shook hands, and at ten minutes to one began
Inthe little world as in the great, “history never tires of repeating itself,” according to the Napoleonic axiom; and so in the period in which the rustic, ruddy, round-boned, pugnacious Tom Paddock flourished his fists, the interregnum of the Ring exhibited a parallel to our ancient Heptarchy, the combats of which were compared by David Hume, the historian, to “the battles of the kites and the crows.” Big Ben Caunt, the crafty Bendigo (William Thompson, of Nottingham), Tom Paddock (of Redditch), Con Parker (for a few months), the Tipton Slasher (William Perry), and, finally, Harry Orme and Harry Broome, bandied and buffeted about the title of “Champion of England,” until the scarcity of “good men” reminded us of the lines of Juvenal:—
“Good men are scarce, indeed so thinly sown,They thrive but ill, nor do they last when grown;And should we count them, and our store compile,Yet Thebes more gates could show, more mouths the Nile.[26]
“Good men are scarce, indeed so thinly sown,They thrive but ill, nor do they last when grown;And should we count them, and our store compile,Yet Thebes more gates could show, more mouths the Nile.[26]
“Good men are scarce, indeed so thinly sown,
They thrive but ill, nor do they last when grown;
And should we count them, and our store compile,
Yet Thebes more gates could show, more mouths the Nile.[26]
and so went on the “confusion in the camp” until little Tom Sayers came, and, by disposing of Perry and Paddock, united England in one “Championship of all the weights.”
Paddock’s claims to a niche in our gallery of celebrities are indisputable, as it was his lot to encounter almost every big man of repute in his day. He fought, as we shall see, Nobby Clarke (twice), Bendigo, Harry Poulson (three times), Aaron Jones (twice), Harry Broome, the Tipton Slasher, Tom Sayers, and Sam Hurst. With this anticipation of his career we will proceed to a more detailed account of the doings of the “Redditch needlepointer” than has been hitherto given; merely noting that this nickname, which we many times heard from his intimates and other provincials, seemedrather derived from the staple trade of Paddock’s native town than from any employment at “needlemaking” by the burly Tom himself, who was but slightly polished up from a rough and ready rustic chawbacon by his fourteen years of incidental town life.
Tom’s birth dated from 1824, and his pursuits, as we have intimated, were those of a farmer’s boy; indeed, Tom might have lived and died unknown, and taken his long nap in a nameless grave—
“Beneath those ragged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep”—
“Beneath those ragged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep”—
“Beneath those ragged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep”—
had not his good, or evil, fortune led him to “seek the bubble reputation” in the roped lists of the Prize Ring.
On the third day of the last month of the year 1844, a battle was fought between a brace of rustics, which soon after introduced yet another “Champion” candidate. The day above-named was a bustling one for the Fancy of the Hardware Town, there being no less than four fights on the far-famed battle-ground of Sutton Coldfield. The first of these, between William Shakespeare (of Brierly Hill) and Tom Jenkins (of Dudley)—in which the namesake and possible kinsman of that other “Warwickshire lad,” renowned for all time, got an exemplary thrashing in about half an hour—concerns us no farther than that the said Jenkins, in January of the same year, had beaten Elijah Parsons, of whom we shall hear more presently.
Illustration: Title or descriptionTOM PADDOCK.From a Photograph byWatkins.
TOM PADDOCK.
From a Photograph byWatkins.
Shakespeare and his conqueror having quitted the stage by the early hour of half-past eleven, and the Birmingham Commissary having rearranged his “properties,” the spectators resumed their seats for the second performance, in which the principal actors were our hero, announced as “Young Tom Paddock, of Redditch,” and his opponent, “Old Elijah Parsons, of Tambourne,” a village near Dudley. Parsons, who stood six feet and weighed 13st., was liberally backed by his local friends, he having in his younger days (he was then thirty) won some very hard battles. Paddock, who weighed a pound or two under 12st., and was in his twentieth year, had already stripped on one occasion in theP.R., when, at Mapleborough Green, he defeated Fred Pearce, of Cheltenham, for a purse, after Sam Simmonds, of Birmingham, had defeated Tom the Greek, on January 29, 1844. The country folk seemed to fancy “Old Elijah,” who for a fortnight had been under the care and tuition of Nobby Clarke, who, on this occasion also acted as his second, assisted by Bob Rowley. Ben Terryhad trained Paddock for the same short period, and now seconded him with Jem Hodgkiss. Parsons, who was in attire and staidness of demeanour a counterpart of a field-preacher, sported a white ground kerchief with a small yellow spot, Paddock the orthodox blue birdseye. Some time was lost, through local jealousy, in selecting a referee; but that and every other necessary preliminary settled, at half-past 12 o’clock the business began.
THE FIGHT.Round 1.—As the men stood up Parsons looked big, bony, and formidable, Paddock round, rosy-red, and blooming with rude health. After a little rustic dodging and sparring, both went in right and left. Paddock succeeded in planting the first hit, a slashing left-hander on the Old’un’s mouth. Parsons missed a heavy hit, his right going over Paddock’s shoulder, who nailed him with a one, two. Parsons, evidently not knowing what to make of it, turned half-round and went from his man. Paddock followed him, and, hitting up, caught him a tidy smack with the left; Parsons, swinging completely round, made a good hit on the side of Paddock’s head, when they closed, and both fell. (5 and 6 to 4 offered on Paddock.)2.—Parsons came to the scratch looking serious, with his right eye already damaged and a bleeding cut on the left cheek-bone. (First blood claimed for the Young’un.) Parsons rushed in, chopping away with both hands, but with little effect. Paddock propped him, but was first down. (Cries of “2 to 1 on Redditch!”)3.—Parsons’s right eye showing symptoms of closing. Exchanges, Paddock nailing Parsons with his right on the damaged cheek, and Elijah retaliating on his opponent’s ribs. Both men pegged away at give and take; in the close, Parsons bored Paddock down.4.—Parsons tried to force the fight, but napped it severely; Paddock fought on the retreat and got down in the close, laughing.5.—Paddock sent in a staggering hit on Parsons’ left ear, but the Old’un stood it bravely, and grasped his opponent, but he could not hold him to fib, and Paddock slipped through his hands cleverly.6.—After a few seconds of sparring, Paddock shot out his left, reaching Parsons’s damaged ogle, and then got in one on the mouth. Parsons rushed in for a close, but again Paddock faced him and got down.7.—The Old’un again led off, both hitting away with mutual good will, a close, and Paddock under.8.—Ding-dong work so soon as the men were at the scratch, Parsons bleeding freely, while Paddock as yet had scarcely a mark.9.—Paddock dropped his left again on Parsons’s mug, and his right on the body, and fell. (Cries of “Stand up and fight like a man, you have got it all your own way.”)10.—Paddock again shot out his left on Parsons’s cheek, which was assuming a sorry appearance. Parsons closed, in-fighting, and Paddock down.11.—Paddock again made his left and right on Parsons’s dial, nevertheless, the Old’un did not flinch, but fought his man to the ropes, where Paddock fell.12 to 17 were similar to the preceding, in favour of Paddock; still Parsons was game, and did all he could to turn the tide in his favour, but it was useless, his day had gone by.18.—This was a slashing round, and the best in the fight, Parsons making his right tell on Paddock’s ribs, but caught it awfully on his damaged mouth from Paddock’s left. A close, good in-fighting, and both fell together.19 and 20.—Parsons closed and bored his man to the ropes, where Paddock fell.21.—Parsons at the scratch, game, but it was no go. Paddock again shot out his left on the dial, and made an upper cut with his right. Parsons closed, a struggle for the throw, and both fell, Paddock under.22.—Parsons first at the scratch, with his left eye nearly closed and bleeding freely. (Cries of “Take him away.”) Parsons closed, both hitting away; at last Paddock got down.23rd and last.—Paddock went to his man, hit out left and right, and caught Parsons a tremendous smack over the left eye; it was a stunner. A close followed, Paddock getting his right arm round Parsons’s neck, hitting up with severity; the punishment was severe. Both men struggled, and fell together. Parsons was taken to his corner in an exhausted condition. His seconds, perceiving it was useless to prolong the contest, threw up the sponge, and Paddock was hailed as the winner. The fight lasted twenty-two minutes. Another instance of the folly of backing an Ould’un against Young’un.Remarks.—This was, certainly, a promisingdébut; for though “Old Elijah” was too stale to contend with such an impetuous, hard-hitting, and resolute youngster as the “Redditch needle-grinder,” he certainly tested the Young’un’s game, who showed he was “all there,” if he did not possess the higher attainments of a scientific boxer.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—As the men stood up Parsons looked big, bony, and formidable, Paddock round, rosy-red, and blooming with rude health. After a little rustic dodging and sparring, both went in right and left. Paddock succeeded in planting the first hit, a slashing left-hander on the Old’un’s mouth. Parsons missed a heavy hit, his right going over Paddock’s shoulder, who nailed him with a one, two. Parsons, evidently not knowing what to make of it, turned half-round and went from his man. Paddock followed him, and, hitting up, caught him a tidy smack with the left; Parsons, swinging completely round, made a good hit on the side of Paddock’s head, when they closed, and both fell. (5 and 6 to 4 offered on Paddock.)
2.—Parsons came to the scratch looking serious, with his right eye already damaged and a bleeding cut on the left cheek-bone. (First blood claimed for the Young’un.) Parsons rushed in, chopping away with both hands, but with little effect. Paddock propped him, but was first down. (Cries of “2 to 1 on Redditch!”)
3.—Parsons’s right eye showing symptoms of closing. Exchanges, Paddock nailing Parsons with his right on the damaged cheek, and Elijah retaliating on his opponent’s ribs. Both men pegged away at give and take; in the close, Parsons bored Paddock down.
4.—Parsons tried to force the fight, but napped it severely; Paddock fought on the retreat and got down in the close, laughing.
5.—Paddock sent in a staggering hit on Parsons’ left ear, but the Old’un stood it bravely, and grasped his opponent, but he could not hold him to fib, and Paddock slipped through his hands cleverly.
6.—After a few seconds of sparring, Paddock shot out his left, reaching Parsons’s damaged ogle, and then got in one on the mouth. Parsons rushed in for a close, but again Paddock faced him and got down.
7.—The Old’un again led off, both hitting away with mutual good will, a close, and Paddock under.
8.—Ding-dong work so soon as the men were at the scratch, Parsons bleeding freely, while Paddock as yet had scarcely a mark.
9.—Paddock dropped his left again on Parsons’s mug, and his right on the body, and fell. (Cries of “Stand up and fight like a man, you have got it all your own way.”)
10.—Paddock again shot out his left on Parsons’s cheek, which was assuming a sorry appearance. Parsons closed, in-fighting, and Paddock down.
11.—Paddock again made his left and right on Parsons’s dial, nevertheless, the Old’un did not flinch, but fought his man to the ropes, where Paddock fell.
12 to 17 were similar to the preceding, in favour of Paddock; still Parsons was game, and did all he could to turn the tide in his favour, but it was useless, his day had gone by.
18.—This was a slashing round, and the best in the fight, Parsons making his right tell on Paddock’s ribs, but caught it awfully on his damaged mouth from Paddock’s left. A close, good in-fighting, and both fell together.
19 and 20.—Parsons closed and bored his man to the ropes, where Paddock fell.
21.—Parsons at the scratch, game, but it was no go. Paddock again shot out his left on the dial, and made an upper cut with his right. Parsons closed, a struggle for the throw, and both fell, Paddock under.
22.—Parsons first at the scratch, with his left eye nearly closed and bleeding freely. (Cries of “Take him away.”) Parsons closed, both hitting away; at last Paddock got down.
23rd and last.—Paddock went to his man, hit out left and right, and caught Parsons a tremendous smack over the left eye; it was a stunner. A close followed, Paddock getting his right arm round Parsons’s neck, hitting up with severity; the punishment was severe. Both men struggled, and fell together. Parsons was taken to his corner in an exhausted condition. His seconds, perceiving it was useless to prolong the contest, threw up the sponge, and Paddock was hailed as the winner. The fight lasted twenty-two minutes. Another instance of the folly of backing an Ould’un against Young’un.
Remarks.—This was, certainly, a promisingdébut; for though “Old Elijah” was too stale to contend with such an impetuous, hard-hitting, and resolute youngster as the “Redditch needle-grinder,” he certainly tested the Young’un’s game, who showed he was “all there,” if he did not possess the higher attainments of a scientific boxer.
As a proof that the Brums at this time kept the game alive, we may mention that another pair, Blackman and Chadwick, not choosing to lose time, actually made an extempore ring, and got off a hard fight of forty-three rounds in fifty-six minutes, in which Blackman was the victor, while Shakespeare and Jenkins, and Paddock and Parsons were settling their differences. Of course as, unlike Sir Boyle Roche’s bird, we could not be in two places at once, we saw nothing of this; but we did see the fourth fight, between Frazer Brown, of Walsall, who fought George Giles, a West Bromwich youth, for a purse, which, after an hour’s hard work, to the damage of both, but with no advantage to either, was divided, and so ended a full day’s sport.
In the month of September, 1844, a fine, fresh young fellow, aged 22, standing 6 feet, and weighing 12st.6lbs., came up to London, and displayed such capabilities with the mittens that Johnny Broome at once “spotted” him for a competitor for the yet-untried Bob Caunt, younger brother to the Champion, Ben, who was just then being “trotted out” by theSt.Martin’s Lane coterie. The new-comer, whose pals had denominated him, on account of his smartness and good looks, “Nobby” Clarke, was articled with “brother Bob” for £25 a side, and on the 22nd of October, 1844, he gave his opponent such a skilful thrashing in seven rounds, occupying the brief space of a quarter of an hour, that his friends, too hastily judging from this very short spin, announced the “Nobby One” as ready for any 12st.man for £50. Our hero, who was on the look-out for active service, replied to the challenge, and on the 27th of January, 1846, they met at Coleshill Castle, near West Bromwich; the battle exciting great interest in Birmingham and the Midlands. “Nobby” Clarke was seconded by the Tipton Slasher and Tass Parker; Tom Paddock by Hodgkiss and Sam Hurst. Clarke was in splendid condition, and in looks fully justified the 6 and 7 to 4 laid on him by the Brums. At a few minutes after eleven, the men stood up and began
THE FIGHT.Round 1.—Clarke, who was a model of symmetry, had a noticeable superiority in length and reach over the round and ruddy Redditch man, who, however, not only seemed undismayed, but lost no time in sparring, and rattled in right and left. The “Nobby One” stopped him neatly and retreated; then let go his left at Paddock’s head, but did not seem to leave a mark. Paddock bored in, but Clarke caught him in his arms, and both were down, Paddock under.2.—Clarke sparred and broke ground; as Paddock came on, hitting out viciously, Clarke caught him an ugly crack on the cheek-bone, and also one in the mouth. (“First blood” for Clarke.) Paddock would not be denied, and there were some ding-dong exchanges, in which Paddock got in a smasher on Clarke’s eyebrow, making a cut,which balanced the account; in the embrace which followed Paddock was undermost.3.—A rattling rally, in which Paddock showed most determination, the “Nobby One” breaking away twice during the hitting; but coming again to close quarters there were some sharp deliveries on both sides, and Paddock was first down.4.—Paddock made play, but Clarke avoided him, popping in one or two hits cleverly. Paddock persevered, and after an exchange or two, Clarke got the Redditch man undermost.5.—Clarke nailed Paddock left and right, but Tom bored in, caught Clarke a rib-roaster with the right; the “Nobby One” at the ropes made an attempt to butt, and then got down. Cries of “Foul.” A number of people forced themselves into the ring, declaring a “foul.” The referee called on the men to “go on.”6.—After some confusion the ring was cleared. Clarke had still, in appearance, the best of the hitting, Paddock’s cheek looking like a scored beefsteak. A merry bout, but Clarke would not get near enough; and, at last, as he launched out his right and closed, Paddock slipped down laughing. The ground was a perfect quagmire, and foothold very uncertain.7, 8, 9.—Paddock first to fight in these rounds. Clarke considerably shy in the rallies, and getting down amidst some disapprobation.10, 11, 12.—Paddock’s style a little improving. He, however, did not shine at out-fighting, “Nobby” getting on prettily now and again, but never following up an advantage. In the last-named round Paddock was hit down in a scramble.13.—Clarke began with more confidence, and nailed Paddock sharply twice in the head. Tom got in on Clarke’s ribs, a sounding thwack, and down went “Nobby,” to finish the round. (Applause for Paddock.)14.—Clarke shy and sparring, Paddock on to him, when “Nobby” threw Tom a back-fall in the close.15.—Exchanges; Paddock missed both hands; Clarke caught him heavily in the mouth, and Paddock was under in the throw.16 to 21.—Paddock, game as a pebble, went in, and though “Nobby” met him in the head, he never failed to get home on the body. Clarke clever at stopping and saving his head, but shifty and shy. (5 and 6 to 4 on Paddock.)22.—Clarke standing out and retreating on the saving suit; Paddock, resolute and determined, forcing the fighting. Clarke but little marked, except the cut over the eye in the second round though his left side showed some red bumps from Paddock’s right-hand body-blows, while Paddock was bleeding from half a dozen cuts on the cheek, nose, lips, and forehead. Still he was gay, and driving “Nobby” into his own corner, the latter dropped to avoid. (Hisses.)23 to 30.—Similar in character, Clarke going down almost every round.31.—Clarke, urged on by the Tipton, went in to fight and got the best of several exchanges, nearly closing his opponent’s left eye. Paddock got in a hit on “Nobby’s” neck, from which he turned round, and as Paddock was repeating his blow fell.32.—This ought to have been the last round. Clarke caught Paddock on the forehead, jumped back, ran away, and as Paddock threw out his left fell without a blow. (Great confusion, the ring broken in, and a minute or two expired before the referee’s decision could be obtained, who gave Clarke the “benefit of the doubt,” from the slipperiness of the ground.)33–40.—Paddock, despite the punishment he appeared to have received, was little the worse in wind or strength, while in pluck he was the very reverse of his clever antagonist. “Nobby” sparred cleverly, but was evidently afraid of his man, and when they got close and a half-arm hit was got in by Paddock, he was always a consenting party to going down; in fact, he was “on the go” before the blow reached him.41.—Another wrangle; “Nobby” getting down questionably after getting in a left-hander. (Hisses.)42.—Great wrangling and confusion. Paddock standing in the middle of the ring protesting, and calling on “Nobby” to come on, which he did after a minute or so of disputation. Paddock went at him, and “Nobby” slipped down. It was announced that Clarke would “fight no more.” Paddock again “orating;” the referee handed over the watch to a friend, called “Time!” and declared Paddock to be the winner. The Tipton created some amusement by his denunciations of the “Nobby One’s” cowardice, and was with difficulty prevented from striking the man he had just been seconding; politely addressing him as a “robber,” “cur,” “thief,”&c.with a variety of expletives which we decline to report, and ending by declaring he would “pay no bets on such a rank cross.” He had, however, to do so, as well as many others, and the stakes went to Paddock, as of right they were due.Remarks.—There was nothing so worthy of note in this battle as the utter unreliability of mere sparring skill when pitted against a fair amount of boxing acquirements, backed with those indispensable qualities, courage and endurance. Clarke had weight, length, skill, and, if properly applied, superior strength on his side; nevertheless, the Redditch man, by mere resolution and never losing trust in himself, literally frightened his opponent out of his victory. Paddock, though inferior to the “Nobby One,” displayed great improvement on his previous performance, and we did not hesitate to predict for hima successful career, provided that he possessed temper, discretion, and teachability, which, for some time, he certainly did not. Strength, pluck, stamina, and fearless courage he had; the regulating and guiding qualities he had not.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Clarke, who was a model of symmetry, had a noticeable superiority in length and reach over the round and ruddy Redditch man, who, however, not only seemed undismayed, but lost no time in sparring, and rattled in right and left. The “Nobby One” stopped him neatly and retreated; then let go his left at Paddock’s head, but did not seem to leave a mark. Paddock bored in, but Clarke caught him in his arms, and both were down, Paddock under.
2.—Clarke sparred and broke ground; as Paddock came on, hitting out viciously, Clarke caught him an ugly crack on the cheek-bone, and also one in the mouth. (“First blood” for Clarke.) Paddock would not be denied, and there were some ding-dong exchanges, in which Paddock got in a smasher on Clarke’s eyebrow, making a cut,which balanced the account; in the embrace which followed Paddock was undermost.
3.—A rattling rally, in which Paddock showed most determination, the “Nobby One” breaking away twice during the hitting; but coming again to close quarters there were some sharp deliveries on both sides, and Paddock was first down.
4.—Paddock made play, but Clarke avoided him, popping in one or two hits cleverly. Paddock persevered, and after an exchange or two, Clarke got the Redditch man undermost.
5.—Clarke nailed Paddock left and right, but Tom bored in, caught Clarke a rib-roaster with the right; the “Nobby One” at the ropes made an attempt to butt, and then got down. Cries of “Foul.” A number of people forced themselves into the ring, declaring a “foul.” The referee called on the men to “go on.”
6.—After some confusion the ring was cleared. Clarke had still, in appearance, the best of the hitting, Paddock’s cheek looking like a scored beefsteak. A merry bout, but Clarke would not get near enough; and, at last, as he launched out his right and closed, Paddock slipped down laughing. The ground was a perfect quagmire, and foothold very uncertain.
7, 8, 9.—Paddock first to fight in these rounds. Clarke considerably shy in the rallies, and getting down amidst some disapprobation.
10, 11, 12.—Paddock’s style a little improving. He, however, did not shine at out-fighting, “Nobby” getting on prettily now and again, but never following up an advantage. In the last-named round Paddock was hit down in a scramble.
13.—Clarke began with more confidence, and nailed Paddock sharply twice in the head. Tom got in on Clarke’s ribs, a sounding thwack, and down went “Nobby,” to finish the round. (Applause for Paddock.)
14.—Clarke shy and sparring, Paddock on to him, when “Nobby” threw Tom a back-fall in the close.
15.—Exchanges; Paddock missed both hands; Clarke caught him heavily in the mouth, and Paddock was under in the throw.
16 to 21.—Paddock, game as a pebble, went in, and though “Nobby” met him in the head, he never failed to get home on the body. Clarke clever at stopping and saving his head, but shifty and shy. (5 and 6 to 4 on Paddock.)
22.—Clarke standing out and retreating on the saving suit; Paddock, resolute and determined, forcing the fighting. Clarke but little marked, except the cut over the eye in the second round though his left side showed some red bumps from Paddock’s right-hand body-blows, while Paddock was bleeding from half a dozen cuts on the cheek, nose, lips, and forehead. Still he was gay, and driving “Nobby” into his own corner, the latter dropped to avoid. (Hisses.)
23 to 30.—Similar in character, Clarke going down almost every round.
31.—Clarke, urged on by the Tipton, went in to fight and got the best of several exchanges, nearly closing his opponent’s left eye. Paddock got in a hit on “Nobby’s” neck, from which he turned round, and as Paddock was repeating his blow fell.
32.—This ought to have been the last round. Clarke caught Paddock on the forehead, jumped back, ran away, and as Paddock threw out his left fell without a blow. (Great confusion, the ring broken in, and a minute or two expired before the referee’s decision could be obtained, who gave Clarke the “benefit of the doubt,” from the slipperiness of the ground.)
33–40.—Paddock, despite the punishment he appeared to have received, was little the worse in wind or strength, while in pluck he was the very reverse of his clever antagonist. “Nobby” sparred cleverly, but was evidently afraid of his man, and when they got close and a half-arm hit was got in by Paddock, he was always a consenting party to going down; in fact, he was “on the go” before the blow reached him.
41.—Another wrangle; “Nobby” getting down questionably after getting in a left-hander. (Hisses.)
42.—Great wrangling and confusion. Paddock standing in the middle of the ring protesting, and calling on “Nobby” to come on, which he did after a minute or so of disputation. Paddock went at him, and “Nobby” slipped down. It was announced that Clarke would “fight no more.” Paddock again “orating;” the referee handed over the watch to a friend, called “Time!” and declared Paddock to be the winner. The Tipton created some amusement by his denunciations of the “Nobby One’s” cowardice, and was with difficulty prevented from striking the man he had just been seconding; politely addressing him as a “robber,” “cur,” “thief,”&c.with a variety of expletives which we decline to report, and ending by declaring he would “pay no bets on such a rank cross.” He had, however, to do so, as well as many others, and the stakes went to Paddock, as of right they were due.
Remarks.—There was nothing so worthy of note in this battle as the utter unreliability of mere sparring skill when pitted against a fair amount of boxing acquirements, backed with those indispensable qualities, courage and endurance. Clarke had weight, length, skill, and, if properly applied, superior strength on his side; nevertheless, the Redditch man, by mere resolution and never losing trust in himself, literally frightened his opponent out of his victory. Paddock, though inferior to the “Nobby One,” displayed great improvement on his previous performance, and we did not hesitate to predict for hima successful career, provided that he possessed temper, discretion, and teachability, which, for some time, he certainly did not. Strength, pluck, stamina, and fearless courage he had; the regulating and guiding qualities he had not.
Paddock having failed in meeting with a customer after his defeat of Clarke, did not again appear within the ropes in 1846; but, on the 27th of December in that year, the clever “Nobby One” having somewhat wiped off the stain of cowardice which had attached to his name, by a triumphant defeat of a 12st.7lbs.man of the name of Jordan, calling himself “the Welsh Champion”—his friends took “heart of grace,” and again offered to back their man for £50 a side against our hero. The second trial took place on the 6th of April, 1847, at Stony Stratford. We shall not inflict upon the reader a full report of this battle. It was, with little variation in its incidents, a mere replica of the first, except that it lasted seven minutes less—48 minutes—and the close of the 35th round brought Tom’s labours to a victorious conclusion. In the first few rounds Clarke, as on the former occasion, took a triumphant lead; but his game and hardy opponent stuck to him so determinedly, and, when he did get on, so completely—as his half-reconciled and again-deluded friend the Tipton said—“Knocked all the fight out of him,” that the result was merely a question of minutes more or less; the fight being finally declared to Paddock from a “foul” by the miscalled “Nobby One.”
In our Life ofBendigo(antepage 37), we have fully narrated the circumstances under which Paddock, as “Johnny Broome’s Unknown,” took up the gauntlet thrown down by Bendigo for £200 and the Championship; and how Paddock, after what appeared a winning fight, threw away his advantages, and lost the battle by losing his temper—striking his shifty opponent a “foul” blow. This took place on the 5th of June, 1850, and as the Tipton had already pledged himself to fight the winner (Bendigo having announced his retirement from the Ring), the Slasher, then and there, challenged him for £350, which was afterwards reduced to £200 a side. This came to nothing, for on the 22nd of August, 1850, both parties failed in their deposits, and the money down was drawn. A new match was then entered into for £100 a side, and on this occasion, as the battle ended in a draw, we shall merely refer the reader to the Life ofPerry(seeantepage 157), where, also, will be found the account of his defeat by the Slasher, at Woking, December 17th, 1850, again from the delivery of a “foul” blow.
These defeats, greatly due to obstinate violence and ungovernable temper, seem to have induced some rash challenges to Paddock. In March, 1851,Jack Grant was hastily matched with Paddock for £100, and £5 deposited; but at the next meeting Grant’s backers took second thoughts, and Tom pocketed the £5, as one of the “little fishes,” which are proverbially “sweet.” In June, at an evening at Jem Burn’s, Con Parker (who at that time kept the “Grapes,” in Aylesbury Street, Clerkenwell) proposed a battle for £50 a side, to come off July 24th; but on the following Wednesday Master Con’s courage, like Bob Acres’s, “oozed out at his fingers’ ends,” and Paddock pocketed this affront also, and a “fiver.”
Harry Poulson, of Nottingham, a sturdy, game, and resolute man, a trifle over 12st, was now thought good enough to dispute superiority with Paddock, and on the 23rd of September, 1851, the men met at Sedgebrook, near Grantham, for the small stake of £25 a side. This battle, which was lost by Paddock, after a desperate fight of 71 rounds, occupying 95 minutes, will be found under Poulson, in theAppendixto PeriodVII.
Paddock, who was under a passing cloud, seemed now to be shut out from the front rank, Harry Broome having attained the honours of the belt by beating the Slasher, on the 29th September, 1851. (See Life ofBroome,post.) He was, in fact, at this time under articles with his former antagonist, Poulson, for a second trial, and the day fixed for December 16th, 1851. This proved an unfortunate affair for both parties. They met at Cross End, near Belper, Derbyshire, and the deposits being entirely carried out in Nottingham, no reporter from the London Press was on the ground, nor were any of the known patrons of the Ring present. The battle was gallantly contested, and Paddock, avoiding a fault conspicuous on a former occasion, had been most assiduous in his training. As usual, in gatherings where the roughs are predominant as partisans, there was a tedious waste of time in the appointment of a referee: any person of respectability who might have been present being either objected to, or himself objecting to take the thankless and often perilous office. The fight began at a little before one, Paddock gaining “first blood” and “first knock down,” by a delivery on Poulson’s left eye. After the first six rounds, Paddock forced the fighting, and had it nearly all his own way, Poulson’s want of condition telling against him. Eighty-six rounds were fought in 95 minutes, when Paddock was declared the winner amidst the plaudits of his friends.
Poulson was severely punished about the body. Paddock by no means escaped unscathed. Had the fight been conducted in a quiet manner, itwould have been an affair which would not have discredited the older days of the Ring; but we regret to say the worst part of our tale remains to be told. The magistrates of Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, and Leicestershire, aware that the fight was likely to come off in one of those counties, had for some days previously been on the look-out to ascertain the place of meeting, but had been put on the wrong scent; consequently, at the commencement of the battle, no efficient force was in attendance to prevent it. After the fight had continued some time, however, Messrs. John and Jedediah Strutt, with Captain Hopkins and another Derbyshire magistrate, arrived, and proceeded to dissolve the assemblage, with no other assistance than that of William Wragg, chief constable of Belper, to enforce their commands. The mob, however, refused to allow interference, when Mr. Jedediah Strutt rode up to the crowd, and ordered them to disperse. Paddock seem inclined to give over, but was told that if he did he would lose the money. The men, therefore, continued fighting, whereupon Mr. Jedediah Strutt attempted to force his way into the ring, for the purpose of reading the Riot Act, and Wragg, single-handed, endeavoured to clear a passage for him. A cry was raised of “Keep them out,” and about fifty roughs pounced upon the superintendent, and beat him savagely with sticks. The injured man was conveyed to Belper, where Mr. Allen and Mr. Lomas, surgeons, by skilful attendance, restored him to consciousness. The fight being concluded, the men set off for Derby, to which place Captain Hopkins had galloped off for assistance, and having obtained the co-operation of the borough-force, he met the combatants as they entered Derby, in different conveyances, with the intention of proceeding by train to Nottingham. Paddock and his second were taken out of a cab, and Poulson was apprehended amidst his friends in a “drag.” When taken, one of Paddock’s first observations was that “If he had won the toss for the choice of place, he would have chosen any place rather than that confounded county;” that he was sorry “the p’liceman was hurt; and he would have given over when the magistrates ordered them to disperse, but he was told that if he did he would lose the money; and, as he had been served so once before, he determined to go on with the fight.”
In this disgraceful riot and violence, we are happy to say, the men and their immediate seconds and backers took no part, as the subjoined letter from an eye-witness fully shows:—
“To the Editor of‘Bell’s Life in London.’“Derby, December 24th, 1851.“Mr. Editor.—Believing that a few words on the outrages committed at Paddock andPoulson’s fight may not be out of place, I send you the following: At the close of your Pedestrian Intelligence last week you gave some excellent advice to all connected with manly sports, and expressed a hope that those who by their ruffianly conduct thus disgrace the Ring, may receive their full deserts at the hands of the law. Were I the judge to try them, I would transport the whole; indeed, their conduct furnishes the opponents of prize-fighting with weightier arguments than could be found elsewhere. If pugilism, they may say, encourages fair play, and insists on equal strife, how comes it that one man shall be set upon by fifty of its supporters, and ill treated until it is doubtful whether he be dead or alive? But now let me say a word upon the state of the law in general, and the conduct of its instruments in this particular case. The same journal that reports the disturbance at the fight, details also the particulars of a murderous affray among the ‘navvies’ of the South Wales line; and, did we but alter the names of the places and persons, the whole of the latter skirmish might very well pass for a massacre among Malays or cannibals; stabbing, burning, maiming, and bruising—a dozen nearly dead, perhaps quite so, by this time. Yet I will venture to predict that the perpetrator of these villanies will reap no heavier punishment than would a poor fellow, professed boxer or not, who may have chanced in fair and honourable fight—such a thing occurring, perhaps, once out of a couple of thousand times—to have caused the death of his antagonist. Such being the case—the law looking with equal eyes at a butchery that would disgrace the Caffres, and a combat conducted with all possible fairness—men have no reason to choose the latter mode of settling their quarrels, but may as well, they think, adopt the method which inflicts the greatest injury on their enemies. Where men get two or three months for ‘knifing’ an opponent, and others get imprisoned for a twelvemonth for seconding or being present at a prize fight—although no harm may be done beyond the breach of our Sovereign Lady’s peace—it does not require a prophet or a Solomon to tell us to what state of things such a course must lead among the lower orders of people. And now I must ask, in the name of common sense, what the magistrates who interfered at Paddock’s fight expected? I would as lieve venture among a pack of wolves, as go single-handed to thwart a mob of midland counties roughs. Had the officer died, his death would have been owing to sheer foolhardiness, or the obstinacy of those who urged him on. I have seen hundreds of men, more than once, quietly disperse at the order of a magistrate, though he was quite alone, unsupported by even a single officer. So it ought to be, so I hope it will be, and so it must be, if pugilists hope that the next generation may know anything of their doings, except by tradition. Allow me to add that none but the ‘roughs’ took part in the brutal assault on the constable, Wragg. Yours, &c.,“LYDON.”
“To the Editor of‘Bell’s Life in London.’
“Derby, December 24th, 1851.
“Mr. Editor.—Believing that a few words on the outrages committed at Paddock andPoulson’s fight may not be out of place, I send you the following: At the close of your Pedestrian Intelligence last week you gave some excellent advice to all connected with manly sports, and expressed a hope that those who by their ruffianly conduct thus disgrace the Ring, may receive their full deserts at the hands of the law. Were I the judge to try them, I would transport the whole; indeed, their conduct furnishes the opponents of prize-fighting with weightier arguments than could be found elsewhere. If pugilism, they may say, encourages fair play, and insists on equal strife, how comes it that one man shall be set upon by fifty of its supporters, and ill treated until it is doubtful whether he be dead or alive? But now let me say a word upon the state of the law in general, and the conduct of its instruments in this particular case. The same journal that reports the disturbance at the fight, details also the particulars of a murderous affray among the ‘navvies’ of the South Wales line; and, did we but alter the names of the places and persons, the whole of the latter skirmish might very well pass for a massacre among Malays or cannibals; stabbing, burning, maiming, and bruising—a dozen nearly dead, perhaps quite so, by this time. Yet I will venture to predict that the perpetrator of these villanies will reap no heavier punishment than would a poor fellow, professed boxer or not, who may have chanced in fair and honourable fight—such a thing occurring, perhaps, once out of a couple of thousand times—to have caused the death of his antagonist. Such being the case—the law looking with equal eyes at a butchery that would disgrace the Caffres, and a combat conducted with all possible fairness—men have no reason to choose the latter mode of settling their quarrels, but may as well, they think, adopt the method which inflicts the greatest injury on their enemies. Where men get two or three months for ‘knifing’ an opponent, and others get imprisoned for a twelvemonth for seconding or being present at a prize fight—although no harm may be done beyond the breach of our Sovereign Lady’s peace—it does not require a prophet or a Solomon to tell us to what state of things such a course must lead among the lower orders of people. And now I must ask, in the name of common sense, what the magistrates who interfered at Paddock’s fight expected? I would as lieve venture among a pack of wolves, as go single-handed to thwart a mob of midland counties roughs. Had the officer died, his death would have been owing to sheer foolhardiness, or the obstinacy of those who urged him on. I have seen hundreds of men, more than once, quietly disperse at the order of a magistrate, though he was quite alone, unsupported by even a single officer. So it ought to be, so I hope it will be, and so it must be, if pugilists hope that the next generation may know anything of their doings, except by tradition. Allow me to add that none but the ‘roughs’ took part in the brutal assault on the constable, Wragg. Yours, &c.,
“LYDON.”
The upshot of this regretable riot was that Paddock and Poulson, being by law responsible as “principals,” were sentenced each, in March, 1852, to ten months’ imprisonment with hard labour.
Paddock’s forced seclusion in Derby Gaol, although it appears to have had a favourable effect on his violence of temper, did not diminish his readiness to play the “rubber game” with Poulson; inasmuch as we find him articled to meet his old antagonist on the 14th of February, 1854, to try a final appeal, with £200 deposited to abide the issue.
Paddock at once went into assiduous training in company with Tom Sayers, at Mr. Patton’s, mine host of the “Old Hat,” Ealing; and Poulson did the same at the Neptune Inn, Hove, near Brighton, under the guidance of Jerry Noon; it being thought advisable to fix his training quarters far from the too friendly visits of his Nottingham admirers. Poulson was, on this occasion, backed from Caunt’s, Paddock from Alec Keene’s. As this battle was arranged for the London district, a trip per Eastern Counties rail was agreed on. By the time named, half-past eight, the crowd in the neighbourhood of the Shoreditch station gave evidence that something unusual was on thetapis, hundreds of East-Enders surroundingthe terminus to catch a glimpse of the heroes of the day. The first to show was Harry Poulson, who entered the station accompanied by Jerry Noon, Callaghan, of Derby, and a dozen of Nottingham friends; he looked hard as nails, bright-eyed, smiling, and confident, and in rare preservation for an old’un, 37 summers having shone on his nob. He was soon followed by the Redditch champion, attended by Tom Sayers, Alec Keene, and Mr. Hibburd (one of his principal backers). Both men now began to distribute their colours to the voyagers on the platform, and, from the numerous handkerchiefs of both designs which were seen knotted round the throttles of the ticket-holders, the sale must have been satisfactory. At a quarter before nine the bell rang for the start, and although the town air was foggy, no sooner were we well on our way than the sun ofSt.Valentine shone out brilliantly, the hoar-frost deposited overnight vanished, and the pairing birds chirruped their courting notes from every hedge and thicket. The commissariat, under the care of Dan Pinkstone, occupying a saloon carriage, was first-class, as in an after-part of the day we had occasion to prove. The train sped merrily; and at a quarter-past eleven o’clock all disembarked, in high spirits, at the appointed station, Mildenhall, where the veteran Commissary and Tom Callas formed the lists in double-quick time, and the men soon after made their appearance. Poulson was attended by Jemmy Welsh and Jerry Noon, and Paddock esquired by Jemmy Massey and Jack Macdonald, to our thinking the best of all seconds of the present day. On shaking hands Paddock offered to back himself for “an even tenner,” which Poulson accepted; but the backers of Paddock in this “the rubber game” stood out for odds, and so little business was done. At length, umpires and a referee being chosen, at half-past twelve the rival pugs, stood up for
THE FIGHT.Round 1.—On the men throwing themselves into attitude their appearance was carefully scanned; the enormous development of muscle on Poulson’s arms and his blade-bones excited astonishment among the Londoners, who now saw him stripped for the first time. Still they were confident in the man of their adoption, for Paddock was indeed in robust health, and appeared to have so much the superiority in length and height that they now laid evens on him. No time was lost in sparring or in striking attitudes; Poulson at once dashed in, made his right on Tom’s ribs, and directly after on his mouth. Paddock was with him, and a shower of half-arm hits followed, each getting pepper on the left side of the nut until both were down.2.—Poulson went to work without delay, and began by pounding away with his right; Tom did not flinch, though he got it on the nose heavily, and then on his potato trap, from which the first vintage of the season was instantly perceived. (First blood for Poulson, amid cheers from the Nottingham lads.) Paddock slipped down.3.—Paddock, first to the scratch, led off with his left and gave Harry a tremendous crack on the forehead, Poulson returning almost a counter-hit on Tom’s left cheek. This led to a slogging rally, in which Poulson again visited Paddock’s cheek, while thelatter tapped the claret from Harry’s left eyebrow, and Poulson fell.4.—Paddock again led off, and just reached Poulson’s right eye, Poulson was with him, and some sharp counters took place, Paddock catching it on the nozzle from Poulson’s left, while Tom retorted with a swinging crack on Poulson’s left ear. They now broke away, but soon returned to work; Paddock let fly right and left viciously at Harry’s frontispiece, when Poulson countered him steadily on the snout and forehead. Poulson was first on the ground.5.—Paddock again opened the ball with a sharp rap on Harry’s cheek, but the latter retorted with such a sounding rib-bender that it was heard all round the ring. Soon after Tom landed a little one on Poulson’s right brow, cutting it, and producing the crimson. Both now banged away at close quarters, and in the end both came down.6.—Both sparred for wind; indeed, the fighting had been very fast; some random shots were exchanged, the men closed, and rolled down together.7.—Paddock let go his left, but it went clean over Poulson’s cranium. A second shot reached his forehead, but for this Tom caught a smasher on the mouth, that drew the Oporto copiously, and seemed for a second or two to puzzle Tom seriously. However, he went in, and more yard-arm to yard-arm cannonading followed; no quarter was given or asked for, but at the end of the ding-dong Paddock was down with the worst of the hitting.8.—Paddock came up crimson as the “Red Lion,” at Brentford, but he led off without delay, and they were soon at infighting; Paddock got on his knees in the scrimmage, and Poulson dealt him a “hot one” on his snuff-box. A claim of “foul” from Paddock’s friends, but disallowed. Poulson’s blow could not be withheld, as it was delivered simultaneously with Paddock’s knees reaching the ground.9.—Paddock, twice foiled in leading off, went in furiously, reaching Harry’s nose, and removing the bark, but getting a Roland for his Oliver in a smasher on his own olfactory organ that sadly spoilt its symmetry. Hitting right and left, and no stopping on either side, until Paddock went down in the exchanges.10.—Both were distilling the crimson from their left eyes; Paddock led off with the left, and got again heavily countered in the face. Poulson slipped and dropped on one knee; Paddock might have hit him, but he withheld his hand, and walked to his corner amidst applause.11.—Poulson dashed in, delivering his right heavily on the side of Tom’s nut, but the blow seemed open-handed. A merry rally ensued, in which some sharp, half-arm hits were exchanged, Paddock receiving some sharp thumps in the ribs, and retaliating on Poulson’s knowledge-box. Both down in the close.12.—Paddock feinted, and then let go his left, a cross hit on Poulson’s cheek; he got away, and repeated the dose on Harry’s smeller. Poulson seemed stung at these visitations, rushed in, and after some busy half-arm work Paddock was down.13 to 20.—Busy rounds, but short, and very similar in character, Paddock opening the ball and getting on by his superior length, but Poulson winding up the rounds by fear-nought hitting, and Paddock ending them by being first to grass.21.—Paddock still first, got in his left on Poulson’s bread basket, and his right on the side of the head; the latter was retaliated by a severe body-blow, and Paddock broke away. Paddock nailed Poulson on the nose, and on the left brow, still Poulson pegged away, but was first down from a wild hit of Tom’s on the side of his head.22.—Poulson tried to open the ball, but his left was stopped, and then his right, and Tom got home an ugly one on Harry’s left eye, which showed symptoms of the early closing movement. Poulson went in, but Tom planted an upper-cut on the damaged ogle, and Poulson slipped down.23.—Paddock, on time being called, rose and walked rapidly across towards Poulson’s corner. The latter had hardly time to turn round from his seconds, when Tom let fly at his forehead. Poulson let go both hands without aim; Tom missed a vicious hit with his left, and Poulson slipped down in a scramble.24.—Poulson was quickly up at the call of time, determined not to be stolen a march on; he opened the pleadings by a declaration with the right on Tom’s ribs, but got it on the mouth, and in a second attempt was stopped neatly; he, however, persevered, and some ding-dong exchanges ended by Poulson slipping down.25.—Both men slower, as well they might be, Paddock giving his adversary a crack on the bridge of the nose that compelled him to snuffle and wink; half-arm hitting, in which Paddock dropped.26.—Poulson took the initiative; he stepped in, caught Paddock a heavy spank with the right on the left cheek, and slipped from the force of his own blow.27.—Poulson again rattled in; Tom countered, and Poulson was down in the hitting.28.—Both seemed of opinion that a turn of the tide must be at hand. No time was lost on either side; Paddock made play, but Poulson was with him, and at close quarters they pegged away, Paddock with his straight left and Poulson with his dangerous right; but Jack was as good as his master—or rather Harry was as good as Tom. Though Poulson was first on the ground he had not the worst of the hitting.29 to 34.—Alternate leading off, but Paddock best at the attack. Poulson’s eyes were much damaged, though he was still the stronger man on his legs. The left side of Paddock’s face was awfully swelled, andas Jerry Noon said, “Was polished like a newly lasted boot.” At the end of round 33, Poulson fairly sent down Paddock in a close rally, and the seconds of the latter cautioned him to “keep away” from infighting.35.—Paddock adopted the advice. He measured his distance with his left got it in, but not heavily, on Poulson’s forehead, and jumped back; Poulson followed, but Tom retreated and shifted, hitting out as opportunity offered. Paddock got home on Harry’s right peeper, but could not prevent a visit to his ribs, and a sharp crack on the nose, from which the ruby distilled copiously. Poulson closed, and Paddock got down.36.—Paddock’s mug, on coming up, was a curious mixture of the comic and the serious. The right side, which was untouched, bore a sort of grin, while the left side, which was swollen to twice its natural size, buried the other half of the laugh in its tumefied recesses. He had, too, a cut on the bridge of his nose, and a blue mouse under his left eye. Poulson’s hardier mug was less battered in appearance, but his left eye was nearly closed, and the remaining window damaged. Paddock got on to Poulson slightly, and after some exchanges, both were down.37 to 50.—As before; alternate leads, followed by half-arm hitting, and one or the other down. Anybody’s battle.51.—Poulson’s left eye was now entirely in darkness, but he dashed in. Paddock caught him round the neck with his left arm, but could not screw him up for fibbing. Poulson kept pegging away, although getting the worst of it, and got down through Paddock’s hands.52.—Paddock let go his left on Poulson’s nose, but Poulson rushed in and pelted away till Tom got down to finish the round.53.—Paddock kept working in, and twice reached Harry’s eye and brow without a return. As they got closer there were some sharp exchanges, Poulson getting home a heavy hit on Paddock’s left eye, and also on his bruised ribs; Poulson was, however, down.54.—Paddock several times attempted to get in his favourite blow on the mark, but he was not quite near enough; at last he got home effectively, and Poulson reeled from the blow; Paddock followed him up, caught him on the head with the right, and Poulson was down.55 to 60.—Poulson’s right eye seemed to be in danger of following suit with the left. He evidently thought there was no time to be lost, and as Paddock would not come to close quarters, he rattled in somewhat wild and round, and in the 59th and 60th rounds was down.61.—Both came tired and slow, with but little to choose as to which was the weaker man. Paddock caught Poulson in the neck, changing his aim to the body, then caught Poulson on the proboscis, who closed and fell.62 to 65.—Paddock commenced business in each of these rounds; in the last-named Paddock delivered a spank with the left under Poulson’s right eye which knocked the brave fellow off his legs, and was pronounced to be “First knock-down to Paddock.” There was loud cheering, and many thought the fight over, concluding that Poulson’s right eye must now be closed. To the surprise of all, however, Harry came up at the call of “Time,” looking little, if any, the worse for the knock-down.66, 67.—Poulson steadily stopped two attempts with the left. Paddock at length got in a blow on the mark, and Poulson missed his return. Paddock hit over Poulson’s head with the left, and Poulson closed and fell.68.—Both slow; after some ineffective exchanges Paddock concentrated his energies, and, letting go his left straight from the shoulder, gave poor Poulson a nose-ender that again knocked him off his legs.69 to 75.—Poulson, losing precision in his deliveries from his failing eyesight, was nobbed almost at pleasure by his opponent, yet he never failed to get in a hard blow when they were at close quarters.76 to 88.—In all these rounds Poulson came up with unshrinking courage and determination, and his friends clung to the idea that a chance blow might yet reward his exertions, while Paddock’s friends, though they thought themselves on the winning side, feared that he could not finish his day’s work satisfactorily, and that a “draw” might yet disappoint their hopes. Round after round Poulson came up, amid cries of “Take him away!” But the brave fellow refused to give in.89.—Poulson, to the astonishment of all, was no sooner at the scratch, than he rushed at his opponent with such vigour and determination, pegging away right and left, that Paddock, in retreating, fell on his south pole in a ludicrous state of surprise and bewilderment at this unexpected but ineffective onslaught.90.—It was clear that this was the last flickering effort. Poulson came up weak and shaky, and, on Paddock letting go his left, fell.91 to 102 and last.—It was clearly all over with the gallant Harry. Paddock, by the advice of his seconds, kept away from his man, and just popped in a hit when he saw an opening, whereon Poulson fell. Noon vainly urged him to give in, until, in the 102nd round, his seconds and several of his backers, seeing the hopelessness as well as danger of prolonging the contest, threw up the sponge, and Paddock was declared the winner, after a desperate battle oftwo hours and thirty-two minutes.Remarks.—Few remarks will suffice upon this game and manly encounter. Experiencedring-goers tell us that second fights, still more third battles, between the same men are, as a rule, unsatisfactory. This was indeed an exception to that rule. It was, in courage, active work, and endurance, the best fight between big ones for many a day past. Poulson, for a man pronounced “stale” by many, is an extraordinary quick and punishing hitter, but he depends too much on his right, and thus throws open his face to the blows of a superior tactician. With any man not more skilful than himself he must yet prove the victor, but not even his game and gluttony can enable him to conquer a clever two-handed boxer possessed of resolution and skill like Tom Paddock. We must give praise to Jerry Noon for his humanity in throwing up the sponge when he did, and this we the more insist on as we know that he has been most shamefully censured and even abused, since the affair, by persons who ought to know better, and who have even brought to us their complaints of what they call his “unauthorised giving in against the wish of Poulson himself.” No impartial spectator can support such an argument for a moment, and the stakes were accordingly given up, with the approbation of the referee, despite a notice served upon the stakeholder.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On the men throwing themselves into attitude their appearance was carefully scanned; the enormous development of muscle on Poulson’s arms and his blade-bones excited astonishment among the Londoners, who now saw him stripped for the first time. Still they were confident in the man of their adoption, for Paddock was indeed in robust health, and appeared to have so much the superiority in length and height that they now laid evens on him. No time was lost in sparring or in striking attitudes; Poulson at once dashed in, made his right on Tom’s ribs, and directly after on his mouth. Paddock was with him, and a shower of half-arm hits followed, each getting pepper on the left side of the nut until both were down.
2.—Poulson went to work without delay, and began by pounding away with his right; Tom did not flinch, though he got it on the nose heavily, and then on his potato trap, from which the first vintage of the season was instantly perceived. (First blood for Poulson, amid cheers from the Nottingham lads.) Paddock slipped down.
3.—Paddock, first to the scratch, led off with his left and gave Harry a tremendous crack on the forehead, Poulson returning almost a counter-hit on Tom’s left cheek. This led to a slogging rally, in which Poulson again visited Paddock’s cheek, while thelatter tapped the claret from Harry’s left eyebrow, and Poulson fell.
4.—Paddock again led off, and just reached Poulson’s right eye, Poulson was with him, and some sharp counters took place, Paddock catching it on the nozzle from Poulson’s left, while Tom retorted with a swinging crack on Poulson’s left ear. They now broke away, but soon returned to work; Paddock let fly right and left viciously at Harry’s frontispiece, when Poulson countered him steadily on the snout and forehead. Poulson was first on the ground.
5.—Paddock again opened the ball with a sharp rap on Harry’s cheek, but the latter retorted with such a sounding rib-bender that it was heard all round the ring. Soon after Tom landed a little one on Poulson’s right brow, cutting it, and producing the crimson. Both now banged away at close quarters, and in the end both came down.
6.—Both sparred for wind; indeed, the fighting had been very fast; some random shots were exchanged, the men closed, and rolled down together.
7.—Paddock let go his left, but it went clean over Poulson’s cranium. A second shot reached his forehead, but for this Tom caught a smasher on the mouth, that drew the Oporto copiously, and seemed for a second or two to puzzle Tom seriously. However, he went in, and more yard-arm to yard-arm cannonading followed; no quarter was given or asked for, but at the end of the ding-dong Paddock was down with the worst of the hitting.
8.—Paddock came up crimson as the “Red Lion,” at Brentford, but he led off without delay, and they were soon at infighting; Paddock got on his knees in the scrimmage, and Poulson dealt him a “hot one” on his snuff-box. A claim of “foul” from Paddock’s friends, but disallowed. Poulson’s blow could not be withheld, as it was delivered simultaneously with Paddock’s knees reaching the ground.
9.—Paddock, twice foiled in leading off, went in furiously, reaching Harry’s nose, and removing the bark, but getting a Roland for his Oliver in a smasher on his own olfactory organ that sadly spoilt its symmetry. Hitting right and left, and no stopping on either side, until Paddock went down in the exchanges.
10.—Both were distilling the crimson from their left eyes; Paddock led off with the left, and got again heavily countered in the face. Poulson slipped and dropped on one knee; Paddock might have hit him, but he withheld his hand, and walked to his corner amidst applause.
11.—Poulson dashed in, delivering his right heavily on the side of Tom’s nut, but the blow seemed open-handed. A merry rally ensued, in which some sharp, half-arm hits were exchanged, Paddock receiving some sharp thumps in the ribs, and retaliating on Poulson’s knowledge-box. Both down in the close.
12.—Paddock feinted, and then let go his left, a cross hit on Poulson’s cheek; he got away, and repeated the dose on Harry’s smeller. Poulson seemed stung at these visitations, rushed in, and after some busy half-arm work Paddock was down.
13 to 20.—Busy rounds, but short, and very similar in character, Paddock opening the ball and getting on by his superior length, but Poulson winding up the rounds by fear-nought hitting, and Paddock ending them by being first to grass.
21.—Paddock still first, got in his left on Poulson’s bread basket, and his right on the side of the head; the latter was retaliated by a severe body-blow, and Paddock broke away. Paddock nailed Poulson on the nose, and on the left brow, still Poulson pegged away, but was first down from a wild hit of Tom’s on the side of his head.
22.—Poulson tried to open the ball, but his left was stopped, and then his right, and Tom got home an ugly one on Harry’s left eye, which showed symptoms of the early closing movement. Poulson went in, but Tom planted an upper-cut on the damaged ogle, and Poulson slipped down.
23.—Paddock, on time being called, rose and walked rapidly across towards Poulson’s corner. The latter had hardly time to turn round from his seconds, when Tom let fly at his forehead. Poulson let go both hands without aim; Tom missed a vicious hit with his left, and Poulson slipped down in a scramble.
24.—Poulson was quickly up at the call of time, determined not to be stolen a march on; he opened the pleadings by a declaration with the right on Tom’s ribs, but got it on the mouth, and in a second attempt was stopped neatly; he, however, persevered, and some ding-dong exchanges ended by Poulson slipping down.
25.—Both men slower, as well they might be, Paddock giving his adversary a crack on the bridge of the nose that compelled him to snuffle and wink; half-arm hitting, in which Paddock dropped.
26.—Poulson took the initiative; he stepped in, caught Paddock a heavy spank with the right on the left cheek, and slipped from the force of his own blow.
27.—Poulson again rattled in; Tom countered, and Poulson was down in the hitting.
28.—Both seemed of opinion that a turn of the tide must be at hand. No time was lost on either side; Paddock made play, but Poulson was with him, and at close quarters they pegged away, Paddock with his straight left and Poulson with his dangerous right; but Jack was as good as his master—or rather Harry was as good as Tom. Though Poulson was first on the ground he had not the worst of the hitting.
29 to 34.—Alternate leading off, but Paddock best at the attack. Poulson’s eyes were much damaged, though he was still the stronger man on his legs. The left side of Paddock’s face was awfully swelled, andas Jerry Noon said, “Was polished like a newly lasted boot.” At the end of round 33, Poulson fairly sent down Paddock in a close rally, and the seconds of the latter cautioned him to “keep away” from infighting.
35.—Paddock adopted the advice. He measured his distance with his left got it in, but not heavily, on Poulson’s forehead, and jumped back; Poulson followed, but Tom retreated and shifted, hitting out as opportunity offered. Paddock got home on Harry’s right peeper, but could not prevent a visit to his ribs, and a sharp crack on the nose, from which the ruby distilled copiously. Poulson closed, and Paddock got down.
36.—Paddock’s mug, on coming up, was a curious mixture of the comic and the serious. The right side, which was untouched, bore a sort of grin, while the left side, which was swollen to twice its natural size, buried the other half of the laugh in its tumefied recesses. He had, too, a cut on the bridge of his nose, and a blue mouse under his left eye. Poulson’s hardier mug was less battered in appearance, but his left eye was nearly closed, and the remaining window damaged. Paddock got on to Poulson slightly, and after some exchanges, both were down.
37 to 50.—As before; alternate leads, followed by half-arm hitting, and one or the other down. Anybody’s battle.
51.—Poulson’s left eye was now entirely in darkness, but he dashed in. Paddock caught him round the neck with his left arm, but could not screw him up for fibbing. Poulson kept pegging away, although getting the worst of it, and got down through Paddock’s hands.
52.—Paddock let go his left on Poulson’s nose, but Poulson rushed in and pelted away till Tom got down to finish the round.
53.—Paddock kept working in, and twice reached Harry’s eye and brow without a return. As they got closer there were some sharp exchanges, Poulson getting home a heavy hit on Paddock’s left eye, and also on his bruised ribs; Poulson was, however, down.
54.—Paddock several times attempted to get in his favourite blow on the mark, but he was not quite near enough; at last he got home effectively, and Poulson reeled from the blow; Paddock followed him up, caught him on the head with the right, and Poulson was down.
55 to 60.—Poulson’s right eye seemed to be in danger of following suit with the left. He evidently thought there was no time to be lost, and as Paddock would not come to close quarters, he rattled in somewhat wild and round, and in the 59th and 60th rounds was down.
61.—Both came tired and slow, with but little to choose as to which was the weaker man. Paddock caught Poulson in the neck, changing his aim to the body, then caught Poulson on the proboscis, who closed and fell.
62 to 65.—Paddock commenced business in each of these rounds; in the last-named Paddock delivered a spank with the left under Poulson’s right eye which knocked the brave fellow off his legs, and was pronounced to be “First knock-down to Paddock.” There was loud cheering, and many thought the fight over, concluding that Poulson’s right eye must now be closed. To the surprise of all, however, Harry came up at the call of “Time,” looking little, if any, the worse for the knock-down.
66, 67.—Poulson steadily stopped two attempts with the left. Paddock at length got in a blow on the mark, and Poulson missed his return. Paddock hit over Poulson’s head with the left, and Poulson closed and fell.
68.—Both slow; after some ineffective exchanges Paddock concentrated his energies, and, letting go his left straight from the shoulder, gave poor Poulson a nose-ender that again knocked him off his legs.
69 to 75.—Poulson, losing precision in his deliveries from his failing eyesight, was nobbed almost at pleasure by his opponent, yet he never failed to get in a hard blow when they were at close quarters.
76 to 88.—In all these rounds Poulson came up with unshrinking courage and determination, and his friends clung to the idea that a chance blow might yet reward his exertions, while Paddock’s friends, though they thought themselves on the winning side, feared that he could not finish his day’s work satisfactorily, and that a “draw” might yet disappoint their hopes. Round after round Poulson came up, amid cries of “Take him away!” But the brave fellow refused to give in.
89.—Poulson, to the astonishment of all, was no sooner at the scratch, than he rushed at his opponent with such vigour and determination, pegging away right and left, that Paddock, in retreating, fell on his south pole in a ludicrous state of surprise and bewilderment at this unexpected but ineffective onslaught.
90.—It was clear that this was the last flickering effort. Poulson came up weak and shaky, and, on Paddock letting go his left, fell.
91 to 102 and last.—It was clearly all over with the gallant Harry. Paddock, by the advice of his seconds, kept away from his man, and just popped in a hit when he saw an opening, whereon Poulson fell. Noon vainly urged him to give in, until, in the 102nd round, his seconds and several of his backers, seeing the hopelessness as well as danger of prolonging the contest, threw up the sponge, and Paddock was declared the winner, after a desperate battle oftwo hours and thirty-two minutes.
Remarks.—Few remarks will suffice upon this game and manly encounter. Experiencedring-goers tell us that second fights, still more third battles, between the same men are, as a rule, unsatisfactory. This was indeed an exception to that rule. It was, in courage, active work, and endurance, the best fight between big ones for many a day past. Poulson, for a man pronounced “stale” by many, is an extraordinary quick and punishing hitter, but he depends too much on his right, and thus throws open his face to the blows of a superior tactician. With any man not more skilful than himself he must yet prove the victor, but not even his game and gluttony can enable him to conquer a clever two-handed boxer possessed of resolution and skill like Tom Paddock. We must give praise to Jerry Noon for his humanity in throwing up the sponge when he did, and this we the more insist on as we know that he has been most shamefully censured and even abused, since the affair, by persons who ought to know better, and who have even brought to us their complaints of what they call his “unauthorised giving in against the wish of Poulson himself.” No impartial spectator can support such an argument for a moment, and the stakes were accordingly given up, with the approbation of the referee, despite a notice served upon the stakeholder.
Paddock, having thus retrieved his first defeat by the hardy Harry Poulson, by a second victory, was soon after called to the field by his old opponent Aaron Jones, who now sent forth his cartel from the domicile of Jem Burn, who had moved his head-quarters westward from Windmill Street to the erewhile domus of Johnny Broome, the “Rising Sun,” in Air Street, Piccadilly. Paddock, as before, was backed from Alec Keene’s, the “Three Tuns,” in Moor Street. The stakes, £100 a side, were duly made good, and the 18th of July, 1854, saw both parties embarked on board “The Waterman, No. 7,” which was the craft chartered to convey the men and the managers to the battle-field. On this occasion Paddock trained at Brighton, under the supervision of Alec Keene; Aaron first at Newbridge, in Ireland, near the Curragh, and later on at Shrewsbury, under the auspices of some distinguished military officers, and the mentorship of Jerry Noon. “The loquacious” Jerry won the toss for choice of corners, and took the corner with Jones’s back to the sun. Paddock, after an ineffectual attempt to lay an even “tenner” with his adversary, offered Jones 2 to 1, but there being no response, Tom, much disappointed, replaced the flimsy in his pocket. All being in readiness, and rumours of Jones’s inferior condition spread about the ring, offers to lay 2 to 1 on Paddock were taken to some amount. The colours were tied to the stakes, the men shook hands, and at ten minutes to one began