THE FIGHT.Round 1.—The men came up with their hands in good position, and after manœuvring for a short time Parker let fly his left, which was cleverly stopped. This led to a rally, in which very trifling hits were exchanged left and right, but as they were out of distance no harm was done, with the exception of a slight discolouration on the Slasher’s right cheek. Parker, in getting away from the Slasher’s rush, fell on one knee.2.—Parker again advanced bold as brass, looking all over confident, while the Slasher was not less prepared for action. After a few dodges, advancing and retreating, Parker popped in his left on the Slasher’s cheek. The Slasher fought wildly left and right, missing some of his hits, but planting his right heavily on the ribs under Parker’s left arm. Wild exchanges, when, as Parker was slipping on his knees, the Slasher caught his head under his arm, held it as if in a vice, and hung on him till he fell tumbling on him. The exchanges were trifling in their consequences, and a little flush on the skin was the only indication of punishment.3.—Parker came up obviously undismayed by the result of the last struggle, and apparently resolved to do his best. He tried his left, which the Slasher neatly threw aside with his right. The Slasher then advanced, hitting left and right wildly, and Parker stepping back to avoid execution. Trifling exchanges with the left. Parker again away, and watching for an opening to advance; dodging left and right, but no hitting. Parker stole a march, popped his left in slightly on the Slasher’s mouth, and broke away, the Slasher wildly after him, hitting left and right, but Parker slipped down on his knees and evaded receiving, thus commencing his old system. On the Slasher being picked up, blood was visible from his domino case, and this event was declared in favour of Parker.4.—Parker again prepared to lead off, advancing and retreating, finding the Slasher ready to hit or stop. At last he hit out with his left, which the Slasher stopped, and then rushing in left and right he administered a trifling upper cut with the latter. Parker retired to his corner, the Slasher after him. Parker, in ducking to avoid, slipped on his knees, but was up again in an instant and popped in his left. The Slasher hit out left and right without precision, and after a wild, scrambling rally, without mischief, Parker slipped down.5.—Slasher first up to the scratch, waiting for the attack. Parker dodged with his left once or twice, but not within distance. At length he got closer to his man, popped in his left on the Slasher’s jaw, who countered slightly with the left, rushing after Parker, who retreated to the corner, where he slipped down to avoid, the Slasher dropping on his knees beside him.6.—Both ready, but Parker afraid to approach his man. The Slasher hit out left and right, but was out of distance, and Parker broke away. Parker again dodging for an opening, and on getting close up to the work, left-handed counters were exchanged, but the impressions were trifling. A wild rally, in which the Slasher got a slap on the mug, and Parker a heavy hit on the ribs from the Slasher’s right. A scrambling exchange of hits left and right, when Parker slipped down. The hitting was wild, and anything but effective.7.—The Slasher’s mug somewhat flushed, but anything but serious in its aspect. Parker feinted with his left and popped in a pretty crack with his right on the Slasher’s jaw, and then broke away. Dodging, but no hitting. The Slasher hit out left and right, but was short; Parker retreated to his corner; wild but ineffective exchanges left and right, and Parker dropped on his knees.8.—Both at the scratch at the call of time. Parker tried his left, but was stopped; advancing and retreating. Parker endeavoured to steal a march, but was unable to get home, and the Slasher retired laughing. Parker again advanced, while the Slasher retreated; neither would go near enough to get to work. At last they got to a wild rally, missing their hits, and Parker retreating. Having reached Parker’s corner, the Slasher weaved left and right, but did not plant his intended compliments. Parker slipped down, the Slasher upon him. Parker’s right was puffed from the effect of one of his flying nobbers.9.—Offers, but no blows. The Slasher tried his right at Parker’s nob, but was beautifully stopped, and Parker broke away. Parker advanced ready to hit with his left, when the Slasher rushed wildly to him, weaving left and right, catching Parker on the left ear with the latter. In the scramble which followed Parker slipped down, the Slasher upon him.10.—Parker’s ear flushed, and his nose following suit in a slight degree. Parker advanced, but retreated the next moment, and the Slasher went to him. On getting to his corner there were slight exchanges with the left; the Slasher hit over Parker’s head with his right, and Parker dropped.11.—Parker slow to the scratch, and on the Slasher advancing he retreated to the ropes. A wild exchange of hits with the left, when Parker again slipped down on his knees.12.—No mischief done as yet, although Parker’s flesh under the arm indicated the visitations to which it had been subject. Attempts left and right, in which both missed their blows. Parker broke away, slipped on one knee, but jumped up again. Wild exchanges, Slasher trying his left and right. Parker, ducking to avoid the Slasher, retreated, but again rushed to the charge, weavingleft and right, ultimately slipping on his knees, amidst the cries of “cur.”13.—No sooner at the scratch than the Slasher advanced; Parker immediately retreated to the ropes, the Slasher after him; the Slasher hit out right and left, but Tass ducked under his arm, and escaped the intended compliments. Parker dropped on one knee, but again sprang up and caught the Slasher on the cheek with his left. Slasher missed his left and right, and Parker fell.14.—Parker fought on the retreat: a wild scrambling rally to the corner, and the Slasher slipped down.15.—Parker advanced and retreated, the Slasher after him, to his corner. Wild attempts at hitting left and right on the part of the Slasher, but he was out of distance, and missed. The Slasher then bored Parker down on the ropes, himself falling over outside the ring.16.—Still no indications of serious mischief. The Slasher desirous of going to work, Parker retreating. The Slasher weaving left and right; an exchange of hits with the latter, and the Slasher again popped in his right on Parker’s ear, from whence blood was visible. The Slasher closed, forced Parker down on his knees, and fell on him.17.—Parker on the retreat to his corner, the Slasher after him. Exchanges with the left and right, Parker getting prettily home with the former. A wild rally, both missing their blows, when Parker dropped.18.—Slasher the first to the scratch, and full of fight; Parker retreated to his corner, the Slasher after him. Slasher hit out left and right, but without precision. Parker, on his guard, went down without attempting to hit.19.—The Slasher, as usual, the first to obey the call of time. Parker tried his left, but was cleverly stopped. The Slasher then rattled to him; Parker evidently ready to drop, when the Slasher slipped and fell.20.—Parker hugging his corner, when the Slasher rattled to him, but missed; wild hits left and right. Parker popped in his left and broke away. Slasher again to the charge, followed his man, caught him a heavy whack with his right on the jaw, from the effects of which Parker staggered and fell. The first knock-down blow for the Slasher.21.—Tass’s left stopped, and the Slasher rushed in wildly left and right. In the exchanges the Slasher had it on the mouth, but again planted his right on his shifty opponent’s pimple, when he got down.22.—The Slasher the favourite, and offers to back him at evens. The Slasher first on his pins. Parker retreated, the Tipton after him, hitting wildly left and right, when Parker dropped, but jumped up, hit out with his left, caught the Slasher slightly, and again fell, amid exclamations of disgust.23.—Parker slow from his corner, the Slasher to him, when, after wild exchanges left and right, with no execution, Tass went down.24.—Parker came up evidently a dastard in spirit, and upon the Slasher rushing to him he slipped down, amidst the cries of “cur!” and “coward!” Blood was now flowing freely from the knuckle of Parker’s left hand, which had in some of the previous rounds come in contact with the Slasher’s tooth. From this to the thirtieth round Parker pursued the same cowardly game of making a show as if he intended to fight, but the moment the Slasher went to him to hit left and right purposely dropping, and thereby avoiding the mischief which might be effected. The Slasher was greatly incensed, turned round as if appealing to the spectators, who shouted “cur!” and “coward!” with stentorian voices. The Slasher’s umpire repeatedly cried “foul,” and nothing could have been more decidedly opposed to every rule of fair play; but Hannan, Parker’s umpire, did not respond. He was silent, but it was not difficult to discover which way his feelings inclined. In the thirtieth round Parker, after retreating to his corner, endeavoured to get down to avoid one of the Slasher’s wild rushes. The Slasher endeavoured to hold him up, but in vain; down he went, and the Slasher dropped on him with his knees. Parker’s backer immediately claimed “foul” amidst the derision of all around him. It would be an insult to the understandings of our readers if we were to pursue our description of the 102 imaginary rounds which followed, during which Parker went down fifty times at least, the Slasher most forbearingly avoiding all temptations to strike or even to fall on him so as to afford pretence for a claim of “foul.” More than once Tass threw up his feet so as almost to kick at his man as he rolled or scrambled over him, after missing his one, two. It was in vain that the Slasher essayed to nail him left and right. He ducked and tumbled whenever there was the slightest chance of sustaining a hit, inducing universal marks of disgust at his cowardice, and the words “cur” and “coward” resounding from all quarters.In the fifty-seventh round the Slasher was lucky enough to afford him another excuse for a fall, by giving him a home slap from the left on the mouth, and laying him prostrate, while he pointed at him with derision. The real motive for refusing to agree to the appointment of an impartial referee now admitted of no doubt. It had been foreseen that such a man would have long before this settled the point at issue by declaring the battle won over and over again by the Slasher. But even the absence of such a character did not serve the intended purpose. Hannan, who acted as umpire, declared his situation to be of a most unenviable description. He looked appealingly to all around him, and, satisfied that the conduct ofParker was at variance with every principle of honour and fair play, he repeatedly sent to warn him that if he persisted in the same atrocious cowardice he must agree with the repeated claims of his co-umpire, who in vain called for his honest and impartial judgment. The poor fellow actually trembled with vexation at the shouts of derision which were directed towards his man, and at length, in the 126th round, on Parker going down without the most remote shadow of a blow, unless the wind of the Slasher’s fist could deserve that character, he involuntarily exclaimed, in conjunction with his co-partner, and in accordance with the universal exclamations from every quarter of the ring, “foul!” This conduct on the part of Hannan elicited loud approbation, but in a moment he was surrounded by a knot of the most outrageous partisans of Parker, who threatened instant annihilation if he dared to repeat his just opinion. It was in vain we looked for the honest co-operation of the real members of the Ring to drive these ruffians from the arena—they ruled the roost with unblushing impudence, and treated those who cried shame on their conduct with insolence and contempt. At last a second appeal was made to Hannan, but he was dumb, and nothing but a renewal of the fight would satisfy his assailants, and renewed the disgraceful scene was, but with a perfect anticipation of what must be the ultimate result. Many gentlemen, old and sincere patrons of fair boxing matches, retired from the discreditable exhibition. The backer of Tass Parker asserted that he was so weak as to be incapable of keeping his legs, while every person who had the power of exercising the commonest judgment saw that when he thought proper he could stand as firmly on his pins as when he commenced. He had not, in fact, received a blow which could have, in the slightest degree, impaired his vigour, and were his heart in the right place, he was just as capable of continuing operations as at the commencement of the fight. Hannan having resumed his seat, but pale as ashes, and shaking like an aspen leaf, the farce was renewed, and for seven rounds more Parker got up but to fall in the same dastardly manner which had marked his career. In the 133rd round he made a show of fighting, and exchanges left and right took place. Parker then retreated towards the ropes, the Slasher after him. When the Slasher was about to commence his wild and indecisive deliveries left and right, Parker, finding he could not get away, for the last time dropped without a blow, and the shouts of “cur” and “coward” were renewed with additional indignation. This was too much for Hannan, and incapable longer of stultifying himself and the Ring, of which he had been, and is, a gallant member, he at once agreed with the umpire on the other side that Parker had fallen without a blow, and had thereby lost the fight. Thus ended this libel on the “manly sports of the Ring.” The roughs were taken by surprise, and were incapable of stemming the torrent of general indignation; but the weak and powerless Parker, in order to justify the false opinion expressed by his backer, jumped up with the vigour of a lion, and rushing to the corner where Johnny Broome stood, having possessed himself of the colours which had been tied round the stakes, tore his own colours from his hand, thereby proving that weakness was the least excuse which could be offered for his poltroonery. Everybody except the partisans of Parker was rejoiced at the termination of this most contemptible display, and heartily concurred in the propriety of Hannan’s conduct.The battle, if it may be so called, admits of but few remarks. The Slasher fought with a wildness and want of precision which enabled Parker to protract the struggle almost indefinitely; for had he been lucky enough to give him one or two stingers, his heart, which was not bigger than a pea, would have forced him at once to shut up; but by his contemptible shifting and dropping he escaped the visitation, and thus owed the confirmation of his defeat to his own pusillanimity. It is stated that the injury to Parker’s right hand early in the fight had disabled that limb, and that he acted under an impression that as there was no referee he had a right to protract the battle by any device, till one or other was incapable of obeying the call of time—that is to say, that every principle which renders boxing praiseworthy should be abandoned, and its worse enemies gratified. In other words, that he might exercise a treacherous strike and drop fromthe return. Such an argument would not be recognised by the veriest tyro in theP.R.The Slasher, also, complained of his right arm being injured, from having come in contact with Parker’s nob early in the contest, but he certainly brought it into use notwithstanding this injury.All being over, the crowd returned to the train, stopping at the “King’s Arms” to partake of such refreshment as that hostelrie afforded, which, from long privation, became most acceptable. Parker went through the farce of going to bed, but soon afterwards joined his co-travellers in the train, and all were quickly wafted to the London Bridge terminus once more, from whence they took their departure to their respective quarters. The Slasher scarcely bore a mark of punishment, and on arriving at Johnny Broome’s was hailed with general acclamations. Some of Parker’s friends expressing doubts of his qualities, he announced that he was ready to make a fresh match for £200 a side with his opponent.On the following Wednesday the stakeholder, notwithstanding a notice of action from Parker’s backers, gave up the stakes (£200) to Johnny Broome, under a guarantee, and of course all bets went with the battle-money. We shall pass over the cloud of correspondence, challenges, and counter-challenges which ensued, to come to the renewed match, which, after innumerable delays, was finally made in the early months of 1846.On the 4th of August, 1846, Parker for the third and last time entered the ring with “the Tipton,” assuring his somewhat sceptical friends that he had “screwed his courage to the sticking place” and determined to do or die. As the Slasher was now viewed by many as the “coming champion” the final contest between him and his scientific but soft-hearted opponent will be read with interest.Lindrick Common, Nottinghamshire, eight miles from Sheffield, was the scene of action, the ropes and stakes being furnished by the Manchester Commissary. The attendance of the “upper crust” was by no means numerous, but there was a tidy sprinkling of Yorkshire sportsmen of the north-country Fancy, and a perfect crowd of swarthy miners and pitmen from the neighbouring districts as far as Chesterfield and Derby. An excellent ring was formed, and, as the writer can testify, a degree of order observed which might well shame the “roughs” nearer home. At half-past eleven o’clock the men entered the ring, Reid, of Sheffield, and Nobby Clarke waiting on the Slasher, Jem Parker and Cottrell, of Birmingham, seconding Tass. The betting was tolerably brisk at five to four on Parker, whose friends seemed to be in the ascendant, and certainly better “breeched”than those from “the Potteries.” After nearly an hour’s delay, owing to objections to several parties named as referee—the representative ofBell’s Lifepositively declining—Squire Edison accepted the office amidst acclamations, and the men faced each other forTHE FIGHT.Round 1.—The attitude of Parker, his left well up in a line with his left foot, and his right fore-arm slightly bent, and below the level of his left elbow, was graceful and attractive; he stood firm, yet springy, poised lightly on his forward foot, and was equally prepared for advance or retreat. His condition appeared first-rate, and his weight, 11st.6lb., seemed well distributed for activity and powerful effort; his countenance was smiling and confident, and his age (33 years) sat lightly upon him. His massive and ungainly antagonist offered a striking contrast; brown, burly, and, as Paddy would say, “big for his size,” he grinned grotesquely at his slighter rival, nor was the oddity of his mirthful mug by any means lessened by the fact of his front railings having been displaced in bygone battles. He, too, was hard, and had evidently been brought, by severe training, into as good condition as we have ever seen him on former occasions. From the waist to the shoulders he was a model for a gladiator, but we doubt if the artist or the sculptor would feel inclined to copy his capital or his pedestals, inasmuch as the first is, despite a comic expression of good-humour, as odd a conglomeration of features as Gillray or Cruikshank would desire to pencil; while the latter more resemble the letter K than the parallel supports which society has agreed to term symmetrical. His weight was 13st.4lb.; his age twenty-seven, having been born in 1819, although the displacement of his grinders gave him a more antique aspect. Little time was lost in sparring, for the Slasher, his left presented and his right kept close to the mark, walked in upon his man, grinning mischief. Tass let go his left, but was stopped rather neatly; he broke ground and retreated, but the Slasher, working round, forced him into his corner, where several sharp and rapid exchanges took place, Parker twice popping in his left, but ineffectively, and the Slasher countering, in one instance with a heavy hit on Tass’s chest. After a little manœuvring, the Tipton, resolved to force the fighting, stepped gradually in, Tass retreating, and endeavouring to plant his favourite job; it was no go; taught by previous experience, the Tipton would not make play until his opponent let loose, and then, with more tact than we have hitherto seen him display, he countered with his left, and bringing up his right, caught Tass a sounder on the ribs. Toss leaped back, but renewed the hitting merrily, getting down at close quarters to avoid a return of the Tipton’s right.2.—Tass, serious, looked as if measuring his work; the Tipton grinning. Fast fighting for big’uns seemed the order of the day. Tass got in on the Slasher’s mouth, who followed him fiercely, screwing himself up for mischief. Tass fought beautifully, but there seemed little sting in his deliveries; there was some excellent mutual stopping, which elicited applause, especially for the Slasher, of whom it was least expected. Tass again got in one on the Tipton’s chest, who returned it with his right, and Tass went to earth, half with his own consent.3.—The Slasher came up on the grin, and walked into his opponent without delay. Parker again fought well, though both were over fast. Merry work, but little harm done, till Tass sent his right, straight as an arrow, on the Tipton’s left jaw, and down went his house, Parker also falling from his own blow. An uproarious chevy; first knock-down for Parker.4.—Parker came up cautious, with an ugly cut over the right eyebrow. First blood for the Slasher. A short round; the Tipton again drove Tass before him to his corner, where he got down to avoid.5.—As before, the Slasher seemed to have made up his mind there should be no idling; no sooner at the scratch than he was at work. Tass popped at him, but was short, and the Tipton missed his counter-hit. The Slasher laughed, and tried it again, but was stopped. A little rally at the ropes, and Parker, after an exchange or two, dropped on his knees.6.—Tass manœuvring, Tipton fighting, but not getting home. Tipton’s seconds advised him to wait for Tass’s play; he did so, and was rewarded by success. He met Parker, as he jumped in, with the left, and bringing up his right gave him a ribber that laid him on the earth, half doubled up.7.—Slasher too fast, his opponent too slow. A short specimen of “You run away, and see if I don’t come after you.” At length Tass popped in a blow on Slasher’s shoulder, who closed. A brief struggle followed; the Tipton got the crook with his crooked leg, and threw Tass, falling with his broad base on his antagonist’s victualling store. It was a burster (two to one on the Slasher).8.—A short bout of hitting, stopping, and feinting. Tipton let fly, Tass slipped away and got down cunning.9.—Slasher’s left neatly stopped, andParker’s return parried. Parker flared up for a moment, and got in one, two, but produced no impression on his man, who went in laughing. Tass tried to evade him, but the Slasher closed; both down after a struggle, during which Tass’s hand was seen across the Tipton man’s face, and a cry of “foul” was raised. Some confusion; Slasher appealed to the referee, charging Parker with the unmanly act of biting him in a previous round, when he was in the act of throwing him, and in this round of an attempt to injure his eye. The referee ordered the men to proceed.10.—Tass came up with a large black patch on his sinister eyebrow, and his most prominent feature somewhat damaged. Tipton eagerly after him, but Tass was too shifty to be immediately had; he gave the Slasher two pops; the latter, however, was with him, and ultimately hit him down.11.—Tass held his arms almost at full extent, and manœuvred round his man; the Slasher, more cautious, faced him steadily. At length the men got nearer, exchanged blows, and Tass fell to finish the round.12.—So soon as up the Tipton went in, but Tass declined the compliment, and avoiding his one, two, which were wasted on thin air, got down anyhow.13.—Half a minute’s posturing. Tass plunged in with his left, but was short; tried his right, but was stopped. The Slasher got close, Tass was unable to hit him off, and he delivered a half-arm pounder with his right. Tass fell because this time he could not help it.14.—Tass played with his man; he seemed more than half tired of his job. The Tipton leary, and not to be drawn by feints. Slasher went in, and down tumbled Tass, amidst shouts of disapprobation.15.—Parker came up slowly; good stops on both sides; Tipton, quitting the defensive, rattled in; Tass rallied sharply, but in the end received an ugly upper-cut on the dial, and fell.16.—Tass somewhat disfigured, while the Tipton’s ugly mug seemed altogether unaltered. After some slight exchanges Tass dropped.17.—Parker’s tactics seemed at fault; he sparred a few seconds, but on the Slasher stepping in, found his way to the ground rather equivocally.18.—Tass flared up momentarily. He tried it on with both hands in succession. Tipton cleverly foiled him; indeed, Tass did not get near enough to his man to do work. Tipton returned. The old game was played—Tass selected his mother earth.19.—Tass’s left again short; he was too fond of long bowls. A close, and Tass got down as well as he could.20.—Parker made play, and getting a little nearer, dropped his bunch of fives on the Tipton’s mouth; tried it again, but fell short, and got a left-handed nobber in return that floored him neatly.21.—Both Tass’s hands seemed to have lost their cunning. His heart was not big enough to carry him in, nor, when there by accident, to allow him to stand a rally. He fought badly and out of distance, and at length scrambled down to avoid the resolute charge of the Slasher, who gave him a nasty one on the side of the nut as he was on his journey to earth.22.—Perry drove his man all across the ring. Some pretty exchanges. Parker got home on Tipton’s dial, who missed the return. A short, irregular rally. Tass again got in once or twice, but they seemed mere taps. At length the Slasher, who had been screwing himself up, sent out his left straight as an arrow at his opponent’s head. The concussion was like the kick of a coach-horse, took effect at the base of Parker’s left nostril, and he fell as if shot. “It’s all over,” was the cry; and the Tipton remained for some time in the middle of the ring to favour the company with a few polka steps, for which his swing leg was peculiarly adapted.23 and last.—Tass, to the astonishment of all, came up at the call of time, but it was evident the last hit had been a settler and had sent his faculties all abroad. Although he assumed an attitude, he stared perplexedly at his opponent, and swerved from the perpendicular as he broke ground. The Tipton surveyed him a moment before he stepped forward, but no sooner did Tass perceive his approach, than, either from bewilderment or a faint heart, he fell forward on both knees, and thence on his hands. The Slasher turned appealingly to the umpires and referee, without having even offered to strike. The case was clear; and amid the shouts of the multitude the Slasher was greeted as the conqueror. Time, twenty-seven minutes.Remarks.—The Slasher fought better than we have seen him on any previous occasion; his confidence and condition—of which latter absurd rumours were afloat—were on a par with his coolness and courage. To the former he added tact in waiting for his opponent’s delivery of a blow, and a skill in counter-hitting for which we did not give him credit; this, added to his physical superiority in weight and thews, left his lighter and more active opponent almost without a chance, and the contest was reduced to a mere question of time, the ultimate result being scarcely within the scope of doubt. Of the defeated man we can only say that although he fought three or four rounds in a spirited—nay, an almost desperate manner, his conduct in the vast majority so much savoured of Falstaff’s “better part of valour,” that his claim to the character of a game man still remains unproven, while his attribute of skill, so loudly vaunted by his infatuated admirers, has suffered considerably by this exhibition; this, however, may partly be owing to theimprovement in his antagonist’s tactics which, by frustrating his earlier efforts, so disheartened him that he never showed to less advantage. The question of superiority can no longer be mooted; Tass’s quickness and skill have lost their striking advantage, while the Slasher’s strength and pluck, on this occasion seconded by a respectable amount of science, have by no means fallen off. Tass’s friends attribute his defeat to his having had two ribs broken in the seventh round, from the Slasher falling heavily on him, and he certainly remained under the surgeon’s hands, who confirmed the aforesaid fracture.After the above battle, the Tipton Slasher issued a challenge to Caunt to fight for £100 a side; this Caunt declined to do, and staked £500 in the hands of the editor ofBell’s Life, declaring, at the same time, his willingness to fight the Slasher for £500, but for no smaller sum. Much angry correspondence passed between them, which is utterly unworthy of preservation; and in the latter part of 1846 Johnny Broome presented a belt to the Slasher, whereon Caunt lowered his terms to £200, with a stipulation that if that condition was not accepted within a month, his retirement from the Ring was absolute. This, however, was not suitable to Broome andCo., though the Slasher was ready and willing.[20]We may hear note, retrospectively, that in December, 1844, yet another “big ’un” had made hisdebutin theP.R., who, in a future chapter, will figure among the numerous candidates for the much-wrangled Championship.This was Tom Paddock, who, in the month of December, beat Elijah Parsons, at Sutton Coldfield. Following this, he twice defeated Nobby Clarke, a chicken-hearted but scientific 12-stone man, in January, 1846, and in April, 1847. Paddock’s next venture was with the renowned Bendigo, with whom he lost the battle by a foul blow, June 5, 1850.In September, 1849, the Tipton, having forfeited to Con Parker, on account of ill-health, was challenged thereafter by Tom Paddock, soon after the latter had lost what many thought to be a winning fight with Bendigo. In this affair, by some shuffling on the part of Perry’s money-finders, a curious “draw” was manipulated, neither of the parties being ready to go on at the fourth deposit, on August 22nd, 1850, taking back their stakes by mutual consent. The Slasher, finding other and more reliable friends, renewed the articles, and on December 17th, 1850, the rivals at last came together, face to face, in the ring. The Tipton trained for this encounter under Levi Eckersley, near Liverpool, while Paddock had his advice and exercise with Bob Fuller and Jem Turner, than whom two better trainers did not exist.On the Monday previous, the Slasher arrived at Tom Spring’s, and Paddock set up his rest at Jem Burn’s, where they were surrounded by admiring coteries. The betting was 6 to 4 on the Slasher, whose superior weight and experience gave him that advantage in the odds.All requisite arrangements for the meeting had been undertaken by Spring and Burn, and after sundry cogitations they decided on an excursion-train on the South Western Railway. Half-past nine on Tuesday morning was the time named for departure, and long before that hour arrived, the platform at Waterloo displayed a goodly muster of folks “wot love a mill,” including many old stagers, “swells,” and patrons of all degrees. The professors were also numerous in their attendance, and included twenty men who had been selected to preserve order. We could not but remark, however, the absence of that quaint fun and humour which, in the days of Josh Hudson, Jack Scroggins, Young Dutch Sam, and Frosty-faced Fogo, flung an air of good-humoured frolic on such assemblages, affording scenes for the pencil of George Cruikshank, and food for the pen-and-ink sketches of the Ring-historians of the day. To the question “Whither are we bound?” no response was given. The captain started with sealed orders, and had a sort of roving commission as to the place at which he should cast anchor. Suffice it to say, the pace was first-rate and there was but one stoppage till Bishopstoke was reached. Themen were in separate carriages, and there was a wide contrast in their bearing, Paddock being all mercurial and double jolly, and the Slasher as solid and steady as Cardinal Wiseman on a fast-day.It was intended to turn off on the Salisbury line and bring up at Dean, on the borders of Wilts. The Hampshire police, however, were on the alert, with an assurance that the Wiltshire folks were equally wide-awake, and determined to spoil sport. Information to this extent was quickly conveyed to the managers, and, after a short consultation, “bock agen” was the order of the day. Various places were mentioned as likely to afford a quiet and welcome reception, and the first attempt was made between Andover and Winchfield, but no sooner was the ring pitched than the Hampshire blues once more hove in sight, and the jaded travellers had again to enter the carriages. Thus was time wasted, and the hour of three arrived before the caravan again got under way. It was then agreed to go to Woking Common, and many bets were offered that the contest would not come off that day. A strong desire, however, was expressed that it should be settled, and about half-past three a stoppage was made between a couple of high embankments, which, on being scaled, exposed to view a remote corner of Woking Common. The land of promise thus reached, the office was given, for the last time, to disembark. A site for a ring was quickly discovered, and although not a very desirable spot, still, it was the only one to be had, and no time was lost in forming the magic square. A limited outer ring was also formed, and tickets, at 5s. each, distributed to those who sought the privilege of a close proximity to the scene of action, the produce being afterwards equally divided among the ringkeepers. It was now four o’clock, and the day fast waning; in fact, it was difficult to distinguish the faces of persons from one side of the ring to the other; but a clear moon hung out its lamp, and promised a continuance of light. All being in readiness, Paddock flung his castor into the ring, following it himself amidst loud cheers. He was attended by Jack Hannan and Bob Fuller. The Slasher, who was not long after him, was waited on by Nobby Clarke and Jem Molyneux. Paddock looked fresh, laughing, and apparently confident; while the Slasher was cool, quiet, and smiling. After a great deal of difficulty as to the selection of a referee, both parties agreed upon Ned Donnelly. Jem Burn addressed this functionary on the part of Paddock, and said all he wanted was a fair and manly fight, and that there should be no captious objections to any accidental occurrence. He wished the merits of the men might be fairlytested, and only desired that the best man might win. The men now prepared for action, and at thirty minutes past four, the rising moon looking modest from the east, and the last rays of the setting sun painting the western horizon, the gladiators appeared at the scratch, and commencedTHE FIGHT.Round 1.—The men having chosen their corners, fortune enabled the Slasher to place his back to the rising moon, so that his toothless mug was in shade. His herculean frame was, however, sufficiently visible, and his easy confidence and quiet deportment increased the confidence of his friends, and led all who scanned his proportions to consider him perfectly competent to hit down a hippopotamus; or, like the Greek boxer of old, floor a cantankerous bull, even without the assistance of the cestus. Paddock, although when opposed to Bendigo he appeared of the burly breed, loomed small in contrast with the Slasher. The disparity in their size was obvious, and as he jumped about seeking an opening, a veteran ring-goer exclaimed, “It’s any odds against the young’un, he’s got his master before him now.” In fact, the very style of holding up his hands, and the yokel-like feints (completely out of distance) with which he commenced, showed he was puzzled how to begin the job he had so confidently undertaken; presently he determined to chance it, and jumped in. Fortune favours the bold, and he gave the Slasher a clout on the jaw-bone with his left, the Tipton hitting in return on his shoulder or breast, and driving him back. The Slasher stepped in; Paddock retreated before him to his corner, hitting up again, but the Tipton stopped him. A smart exchange took place, and Paddock slipped down to get out of mischief.2.—Paddock began by trying his left twice, and barely reaching the Slasher, who dealt him a body blow with the right. Some heavy hits in weaving style, and a half-round body blow or two followed, the sound rather than the effect of the hitting being perceptible. The Tipton closed with Paddock, who struggled for a moment, and was then thrown on his back, the Tipton lending him thirteen stone additional to hasten his fall.3.—Two to one on the Tipton. The Slasher missed Paddock two or three times, owing to his active, jumping away; still he steadily pursued him. Paddock tried both hands, but had the worst of the exchanges; still there was no harm done. Paddock made a lunge with the right, but Tipton met him a smasher, and hit him down, almost falling over him. First knock-down for the Slasher.4.—It was now stated that Paddock had dislocated his shoulder; it was no doubt injured, but not out of joint. He tried his left in a flurried manner, but the Tipton feinted with the left, drove him back, and Paddock fell to avoid.5.—The Tipton went to work quickly, but steadily; he caught Paddock on the body with the right, and on the left cheek heavily with the left, as he was jumping round, and down went Paddock among the bottles in his own corner.6.—Tipton gave Paddock no rest or time for reflection, but pelted away. Paddock skipped about, and escaped against the ropes; from his corner, hit up, catching the Tipton on the side of the neck slightly, and dropped on one knee. The Tipton might have given him a finisher, but did not avail himself of the chance, threw up his hands and walked away.7.—Paddock hit Tipton sharply with the left on the forehead as he came in. Tipton missed his right, but caught Paddock a nasty “polthogue” on the nob as he was going back. Paddock fell on the ropes but was not down. The Tipton dropped his hands and came away from him, disdaining to hit him in that position. “Bravo, Tipton!”8.—As before; Tipton making the play and forcing his man, who could not make head against the attack, and jumped about like “a parched pea.” Paddock fell at Tipton’s feet, who, the friends of Paddock declared, tried to tread on him, and appealed accordingly. It was a “forlorn hope,” and the referee said “he saw nothing foul.”9.—Paddock jumped up as usual, just reaching Tipton’s chin, for which he was punished with a sounding ribber. Tipton stepped in, and down dropped Master Paddock.10.—Exchanges, but no effects visible, except a little blood from Paddock’s cheek. First blood for Tipton. The Tipton hit out right and left, and caught the Redditch man on the nob and body, who staggered half-way across the ring, and fell.11.—Tipton once again on Paddock’s body. Paddock fell in the bustle without a hit.12.—Paddock shifting and retreating. A slight exchange, and Paddock fell to avoid.13.—Tipton forced Paddock into his corner, but before he could do any mischief Paddock fell. A claim of “foul,” but not acknowledged.14.—Tipton just touched Paddock with his left, who kept slipping back. Tipton followedhim, and he dropped. Another appeal that Paddock fell without a blow, but the Tipton party waived the objection.15.—Paddock hit the Tipton, then slipped half down, jumped up again, and resumed the fight. Tipton went to work, and hit him down in the short rally.16, 17, 18, and 19.—As like each other as peas. Slasher made at Paddock, who wouldn’t stand his charge, and fell to avoid. Appeals. “We don’t want to win by a foul,” said the Tiptonians.20.—Paddock’s right arm hung as if disabled, but he brought it into play when action commenced. The Tipton drove him to the ropes, and hit him down.21.—Paddock, in jumping away, caught his right heel against the centre stake, and stumbled down, but jumped up again. Seeing Tipton close on to him, however, he dropped on to his knees.22.—As the moon got higher, the light improved. The Tipton, in bustling Paddock, got a body hit, which he retorted with a heavy right-hander on Paddock’s smelling organ, and down he went quite bothered.23.—Paddock came up with his face painted carmine colour, and was no sooner at the scratch than he was down. Another appeal.24.—Wild exchanges. Paddock on the shift. The Tipton gave Paddock a topper on the head, high up, when he fell, and Tipton over him.25.—A slight rally in Paddock’s corner. Paddock rushed at Tipton, who made an awkward step back. Paddock pushed rather than struck at him with the left, and forced the Tipton over. (Cheers for Paddock.)26.—It was all U.P. Tipton went in with both hands, and Paddock fell without a blow. Appeal repeated.27 and last.—The odds were the Great Glass-case of ’51 against a cucumber-frame. The Tipton gave Master Paddock a pelt on the head, and began punching at him among his bottles and traps at the corner stake. Paddock dropped, and the Tipton, fearing to give a chance away, was about to return to his own corner, as he had several times done when up jumped the Redditch man, and rushing at the Slasher, lent him such a dig just at the back of the left ear, with his right, that down tumbled Tipton, half with astonishment, half with the blow, and, as Paddy would say, “the third half of him fell just because it was not used to stand upright.” A more palpable “foul” was never seen. The spectators jumped from their seats, and all sorts of people got into the ring. The Tipton walked towards the referee for his decision, and that functionary pronounced it “foul;” and so ended the great little fight for the Championship, in forty-two minutes, the dial showing twelve minutes after five.Remarks.—A Scotch proverb declares—“It’s muckle cry, and little woo,As the de’il said, when he clipt the soo;”and this exhibition was certainly a complete “pig-shearing” excursion. The Slasher was not only in splendid condition, but his method of fighting, long arms, and great experience, made it no match. True, he was not to blame that it was so bad a fight, for as one man can take a horse to water, but twenty can’t make him drink, so let a man be ever so willing to make a merry mill of it, he can’t do so, if his opponent won’t have it. As to Paddock, he was so manifestly over-matched, and over-rated, that he had not the shadow of a chance; and the rush that proved perilous to Bendigo—old, stale, under 12 stone, and a practiser of retreating tactics—was not only useless against the bulky, firm-standing Slasher, but was certain destruction to the assailant, from the Tipton’s tact at countering, his superior strength, and immense weight. In fact, it was “a horse to a hen” on all points.The return to the carriages was as speedy as circumstances and awkward clayey drains and ditches would permit, but all were safely seated, the agreeable whistle of departure sounded, and the whole party delivered at the Nine Elms terminus by six o’clock; the Slasher, merry as a grig, and loudly cheered, while Paddock complained of severe injury to his shoulder, which, if serious, was certainly aggravated by his last effort to do unlawful execution. The Tipton was received at the “Castle” with a flourish of “See the conquering hero comes!” while Paddock quietly returned to the “Queen’s Head,” where he received surgical attendance; and it was officially reported that he “had injured the bone of his shoulder, and that a sling must be worn as a safeguard against the consequences of moving the joint.”Once more the Slasher laid claim to the Championship, and requested that Bendigo would, “according to agreement (?)” hand over the belt which he had so long held, or, if he declined doing so, the Tipton “would be proud to give him the chance of retaining it, by meeting him for any sum he might like to name.” The Tipton further announced his readiness “to make a match with any man in the world from £200 to £500 a side.”A fortnight after theannonce, a letter appeared from Bendigo, stating that he would fight for £500 a side, but so far as the belt was concerned, it had been presented to him as a gift or testimonial, and was his own property. This vaunt was quickly replied to by the Tipton, who at once sent £50 to the Editor ofBell’s Life, “to make a match on Bendy’s own terms,” whereupon the latter backed out, and never after appeared as a candidate for fistic honours.Finding that high prices would not command the market, the Tipton issued another challenge to fight any man for £100 or £200, but for several months this lay unaccepted. At length, at the latter end of May, 1851, his former patron and backer, Johnny Broome, appeared in print, accepting the Slasher’s gage on the part of “an unknown;” Johnny’s favourite mode of exciting public curiosity in matchmaking. Spring,[21]on this occasion, acted as Perry’s best friend, and declared his readiness to “go on” upon the name of “the unknown” being declared. What was the surprise of the “knowing ones” when Johnny declared his brother Harry to be the “veiled prophet,” on whose future championship he would wager £200, while Harry, who was present, stepped smilingly forward and modestly declared his candidature. The Tipton “grinned horribly a ghastly smile,” and could hardly be persuaded as he “saw Young Harry with his beaver up,” gallantly and coolly affirming his readiness to second his brother’s words by deeds. The Tipton, as Michaelmas day (September 29) was named as “no quarter-day,” at once went into training at Hoylake, in Cheshire, under the care of Jem Wharton and Jem Ward. How they met, and how the Slasher lost the fight, without a scratch, by his own clumsy precipitancy, must be read in the Life and Career of Harry Broome, in a future chapter of this volume.Broome, on the giving up of the stakes, professing his readiness to maintain his title against all comers, accepted the offer of the Tipton to settle thevexata quæstioby another meeting, and articles were drawn up, anddeposits to the amount of £25 made good, when Harry forfeited, on the plea that he had a match on (it came to nothing) with Aaron Jones, and had also accepted an engagement with Paddock. Curiously enough, the Slasher, who now dubbed himself “Champion,” afterwards signed articles with both these men, who both forfeited to him; Aaron Jones to the tune of £70, in July, 1856, and Paddock (whom he had formerly beaten), to the amount of £80, in October following.Perry, who had been twenty-one years before the public, now became a publican and vendor of eatables and drinkables in a canvas caravansery at races, fairs, and all sorts of rural gatherings in the Black Country.All this time the star of a 10st.10lb.champion had been rapidly rising on the pugilistic world. Tom Sayers, having polished off the middle-weights, had been playing havoc among the “big ’un’s;” in 1856 defeating Harry Poulson (who had once beaten Paddock), and, in 1857, Aaron Jones fell beneath his conquering arm.Six years had elapsed when “The Old Tipton,” as he was now popularly designated, was dared to the field by this new David. Right cheerfully did the old “Philistine man of might”—for the Tipton never lacked personal courage—respond to the “little ’un’s” crow. How the oft-repeated error of “trusting the issue of battle to waning age,” was again exemplified on the 16th of June, 1857, at the Isle of Grain, when the once formidable Slasher was conquered in the contest for £400 and the Champion’s belt by the marvellous little miller, Tom Sayers, may be read by those who are curious in minute details, in the life of that phenomenal pugilist, in ChapterXI.of this volume. This was the closing scene of the Tipton’s long and chequered career. He retired, defeated but not dishonoured, to his native county and early associates. In his latter days the Tipton is said to have never refused “a drink for the good of the house,” said house being his own special “tap.” Death finally overtook him, rather suddenly, at his home, near Wolverhampton, on January 18, 1881, in his sixty-first year.[19]From this period Freeman returned to his theatrical and professional circus exhibitions, in which his gigantic size attracted the popular wonderment. He was a careless, good-natured fellow; and it was stated by the medical officers of Winchester Hospital, where the emaciated giant died of consumption on the 18th of October, 1845, that he had within him the fatal seeds of pulmonary disease from his first period of manhood. His end was of necessity accelerated by repeated colds, caught in the light attire of fleshings and spangles, in which he exhibited in draughty canvas erections, and crowded theatres and booths. This last remark is drawn from us by a senseless paragraph, in which a Hampshire penny-a-liner endeavoured to “improve the occasion” by suggesting that the early death of the good-natured, soft-headed acrobat was due to the dreadful injuries “he must necessarily have received in his terrible combat with the formidable bruiser known as the Tipton Slasher—injuries which from the tremendous stature of the combatants, must have been beyond ordinary calculation.” To this it may fairly be replied that the few fatal results on record from battles between big men is actually phenomenal—Andrew M’Kay (June, 1830) and Simon Byrne (May, 1833) being the only two on record; the others resulting from contests between middle or light weights, and several of these regrettable fatalities being proved by subsequent surgical examination to have resulted from accident, excitement, or apoplexy, induced by violent exertion.[20]Not to complicate this confusion of “claimants” for the belt, we may here state that while Caunt, Bendigo, the Deaf’un, and the Tipton were playing duettos, trios, and quartettes, as leading performers in the discordant overture to the farce of “Who’s the Champion?” there was no lack of accompanying instrumentalists, each blowing his own trumpet of defiance, and thumping the big drum of “benefit” bounce. At the end of 1845, Caunt introduced a new candidate in the person of a formidable black, standing a trifle over six feet, and weighing hard upon 13st., who, rather curiously, dubbed himself William Perry! This mysterious “darkey” displayed such remarkable talent with the gloves, and was, in many respects, a man of such superior address and conversation, that he might well have been expected to turn out more than a second Molyneux. As, however, the proof of all pudding, whether black or white, is in the eating, an opponent was sought for the American importation. Bill Burton, of Leicester, a much smaller man, standing five feet nine, and weighing 11st.10lb., was selected. Burton’s credentials were good; he had defeated Angelo, of Windsor, in May, 1845—a game contest of seventy-four rounds—and had been previously victor in many unrecorded affairs. The meeting took place on the 20th January, 1846. The Black more than justified the anticipations of his backers. He defeated Burton with the greatest ease in fifteen rounds, the Leicester man’s friends humanely throwing up the sponge at the end of twenty-four minutes of a hopeless, one-sided contest. This was the first and last appearance of the so-called William Perry in the EnglishP.R.He proved to be connected with a gang of forgers of American bank-notes, and having been previously imprisoned more than once, he was now transported to the Antipodes, being provided with passage to Australia at Government expense, where, it would appear, he became a ticket-of-leave man, as he is recorded as having defeated Hough, the “Champion of Australia,” at Cumming’s Point, Sydney, in December, 1849. In the last-named year (1849) another “big ’un” came out, but quietly went in again. This was Con (Cornelius) Parker, standing six feet, and weighing 12st.10lb.; his first victory was over Jem Bailey (Irish), in the Essex Marshes, February 13th, 1849. He then received forfeit from the Tipton in the same year; but, on November 26th, also in 1849, he had his “championship” pretensions ignominiously snuffed out at Frimley, in Surrey, by Tass Parker, who somewhat retrieved the disgrace of his double defeat by the Tipton, by triumphantly thrashing Mister Con, who ended the battle by a “foul.” Con then emigrated to America, where he died rather suddenly, on the 2nd December, 1854, at Buffalo, U.S. Soon after Tass took the money for this victory, his friends injudiciously claimed for him the title of “Champion,” but Tass wisely declined, in a letter, such a prominent position.[21]Spring, after a short illness, died on August 20th, 1851, while this match was in progress. (Seevol. ii.chapter 1.)
THE FIGHT.Round 1.—The men came up with their hands in good position, and after manœuvring for a short time Parker let fly his left, which was cleverly stopped. This led to a rally, in which very trifling hits were exchanged left and right, but as they were out of distance no harm was done, with the exception of a slight discolouration on the Slasher’s right cheek. Parker, in getting away from the Slasher’s rush, fell on one knee.2.—Parker again advanced bold as brass, looking all over confident, while the Slasher was not less prepared for action. After a few dodges, advancing and retreating, Parker popped in his left on the Slasher’s cheek. The Slasher fought wildly left and right, missing some of his hits, but planting his right heavily on the ribs under Parker’s left arm. Wild exchanges, when, as Parker was slipping on his knees, the Slasher caught his head under his arm, held it as if in a vice, and hung on him till he fell tumbling on him. The exchanges were trifling in their consequences, and a little flush on the skin was the only indication of punishment.3.—Parker came up obviously undismayed by the result of the last struggle, and apparently resolved to do his best. He tried his left, which the Slasher neatly threw aside with his right. The Slasher then advanced, hitting left and right wildly, and Parker stepping back to avoid execution. Trifling exchanges with the left. Parker again away, and watching for an opening to advance; dodging left and right, but no hitting. Parker stole a march, popped his left in slightly on the Slasher’s mouth, and broke away, the Slasher wildly after him, hitting left and right, but Parker slipped down on his knees and evaded receiving, thus commencing his old system. On the Slasher being picked up, blood was visible from his domino case, and this event was declared in favour of Parker.4.—Parker again prepared to lead off, advancing and retreating, finding the Slasher ready to hit or stop. At last he hit out with his left, which the Slasher stopped, and then rushing in left and right he administered a trifling upper cut with the latter. Parker retired to his corner, the Slasher after him. Parker, in ducking to avoid, slipped on his knees, but was up again in an instant and popped in his left. The Slasher hit out left and right without precision, and after a wild, scrambling rally, without mischief, Parker slipped down.5.—Slasher first up to the scratch, waiting for the attack. Parker dodged with his left once or twice, but not within distance. At length he got closer to his man, popped in his left on the Slasher’s jaw, who countered slightly with the left, rushing after Parker, who retreated to the corner, where he slipped down to avoid, the Slasher dropping on his knees beside him.6.—Both ready, but Parker afraid to approach his man. The Slasher hit out left and right, but was out of distance, and Parker broke away. Parker again dodging for an opening, and on getting close up to the work, left-handed counters were exchanged, but the impressions were trifling. A wild rally, in which the Slasher got a slap on the mug, and Parker a heavy hit on the ribs from the Slasher’s right. A scrambling exchange of hits left and right, when Parker slipped down. The hitting was wild, and anything but effective.7.—The Slasher’s mug somewhat flushed, but anything but serious in its aspect. Parker feinted with his left and popped in a pretty crack with his right on the Slasher’s jaw, and then broke away. Dodging, but no hitting. The Slasher hit out left and right, but was short; Parker retreated to his corner; wild but ineffective exchanges left and right, and Parker dropped on his knees.8.—Both at the scratch at the call of time. Parker tried his left, but was stopped; advancing and retreating. Parker endeavoured to steal a march, but was unable to get home, and the Slasher retired laughing. Parker again advanced, while the Slasher retreated; neither would go near enough to get to work. At last they got to a wild rally, missing their hits, and Parker retreating. Having reached Parker’s corner, the Slasher weaved left and right, but did not plant his intended compliments. Parker slipped down, the Slasher upon him. Parker’s right was puffed from the effect of one of his flying nobbers.9.—Offers, but no blows. The Slasher tried his right at Parker’s nob, but was beautifully stopped, and Parker broke away. Parker advanced ready to hit with his left, when the Slasher rushed wildly to him, weaving left and right, catching Parker on the left ear with the latter. In the scramble which followed Parker slipped down, the Slasher upon him.10.—Parker’s ear flushed, and his nose following suit in a slight degree. Parker advanced, but retreated the next moment, and the Slasher went to him. On getting to his corner there were slight exchanges with the left; the Slasher hit over Parker’s head with his right, and Parker dropped.11.—Parker slow to the scratch, and on the Slasher advancing he retreated to the ropes. A wild exchange of hits with the left, when Parker again slipped down on his knees.12.—No mischief done as yet, although Parker’s flesh under the arm indicated the visitations to which it had been subject. Attempts left and right, in which both missed their blows. Parker broke away, slipped on one knee, but jumped up again. Wild exchanges, Slasher trying his left and right. Parker, ducking to avoid the Slasher, retreated, but again rushed to the charge, weavingleft and right, ultimately slipping on his knees, amidst the cries of “cur.”13.—No sooner at the scratch than the Slasher advanced; Parker immediately retreated to the ropes, the Slasher after him; the Slasher hit out right and left, but Tass ducked under his arm, and escaped the intended compliments. Parker dropped on one knee, but again sprang up and caught the Slasher on the cheek with his left. Slasher missed his left and right, and Parker fell.14.—Parker fought on the retreat: a wild scrambling rally to the corner, and the Slasher slipped down.15.—Parker advanced and retreated, the Slasher after him, to his corner. Wild attempts at hitting left and right on the part of the Slasher, but he was out of distance, and missed. The Slasher then bored Parker down on the ropes, himself falling over outside the ring.16.—Still no indications of serious mischief. The Slasher desirous of going to work, Parker retreating. The Slasher weaving left and right; an exchange of hits with the latter, and the Slasher again popped in his right on Parker’s ear, from whence blood was visible. The Slasher closed, forced Parker down on his knees, and fell on him.17.—Parker on the retreat to his corner, the Slasher after him. Exchanges with the left and right, Parker getting prettily home with the former. A wild rally, both missing their blows, when Parker dropped.18.—Slasher the first to the scratch, and full of fight; Parker retreated to his corner, the Slasher after him. Slasher hit out left and right, but without precision. Parker, on his guard, went down without attempting to hit.19.—The Slasher, as usual, the first to obey the call of time. Parker tried his left, but was cleverly stopped. The Slasher then rattled to him; Parker evidently ready to drop, when the Slasher slipped and fell.20.—Parker hugging his corner, when the Slasher rattled to him, but missed; wild hits left and right. Parker popped in his left and broke away. Slasher again to the charge, followed his man, caught him a heavy whack with his right on the jaw, from the effects of which Parker staggered and fell. The first knock-down blow for the Slasher.21.—Tass’s left stopped, and the Slasher rushed in wildly left and right. In the exchanges the Slasher had it on the mouth, but again planted his right on his shifty opponent’s pimple, when he got down.22.—The Slasher the favourite, and offers to back him at evens. The Slasher first on his pins. Parker retreated, the Tipton after him, hitting wildly left and right, when Parker dropped, but jumped up, hit out with his left, caught the Slasher slightly, and again fell, amid exclamations of disgust.23.—Parker slow from his corner, the Slasher to him, when, after wild exchanges left and right, with no execution, Tass went down.24.—Parker came up evidently a dastard in spirit, and upon the Slasher rushing to him he slipped down, amidst the cries of “cur!” and “coward!” Blood was now flowing freely from the knuckle of Parker’s left hand, which had in some of the previous rounds come in contact with the Slasher’s tooth. From this to the thirtieth round Parker pursued the same cowardly game of making a show as if he intended to fight, but the moment the Slasher went to him to hit left and right purposely dropping, and thereby avoiding the mischief which might be effected. The Slasher was greatly incensed, turned round as if appealing to the spectators, who shouted “cur!” and “coward!” with stentorian voices. The Slasher’s umpire repeatedly cried “foul,” and nothing could have been more decidedly opposed to every rule of fair play; but Hannan, Parker’s umpire, did not respond. He was silent, but it was not difficult to discover which way his feelings inclined. In the thirtieth round Parker, after retreating to his corner, endeavoured to get down to avoid one of the Slasher’s wild rushes. The Slasher endeavoured to hold him up, but in vain; down he went, and the Slasher dropped on him with his knees. Parker’s backer immediately claimed “foul” amidst the derision of all around him. It would be an insult to the understandings of our readers if we were to pursue our description of the 102 imaginary rounds which followed, during which Parker went down fifty times at least, the Slasher most forbearingly avoiding all temptations to strike or even to fall on him so as to afford pretence for a claim of “foul.” More than once Tass threw up his feet so as almost to kick at his man as he rolled or scrambled over him, after missing his one, two. It was in vain that the Slasher essayed to nail him left and right. He ducked and tumbled whenever there was the slightest chance of sustaining a hit, inducing universal marks of disgust at his cowardice, and the words “cur” and “coward” resounding from all quarters.In the fifty-seventh round the Slasher was lucky enough to afford him another excuse for a fall, by giving him a home slap from the left on the mouth, and laying him prostrate, while he pointed at him with derision. The real motive for refusing to agree to the appointment of an impartial referee now admitted of no doubt. It had been foreseen that such a man would have long before this settled the point at issue by declaring the battle won over and over again by the Slasher. But even the absence of such a character did not serve the intended purpose. Hannan, who acted as umpire, declared his situation to be of a most unenviable description. He looked appealingly to all around him, and, satisfied that the conduct ofParker was at variance with every principle of honour and fair play, he repeatedly sent to warn him that if he persisted in the same atrocious cowardice he must agree with the repeated claims of his co-umpire, who in vain called for his honest and impartial judgment. The poor fellow actually trembled with vexation at the shouts of derision which were directed towards his man, and at length, in the 126th round, on Parker going down without the most remote shadow of a blow, unless the wind of the Slasher’s fist could deserve that character, he involuntarily exclaimed, in conjunction with his co-partner, and in accordance with the universal exclamations from every quarter of the ring, “foul!” This conduct on the part of Hannan elicited loud approbation, but in a moment he was surrounded by a knot of the most outrageous partisans of Parker, who threatened instant annihilation if he dared to repeat his just opinion. It was in vain we looked for the honest co-operation of the real members of the Ring to drive these ruffians from the arena—they ruled the roost with unblushing impudence, and treated those who cried shame on their conduct with insolence and contempt. At last a second appeal was made to Hannan, but he was dumb, and nothing but a renewal of the fight would satisfy his assailants, and renewed the disgraceful scene was, but with a perfect anticipation of what must be the ultimate result. Many gentlemen, old and sincere patrons of fair boxing matches, retired from the discreditable exhibition. The backer of Tass Parker asserted that he was so weak as to be incapable of keeping his legs, while every person who had the power of exercising the commonest judgment saw that when he thought proper he could stand as firmly on his pins as when he commenced. He had not, in fact, received a blow which could have, in the slightest degree, impaired his vigour, and were his heart in the right place, he was just as capable of continuing operations as at the commencement of the fight. Hannan having resumed his seat, but pale as ashes, and shaking like an aspen leaf, the farce was renewed, and for seven rounds more Parker got up but to fall in the same dastardly manner which had marked his career. In the 133rd round he made a show of fighting, and exchanges left and right took place. Parker then retreated towards the ropes, the Slasher after him. When the Slasher was about to commence his wild and indecisive deliveries left and right, Parker, finding he could not get away, for the last time dropped without a blow, and the shouts of “cur” and “coward” were renewed with additional indignation. This was too much for Hannan, and incapable longer of stultifying himself and the Ring, of which he had been, and is, a gallant member, he at once agreed with the umpire on the other side that Parker had fallen without a blow, and had thereby lost the fight. Thus ended this libel on the “manly sports of the Ring.” The roughs were taken by surprise, and were incapable of stemming the torrent of general indignation; but the weak and powerless Parker, in order to justify the false opinion expressed by his backer, jumped up with the vigour of a lion, and rushing to the corner where Johnny Broome stood, having possessed himself of the colours which had been tied round the stakes, tore his own colours from his hand, thereby proving that weakness was the least excuse which could be offered for his poltroonery. Everybody except the partisans of Parker was rejoiced at the termination of this most contemptible display, and heartily concurred in the propriety of Hannan’s conduct.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The men came up with their hands in good position, and after manœuvring for a short time Parker let fly his left, which was cleverly stopped. This led to a rally, in which very trifling hits were exchanged left and right, but as they were out of distance no harm was done, with the exception of a slight discolouration on the Slasher’s right cheek. Parker, in getting away from the Slasher’s rush, fell on one knee.
2.—Parker again advanced bold as brass, looking all over confident, while the Slasher was not less prepared for action. After a few dodges, advancing and retreating, Parker popped in his left on the Slasher’s cheek. The Slasher fought wildly left and right, missing some of his hits, but planting his right heavily on the ribs under Parker’s left arm. Wild exchanges, when, as Parker was slipping on his knees, the Slasher caught his head under his arm, held it as if in a vice, and hung on him till he fell tumbling on him. The exchanges were trifling in their consequences, and a little flush on the skin was the only indication of punishment.
3.—Parker came up obviously undismayed by the result of the last struggle, and apparently resolved to do his best. He tried his left, which the Slasher neatly threw aside with his right. The Slasher then advanced, hitting left and right wildly, and Parker stepping back to avoid execution. Trifling exchanges with the left. Parker again away, and watching for an opening to advance; dodging left and right, but no hitting. Parker stole a march, popped his left in slightly on the Slasher’s mouth, and broke away, the Slasher wildly after him, hitting left and right, but Parker slipped down on his knees and evaded receiving, thus commencing his old system. On the Slasher being picked up, blood was visible from his domino case, and this event was declared in favour of Parker.
4.—Parker again prepared to lead off, advancing and retreating, finding the Slasher ready to hit or stop. At last he hit out with his left, which the Slasher stopped, and then rushing in left and right he administered a trifling upper cut with the latter. Parker retired to his corner, the Slasher after him. Parker, in ducking to avoid, slipped on his knees, but was up again in an instant and popped in his left. The Slasher hit out left and right without precision, and after a wild, scrambling rally, without mischief, Parker slipped down.
5.—Slasher first up to the scratch, waiting for the attack. Parker dodged with his left once or twice, but not within distance. At length he got closer to his man, popped in his left on the Slasher’s jaw, who countered slightly with the left, rushing after Parker, who retreated to the corner, where he slipped down to avoid, the Slasher dropping on his knees beside him.
6.—Both ready, but Parker afraid to approach his man. The Slasher hit out left and right, but was out of distance, and Parker broke away. Parker again dodging for an opening, and on getting close up to the work, left-handed counters were exchanged, but the impressions were trifling. A wild rally, in which the Slasher got a slap on the mug, and Parker a heavy hit on the ribs from the Slasher’s right. A scrambling exchange of hits left and right, when Parker slipped down. The hitting was wild, and anything but effective.
7.—The Slasher’s mug somewhat flushed, but anything but serious in its aspect. Parker feinted with his left and popped in a pretty crack with his right on the Slasher’s jaw, and then broke away. Dodging, but no hitting. The Slasher hit out left and right, but was short; Parker retreated to his corner; wild but ineffective exchanges left and right, and Parker dropped on his knees.
8.—Both at the scratch at the call of time. Parker tried his left, but was stopped; advancing and retreating. Parker endeavoured to steal a march, but was unable to get home, and the Slasher retired laughing. Parker again advanced, while the Slasher retreated; neither would go near enough to get to work. At last they got to a wild rally, missing their hits, and Parker retreating. Having reached Parker’s corner, the Slasher weaved left and right, but did not plant his intended compliments. Parker slipped down, the Slasher upon him. Parker’s right was puffed from the effect of one of his flying nobbers.
9.—Offers, but no blows. The Slasher tried his right at Parker’s nob, but was beautifully stopped, and Parker broke away. Parker advanced ready to hit with his left, when the Slasher rushed wildly to him, weaving left and right, catching Parker on the left ear with the latter. In the scramble which followed Parker slipped down, the Slasher upon him.
10.—Parker’s ear flushed, and his nose following suit in a slight degree. Parker advanced, but retreated the next moment, and the Slasher went to him. On getting to his corner there were slight exchanges with the left; the Slasher hit over Parker’s head with his right, and Parker dropped.
11.—Parker slow to the scratch, and on the Slasher advancing he retreated to the ropes. A wild exchange of hits with the left, when Parker again slipped down on his knees.
12.—No mischief done as yet, although Parker’s flesh under the arm indicated the visitations to which it had been subject. Attempts left and right, in which both missed their blows. Parker broke away, slipped on one knee, but jumped up again. Wild exchanges, Slasher trying his left and right. Parker, ducking to avoid the Slasher, retreated, but again rushed to the charge, weavingleft and right, ultimately slipping on his knees, amidst the cries of “cur.”
13.—No sooner at the scratch than the Slasher advanced; Parker immediately retreated to the ropes, the Slasher after him; the Slasher hit out right and left, but Tass ducked under his arm, and escaped the intended compliments. Parker dropped on one knee, but again sprang up and caught the Slasher on the cheek with his left. Slasher missed his left and right, and Parker fell.
14.—Parker fought on the retreat: a wild scrambling rally to the corner, and the Slasher slipped down.
15.—Parker advanced and retreated, the Slasher after him, to his corner. Wild attempts at hitting left and right on the part of the Slasher, but he was out of distance, and missed. The Slasher then bored Parker down on the ropes, himself falling over outside the ring.
16.—Still no indications of serious mischief. The Slasher desirous of going to work, Parker retreating. The Slasher weaving left and right; an exchange of hits with the latter, and the Slasher again popped in his right on Parker’s ear, from whence blood was visible. The Slasher closed, forced Parker down on his knees, and fell on him.
17.—Parker on the retreat to his corner, the Slasher after him. Exchanges with the left and right, Parker getting prettily home with the former. A wild rally, both missing their blows, when Parker dropped.
18.—Slasher the first to the scratch, and full of fight; Parker retreated to his corner, the Slasher after him. Slasher hit out left and right, but without precision. Parker, on his guard, went down without attempting to hit.
19.—The Slasher, as usual, the first to obey the call of time. Parker tried his left, but was cleverly stopped. The Slasher then rattled to him; Parker evidently ready to drop, when the Slasher slipped and fell.
20.—Parker hugging his corner, when the Slasher rattled to him, but missed; wild hits left and right. Parker popped in his left and broke away. Slasher again to the charge, followed his man, caught him a heavy whack with his right on the jaw, from the effects of which Parker staggered and fell. The first knock-down blow for the Slasher.
21.—Tass’s left stopped, and the Slasher rushed in wildly left and right. In the exchanges the Slasher had it on the mouth, but again planted his right on his shifty opponent’s pimple, when he got down.
22.—The Slasher the favourite, and offers to back him at evens. The Slasher first on his pins. Parker retreated, the Tipton after him, hitting wildly left and right, when Parker dropped, but jumped up, hit out with his left, caught the Slasher slightly, and again fell, amid exclamations of disgust.
23.—Parker slow from his corner, the Slasher to him, when, after wild exchanges left and right, with no execution, Tass went down.
24.—Parker came up evidently a dastard in spirit, and upon the Slasher rushing to him he slipped down, amidst the cries of “cur!” and “coward!” Blood was now flowing freely from the knuckle of Parker’s left hand, which had in some of the previous rounds come in contact with the Slasher’s tooth. From this to the thirtieth round Parker pursued the same cowardly game of making a show as if he intended to fight, but the moment the Slasher went to him to hit left and right purposely dropping, and thereby avoiding the mischief which might be effected. The Slasher was greatly incensed, turned round as if appealing to the spectators, who shouted “cur!” and “coward!” with stentorian voices. The Slasher’s umpire repeatedly cried “foul,” and nothing could have been more decidedly opposed to every rule of fair play; but Hannan, Parker’s umpire, did not respond. He was silent, but it was not difficult to discover which way his feelings inclined. In the thirtieth round Parker, after retreating to his corner, endeavoured to get down to avoid one of the Slasher’s wild rushes. The Slasher endeavoured to hold him up, but in vain; down he went, and the Slasher dropped on him with his knees. Parker’s backer immediately claimed “foul” amidst the derision of all around him. It would be an insult to the understandings of our readers if we were to pursue our description of the 102 imaginary rounds which followed, during which Parker went down fifty times at least, the Slasher most forbearingly avoiding all temptations to strike or even to fall on him so as to afford pretence for a claim of “foul.” More than once Tass threw up his feet so as almost to kick at his man as he rolled or scrambled over him, after missing his one, two. It was in vain that the Slasher essayed to nail him left and right. He ducked and tumbled whenever there was the slightest chance of sustaining a hit, inducing universal marks of disgust at his cowardice, and the words “cur” and “coward” resounding from all quarters.
In the fifty-seventh round the Slasher was lucky enough to afford him another excuse for a fall, by giving him a home slap from the left on the mouth, and laying him prostrate, while he pointed at him with derision. The real motive for refusing to agree to the appointment of an impartial referee now admitted of no doubt. It had been foreseen that such a man would have long before this settled the point at issue by declaring the battle won over and over again by the Slasher. But even the absence of such a character did not serve the intended purpose. Hannan, who acted as umpire, declared his situation to be of a most unenviable description. He looked appealingly to all around him, and, satisfied that the conduct ofParker was at variance with every principle of honour and fair play, he repeatedly sent to warn him that if he persisted in the same atrocious cowardice he must agree with the repeated claims of his co-umpire, who in vain called for his honest and impartial judgment. The poor fellow actually trembled with vexation at the shouts of derision which were directed towards his man, and at length, in the 126th round, on Parker going down without the most remote shadow of a blow, unless the wind of the Slasher’s fist could deserve that character, he involuntarily exclaimed, in conjunction with his co-partner, and in accordance with the universal exclamations from every quarter of the ring, “foul!” This conduct on the part of Hannan elicited loud approbation, but in a moment he was surrounded by a knot of the most outrageous partisans of Parker, who threatened instant annihilation if he dared to repeat his just opinion. It was in vain we looked for the honest co-operation of the real members of the Ring to drive these ruffians from the arena—they ruled the roost with unblushing impudence, and treated those who cried shame on their conduct with insolence and contempt. At last a second appeal was made to Hannan, but he was dumb, and nothing but a renewal of the fight would satisfy his assailants, and renewed the disgraceful scene was, but with a perfect anticipation of what must be the ultimate result. Many gentlemen, old and sincere patrons of fair boxing matches, retired from the discreditable exhibition. The backer of Tass Parker asserted that he was so weak as to be incapable of keeping his legs, while every person who had the power of exercising the commonest judgment saw that when he thought proper he could stand as firmly on his pins as when he commenced. He had not, in fact, received a blow which could have, in the slightest degree, impaired his vigour, and were his heart in the right place, he was just as capable of continuing operations as at the commencement of the fight. Hannan having resumed his seat, but pale as ashes, and shaking like an aspen leaf, the farce was renewed, and for seven rounds more Parker got up but to fall in the same dastardly manner which had marked his career. In the 133rd round he made a show of fighting, and exchanges left and right took place. Parker then retreated towards the ropes, the Slasher after him. When the Slasher was about to commence his wild and indecisive deliveries left and right, Parker, finding he could not get away, for the last time dropped without a blow, and the shouts of “cur” and “coward” were renewed with additional indignation. This was too much for Hannan, and incapable longer of stultifying himself and the Ring, of which he had been, and is, a gallant member, he at once agreed with the umpire on the other side that Parker had fallen without a blow, and had thereby lost the fight. Thus ended this libel on the “manly sports of the Ring.” The roughs were taken by surprise, and were incapable of stemming the torrent of general indignation; but the weak and powerless Parker, in order to justify the false opinion expressed by his backer, jumped up with the vigour of a lion, and rushing to the corner where Johnny Broome stood, having possessed himself of the colours which had been tied round the stakes, tore his own colours from his hand, thereby proving that weakness was the least excuse which could be offered for his poltroonery. Everybody except the partisans of Parker was rejoiced at the termination of this most contemptible display, and heartily concurred in the propriety of Hannan’s conduct.
The battle, if it may be so called, admits of but few remarks. The Slasher fought with a wildness and want of precision which enabled Parker to protract the struggle almost indefinitely; for had he been lucky enough to give him one or two stingers, his heart, which was not bigger than a pea, would have forced him at once to shut up; but by his contemptible shifting and dropping he escaped the visitation, and thus owed the confirmation of his defeat to his own pusillanimity. It is stated that the injury to Parker’s right hand early in the fight had disabled that limb, and that he acted under an impression that as there was no referee he had a right to protract the battle by any device, till one or other was incapable of obeying the call of time—that is to say, that every principle which renders boxing praiseworthy should be abandoned, and its worse enemies gratified. In other words, that he might exercise a treacherous strike and drop fromthe return. Such an argument would not be recognised by the veriest tyro in theP.R.The Slasher, also, complained of his right arm being injured, from having come in contact with Parker’s nob early in the contest, but he certainly brought it into use notwithstanding this injury.
All being over, the crowd returned to the train, stopping at the “King’s Arms” to partake of such refreshment as that hostelrie afforded, which, from long privation, became most acceptable. Parker went through the farce of going to bed, but soon afterwards joined his co-travellers in the train, and all were quickly wafted to the London Bridge terminus once more, from whence they took their departure to their respective quarters. The Slasher scarcely bore a mark of punishment, and on arriving at Johnny Broome’s was hailed with general acclamations. Some of Parker’s friends expressing doubts of his qualities, he announced that he was ready to make a fresh match for £200 a side with his opponent.
On the following Wednesday the stakeholder, notwithstanding a notice of action from Parker’s backers, gave up the stakes (£200) to Johnny Broome, under a guarantee, and of course all bets went with the battle-money. We shall pass over the cloud of correspondence, challenges, and counter-challenges which ensued, to come to the renewed match, which, after innumerable delays, was finally made in the early months of 1846.
On the 4th of August, 1846, Parker for the third and last time entered the ring with “the Tipton,” assuring his somewhat sceptical friends that he had “screwed his courage to the sticking place” and determined to do or die. As the Slasher was now viewed by many as the “coming champion” the final contest between him and his scientific but soft-hearted opponent will be read with interest.
Lindrick Common, Nottinghamshire, eight miles from Sheffield, was the scene of action, the ropes and stakes being furnished by the Manchester Commissary. The attendance of the “upper crust” was by no means numerous, but there was a tidy sprinkling of Yorkshire sportsmen of the north-country Fancy, and a perfect crowd of swarthy miners and pitmen from the neighbouring districts as far as Chesterfield and Derby. An excellent ring was formed, and, as the writer can testify, a degree of order observed which might well shame the “roughs” nearer home. At half-past eleven o’clock the men entered the ring, Reid, of Sheffield, and Nobby Clarke waiting on the Slasher, Jem Parker and Cottrell, of Birmingham, seconding Tass. The betting was tolerably brisk at five to four on Parker, whose friends seemed to be in the ascendant, and certainly better “breeched”than those from “the Potteries.” After nearly an hour’s delay, owing to objections to several parties named as referee—the representative ofBell’s Lifepositively declining—Squire Edison accepted the office amidst acclamations, and the men faced each other for
THE FIGHT.Round 1.—The attitude of Parker, his left well up in a line with his left foot, and his right fore-arm slightly bent, and below the level of his left elbow, was graceful and attractive; he stood firm, yet springy, poised lightly on his forward foot, and was equally prepared for advance or retreat. His condition appeared first-rate, and his weight, 11st.6lb., seemed well distributed for activity and powerful effort; his countenance was smiling and confident, and his age (33 years) sat lightly upon him. His massive and ungainly antagonist offered a striking contrast; brown, burly, and, as Paddy would say, “big for his size,” he grinned grotesquely at his slighter rival, nor was the oddity of his mirthful mug by any means lessened by the fact of his front railings having been displaced in bygone battles. He, too, was hard, and had evidently been brought, by severe training, into as good condition as we have ever seen him on former occasions. From the waist to the shoulders he was a model for a gladiator, but we doubt if the artist or the sculptor would feel inclined to copy his capital or his pedestals, inasmuch as the first is, despite a comic expression of good-humour, as odd a conglomeration of features as Gillray or Cruikshank would desire to pencil; while the latter more resemble the letter K than the parallel supports which society has agreed to term symmetrical. His weight was 13st.4lb.; his age twenty-seven, having been born in 1819, although the displacement of his grinders gave him a more antique aspect. Little time was lost in sparring, for the Slasher, his left presented and his right kept close to the mark, walked in upon his man, grinning mischief. Tass let go his left, but was stopped rather neatly; he broke ground and retreated, but the Slasher, working round, forced him into his corner, where several sharp and rapid exchanges took place, Parker twice popping in his left, but ineffectively, and the Slasher countering, in one instance with a heavy hit on Tass’s chest. After a little manœuvring, the Tipton, resolved to force the fighting, stepped gradually in, Tass retreating, and endeavouring to plant his favourite job; it was no go; taught by previous experience, the Tipton would not make play until his opponent let loose, and then, with more tact than we have hitherto seen him display, he countered with his left, and bringing up his right, caught Tass a sounder on the ribs. Toss leaped back, but renewed the hitting merrily, getting down at close quarters to avoid a return of the Tipton’s right.2.—Tass, serious, looked as if measuring his work; the Tipton grinning. Fast fighting for big’uns seemed the order of the day. Tass got in on the Slasher’s mouth, who followed him fiercely, screwing himself up for mischief. Tass fought beautifully, but there seemed little sting in his deliveries; there was some excellent mutual stopping, which elicited applause, especially for the Slasher, of whom it was least expected. Tass again got in one on the Tipton’s chest, who returned it with his right, and Tass went to earth, half with his own consent.3.—The Slasher came up on the grin, and walked into his opponent without delay. Parker again fought well, though both were over fast. Merry work, but little harm done, till Tass sent his right, straight as an arrow, on the Tipton’s left jaw, and down went his house, Parker also falling from his own blow. An uproarious chevy; first knock-down for Parker.4.—Parker came up cautious, with an ugly cut over the right eyebrow. First blood for the Slasher. A short round; the Tipton again drove Tass before him to his corner, where he got down to avoid.5.—As before, the Slasher seemed to have made up his mind there should be no idling; no sooner at the scratch than he was at work. Tass popped at him, but was short, and the Tipton missed his counter-hit. The Slasher laughed, and tried it again, but was stopped. A little rally at the ropes, and Parker, after an exchange or two, dropped on his knees.6.—Tass manœuvring, Tipton fighting, but not getting home. Tipton’s seconds advised him to wait for Tass’s play; he did so, and was rewarded by success. He met Parker, as he jumped in, with the left, and bringing up his right gave him a ribber that laid him on the earth, half doubled up.7.—Slasher too fast, his opponent too slow. A short specimen of “You run away, and see if I don’t come after you.” At length Tass popped in a blow on Slasher’s shoulder, who closed. A brief struggle followed; the Tipton got the crook with his crooked leg, and threw Tass, falling with his broad base on his antagonist’s victualling store. It was a burster (two to one on the Slasher).8.—A short bout of hitting, stopping, and feinting. Tipton let fly, Tass slipped away and got down cunning.9.—Slasher’s left neatly stopped, andParker’s return parried. Parker flared up for a moment, and got in one, two, but produced no impression on his man, who went in laughing. Tass tried to evade him, but the Slasher closed; both down after a struggle, during which Tass’s hand was seen across the Tipton man’s face, and a cry of “foul” was raised. Some confusion; Slasher appealed to the referee, charging Parker with the unmanly act of biting him in a previous round, when he was in the act of throwing him, and in this round of an attempt to injure his eye. The referee ordered the men to proceed.10.—Tass came up with a large black patch on his sinister eyebrow, and his most prominent feature somewhat damaged. Tipton eagerly after him, but Tass was too shifty to be immediately had; he gave the Slasher two pops; the latter, however, was with him, and ultimately hit him down.11.—Tass held his arms almost at full extent, and manœuvred round his man; the Slasher, more cautious, faced him steadily. At length the men got nearer, exchanged blows, and Tass fell to finish the round.12.—So soon as up the Tipton went in, but Tass declined the compliment, and avoiding his one, two, which were wasted on thin air, got down anyhow.13.—Half a minute’s posturing. Tass plunged in with his left, but was short; tried his right, but was stopped. The Slasher got close, Tass was unable to hit him off, and he delivered a half-arm pounder with his right. Tass fell because this time he could not help it.14.—Tass played with his man; he seemed more than half tired of his job. The Tipton leary, and not to be drawn by feints. Slasher went in, and down tumbled Tass, amidst shouts of disapprobation.15.—Parker came up slowly; good stops on both sides; Tipton, quitting the defensive, rattled in; Tass rallied sharply, but in the end received an ugly upper-cut on the dial, and fell.16.—Tass somewhat disfigured, while the Tipton’s ugly mug seemed altogether unaltered. After some slight exchanges Tass dropped.17.—Parker’s tactics seemed at fault; he sparred a few seconds, but on the Slasher stepping in, found his way to the ground rather equivocally.18.—Tass flared up momentarily. He tried it on with both hands in succession. Tipton cleverly foiled him; indeed, Tass did not get near enough to his man to do work. Tipton returned. The old game was played—Tass selected his mother earth.19.—Tass’s left again short; he was too fond of long bowls. A close, and Tass got down as well as he could.20.—Parker made play, and getting a little nearer, dropped his bunch of fives on the Tipton’s mouth; tried it again, but fell short, and got a left-handed nobber in return that floored him neatly.21.—Both Tass’s hands seemed to have lost their cunning. His heart was not big enough to carry him in, nor, when there by accident, to allow him to stand a rally. He fought badly and out of distance, and at length scrambled down to avoid the resolute charge of the Slasher, who gave him a nasty one on the side of the nut as he was on his journey to earth.22.—Perry drove his man all across the ring. Some pretty exchanges. Parker got home on Tipton’s dial, who missed the return. A short, irregular rally. Tass again got in once or twice, but they seemed mere taps. At length the Slasher, who had been screwing himself up, sent out his left straight as an arrow at his opponent’s head. The concussion was like the kick of a coach-horse, took effect at the base of Parker’s left nostril, and he fell as if shot. “It’s all over,” was the cry; and the Tipton remained for some time in the middle of the ring to favour the company with a few polka steps, for which his swing leg was peculiarly adapted.23 and last.—Tass, to the astonishment of all, came up at the call of time, but it was evident the last hit had been a settler and had sent his faculties all abroad. Although he assumed an attitude, he stared perplexedly at his opponent, and swerved from the perpendicular as he broke ground. The Tipton surveyed him a moment before he stepped forward, but no sooner did Tass perceive his approach, than, either from bewilderment or a faint heart, he fell forward on both knees, and thence on his hands. The Slasher turned appealingly to the umpires and referee, without having even offered to strike. The case was clear; and amid the shouts of the multitude the Slasher was greeted as the conqueror. Time, twenty-seven minutes.Remarks.—The Slasher fought better than we have seen him on any previous occasion; his confidence and condition—of which latter absurd rumours were afloat—were on a par with his coolness and courage. To the former he added tact in waiting for his opponent’s delivery of a blow, and a skill in counter-hitting for which we did not give him credit; this, added to his physical superiority in weight and thews, left his lighter and more active opponent almost without a chance, and the contest was reduced to a mere question of time, the ultimate result being scarcely within the scope of doubt. Of the defeated man we can only say that although he fought three or four rounds in a spirited—nay, an almost desperate manner, his conduct in the vast majority so much savoured of Falstaff’s “better part of valour,” that his claim to the character of a game man still remains unproven, while his attribute of skill, so loudly vaunted by his infatuated admirers, has suffered considerably by this exhibition; this, however, may partly be owing to theimprovement in his antagonist’s tactics which, by frustrating his earlier efforts, so disheartened him that he never showed to less advantage. The question of superiority can no longer be mooted; Tass’s quickness and skill have lost their striking advantage, while the Slasher’s strength and pluck, on this occasion seconded by a respectable amount of science, have by no means fallen off. Tass’s friends attribute his defeat to his having had two ribs broken in the seventh round, from the Slasher falling heavily on him, and he certainly remained under the surgeon’s hands, who confirmed the aforesaid fracture.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The attitude of Parker, his left well up in a line with his left foot, and his right fore-arm slightly bent, and below the level of his left elbow, was graceful and attractive; he stood firm, yet springy, poised lightly on his forward foot, and was equally prepared for advance or retreat. His condition appeared first-rate, and his weight, 11st.6lb., seemed well distributed for activity and powerful effort; his countenance was smiling and confident, and his age (33 years) sat lightly upon him. His massive and ungainly antagonist offered a striking contrast; brown, burly, and, as Paddy would say, “big for his size,” he grinned grotesquely at his slighter rival, nor was the oddity of his mirthful mug by any means lessened by the fact of his front railings having been displaced in bygone battles. He, too, was hard, and had evidently been brought, by severe training, into as good condition as we have ever seen him on former occasions. From the waist to the shoulders he was a model for a gladiator, but we doubt if the artist or the sculptor would feel inclined to copy his capital or his pedestals, inasmuch as the first is, despite a comic expression of good-humour, as odd a conglomeration of features as Gillray or Cruikshank would desire to pencil; while the latter more resemble the letter K than the parallel supports which society has agreed to term symmetrical. His weight was 13st.4lb.; his age twenty-seven, having been born in 1819, although the displacement of his grinders gave him a more antique aspect. Little time was lost in sparring, for the Slasher, his left presented and his right kept close to the mark, walked in upon his man, grinning mischief. Tass let go his left, but was stopped rather neatly; he broke ground and retreated, but the Slasher, working round, forced him into his corner, where several sharp and rapid exchanges took place, Parker twice popping in his left, but ineffectively, and the Slasher countering, in one instance with a heavy hit on Tass’s chest. After a little manœuvring, the Tipton, resolved to force the fighting, stepped gradually in, Tass retreating, and endeavouring to plant his favourite job; it was no go; taught by previous experience, the Tipton would not make play until his opponent let loose, and then, with more tact than we have hitherto seen him display, he countered with his left, and bringing up his right, caught Tass a sounder on the ribs. Toss leaped back, but renewed the hitting merrily, getting down at close quarters to avoid a return of the Tipton’s right.
2.—Tass, serious, looked as if measuring his work; the Tipton grinning. Fast fighting for big’uns seemed the order of the day. Tass got in on the Slasher’s mouth, who followed him fiercely, screwing himself up for mischief. Tass fought beautifully, but there seemed little sting in his deliveries; there was some excellent mutual stopping, which elicited applause, especially for the Slasher, of whom it was least expected. Tass again got in one on the Tipton’s chest, who returned it with his right, and Tass went to earth, half with his own consent.
3.—The Slasher came up on the grin, and walked into his opponent without delay. Parker again fought well, though both were over fast. Merry work, but little harm done, till Tass sent his right, straight as an arrow, on the Tipton’s left jaw, and down went his house, Parker also falling from his own blow. An uproarious chevy; first knock-down for Parker.
4.—Parker came up cautious, with an ugly cut over the right eyebrow. First blood for the Slasher. A short round; the Tipton again drove Tass before him to his corner, where he got down to avoid.
5.—As before, the Slasher seemed to have made up his mind there should be no idling; no sooner at the scratch than he was at work. Tass popped at him, but was short, and the Tipton missed his counter-hit. The Slasher laughed, and tried it again, but was stopped. A little rally at the ropes, and Parker, after an exchange or two, dropped on his knees.
6.—Tass manœuvring, Tipton fighting, but not getting home. Tipton’s seconds advised him to wait for Tass’s play; he did so, and was rewarded by success. He met Parker, as he jumped in, with the left, and bringing up his right gave him a ribber that laid him on the earth, half doubled up.
7.—Slasher too fast, his opponent too slow. A short specimen of “You run away, and see if I don’t come after you.” At length Tass popped in a blow on Slasher’s shoulder, who closed. A brief struggle followed; the Tipton got the crook with his crooked leg, and threw Tass, falling with his broad base on his antagonist’s victualling store. It was a burster (two to one on the Slasher).
8.—A short bout of hitting, stopping, and feinting. Tipton let fly, Tass slipped away and got down cunning.
9.—Slasher’s left neatly stopped, andParker’s return parried. Parker flared up for a moment, and got in one, two, but produced no impression on his man, who went in laughing. Tass tried to evade him, but the Slasher closed; both down after a struggle, during which Tass’s hand was seen across the Tipton man’s face, and a cry of “foul” was raised. Some confusion; Slasher appealed to the referee, charging Parker with the unmanly act of biting him in a previous round, when he was in the act of throwing him, and in this round of an attempt to injure his eye. The referee ordered the men to proceed.
10.—Tass came up with a large black patch on his sinister eyebrow, and his most prominent feature somewhat damaged. Tipton eagerly after him, but Tass was too shifty to be immediately had; he gave the Slasher two pops; the latter, however, was with him, and ultimately hit him down.
11.—Tass held his arms almost at full extent, and manœuvred round his man; the Slasher, more cautious, faced him steadily. At length the men got nearer, exchanged blows, and Tass fell to finish the round.
12.—So soon as up the Tipton went in, but Tass declined the compliment, and avoiding his one, two, which were wasted on thin air, got down anyhow.
13.—Half a minute’s posturing. Tass plunged in with his left, but was short; tried his right, but was stopped. The Slasher got close, Tass was unable to hit him off, and he delivered a half-arm pounder with his right. Tass fell because this time he could not help it.
14.—Tass played with his man; he seemed more than half tired of his job. The Tipton leary, and not to be drawn by feints. Slasher went in, and down tumbled Tass, amidst shouts of disapprobation.
15.—Parker came up slowly; good stops on both sides; Tipton, quitting the defensive, rattled in; Tass rallied sharply, but in the end received an ugly upper-cut on the dial, and fell.
16.—Tass somewhat disfigured, while the Tipton’s ugly mug seemed altogether unaltered. After some slight exchanges Tass dropped.
17.—Parker’s tactics seemed at fault; he sparred a few seconds, but on the Slasher stepping in, found his way to the ground rather equivocally.
18.—Tass flared up momentarily. He tried it on with both hands in succession. Tipton cleverly foiled him; indeed, Tass did not get near enough to his man to do work. Tipton returned. The old game was played—Tass selected his mother earth.
19.—Tass’s left again short; he was too fond of long bowls. A close, and Tass got down as well as he could.
20.—Parker made play, and getting a little nearer, dropped his bunch of fives on the Tipton’s mouth; tried it again, but fell short, and got a left-handed nobber in return that floored him neatly.
21.—Both Tass’s hands seemed to have lost their cunning. His heart was not big enough to carry him in, nor, when there by accident, to allow him to stand a rally. He fought badly and out of distance, and at length scrambled down to avoid the resolute charge of the Slasher, who gave him a nasty one on the side of the nut as he was on his journey to earth.
22.—Perry drove his man all across the ring. Some pretty exchanges. Parker got home on Tipton’s dial, who missed the return. A short, irregular rally. Tass again got in once or twice, but they seemed mere taps. At length the Slasher, who had been screwing himself up, sent out his left straight as an arrow at his opponent’s head. The concussion was like the kick of a coach-horse, took effect at the base of Parker’s left nostril, and he fell as if shot. “It’s all over,” was the cry; and the Tipton remained for some time in the middle of the ring to favour the company with a few polka steps, for which his swing leg was peculiarly adapted.
23 and last.—Tass, to the astonishment of all, came up at the call of time, but it was evident the last hit had been a settler and had sent his faculties all abroad. Although he assumed an attitude, he stared perplexedly at his opponent, and swerved from the perpendicular as he broke ground. The Tipton surveyed him a moment before he stepped forward, but no sooner did Tass perceive his approach, than, either from bewilderment or a faint heart, he fell forward on both knees, and thence on his hands. The Slasher turned appealingly to the umpires and referee, without having even offered to strike. The case was clear; and amid the shouts of the multitude the Slasher was greeted as the conqueror. Time, twenty-seven minutes.
Remarks.—The Slasher fought better than we have seen him on any previous occasion; his confidence and condition—of which latter absurd rumours were afloat—were on a par with his coolness and courage. To the former he added tact in waiting for his opponent’s delivery of a blow, and a skill in counter-hitting for which we did not give him credit; this, added to his physical superiority in weight and thews, left his lighter and more active opponent almost without a chance, and the contest was reduced to a mere question of time, the ultimate result being scarcely within the scope of doubt. Of the defeated man we can only say that although he fought three or four rounds in a spirited—nay, an almost desperate manner, his conduct in the vast majority so much savoured of Falstaff’s “better part of valour,” that his claim to the character of a game man still remains unproven, while his attribute of skill, so loudly vaunted by his infatuated admirers, has suffered considerably by this exhibition; this, however, may partly be owing to theimprovement in his antagonist’s tactics which, by frustrating his earlier efforts, so disheartened him that he never showed to less advantage. The question of superiority can no longer be mooted; Tass’s quickness and skill have lost their striking advantage, while the Slasher’s strength and pluck, on this occasion seconded by a respectable amount of science, have by no means fallen off. Tass’s friends attribute his defeat to his having had two ribs broken in the seventh round, from the Slasher falling heavily on him, and he certainly remained under the surgeon’s hands, who confirmed the aforesaid fracture.
After the above battle, the Tipton Slasher issued a challenge to Caunt to fight for £100 a side; this Caunt declined to do, and staked £500 in the hands of the editor ofBell’s Life, declaring, at the same time, his willingness to fight the Slasher for £500, but for no smaller sum. Much angry correspondence passed between them, which is utterly unworthy of preservation; and in the latter part of 1846 Johnny Broome presented a belt to the Slasher, whereon Caunt lowered his terms to £200, with a stipulation that if that condition was not accepted within a month, his retirement from the Ring was absolute. This, however, was not suitable to Broome andCo., though the Slasher was ready and willing.[20]
We may hear note, retrospectively, that in December, 1844, yet another “big ’un” had made hisdebutin theP.R., who, in a future chapter, will figure among the numerous candidates for the much-wrangled Championship.This was Tom Paddock, who, in the month of December, beat Elijah Parsons, at Sutton Coldfield. Following this, he twice defeated Nobby Clarke, a chicken-hearted but scientific 12-stone man, in January, 1846, and in April, 1847. Paddock’s next venture was with the renowned Bendigo, with whom he lost the battle by a foul blow, June 5, 1850.
In September, 1849, the Tipton, having forfeited to Con Parker, on account of ill-health, was challenged thereafter by Tom Paddock, soon after the latter had lost what many thought to be a winning fight with Bendigo. In this affair, by some shuffling on the part of Perry’s money-finders, a curious “draw” was manipulated, neither of the parties being ready to go on at the fourth deposit, on August 22nd, 1850, taking back their stakes by mutual consent. The Slasher, finding other and more reliable friends, renewed the articles, and on December 17th, 1850, the rivals at last came together, face to face, in the ring. The Tipton trained for this encounter under Levi Eckersley, near Liverpool, while Paddock had his advice and exercise with Bob Fuller and Jem Turner, than whom two better trainers did not exist.
On the Monday previous, the Slasher arrived at Tom Spring’s, and Paddock set up his rest at Jem Burn’s, where they were surrounded by admiring coteries. The betting was 6 to 4 on the Slasher, whose superior weight and experience gave him that advantage in the odds.
All requisite arrangements for the meeting had been undertaken by Spring and Burn, and after sundry cogitations they decided on an excursion-train on the South Western Railway. Half-past nine on Tuesday morning was the time named for departure, and long before that hour arrived, the platform at Waterloo displayed a goodly muster of folks “wot love a mill,” including many old stagers, “swells,” and patrons of all degrees. The professors were also numerous in their attendance, and included twenty men who had been selected to preserve order. We could not but remark, however, the absence of that quaint fun and humour which, in the days of Josh Hudson, Jack Scroggins, Young Dutch Sam, and Frosty-faced Fogo, flung an air of good-humoured frolic on such assemblages, affording scenes for the pencil of George Cruikshank, and food for the pen-and-ink sketches of the Ring-historians of the day. To the question “Whither are we bound?” no response was given. The captain started with sealed orders, and had a sort of roving commission as to the place at which he should cast anchor. Suffice it to say, the pace was first-rate and there was but one stoppage till Bishopstoke was reached. Themen were in separate carriages, and there was a wide contrast in their bearing, Paddock being all mercurial and double jolly, and the Slasher as solid and steady as Cardinal Wiseman on a fast-day.
It was intended to turn off on the Salisbury line and bring up at Dean, on the borders of Wilts. The Hampshire police, however, were on the alert, with an assurance that the Wiltshire folks were equally wide-awake, and determined to spoil sport. Information to this extent was quickly conveyed to the managers, and, after a short consultation, “bock agen” was the order of the day. Various places were mentioned as likely to afford a quiet and welcome reception, and the first attempt was made between Andover and Winchfield, but no sooner was the ring pitched than the Hampshire blues once more hove in sight, and the jaded travellers had again to enter the carriages. Thus was time wasted, and the hour of three arrived before the caravan again got under way. It was then agreed to go to Woking Common, and many bets were offered that the contest would not come off that day. A strong desire, however, was expressed that it should be settled, and about half-past three a stoppage was made between a couple of high embankments, which, on being scaled, exposed to view a remote corner of Woking Common. The land of promise thus reached, the office was given, for the last time, to disembark. A site for a ring was quickly discovered, and although not a very desirable spot, still, it was the only one to be had, and no time was lost in forming the magic square. A limited outer ring was also formed, and tickets, at 5s. each, distributed to those who sought the privilege of a close proximity to the scene of action, the produce being afterwards equally divided among the ringkeepers. It was now four o’clock, and the day fast waning; in fact, it was difficult to distinguish the faces of persons from one side of the ring to the other; but a clear moon hung out its lamp, and promised a continuance of light. All being in readiness, Paddock flung his castor into the ring, following it himself amidst loud cheers. He was attended by Jack Hannan and Bob Fuller. The Slasher, who was not long after him, was waited on by Nobby Clarke and Jem Molyneux. Paddock looked fresh, laughing, and apparently confident; while the Slasher was cool, quiet, and smiling. After a great deal of difficulty as to the selection of a referee, both parties agreed upon Ned Donnelly. Jem Burn addressed this functionary on the part of Paddock, and said all he wanted was a fair and manly fight, and that there should be no captious objections to any accidental occurrence. He wished the merits of the men might be fairlytested, and only desired that the best man might win. The men now prepared for action, and at thirty minutes past four, the rising moon looking modest from the east, and the last rays of the setting sun painting the western horizon, the gladiators appeared at the scratch, and commenced
THE FIGHT.Round 1.—The men having chosen their corners, fortune enabled the Slasher to place his back to the rising moon, so that his toothless mug was in shade. His herculean frame was, however, sufficiently visible, and his easy confidence and quiet deportment increased the confidence of his friends, and led all who scanned his proportions to consider him perfectly competent to hit down a hippopotamus; or, like the Greek boxer of old, floor a cantankerous bull, even without the assistance of the cestus. Paddock, although when opposed to Bendigo he appeared of the burly breed, loomed small in contrast with the Slasher. The disparity in their size was obvious, and as he jumped about seeking an opening, a veteran ring-goer exclaimed, “It’s any odds against the young’un, he’s got his master before him now.” In fact, the very style of holding up his hands, and the yokel-like feints (completely out of distance) with which he commenced, showed he was puzzled how to begin the job he had so confidently undertaken; presently he determined to chance it, and jumped in. Fortune favours the bold, and he gave the Slasher a clout on the jaw-bone with his left, the Tipton hitting in return on his shoulder or breast, and driving him back. The Slasher stepped in; Paddock retreated before him to his corner, hitting up again, but the Tipton stopped him. A smart exchange took place, and Paddock slipped down to get out of mischief.2.—Paddock began by trying his left twice, and barely reaching the Slasher, who dealt him a body blow with the right. Some heavy hits in weaving style, and a half-round body blow or two followed, the sound rather than the effect of the hitting being perceptible. The Tipton closed with Paddock, who struggled for a moment, and was then thrown on his back, the Tipton lending him thirteen stone additional to hasten his fall.3.—Two to one on the Tipton. The Slasher missed Paddock two or three times, owing to his active, jumping away; still he steadily pursued him. Paddock tried both hands, but had the worst of the exchanges; still there was no harm done. Paddock made a lunge with the right, but Tipton met him a smasher, and hit him down, almost falling over him. First knock-down for the Slasher.4.—It was now stated that Paddock had dislocated his shoulder; it was no doubt injured, but not out of joint. He tried his left in a flurried manner, but the Tipton feinted with the left, drove him back, and Paddock fell to avoid.5.—The Tipton went to work quickly, but steadily; he caught Paddock on the body with the right, and on the left cheek heavily with the left, as he was jumping round, and down went Paddock among the bottles in his own corner.6.—Tipton gave Paddock no rest or time for reflection, but pelted away. Paddock skipped about, and escaped against the ropes; from his corner, hit up, catching the Tipton on the side of the neck slightly, and dropped on one knee. The Tipton might have given him a finisher, but did not avail himself of the chance, threw up his hands and walked away.7.—Paddock hit Tipton sharply with the left on the forehead as he came in. Tipton missed his right, but caught Paddock a nasty “polthogue” on the nob as he was going back. Paddock fell on the ropes but was not down. The Tipton dropped his hands and came away from him, disdaining to hit him in that position. “Bravo, Tipton!”8.—As before; Tipton making the play and forcing his man, who could not make head against the attack, and jumped about like “a parched pea.” Paddock fell at Tipton’s feet, who, the friends of Paddock declared, tried to tread on him, and appealed accordingly. It was a “forlorn hope,” and the referee said “he saw nothing foul.”9.—Paddock jumped up as usual, just reaching Tipton’s chin, for which he was punished with a sounding ribber. Tipton stepped in, and down dropped Master Paddock.10.—Exchanges, but no effects visible, except a little blood from Paddock’s cheek. First blood for Tipton. The Tipton hit out right and left, and caught the Redditch man on the nob and body, who staggered half-way across the ring, and fell.11.—Tipton once again on Paddock’s body. Paddock fell in the bustle without a hit.12.—Paddock shifting and retreating. A slight exchange, and Paddock fell to avoid.13.—Tipton forced Paddock into his corner, but before he could do any mischief Paddock fell. A claim of “foul,” but not acknowledged.14.—Tipton just touched Paddock with his left, who kept slipping back. Tipton followedhim, and he dropped. Another appeal that Paddock fell without a blow, but the Tipton party waived the objection.15.—Paddock hit the Tipton, then slipped half down, jumped up again, and resumed the fight. Tipton went to work, and hit him down in the short rally.16, 17, 18, and 19.—As like each other as peas. Slasher made at Paddock, who wouldn’t stand his charge, and fell to avoid. Appeals. “We don’t want to win by a foul,” said the Tiptonians.20.—Paddock’s right arm hung as if disabled, but he brought it into play when action commenced. The Tipton drove him to the ropes, and hit him down.21.—Paddock, in jumping away, caught his right heel against the centre stake, and stumbled down, but jumped up again. Seeing Tipton close on to him, however, he dropped on to his knees.22.—As the moon got higher, the light improved. The Tipton, in bustling Paddock, got a body hit, which he retorted with a heavy right-hander on Paddock’s smelling organ, and down he went quite bothered.23.—Paddock came up with his face painted carmine colour, and was no sooner at the scratch than he was down. Another appeal.24.—Wild exchanges. Paddock on the shift. The Tipton gave Paddock a topper on the head, high up, when he fell, and Tipton over him.25.—A slight rally in Paddock’s corner. Paddock rushed at Tipton, who made an awkward step back. Paddock pushed rather than struck at him with the left, and forced the Tipton over. (Cheers for Paddock.)26.—It was all U.P. Tipton went in with both hands, and Paddock fell without a blow. Appeal repeated.27 and last.—The odds were the Great Glass-case of ’51 against a cucumber-frame. The Tipton gave Master Paddock a pelt on the head, and began punching at him among his bottles and traps at the corner stake. Paddock dropped, and the Tipton, fearing to give a chance away, was about to return to his own corner, as he had several times done when up jumped the Redditch man, and rushing at the Slasher, lent him such a dig just at the back of the left ear, with his right, that down tumbled Tipton, half with astonishment, half with the blow, and, as Paddy would say, “the third half of him fell just because it was not used to stand upright.” A more palpable “foul” was never seen. The spectators jumped from their seats, and all sorts of people got into the ring. The Tipton walked towards the referee for his decision, and that functionary pronounced it “foul;” and so ended the great little fight for the Championship, in forty-two minutes, the dial showing twelve minutes after five.Remarks.—A Scotch proverb declares—“It’s muckle cry, and little woo,As the de’il said, when he clipt the soo;”and this exhibition was certainly a complete “pig-shearing” excursion. The Slasher was not only in splendid condition, but his method of fighting, long arms, and great experience, made it no match. True, he was not to blame that it was so bad a fight, for as one man can take a horse to water, but twenty can’t make him drink, so let a man be ever so willing to make a merry mill of it, he can’t do so, if his opponent won’t have it. As to Paddock, he was so manifestly over-matched, and over-rated, that he had not the shadow of a chance; and the rush that proved perilous to Bendigo—old, stale, under 12 stone, and a practiser of retreating tactics—was not only useless against the bulky, firm-standing Slasher, but was certain destruction to the assailant, from the Tipton’s tact at countering, his superior strength, and immense weight. In fact, it was “a horse to a hen” on all points.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The men having chosen their corners, fortune enabled the Slasher to place his back to the rising moon, so that his toothless mug was in shade. His herculean frame was, however, sufficiently visible, and his easy confidence and quiet deportment increased the confidence of his friends, and led all who scanned his proportions to consider him perfectly competent to hit down a hippopotamus; or, like the Greek boxer of old, floor a cantankerous bull, even without the assistance of the cestus. Paddock, although when opposed to Bendigo he appeared of the burly breed, loomed small in contrast with the Slasher. The disparity in their size was obvious, and as he jumped about seeking an opening, a veteran ring-goer exclaimed, “It’s any odds against the young’un, he’s got his master before him now.” In fact, the very style of holding up his hands, and the yokel-like feints (completely out of distance) with which he commenced, showed he was puzzled how to begin the job he had so confidently undertaken; presently he determined to chance it, and jumped in. Fortune favours the bold, and he gave the Slasher a clout on the jaw-bone with his left, the Tipton hitting in return on his shoulder or breast, and driving him back. The Slasher stepped in; Paddock retreated before him to his corner, hitting up again, but the Tipton stopped him. A smart exchange took place, and Paddock slipped down to get out of mischief.
2.—Paddock began by trying his left twice, and barely reaching the Slasher, who dealt him a body blow with the right. Some heavy hits in weaving style, and a half-round body blow or two followed, the sound rather than the effect of the hitting being perceptible. The Tipton closed with Paddock, who struggled for a moment, and was then thrown on his back, the Tipton lending him thirteen stone additional to hasten his fall.
3.—Two to one on the Tipton. The Slasher missed Paddock two or three times, owing to his active, jumping away; still he steadily pursued him. Paddock tried both hands, but had the worst of the exchanges; still there was no harm done. Paddock made a lunge with the right, but Tipton met him a smasher, and hit him down, almost falling over him. First knock-down for the Slasher.
4.—It was now stated that Paddock had dislocated his shoulder; it was no doubt injured, but not out of joint. He tried his left in a flurried manner, but the Tipton feinted with the left, drove him back, and Paddock fell to avoid.
5.—The Tipton went to work quickly, but steadily; he caught Paddock on the body with the right, and on the left cheek heavily with the left, as he was jumping round, and down went Paddock among the bottles in his own corner.
6.—Tipton gave Paddock no rest or time for reflection, but pelted away. Paddock skipped about, and escaped against the ropes; from his corner, hit up, catching the Tipton on the side of the neck slightly, and dropped on one knee. The Tipton might have given him a finisher, but did not avail himself of the chance, threw up his hands and walked away.
7.—Paddock hit Tipton sharply with the left on the forehead as he came in. Tipton missed his right, but caught Paddock a nasty “polthogue” on the nob as he was going back. Paddock fell on the ropes but was not down. The Tipton dropped his hands and came away from him, disdaining to hit him in that position. “Bravo, Tipton!”
8.—As before; Tipton making the play and forcing his man, who could not make head against the attack, and jumped about like “a parched pea.” Paddock fell at Tipton’s feet, who, the friends of Paddock declared, tried to tread on him, and appealed accordingly. It was a “forlorn hope,” and the referee said “he saw nothing foul.”
9.—Paddock jumped up as usual, just reaching Tipton’s chin, for which he was punished with a sounding ribber. Tipton stepped in, and down dropped Master Paddock.
10.—Exchanges, but no effects visible, except a little blood from Paddock’s cheek. First blood for Tipton. The Tipton hit out right and left, and caught the Redditch man on the nob and body, who staggered half-way across the ring, and fell.
11.—Tipton once again on Paddock’s body. Paddock fell in the bustle without a hit.
12.—Paddock shifting and retreating. A slight exchange, and Paddock fell to avoid.
13.—Tipton forced Paddock into his corner, but before he could do any mischief Paddock fell. A claim of “foul,” but not acknowledged.
14.—Tipton just touched Paddock with his left, who kept slipping back. Tipton followedhim, and he dropped. Another appeal that Paddock fell without a blow, but the Tipton party waived the objection.
15.—Paddock hit the Tipton, then slipped half down, jumped up again, and resumed the fight. Tipton went to work, and hit him down in the short rally.
16, 17, 18, and 19.—As like each other as peas. Slasher made at Paddock, who wouldn’t stand his charge, and fell to avoid. Appeals. “We don’t want to win by a foul,” said the Tiptonians.
20.—Paddock’s right arm hung as if disabled, but he brought it into play when action commenced. The Tipton drove him to the ropes, and hit him down.
21.—Paddock, in jumping away, caught his right heel against the centre stake, and stumbled down, but jumped up again. Seeing Tipton close on to him, however, he dropped on to his knees.
22.—As the moon got higher, the light improved. The Tipton, in bustling Paddock, got a body hit, which he retorted with a heavy right-hander on Paddock’s smelling organ, and down he went quite bothered.
23.—Paddock came up with his face painted carmine colour, and was no sooner at the scratch than he was down. Another appeal.
24.—Wild exchanges. Paddock on the shift. The Tipton gave Paddock a topper on the head, high up, when he fell, and Tipton over him.
25.—A slight rally in Paddock’s corner. Paddock rushed at Tipton, who made an awkward step back. Paddock pushed rather than struck at him with the left, and forced the Tipton over. (Cheers for Paddock.)
26.—It was all U.P. Tipton went in with both hands, and Paddock fell without a blow. Appeal repeated.
27 and last.—The odds were the Great Glass-case of ’51 against a cucumber-frame. The Tipton gave Master Paddock a pelt on the head, and began punching at him among his bottles and traps at the corner stake. Paddock dropped, and the Tipton, fearing to give a chance away, was about to return to his own corner, as he had several times done when up jumped the Redditch man, and rushing at the Slasher, lent him such a dig just at the back of the left ear, with his right, that down tumbled Tipton, half with astonishment, half with the blow, and, as Paddy would say, “the third half of him fell just because it was not used to stand upright.” A more palpable “foul” was never seen. The spectators jumped from their seats, and all sorts of people got into the ring. The Tipton walked towards the referee for his decision, and that functionary pronounced it “foul;” and so ended the great little fight for the Championship, in forty-two minutes, the dial showing twelve minutes after five.
Remarks.—A Scotch proverb declares—
“It’s muckle cry, and little woo,As the de’il said, when he clipt the soo;”
“It’s muckle cry, and little woo,As the de’il said, when he clipt the soo;”
“It’s muckle cry, and little woo,
As the de’il said, when he clipt the soo;”
and this exhibition was certainly a complete “pig-shearing” excursion. The Slasher was not only in splendid condition, but his method of fighting, long arms, and great experience, made it no match. True, he was not to blame that it was so bad a fight, for as one man can take a horse to water, but twenty can’t make him drink, so let a man be ever so willing to make a merry mill of it, he can’t do so, if his opponent won’t have it. As to Paddock, he was so manifestly over-matched, and over-rated, that he had not the shadow of a chance; and the rush that proved perilous to Bendigo—old, stale, under 12 stone, and a practiser of retreating tactics—was not only useless against the bulky, firm-standing Slasher, but was certain destruction to the assailant, from the Tipton’s tact at countering, his superior strength, and immense weight. In fact, it was “a horse to a hen” on all points.
The return to the carriages was as speedy as circumstances and awkward clayey drains and ditches would permit, but all were safely seated, the agreeable whistle of departure sounded, and the whole party delivered at the Nine Elms terminus by six o’clock; the Slasher, merry as a grig, and loudly cheered, while Paddock complained of severe injury to his shoulder, which, if serious, was certainly aggravated by his last effort to do unlawful execution. The Tipton was received at the “Castle” with a flourish of “See the conquering hero comes!” while Paddock quietly returned to the “Queen’s Head,” where he received surgical attendance; and it was officially reported that he “had injured the bone of his shoulder, and that a sling must be worn as a safeguard against the consequences of moving the joint.”
Once more the Slasher laid claim to the Championship, and requested that Bendigo would, “according to agreement (?)” hand over the belt which he had so long held, or, if he declined doing so, the Tipton “would be proud to give him the chance of retaining it, by meeting him for any sum he might like to name.” The Tipton further announced his readiness “to make a match with any man in the world from £200 to £500 a side.”
A fortnight after theannonce, a letter appeared from Bendigo, stating that he would fight for £500 a side, but so far as the belt was concerned, it had been presented to him as a gift or testimonial, and was his own property. This vaunt was quickly replied to by the Tipton, who at once sent £50 to the Editor ofBell’s Life, “to make a match on Bendy’s own terms,” whereupon the latter backed out, and never after appeared as a candidate for fistic honours.
Finding that high prices would not command the market, the Tipton issued another challenge to fight any man for £100 or £200, but for several months this lay unaccepted. At length, at the latter end of May, 1851, his former patron and backer, Johnny Broome, appeared in print, accepting the Slasher’s gage on the part of “an unknown;” Johnny’s favourite mode of exciting public curiosity in matchmaking. Spring,[21]on this occasion, acted as Perry’s best friend, and declared his readiness to “go on” upon the name of “the unknown” being declared. What was the surprise of the “knowing ones” when Johnny declared his brother Harry to be the “veiled prophet,” on whose future championship he would wager £200, while Harry, who was present, stepped smilingly forward and modestly declared his candidature. The Tipton “grinned horribly a ghastly smile,” and could hardly be persuaded as he “saw Young Harry with his beaver up,” gallantly and coolly affirming his readiness to second his brother’s words by deeds. The Tipton, as Michaelmas day (September 29) was named as “no quarter-day,” at once went into training at Hoylake, in Cheshire, under the care of Jem Wharton and Jem Ward. How they met, and how the Slasher lost the fight, without a scratch, by his own clumsy precipitancy, must be read in the Life and Career of Harry Broome, in a future chapter of this volume.
Broome, on the giving up of the stakes, professing his readiness to maintain his title against all comers, accepted the offer of the Tipton to settle thevexata quæstioby another meeting, and articles were drawn up, anddeposits to the amount of £25 made good, when Harry forfeited, on the plea that he had a match on (it came to nothing) with Aaron Jones, and had also accepted an engagement with Paddock. Curiously enough, the Slasher, who now dubbed himself “Champion,” afterwards signed articles with both these men, who both forfeited to him; Aaron Jones to the tune of £70, in July, 1856, and Paddock (whom he had formerly beaten), to the amount of £80, in October following.
Perry, who had been twenty-one years before the public, now became a publican and vendor of eatables and drinkables in a canvas caravansery at races, fairs, and all sorts of rural gatherings in the Black Country.
All this time the star of a 10st.10lb.champion had been rapidly rising on the pugilistic world. Tom Sayers, having polished off the middle-weights, had been playing havoc among the “big ’un’s;” in 1856 defeating Harry Poulson (who had once beaten Paddock), and, in 1857, Aaron Jones fell beneath his conquering arm.
Six years had elapsed when “The Old Tipton,” as he was now popularly designated, was dared to the field by this new David. Right cheerfully did the old “Philistine man of might”—for the Tipton never lacked personal courage—respond to the “little ’un’s” crow. How the oft-repeated error of “trusting the issue of battle to waning age,” was again exemplified on the 16th of June, 1857, at the Isle of Grain, when the once formidable Slasher was conquered in the contest for £400 and the Champion’s belt by the marvellous little miller, Tom Sayers, may be read by those who are curious in minute details, in the life of that phenomenal pugilist, in ChapterXI.of this volume. This was the closing scene of the Tipton’s long and chequered career. He retired, defeated but not dishonoured, to his native county and early associates. In his latter days the Tipton is said to have never refused “a drink for the good of the house,” said house being his own special “tap.” Death finally overtook him, rather suddenly, at his home, near Wolverhampton, on January 18, 1881, in his sixty-first year.
[19]From this period Freeman returned to his theatrical and professional circus exhibitions, in which his gigantic size attracted the popular wonderment. He was a careless, good-natured fellow; and it was stated by the medical officers of Winchester Hospital, where the emaciated giant died of consumption on the 18th of October, 1845, that he had within him the fatal seeds of pulmonary disease from his first period of manhood. His end was of necessity accelerated by repeated colds, caught in the light attire of fleshings and spangles, in which he exhibited in draughty canvas erections, and crowded theatres and booths. This last remark is drawn from us by a senseless paragraph, in which a Hampshire penny-a-liner endeavoured to “improve the occasion” by suggesting that the early death of the good-natured, soft-headed acrobat was due to the dreadful injuries “he must necessarily have received in his terrible combat with the formidable bruiser known as the Tipton Slasher—injuries which from the tremendous stature of the combatants, must have been beyond ordinary calculation.” To this it may fairly be replied that the few fatal results on record from battles between big men is actually phenomenal—Andrew M’Kay (June, 1830) and Simon Byrne (May, 1833) being the only two on record; the others resulting from contests between middle or light weights, and several of these regrettable fatalities being proved by subsequent surgical examination to have resulted from accident, excitement, or apoplexy, induced by violent exertion.
[20]Not to complicate this confusion of “claimants” for the belt, we may here state that while Caunt, Bendigo, the Deaf’un, and the Tipton were playing duettos, trios, and quartettes, as leading performers in the discordant overture to the farce of “Who’s the Champion?” there was no lack of accompanying instrumentalists, each blowing his own trumpet of defiance, and thumping the big drum of “benefit” bounce. At the end of 1845, Caunt introduced a new candidate in the person of a formidable black, standing a trifle over six feet, and weighing hard upon 13st., who, rather curiously, dubbed himself William Perry! This mysterious “darkey” displayed such remarkable talent with the gloves, and was, in many respects, a man of such superior address and conversation, that he might well have been expected to turn out more than a second Molyneux. As, however, the proof of all pudding, whether black or white, is in the eating, an opponent was sought for the American importation. Bill Burton, of Leicester, a much smaller man, standing five feet nine, and weighing 11st.10lb., was selected. Burton’s credentials were good; he had defeated Angelo, of Windsor, in May, 1845—a game contest of seventy-four rounds—and had been previously victor in many unrecorded affairs. The meeting took place on the 20th January, 1846. The Black more than justified the anticipations of his backers. He defeated Burton with the greatest ease in fifteen rounds, the Leicester man’s friends humanely throwing up the sponge at the end of twenty-four minutes of a hopeless, one-sided contest. This was the first and last appearance of the so-called William Perry in the EnglishP.R.He proved to be connected with a gang of forgers of American bank-notes, and having been previously imprisoned more than once, he was now transported to the Antipodes, being provided with passage to Australia at Government expense, where, it would appear, he became a ticket-of-leave man, as he is recorded as having defeated Hough, the “Champion of Australia,” at Cumming’s Point, Sydney, in December, 1849. In the last-named year (1849) another “big ’un” came out, but quietly went in again. This was Con (Cornelius) Parker, standing six feet, and weighing 12st.10lb.; his first victory was over Jem Bailey (Irish), in the Essex Marshes, February 13th, 1849. He then received forfeit from the Tipton in the same year; but, on November 26th, also in 1849, he had his “championship” pretensions ignominiously snuffed out at Frimley, in Surrey, by Tass Parker, who somewhat retrieved the disgrace of his double defeat by the Tipton, by triumphantly thrashing Mister Con, who ended the battle by a “foul.” Con then emigrated to America, where he died rather suddenly, on the 2nd December, 1854, at Buffalo, U.S. Soon after Tass took the money for this victory, his friends injudiciously claimed for him the title of “Champion,” but Tass wisely declined, in a letter, such a prominent position.
[21]Spring, after a short illness, died on August 20th, 1851, while this match was in progress. (Seevol. ii.chapter 1.)