THE FIGHT.Round 1.—On throwing themselves into position each put out his feelers and advanced and retreated several times. After one or two feinting dodges Rowe tried his left, but was short; they got closer to their work, and left-hand counters were exchanged, Rowe catching it on the mouth and Broome slightly on the cheek. After a break away they again approached, and once more exchanged counter-hits with the left, Broomegetting well home on Rowe’s kissing organ, whence blood immediately trickled, and “first blood” was claimed for Broome and awarded. Broome rushed in, caught Rowe round the neck under his left arm, fibbed a little with his right, hitting up, then, giving him a leg, threw and fell on him. (7 to 4 on Broome offered.)2.—Rowe, on coming to the scratch, showed a stream of the crimson fluid from the side of his mouth. Broome led off with his left, but was neatly stopped, and in the second attempt equally well foiled. Slight exchanges, and Broome closed, and, after a short struggle, had his man down, but came himself to the ground rather heavily.3.—Rowe short with his left. Broome quickly caught him a smasher on his damaged mouth, repeating the dose twice, and playing round his man with a celerity that reminded us of Young Dutch Sam. Rowe tried to get home, first with one hand then the other, but was short, from the rapid shifting of his adversary. In the close Broome tried to get the lock, but Rowe kept his legs wide and declined the intended favour. Broome tried to hit up with the right, but Rowe slipped on one knee, catching a stinger on the jaw as he was falling, and Harry tumbling over him.4.—On Rowe coming up, his left eye, left cheek, and mouth gave evidence of renewed visitations. Harry, though flushed in the frontispiece, was not yet “adorned with cuts.” Rowe hit short with the left, and then stopped two or three attempts by Harry to get home with the same hand. In trying to return Rowe hit rather in the style of the sparring school, drawing back his elbow just as his fist reached its destination, instead of letting the blow go straight from the shoulder. A rally, in which Rowe succeeded in planting his left on Broome’s eye, and then stepped in with a rattling hit on the jaw that seemed for a moment to stagger the Young’un; in fact it looked for a moment as if he would go down from the stunning visitation; but he did not, and Rowe closed and threw his man amidst vociferous acclamations from the East-enders.5.—Broome came up smiling, steady, and resolute, showing little effects of the last round. He made play, but Rowe easily stopped two long shots from the left. Rowe retreated, but did not succeed in drawing Broome near enough, so the latter, after an exchange or two, got within distance, delivering left and right heavily on the head and body, then catching his man firmly on his left arm, he “fiddled” him with the right, and as he struggled away gave him the leg and fell heavily on him. (The Rowe-ites mute with astonishment.)6.—Both showed signs of punishment, Rowe on mouth, eye, cheek, and left ear, Broome on the left cheek. Rowe short with the left; a rally, when Harry caught Rowe an upper-cut with the left, but Rowe grappled him, and Harry got down through his hands, amidst the jeers and scoffs of the Rowe party.7.—Broome came up slowly; he sparred and shifted ground, but Rowe would not be drawn. Broome sent out his left, but was short, and in a second attempt just reached Joe’s neck with his right, who threw his head back with great quickness out of the way of mischief. Three times in succession Rowe stopped Broome’s left with great neatness. (“That’s the way to break his heart,” cried Jack Macdonald.) After some more clever sparring, in which little damage was done, Broome closed, and again threw his man, falling on him.8.—Broome was again neatly stopped, but he persevered and got in a smasher on Rowe’s damaged mouth, who counter-hit, but not effectively. Broome got in to half-arm and visited Rowe’s left eye. Joe, not relishing these pops, dropped on his knees, but Harry caught him with his left arm and lifted him bodily up from the ground, thus displaying immense muscular strength, threw him and dropped on him. (2 to 1 on Broome.)9.—Harry came up smiling confidently. He led off with his left, but Rowe stopped him three or four times beautifully. (Applause.) At length they got close, and Broome twice in succession got home on Rowe’s mouth and eye. Rowe, wild and stung, rushed into close quarters, but Broome got away, broke ground, and twice or three times popped in sharp hits in the face. Rowe got down in his own corner during a rally.10.—Broome played round his man actively, occasionally getting in a “little one.” Rowe was slow, and stood steadily on the defensive. He evidently reckoned on Broome tiring himself by doing all the work. He could not, however, keep Broome out, who gave him a tidy smack on the cheek, and Rowe got down.11.—Rowe still slow and on the defensive. Broome put in a nobber, and Rowe was down on the grass.12.—Rowe stopped a succession of hits with the left, but Broome would not come in to be propped; at last they exchanged two or three sharp hits, when Broome closed and threw Rowe, but not heavily.13.—Good out-fighting on the part of Broome, who planted on Rowe’s neck and ear. Rowe continued his stopping, and stepping back, until Broome, tired of the game, fought in, closed, and threw him.14.—Broome got home with his left, a cutting blow; Rowe let go right and left wildly, of which Broome took advantage, closed, caught him round the waist, and flung him cleverly.15.—Rowe still stopped steadily, but was sadly short in the returns. As we have before said, his blows did not go from the shoulder, but partook of the flip-flap character of the sparring school. Broome advancedand retreated, and at last, springing in, caught Rowe in the mark with his left, and gave the “first knock down.”16 to 19.—Broome made the fighting, got in his left, and threw his man in all these rounds.20.—Rowe maintained his steadiness amazingly. He stopped with precision, and was getting down from Broome’s onslaught when Harry seized him, lifted him by sheer strength, and threw him.21.—Rowe getting slow, and apparently vexed at not being able to get his man to hitting distance. Broome played half-round to the right, then to the left. Rowe went in desperately and forced a rally, in which he got home his right a sounder on Broome’s jaw, and both were down, amidst the uproarious cheers of the East-enders, who seemed “thankful for small mercies.”22.—Broome showed symptoms of fatigue; he coughed and hemmed, stepped back, and rubbed his arms, leisurely surveying his antagonist. “Don’t be gammoned,” said Bill Hayes; Rowe nodded his head assentingly. As Rowe would not advance Broome went to him, and in some sharp exchanges hit hardest and oftenest. Broome’s right came in sharp contact with Rowe’s sconce as he was going down, and Broome was seen pulling at his right little finger, to which some mischance had happened.23.—On coming to the scratch Broome again sparredà la distance. “Go in,” cried Crawley to Rowe; “his hands are gone, it’s all your own.” This was an error; “the wish was father to the thought,” for Harry frustrated his adversary’s attempt by sending his left slap in Rowe’s mazzard, hit him with the supposed disabled right in the ribs, closed, and got him down.24.—Broome popped in his left, closed, and rolled over his man as he got down.25.—Rowe, getting slower and slower, seemed to content himself with guarding his head and ribs, and shifting. Broome bided his time, but at length got home, and muzzled poor Joe, who went to grass somehow.26.—As before, Rowe on the defensive, stopping, but not returning. Broome followed him up, forced him on to the ropes, and rolled over with him.27th and last.—Broome came to the scratch cheerfully; his seconds certainly sent him up remarkably clean. Although Rowe, as before, stopped an experimental left-hander or two, Harry gave him two severe smashers on the mouth and cheek, then closing as Rowe was trying to get down, he gave him the crook, and fell heavily on him. It was all over. Rowe, though still strong on his legs, declined to continue the contest; and Bill Hayes threw up the sponge in token of defeat. Young Harry was highly elated. He jumped about the ring like a parched pea in a frying-pan, shook hands with his opponent, and performed acoup de théâtreby pressing the winning-colours to his lips, and then waving them round his head. At this moment Harry showed no further discolouration of the face than a blue mark under the left eye. One of the bones of his right-hand, however, was broken, and from that round it was of little effectual service, though he used it several times. The fight lasted exactly fifty-seven minutes, and from first to last was conducted with the utmost fairness, and without the slightest interruption from the surrounding multitude, which was largely increased by the accession of several Whitsun clubs, who were celebrating their holiday in the neighbourhood.Remarks.—Broome won the fight from superior tact, good in-fighting, and the clever use of his legs, both in getting away and throwing. To the quick use of his left—for he did but little with the right—the downfall of his game antagonist is also to be ascribed. Rowe, we must confess, from what we had previously seen, somewhat disappointed us. Not only was he slow, and generally short, but his hits were elbow-deliveries, while, before the battle was half through, he adopted such a determined line of mere defensive tactics as never could have gained him victory over such a courageous and active adversary as Young Broome. We almost suspected he had made up his mind to defeat early in the fight. Broome’s youth, though much against him, was relied on by Rowe, mistakingly, as the event proved. He was neither so much exhausted, or even tired, as his older opponent. It would be prudent, from the injury he has twice sustained in his right-hand, that he should, for a time, retire from the active pursuit of the profession he has adopted, until gristle has hardened to bone, and well-knit sinew and tendon replace his youthful rounded muscle. That Young Harry possesses steadiness, self-possession, game, and confidence he has fully shown, and these, aided by the increasing strength and stamina which time must bring, must ensure him a high position among pugilistic professionals. The weather was, throughout the day, most favourable, and order and regularity admirably maintained, Spring, Peter Crawley, Jem Burn, Owen Swift, Johnny Hannan, Jem Turner, Young Reid, Jemmy Welsh, and others of thecorps d’élite, contributing greatly to this desirable state of things.At this period (1846) there resided at Birmingham a boxer of high local repute, some five years the senior of Harry, and still in his prime, who, in the opinion of his fellow-townsmen, was well fitted to check the triumphantcareer of the juvenile representative of the house of Broome, which was considered to have transferred its pugilistic fame from its native place to London. This was Ben Terry, whose successive defeats of Jem Hodgkiss, Forster, Davis of Birmingham, and Tom Davis, in 1841, 1842, 1843, and 1844, all middle-weights, had earned for him a character approaching invincibility. After some cavilling with Johnny Broome in times passed by, before that boxer retired from the Ring, which, however, ended in nothing. Ben now proposed a match for £100 a side, with Young Harry, at 10st.4lbs., and the youngster, nothing loth, closed with the offer. There was much partisan feeling mixed up in the affair, and on February 3rd, 1846, the men met at Shrivenham, Berkshire, on the Great Western line. There was tedious disputation on the choice of a referee; and the behaviour of the partisans of Terry was simply disgraceful, and marked most significantly the falling fortunes of the Ring. The unfinished battle, which occupies an immense and undue space in the contemporary report, is not worth preserving. Suffice it to say that for the first half hour the fighting of Harry was singularly irregular and wild, and only accountable upon the supposition, loudly proclaimed by Brother Johnny, that Young Harry had been stupefied by the surreptitious introduction of some drug in his drink—in short, had been “hocussed.” We, who witnessed the fight, however loth we should be to admit such a shameful act without clear evidence, could not resist the suspicion of some foul play. Terry, however, seemed to fight very little better than his opponent. After the 35th round, the confusion and disorder defied description. The ring was broken in, and filled with an unruly crowd; repeated claims of “foul” were made from both sides; the referee was sought to be intimidated by uproar and threats; and finally the fight was claimed for Terry, without any decision being given by the properly constituted authorities, and the respective parties returned—the one to Birmingham, the other to London, to wrangle over the destination of the £200 in the hands of the stakeholder. After a tedious controversy and furious mutual recriminations, it is clear that the Terry party did not fancy a second meeting, and the affair ended by Johnny Broome, on behalf of his brother, consenting to draw stakes on receipt of a douceur of £5. Terry, who was subsequently beaten by Coates and Posh Price, died at Birmingham, October 12th, 1862.We have noted in the life of the Tipton Slasher, how, after his defeat of Paddock, in December, 1850, he laid public claim to the Championship; how Bendigo, after stating that he was prepared to fight for £500, andno less, backed out when the Tipton offered to meet him for that amount; and further, that he, the Tipton, would fight any man for £100 or £200. This challenge was unanswered until May, 1851, when Broome declared himself ready to make a deposit for an “Unknown,” for £200 a side. This was accepted. At a subsequent meeting at Johnny Broome’s, on the 2nd of June, the articles were completed, and the battle agreed to take place within four months. On the occasion first named poor Tom Spring, who had in this case undertaken to see to the interests of the Slasher in London, lay stretched on a bed of sickness, struggling with that grim antagonist who soon after gave him his final fall; consequently Johnny Broome claimed and received forfeit at the second deposit, the Slasher’s friends not putting in an appearance. In the following week a gleam of hoped-for health on the part of Spring, and the arrival of Perry himself in London, led to a demonstration, and a sum of money was deposited in the hands of the Editor ofBell’s Lifeon the part of Tipton, to meet the “Unknown” for the sum proposed. That the “Great Unknown” was a mystery, like the authorship of “Junius,” and, for a time, the Waverley Novels, was evident, for men did not scruple to say that Johnny had had a lucky escape from “a bit of bounce” by the receipt of the small amount down. The mystery, however, was quickly dissipated, for at the next meeting, to the astonishment of all, Young Harry announced himself to be the “mysterious stranger,” prepared to join issue with the ponderous Slasher, and from that evening the match progressed satisfactorily.In the interim, the Tipton, after a provincial tour, went into training at Hoylake, in Cheshire, under the mentorship of Jem Ward, and the superintendence of Jemmy the Black (Young Molyneaux). Harry was, of course, looked after by his brother, but was unable to do so much work as he required, owing to the necessity that arose of constantly shifting his quarters. This, we may now state, was owing to the embarrassed state of his pecuniary affairs, in connection with the Opera Tavern, in the Haymarket, of which he was then the landlord.When we last saw Harry in the lists, in his interrupted combat with Ben Terry, he was looked upon as a “middle-weight,” his height 5 feet 9 inches, his weight 10½st.; and from this circumstance, despite the assertion that he had grown nearly two inches in stature, and would go to scale full two stone heavier in muscle and bone, there was an obstinate incredulity on the part of many who thought they knew the man, with respect to the 10½st. Harry and the 13st.Slasher ever facing each other in the Ring.The stakeholder, upon whom devolved the duty of naming the place of fighting, selected Mildenhall. Johnny Broome had a predilection for Six Mile Bottom, near Newmarket, as suitable for the convenience of the sporting men going to the First October Meeting, but this he subsequently abandoned. The place having been appointed, Johnny Broome and Young Spring, on behalf of the Slasher, engaged a special train on the Eastern Counties Line, which, it was notified, would start at half-past eight. There was little excitement abroad, for the eve of so important an event as that which was to decide thevexata quæstioas to who was to be Champion of England. It is true, the houses of the two Broomes, and the Castle Tavern, were thronged, but we did not hear of a bet being made, and a strong impression prevailed up to the very day that something would occur to prevent the issue of the battle. On reaching the platform whence the train was to start we found the assemblage was limited, and we should calculate that not more than one hundred took their places in the carriages, so that these who speculated on gain were on the wrong side of the post. With the exception of Peter Crawley and Old Tom Oliver, we recognised none of the representatives of the old school.The travellers having taken their seats—the Tipton, accompanied by Nobby Clarke and Molyneaux, being among them—the whistle sounded, and off went the party. A good deal of consternation was expressed by some persons at the non-appearance of Broome; but, on the train arriving at Bishop Stortford, all doubt was set at rest by his presence on the platform. The train once more got under weigh, and shortly the goal was reached. Pursuing a winding lane, the veteran Commissary led the way to the field where Bendigo won his parting laurel from Paddock, in 1850. This ground, however, was found to be under plough, and the travellers had to go further afield; nevertheless, all was soon in apple-pie order for business. The London train band was reinforced by a few of the Norfolk and Suffolk Militiamen, and a cavalry contingent from Newmarket, and by one o’clock there was a tolerable muster round the roped arena. At ten minutes after that hour the Tipton hero advanced to the ring-side, and, removing his nob-cover, tossed it gaily within the magic circle. Harry was not long in answering the Tipton’s call for him to come forth, and was loudly cheered on presenting himself. After shaking hands, the difficult point of choosing a referee came on thetapis. This knotty question seemed likely to occupy the whole day, for to each proposition a negative was offered, chiefly by the Tipton and his friends. One hour and forty minutes were thus cut towaste, but at twenty-five minutes past two the differences ended by the selection of Peter Crawley, and the men commenced their toilettes. Crawley had been previously rejected by the Tipton, from an apprehension that his predilections were in favour of Broome; and it was not until Harry offered to fight without a referee that he at last consented. The choice made, the Slasher approached Crawley, and said all he desired was a fair fight and no favour. If he did anything foul he must abide by the consequences, and if his antagonist did wrong he hoped an equal measure of justice would be meted out to him. Crawley said he might rely on his performing his duty strictly and impartially. All he desired was to see a fair and manly contest, and to see it fairly and manfully fought out.The attendants on the Slasher were Nobby Clarke and Jem Molyneaux. The bold Harry was esquired by Callaghan, of Derby, and Bob Castles, Johnny, of course, being in the corner. A little interlude, in the shape of a shindy between Molyneaux and Callaghan, enlivened the interval of suspense, but, on everything being ready, they were soon quieted down. The ring was admirably kept throughout, Tom Callas, Jerry Noon, Mallet, and others lending a helping hand. The betting at the commencement was 2 to 1 on the Slasher; and at forty-five minutes past two business began.THE FIGHT.Round 1.—And so the men stood up, and all doubts, fears, and suspicions as to whether there would or would not be a fight were at an end, and the question was now to be set at rest as to what sort of a fight those present were to witness, and we were to record. No sooner had the youthful Harry struck his canvass, and exhibited himself in Nature’s buff suit, than an almost audible buzz of surprise and admiration broke from the spectators. Never did gladiator of old offer a finer study for the chisel of the sculptor or the pencil of the painter. 5ft.10½in.in stature, his height was only fairly proportioned to his weight, 12st.10lbs.on the morning of the battle, which, by-the-bye, was 10lbs.too much. His chest and scapulæ, with their masses of prominent and rigid muscle, were almost preternaturally developed; and as he swung his long, round arms, with the motion of one practising with the dumb-bells, closing and unclosing his hands (black with the astringent juices applied to them), to supple his joints for the impending encounter, all seemed to agree that he was up to the standard of weight and measure which the veteran Captain Barclay said “was big enough to fight any two-legged creature that ever walked.” There is much, however, in “a name”—despite Juliet’s declaration to the contrary, which, coming from a green young Miss, don’t carry much authority—and, accordingly, the old ring-goers were half inclined to a belief in the Slasher’s invincibility, and doubted whether the audacious “boy,” as the Tipton contemptuously called him in our hearing, would stand up to his ancient friend and fellow-trainer in bygone days. That this was a mistake was soon apparent. Throwing up his hands with smiling confidence, Harry toed the scratch, saying, as he did so, “Here I am, old boy, and I mean to win to-day.” The Tipton grinned—the absence of his incisors imparting that expression to his laugh. On the present occasion, though he looked brown, hardy, and sunburnt, there was somewhat of an antiquated cut about his figure-head which was not observable on his last public appearance, which, as we have already recorded, was with Paddock, in December, 1850. His frame, however, showed no waste or diminution of its formidable proportions. Poised upon his letter K-like pedestals, his huge upper works, broad shoulders, immense blade-bones, wide loins and well-ribbed carcase showed the ponderous athlete, though the bloom and freshness of youth had fadedfrom his skin. It was clear he meant to give no rest, and as little room and opportunity, to his antagonist as he could help. Harry offered with his left high up, in the direction of the Slasher’s nob; it was a sort of measuring, and he stepped aside, breaking ground with graceful agility. Slasher followed him, when he stepped aside laughing, closing and unclosing his hands, playing about out of reach, and sparring. “Go to him, Tipton,” cried Jemmy Wharton; “he’s afraid of you.” The Tipton did as he was bid, and Harry retreated until near the ropes. The Tipton let go his right, and just reached Harry’s ribs, who rapidly caught him a cross-counter with the left on the face. A couple of rather hasty exchanges brought the men together; they separated, and Broome delivered an upper cut on the Slasher’s face, who retaliated on Harry’s body so effectively that he slipped in jumping back, and fell, throwing up his feet as he reached the ground, to prevent the Tipton falling on him, and, when he found himself safely landed, bringing his heels over his head with a spring, and turning a complete somersault. A claim for a knock-down; but it was anything but that. Four minutes. (6 to 4 on the Tipton, and no takers.)2.—Harry came up laughing, and nodded at the Tipton, who laughed and nodded in return. Nothing was the matter on either side. Slasher followed Broome, who retreated to the ropes. “Get nearer, Harry,” cried Brother Johnny. “Don’t go after him,” said Molyneaux, and the Tipton in turn retired to the scratch, to which he pointed down with his index-finger. Harry stepped right up to his head, and delivered his left flush on the Slasher’s mouth. (Cheers.) There was a momentary pause, Slasher pursued Harry to the ropes, where the latter jumped into a close, and caught his opponent round the waist. Harry tried to get the lock, but both were down, Tipton having hold of the upper rope with his right.3.—Broome was all confidence and elasticity. He went up to the Slasher, and reached his head, then retreated from the return. “He’ll stand it,” cried Callaghan. The Tipton got in his left on Harry’s right cheek, who, in return, gave him a sounding flush hit on the olfactory organ. The Slasher let fly right and left, and the men closed near the centre stake. Harry got an unmistakable outside look with his right leg over the crooked knee of the Slasher. There were a few seconds of severe struggling, when Broome, having fixed his hold, brought the Slasher over on his back. Down he came, shaking the earth with the concussion, his shoulders, neck, and back part of his caput first saluting the ground, while Harry rolled over on him. The effect was electrifying: even “Peter the Great” gave an audible grunt in unison with the “thud” that accompanied the Slasher’s downfall. There lay the crooked Colossus prostrate, till his active seconds, seizing him by the legs and wings, conveyed him to his corner, whither Harry followed him with inquiring eyes.4.—Tipton came well and boldly, but not till time had been several times vociferously called, the Broomites evidently in most hurry. Harry shifted round and round the corners, the Slasher following him. Harry reached the Tipton’s mouth smartly, who let go both hands. The hit sounded. Broome closed, and tried the lock again. The Tipton avoided his hips, and both were on the grass.5.—The Tipton had shaken off the effects of his fall. He tried to gammon Harry within reach of his formidable right by short feints with the left. As this did not have the desired effect, he went in, hitting out with both hands. Harry nailed him on the frontispiece, and as he came on again, administered an upper-cut. It was not quite close enough, or it might have told tales. In the close the Tipton was under at the ropes, but it was no detriment.6.—Broome went to the Slasher’s head in the most manly style, and popped in one. “Fortune favours the brave.” Tipton retorted, but missed one very mischievous hit. The men closed, Harry hit up, catching the Tipton on the nose, and both were down in the scramble—the Tipton, if either, first.7.—“First blood” for Broome, which was unmistakably distilling from the Slasher’s nose, to which he put his hand as if to feel it. The Tipton forced Broome to the ropes, threatening with his right, where they closed, and after some not very effective fibbing, Broome brought the Tipton down on his back, falling on his stomach with his latter end. (An offer to take evens on Broome.)8.—Smart active sparring and a bustling exchange. Harry gave the Slasher a very heavy hit on the jaw, producing a slight cut. The Tipton retorted with a nobber, and also sent home a body-hit. Whether the Tipton’s right hand had lost its cunning or not, these ribbers did not seem to stagger the Young One as they did former adversaries. Still, the old one rattled in, and in the scuffle was jobbed in the head, till at the end of the round Broome pushed him from him sideways with both hands, when he got down. Bellows to mend on both sides.9.—The Slasher came up grinning, but his merriment looked rather forced, although the hitting had left but little traces on his hard features. He hit very short with his left, and Broome walked round smiling. There was a close at the ropes in Harry’s corner, in which the Tipton got Broome awkwardly over them, and hung on him, holding the rope with his right, his left hand being across Harry’s face. The rope was slacked, and Harry was let down. The referee was appealed to, who ordered the fight to proceed.10.—Exchanges: Harry gave the Tipton a blow on the left eye that raised a lump,then swung round and broke away from the return. He jobbed the Slasher as he advanced, but was driven to the ropes, whence he suddenly sprang forward, took a half-arm hit, and making his favourite grip, brought the Tipton over—a heavy fall—tumbling on him with his knees. As Harry lay on the grass, he blew like a grampus.11.—The Slasher came slowly up. There was a short pause, when again Broome went up to his head. The Slasher’s right reached Harry’s body, who put in a sharp left-hander that cut the Tipton’s lip; there was some quick half-arm hitting, in which Broome delivered a clever upper-cut with his right, and both were down. Broome uppermost, the crimson fluid from the Slasher’s nose and lip smearing Harry’s frontispiece as they embraced.12.—The Tipton bored Harry to the ropes, was on to him before he got his chance for a lunge, and had him down in a scramble.13.—Harry retreated to the ropes. The Tipton followed. Broome stopped his left, and shifted from his right, but got a slight taste as he broke ground, and moved round his man. Harry dashed at the Slasher, and got within his guard. There was a short scrambling rally, when the Tipton got down to avoid the lock. Offers to take evens, and then to bet the short odds on “the Young’un.” Bob Castles retired from Broome’s corner in this round, and his place was supplied by Macdonald. An objection to the change of seconds overruled.14.—Broome milled prettily on the retreat, the Tipton hitting remarkably short with his left. Harry unclosed his hands, and shifting round towards the Slasher’s corner, said, cheerfully, “I’ll take odds ‘the boy’ licks him without a black eye.” The Tipton was evidently more bothered than beaten, and the facility with which he was thrown made him put on his considering cap. Broome went up to his head, as if to attack, but as quickly stepped back. The Slasher followed, and let go both hands, his right alone getting home. Harry turned at the instant, hit up sharply with the left, and weaving away, the Tipton got down. In the in-fighting there were some heavy hits exchanged, and Broome’s over-weight told sadly on his bellows, which heaved and jerked like those of a pumped-out steeplechaser.15th and last.—There was a little squabble about time, the Slasher slowest from his corner. Both sides seemed somewhat inclined to spar for wind. Harry dashed in, evidently with the intention of closing and trying for a heave. He hit the Tipton on the chin, but the Ould’un got away, as if to get room for his right. Harry advanced, closed, and a struggle took place, each attempting to hit. The Tipton grasped him tightly with his left, and was trying to hit with his right, when Harry slipped down on both knees. The Tipton let go his right just as he reached the ground, giving him a decided nobber, which certainly did not reach its destination till Harry was down. It was the work of a moment. The shouts from all sides were tremendous. Broome’s seconds ran to the umpires and referee, as did the ever-active Molyneaux, on the side of the Tipton. There was a short pause, during which “Peter the Great” declared he had not yet been formally appealed to. This was done, the umpires, of course, disagreeing. “A most deliberate foul,” said “Peter the Great,” and the ring broke up. Thirty-three minutes had sufficed for the present decision of the question, “Who is the Champion of England?”As the ponderous Peter left the roped enclosure, another instance was added to the many previous of the suicidal conduct of the present race of Ring men. The referee was surrounded by a vociferous and violent mob, whose language was of the most outrageous description. The Tipton himself, too, so “raised the dander” of the referee by his remarks and conduct, that the veteran Crawley declared he would fight for his credit and integrity, and, to the no small amusement of many, was disencumbering his portly person of his outer coat, to inflict summary punishment on his assailants, when the Tipton was forced away.Remarks.—Upon this battle, ending in a manner so unsatisfactory, few remarks are necessary. The style of fighting will speak for itself. It was clear that the Tipton was surprised by the vigour and determination of his youthful opponent, and not less so at the manner in which he exhibited his throwing powers; for, in closing, not only was Harry the better wrestler, but apparently the stronger man. How the battle would have terminated had it proceeded in the ordinary way it is impossible to say, and in this respect opinions naturally differed. For, on the one hand, the little punishment that was administered came from the Young One, while the Old One had evidently lost none of his personal confidence, and no doubt anticipated that Harry would out-fight himself, and, by the rapidity of his movements, increase that exhaustion which had already shown itself at the conclusion of some of the earlier rounds. The sudden termination of the battle came upon all by surprise, and few believed that there was a “deliberate” intention on the part of the Tipton to administer the blow which was pronounced “foul.” That Harry was on his knees when he received the ugly hit we can aver, as we were seated by the side of the referee at the time of the appeal. The men were certainly in a scrambling close at the moment; and it was obvious that, while Harry desired to get out of trouble, the Tipton felt inclined to make the most of his fancied advantage. Crawley’s experience thoroughly enabled him to form a correct opinion, and we have no reason to believe that his judgment wasnot given fairly and impartially. Of course those not over-honest persons, who always attribute unworthy motives to others, assert that Crawley’s prepossessions were in favour of Broome, and that this was the reason why the Tipton originally objected to his being selected as referee. To this we can distinctly oppose that, to our own knowledge, the bias of Peter, if he had any, would have carried him the other way. Such, however, was not the opinion of the Tipton nor of his friends, as the latter, on the following day, served the stakeholder with notice “not to part with their money,” and the Tipton still asserted himself to be “Champion of England.”Upon this unsportsmanlike proceeding the Editor commented with much severity, arguing that if such practices were pursued, there would be an end to all confidence between man and man in sporting matters, and would assuredly deter any one from posting money on any similar event, as well as from holding stakes.Harry Orme having, as we have seen in the preceding chapter, defeated Aaron Jones a second time, was strongly urged to put forth his claim to the Championship, and to meet Harry Broome on his “advertised” terms. Months, however, passed before the match was made. First Broome made one stipulation, and then Orme’s friends showed their “stupid cleverness” in a counter-proposition, and there was a cannonade of angry correspondence of the most futile controversial character. Late in the year 1852, however, articles were signed and delivered for a fight to come off on the 18th of April, 1853, for £250 a side, the Editor ofBell’s Lifeto name the place of fighting, and also appoint a referee.Harry, who since developing into a Boniface had become excessively corpulent, at once placed himself under the care of Levi Eckersley, at Cleave Hill, near Cheltenham, and here diligently subjected himself to an immense amount of work. Orme went into training near Maidstone, whence, the Monday before the battle, he removed to Greenstreet Green, in Kent.It being stipulated in the articles that the stakeholder should name the whereabouts for the event, a special train was engaged on the Eastern Counties Railway, for “an excursion of 100 miles or thereabouts,” the exact spot being undivulged to the general sporting public, lest the gentry then known as “Cheapsiders” should get down “by hook or by crook,” and, by alarming the county, spoil sport. The arrangements with the railway company were made with despatch, and the gentlemen at the Shoreditch Station took every care to make such dispositions on the eventful morning as effectually to prevent any of the unprivileged classes from obtaining admittance. The time for starting was nominally a quarter-past eight, but long before that hour the neighbourhood of Shoreditch was in a perfect ferment; the streets and the station-yard were crowded with spectators anxious to get a glimpse of the chief performers in the forthcoming drama; but in this they were disappointed, as they hadboth proceeded a certain distance on the line of march on the previous day. As the time for starting approached, the arrival of cabs and other vehicles was incessant, and it was perfectly clear that there would be a very large muster of patrons of the sport, the majority of whom were what Pierce Egan would have called “reg’lar nobs and tip-top swells,” but who are, in the present Ring vernacular, classed as patrician and Corinthian patrons of the noble art. At no fight for many years past had there been such a congregation of noblemen and gentlemen; and certainly at no encounter since that between Caunt and Bendigo, in 1845, was so much interest excited. Among the company present we were glad to observe some patrons of the Ring of the Old School—gentlemen who remembered the battles of Cribb, Spring, Hickman (the Gas-man), Oliver, &c. There was also a good sprinkling of Turfites present, attracted partly owing to its being a bye-day in the racing world, and partly by the fact that Orme’s backer was a gentlemen well known in the betting-ring. Among the latest arrivals at the station was the “Arch” Bishop of Bond Street, with a considerable number of his flock. The reverend “gent.” although suffering from gout, had strained a point to be present at such an important contest, no doubt anticipating that the winner would insist upon his “crowning” him upon the spot; but in this the “mad priest” was disappointed: his services were not required, and he had to return to town after the battle, without being called upon to distinguish himself in any manner except in the voracious devouring of the contents of a huge sandwich-box, which he was compelled to attack by the calls of appetite, and in the ceremony of swallowing which he highly distinguished himself. At length the train was full, the station-doors were closed, and at half-past eight precisely the whistle sounded, and we were off. The caravan, consisting of some sixteen carriages, all of which were crammed, proceeded steadily on its way until we reached Bishop Stortford, where we took in Orme (for the fight), and water (for the engine). The next stoppage was Elsenham, where Broome got into the train, and the engineer received his orders as to the final destination. He, acting under directions, pulled up at Ely, where a pilot, who had gone on the previous day, took up his position on the train, and informed us of that of which we had already our misgivings—viz., that an immense number of persons had gone by parliamentary train from London to Mildenhall, early in the morning, and were there in waiting to receive the combatants and their friends. This being the case, proved the correctness of the precautions we had taken in sending on a pilot beforehand.That gentleman now undertook to conduct us to a spot where business could be proceeded with in peace and comfort, and the train once again sped on its way. As we passed Mildenhall, we saw hundreds of disappointed travellers, who had been patiently waiting all the morning, and who were thus, very properly, baulked in their parsimonious intentions. At Lakenheath, the next station, we perceived a company of mounted blues in readiness to spoil sport. These worthies, like the would-be spectators at Mildenhall, also had their trouble and expense for nothing. There was no intention of breaking the peace within their bailiwick, so still the train went on. At length the appointed spot was reached, between two stations, and about 108 miles from London. Here a hasty debarkation was effected, and the train returned to the nearest station. Tom Oliver, his son, and Tom Callas, at once proceeded to erect the lists, while Dan Dismore carried on a brisk business in the sale of inner-ring tickets. Some idea of the number of gentlemen present may be gathered from the fact that the tickets so disposed of realised between £40 and £50. There were, of course, a great number of outsiders on the ground, but owing to the precautions that had been taken in keeping things dark, the total number of spectators did not exceed 2,000. All these persons, by the admirable arrangements, and the activity of the ring-keepers of the Pugilistic Association, obtained an admirable view of the contest throughout, and we did not, during the day, hear of a single disturbance calculated in the slightest degree to interfere with the sport, or those anxious to witness it. By a quarter-past one o’clock the ring was completed. Orme immediately pitched his castor within the ropes, and followed himself, attended by Tom Sayers and Jack Grant. He looked well and hardy, and wore a smile of confidence on his good-humoured mug. In about ten minutes more the other Harry made his appearance, closely followed by Bill Hayman, of Birmingham, and Callaghan, of Derby, his brother Johnny being, as he had promised, “in the corner.” Harry smiled, and shook hands with t’other Harry, and both were loudly cheered. The ceremony of peeling now commenced, and by half-past one the men were delivered at the scratch in fighting undress.On toeing the scratch, there was a very perceptible difference in the appearance of the men. Broome overtopped his adversary a good two inches, and was proportionably longer in reach. His weight, we are told, did not exceed 12st.5lbs., but of this he might well have spared half a stone. There was much loose flesh about his back, chest, and ribs, and althoughhe was evidently in rude health, he had not been drawn fine enough to stand a long day’s work under such a burning sun as shone down upon the combatants during the fight. Broome, had he been permitted to take that pains with himself requisite to make him fit, would have been about as awkward a customer as could have been well conceived. As it was, however, he was so much harassed with law and other proceedings that he could not pay that attention to his training that he otherwise would have done. We think at 11st.8lbs.his condition would be about perfection. His attitude, as he stood awaiting the attack, was admirable, and, had it not been for his fat, he would have looked all over a gladiator. Orme, whose colour is almost mahogany, is barely 5ft.8in.in height, but is a thick-set, powerful fellow, with a frame of iron, long arms, a perfect bull-neck, and a pair of understandings fit for an Atlas. His weight was 11st.8lbs., and of this scarcely 2lbs.was superfluous stuff. His attitude, when on the defensive, is not graceful, but he looks rough and ready, his dangerous right being across his mark, but always ready to be dashed out at the least opening on his adversary’s ribs. It was clear that there was a determination on both sides “to do or die,” and the spectators made up their minds that they were in for a good thing. Before the men entered the ring, the betting was 6 and 7 to 4 on Broome, but these odds were, previous to the fight, increased to 2 to 1, at which price a good deal of business was done. The colours having been duly tied to the stakes (blue and white spot for Broome, green, with small white rings thereon for Orme), the signal was given that all was in readiness, and “time” was called.THE FIGHT.Round 1.—Broome, after one or two feints, approached his man and attempted to draw him, but Orme was wary, and stepped back. They both then advanced and retreated several times, Broome repeatedly making attempts to kid his man within reach, but Orme was too wary. Broome scratched his ear, as endeavouring to rouse an idea what to do next, when Orme approached and lunged out heavily with his right out of distance; Broome then let fly both hands, but was neatly stopped. Orme now went up to his man and sent out both mauleys, but Broome jumped away. More sparring and fiddling, Orme several times stopping Broome’s left. At length Broome crept close again, lunged out one, two—his left was stopped, but his right just reached the left side of Orme’s nut; Orme returned very heavily with his right on the ribs, and after receiving a gentle tap on the forehead from Broome’s left, the latter closed, and both rolled over. This round lasted eight minutes, and at once showed to the spectators that Orme was much better on his legs and cleverer at stopping than the public had given him credit for.2.—Again did each man make ineffectual feints out of distance. Broome at length let go his left, but Orme jumped cleverly away. Broome tried it again, but was stopped. “There’s luck in odd numbers,” however, for, in a third attempt, he got home heavily on Orme’s left peeper, and then on his mouth, and, on Orme rushing at him to make a return, Broome turned his back and ran round the ring. They quickly got together again, when, after one or two very slight exchanges, Orme got down.3.—Broome, on nearing his man, led off with his left, and reached Orme’s kissing-trap. Sharp counter-hits followed, Ormereaching Broome’s left ogle with his right, and Broome getting heavily home on Orme’s right eye. A few weaving half-arm hits followed to a close, and both were down, Orme under.4.—Broome feinted with his left, but it was no go. At length he succeeded in drawing Orme, who rattled at him, when Broome propped him heavily on the left peeper, drawing “first blood” from a cut on the brow. Some heavy exchanges followed, Orme delivering his right with terrific force on Broome’s ribs three times, and receiving heavy spanks in return on his right ogle and mouth, drawing more claret, and in the end, as Orme lunged out with his right, his head came forward, and Broome administered a terrific upper-cut in the mark, which doubled him up completely. Orme turned round, and gradually fell to the ground. It was now thought to be all over, but Orme, being in good condition, quickly rallied.5.—Orme, on coming up, showed marks of Broome’s visitations on his right peeper, which was beginning to close, while the marks on Broome’s ribs proved that Orme’s right had done him good service in that quarter. Broome dodged his man, and on Orme poking his head forwards, instantly dashed in his left on the dexter optic. He tried to repeat it, but was stopped. Both now let fly out of distance, crept close, and Broome made his one, two, on the right eye and side of Orme’s canister. Orme returned with severity on the ribs, and then on Broome’s mouth. A pause ensued, during which Broome put down his hands. On lifting them again he approached Orme, planted one hand on the forehead, and the other on the left lug, and cleverly jumped away from Orme’s return. Broome made two attempts to repeat the dose, but Orme got quickly away. Orme now took a turn, swung out his right heavily on the ribs, and got away. Long sparring followed, during which the perspiration came from Broome’s every pore—the sun was insufferably hot for the time of year, and must have been distressing to both men. Caution was now the order of the day, until Broome got within distance, when he sent out his left and caught Orme on the right eye, but not heavily; this he repeated, when Orme again swung out his right, catching Broome heavily on the ribs, and jumped away. Some wild hitting out of distance succeeded, but, on their getting steadier, Broome let go his left spank in Orme’s mouth, and jumped away; again he crept close, made his one, two heavily on the left and right cheek, drawing claret from the latter. On Orme attempting to rush in, Broome again turned tail and ran across the ring. Orme followed him up, when Broome jumped quickly round and delivered his left heavily on the right cheek. Orme countered him heavily on the mazzard—received another spank on the right cheek, when Broome once more turned his back and retreated. Long sparring for wind now took place, after which there was some mutual stopping. Broome, at length caught Orme sharply on the mouth and right cheek, which brought them to a rally, in which Orme’s right was excessively busy on Broome’s ribs, while the returns of Broome did no execution. The repeated “thuds” on his ribs made Broome wince, and screw himself up, evidently with pain; he retired, blowing, while Orme (instead of following him up) stood in the middle of the ring until Broome recovered himself. The latter now popped in his left on the right cheek, but Orme countered him with the left heavily on the nozzle, drawing claret from a cut on the bridge of that organ, which, in Harry, as well as Johnny Broome, is slightly of the Roman order. Orme also caught Broome another spank on the ribs with his right, which led to heavy exchanges, in the course of which Broome reached Orme’s mouth and right cheek, while the latter caught Broome a tremendous hit on the left eyebrow, with his right, inflicting a deep, perpendicular cut, and drawing the ruby in profusion. Broome retired, and wiped away the fluid as it ran into his ogle, Orme again refusing to profit by opportunity, and go in while his man was confused. Broome soon recovered his presence of mind, went at his man, and, after some rattling exchanges, Orme was down, amidst the vociferous cheers of his friends, who considered that in this round he had infinitely the best of the hitting. It was a tremendous round, lasting sixteen minutes, during the greater part of which time the hitting was extremely severe.6.—Both came up puffing, and their countenances considerably changed since the last round. After a good deal of sparring out of distance, Broome opened the ball, just reaching Orme’s nose with his left. A second attempt was frustrated by Orme jumping away and lunging out his right most viciously at the body; luckily, however, for the Champion, it did not reach him, or it would most assuredly have “found him at home.” Broome again crept up, caught Orme on the potato-trap with his left, but was prettily stopped in a second attempt. He tried once more, reached Orme’s left whisker-bed, but napped it heavily on the sore spot, his left eyebrow, from which a fresh tap was instantly opened. Broome retreated to wipe away the carmine from his peeper, and as Orme attempted to follow him up, he met him with a straight shooter on the mouth, which opened up another spring. This caused Orme to rush in wildly, when he caught it severely on the smeller, from which more claret trickled; Broome then closed, and, after a long struggle, threw and fell heavily on Orme.7.—Broome led off with his left, but was neatly stopped; he tried again left and right, and was again parried, Orme returning a stinger with his right on the left eye. Orme now took the initiative, dashed in regardlessof consequences, and was propped heavily on the left eye. This led to tremendous counter-hits with the left, each getting well home on his opponent’s smelling-bottle. A ding-dong rally followed, both getting it severely on the mouth and nose, left and right, and Orme punching Broome’s ribs with great severity. At length they closed, and rolled over together, Orme under.8.—Both came up much the worse for wear. They sparred cautiously for wind, until Broome got close and sent out his left, which Orme parried, and missed his return. Broome led off twice in succession; the first time Orme jumped away, but the second Broome paid a visit to his right cheek. Orme then made his left on the chest, Broome returning with both hands on the side of his opponent’s nut and his right cheek-bone. Two more attempts were cleverly stopped by Orme, after which they rested a short time. Broome was first to recommence, caught Orme on the left cheek, and received another awkward reminder on the left eyebrow from Orme’s right sledge-hammer. Heavy exchanges followed, Orme getting well home on Broome’s mug and nose, and Broome on the right ogle and mouth. Broome now resorted to his old system of turning his back and running away, Orme after him. Broome at length turned round, let out his left, but was countered heavily on the nozzle and mouth. Heavy hits were now exchanged, left and right, and in the end Orme caught Broome full on the point of his conk, drawing the ruby in profusion, and knocking the Champion off his legs; “first knock-down” being awarded to Orme amidst vociferous cheering. This round, which, like the fifth, was extremely severe, lasted twelve minutes.9.—Broome came up snuffling; the crack on his snuff-box in the last round had evidently been a teazer. His left eye was fast closing, and the hopes of the East Enders began to be in the ascendant. The betting receded almost to even money, and it was clear Broome had made the discovery that his adversary was no such catch as people had expected. He, nevertheless, opened the proceedings by dashing out his left, which was well stopped. Counter-hits followed, Broome reaching his opponent’s left cheek, and receiving in return on the mouth. Broome next made play left and right, caught the gallant Orme heavily on each cheek, and then, closing, threw and fell on him. (One hour had now elapsed.)10.—Broome once more took the lead, but was prettily stopped. Heavy counter-hits followed, Broome on the nose and Orme on the left cheek. A close at the ropes succeeded, when Broome hugged Orme round the neck. Orme, however, punched away at his ribs until Broome released him, and Orme retreated to the centre of the ring, whither Broome followed him, and some heavy exchanges took place, Orme reaching Broome’s nose and left peeper, and Broome punishing him severely on the mouth. In the end Orme got down.11.—Broome, first to open the ball, caught Orme sharply on the ivory box with his left, drawing claret and loosening several of his head rails. Orme would not be stalled off, but immediately rattled in, when some heavy counter-hitting took place, each getting it severely on the nose and mouth. A break away and at it again. The hitting in this round was really tremendous, both men staggering away after the counters, and each having his cork drawn to some purpose. At length they closed, and after a slight struggle Orme got down.12.—Broome, in coming up, looked weak and distressed. Orme was also by no means in good order; both his cheeks were considerably swollen, and his mouth was “reethur” out of shape. Orme led off, but was well stopped. A second attempt from his right reached Broome’s ribs very heavily, and caused the latter to wince like a galled horse. He quickly got over it, however, and dashed out his left on Orme’s mouth. He tried again, but Orme stepped back, propping Master Broome on the sneezer with his left as he came in. Exchanges followed, Orme inflicting a fresh cut under Broome’s left peeper, and receiving sharply on his damaged kissing trap. In the end Orme got down to avoid the fall.13.—Broome, after a little cautious sparring, let go his left and right, but was short, and Orme immediately returned on his right peeper; Broome retreated, and as Orme came after him Broome sent out his left on the mouth again, drawing the cork freely. Broome now made two attempts to get in his one, two, but on each occasion Orme was too quick for him, and jumped away. In a third attempt he reached Orme’s smeller, a heavy nose-ender, which again tapped his best October. He repeated the dose on the mug, whereupon Orme dashed in, caught him on the left cheek with his right, closed, and, after a short struggle, both were down.14.—Orme feinted with his left, and then dashed in his right on Broome’s left ogle, a very heavy hit. Broome returned on the mouth, and then retreated; some sparring at a distance followed, and on their again getting close, Broome sent out both mawleys, but was cleverly stopped. Orme then popped in his left on the right cheek, and Broome, in getting away from further visitations, fell through the ropes.15.—Both slow to the call of “time,” and on reaching the scratch they stood and looked at each other until Orme advanced, when Broome tried to meet him with his left, but Orme stopped him neatly twice, and at a third attempt jumped away. Orme then again crept in and made his right tell heavily on the ribs. Broome now sent home his left and right on the left ogle and nose of Orme, repeated the dose on the nose and mouthheavily, and as Orme dashed in with his right on the ribs, Broome caught him a tremendous upper-cut on the mark with his right, and Orme fell.16.—Orme, on coming up, appeared to have suffered severely from the upper-cut in the last round; he was evidently much shaken, in addition to which both his eyes were gradually going. He nevertheless tried to lead off left and right, but his blows wanted power. Broome returned on the left cheek, and then on the mouth, Orme’s return being out of distance. Orme still persevered, but got propped heavily on the nose from Broome’s left. Broome at length closed, when Orme punched him heavily on the ribs, but Broome succeeded in throwing and falling heavily on him.17.—Orme led off left and right, but was stopped; he then rushed in, and was propped heavily on the nose, and got down. (Time, one hour and a half.)18.—Broome rattled in left and right on the ogles of Orme, and got away. Orme followed him up, reached his chest with the left, and was propped heavily on the left cheek. Broome closed, and catching Orme round the neck, hugged him until Orme dropped on his knees. Orme then put his hands round Broome’s thigh, but Broome got away, and walked to his corner. A claim of “foul” was made on the part of Broome, on the ground that he (Orme) had attempted to pull him over by catching him below the waistband. The claim, however, was not allowed, the referee believing that Orme was utterly unaware as to where he had caught hold of Broome.19.—Broome again led off left and right, reaching Orme’s cheek and mouth heavily. A close, and some in-fighting in favour of Broome, followed by a break-away, and at it again, Broome delivering heavily on Orme’s nose and eyes, and drawing claret from several bottles. In the end Broome closed, and threw his man again, making the unpleasant addition of his own weight.20.—Both long in answering to the call of time, but Broome first up. On getting close Orme caught Broome on the ribs, and was countered sharply on the nose. Broome then took the lead, and planted on his right cheek heavily. This brought them to some sharp exchanges in favour of Broome. In the end, Orme got down on his knees, and Broome caught him on theos frontiswith his left while in that position. A claim of “foul” was now made by Orme’s friends, but it was clear Broome’s blow had started before Orme reached the ground, and could not have been withheld. The decision was again “fair,” and the mill proceeded.21.—Broome, after one or two feints, let go his left, reaching Orme’s snuff-box with effect; slight exchanges ensued, and Orme again got down weak.22.—Broome, seeing his man was much shaken, at once went to work, caught Orme heavily on the left cheek, and closed at the ropes, where he hung on Orme; the latter pegged away at Broome’s ribs until he let him go, and Orme then planted his right heavily on Broome’s left cheek. Tremendous exchanges followed, each staggering from the effects of the blows, Broome reaching Orme’s left eye and nose, and he receiving on the left peeper and ribs. Broome then stepped back, and as Orme came again caught him heavily on the left ogle, and Orme fell. Both were now much distressed, and lay on their backs on the ground until time was called.23.—Orme was the first at the scratch, and attempted to lead off, but Broome got cleverly away, and then went at his man, delivering both hands on the mouth and nose heavily, and jumped easily away from Orme’s returns, which were sadly out of distance. Orme, however, followed him up, and although Harry met him full on the snout, he planted his dangerous right on the ribs with astonishing effect. Harry then reached Orme’s sinister peeper heavily, drawing more of the Falernian, and finally shut up the shop. Rattling exchanges followed, Broome getting well home on the mouth, and receiving a slogging right-hander on the jaw, from the effects of which he staggered back and fell in his corner.24.—Orme came up almost blind, but still he persevered; he feinted, and tried to get on to Broome, who stepped cleverly away, and waited for the attack. Orme did not keep him long in suspense, but dashed out left and right; the former was stopped, but the latter reached Broome’s damaged peeper, drawing more blood. Broome, however, by way of retaliation, cross-countered him on the nose heavily, again drawing a crimson stream. Broome now walked to his corner, took a sponge and wiped his eye, and went at it again, caught Orme heavily on the point of the nose with his left, and Orme dropped on his knees, Broome again catching him a snorter just as he reachedterra firma, giving rise to another appeal, which was not allowed.25.—Caution the order of the day, both evidently tired. Orme at last led off, and caught Broome with his right on the side of his cranium, on which Broome closed, and Orme immediately got down.26.—Orme led off with his left, but was short. Broome quickly returned one, two, on his left cheek and mug, and got away from Orme’s return. Orme persevered and bored in, but Broome hit him straight on the cheek, Orme being again out of distance with his returns. At last he reached Broome’s ribs with a heavy right-hander, and Broome returned on the mouth. Both now retired to their corners, and permitted their seconds to wipe their phisogs for them, and took a pull of “Adam’s ale,” after which refreshing ceremony they once more returned to the scratch, and Broome let fly his left onOrme’s left cheek, closed, and after a short struggle both were down. (Two hours had now expired.)27.—Broome set a good example by dashing out his left on Orme’s right cheek, which led to light exchanges at the ropes. Orme then walked to the middle of the ring, whither Broome followed, gave him a spank in the left eye, and walked away. He again approached his man, caught him heavily on the mouth, and in return received another rib-bender from Orme’s right. Broome now made his right tell on Orme’s ribs, and in getting away from the return fell.28.—Orme, although almost in darkness, led off with his right on the ribs—he attempted a repetition, but Broome caught him heavily on the mouth and then on the nose. After some slight exchanges in favour of Broome, they again retired to their corners and had a rest, and came at it again; Orme was receiver-general, and in the end got down.29.—Orme again led off, but was well stopped; he tried it yet once more, but from the style of his hitting it was pretty clear he could scarcely see his adversary. He, however, reached Broome’s ribs heavily after one or two attempts, and Broome missed a well-intended upper-cut in return. The latter, however, soon approached his now fast-sinking adversary, delivered his left and right heavily on Orme’s left ogle and smeller, drawing a fresh supply of claret from the latter, and knocking his man down.30.—Orme came up very groggy and wild, but determined; he led off with his right, but Broome laughingly stepped on one side; he tried again but was stopped, and received heavily on the left eye and mouth, and was again knocked down. His backers and seconds, seeing that it was useless to prolong the contest, wished to throw up the sponge, but the gallant fellow would not hear of it, and he laid on his back until time was called, when he again went to the scratch for the31st and last round.—It was evident that he came up only to receive, and that he was struggling against nature; he was all but blind, and tremendously punished about the head, but was still tolerably strong on his pins. He led off wildly, but of course was out of distance. Broome then went to him, administered thecoup de grâce, in the shape of a gentle tap on the nose, and the brave fellow went to earth almost insensible. Tom Sayers now threw up the sponge, and Harry Broome was proclaimed the victor, and still Champion of England, amidst the vociferous cheers of his friends. The battle lasted exactlytwo hours and eighteen minutes. All being over, all at once made for the station to which the train had been removed, the vanquished man being conveyed there on a truck. The only personage left behind on the ground was Jem Burn, who, being still a martyr to the gout, declined attempting to walk a good mile along the railway to the station, and intimated his intention of remaining on the field of battle all night. All necessity for his imposing on himself such a penalty as this was, however, avoided by the engineer taking the engine and tender which had been attached to the train down the line to the place where “my nevvy” was located, and bringing him up, sitting on a heap of coke, to the door of the carriage in which his patrons were already seated. All now quickly ensconced themselves in the train, and the homeward journey was commenced about half-past four o’clock, and the Metropolis was reached about eight o’clock, after many stoppages. On the homeward passage a collection was made for the game and resolute Orme, which reached the handsome sum of £22, and this was considerably increased at the giving up of the stakes.Remarks.—This battle took everybody by surprise. On the one hand, there had been continual rumours that Broome never intended fighting, that he could not possibly get himself anywhere near fit, and that the match would end in a juggle. On the other, it was asserted that Orme had overreached himself, and was flying at too high game; that he would never be able to reach Harry Broome, and must be beaten in half an hour. Our readers will perceive, by the foregoing account, that the “croakers” were far from the mark. The fight was the best we have had for years between two big men. Broome has lost none of his scientific acquirements. He is a good straight hitter, clever at stopping, an excellent wrestler, and quick on his pins. He is, however, remarkably awkward in getting away when in difficulty—instead of jumping back, as we are accustomed to see others do, he turns his back and runs, leaving himself open to severe punishment from a cleverer tactician than Orme. Although he was much out of condition, and was hit very hard, both in the ribs and on the frontispiece, and several times was in great difficulties, he persevered most gamely throughout, and took his punishment like a thorough glutton. Should he make another match, he ought to commence training much earlier than he did on the present occasion, and reduce himself certainly to 11st.10lb., which is the outside weight at which he ought to fight. If he does this, we think, looking at the way in which he fought on Monday, he will prove himself a tough customer to all comers, and the man who wrests the laurels of the Championship from him will have reason to be proud of his achievement. Orme, since his last battle with Aaron Jones, has wonderfully improved in science and quickness. On Monday, for a considerable length of time, Broome found it exceedingly difficult to get on to him; he could stop well, get away sharply, and, directly he saw an opening, was ready with his dangerous right,which, as will be seen above, proved a dreadful teaser to the flesh-covered ribs of Broome. We consider him to be the severest hitter of the present day, and did he but understand leading off with his left, instead of giving his head, as he must necessarily do when he makes play with his right, would be “hard to beat.” The knock-down blow on Broome’s nose and jaw, and one or two of the punches in the ribs, administered early in the fight, were of such a nature as for the time to reduce Broome to a standstill, and had Orme only possessed the requisite skill to follow up his advantage, things might have presented a very serious aspect as regarded Broome’s chance of winning. By saying that Orme did not possess skill, we do not for an instant impute to him a want of ordinary boxing capability, but a want of tact in knowing when to “force the pace,” and prevent his opponent recovering wind and strength. Had Orme been capable of pursuing that system, the result might have been “a horse of another colour.” This only applies to the earlier part of the contest. After the upper-cut administered on the mark in the 15th round, a great deal of the steel was taken out of Orme, and we are informed that he felt sick during the remainder of the fight, while Broome slowly, but surely, improved his position. Although Orme now and then got again on the damaged ogle and ribs, Broome almost invariably met him on the eyes and mouth, gradually reducing his chance, until, in the last round, he was completely blind, and nature had deserted him. Some remarks were made on the novelty of the men retiring to their corners, and “taking a drink” during the rounds. We do not recollect ever witnessing a similar scene before; but the want of condition on the part of Broome, combined with the heat of the day, was a very good excuse for his adopting such a plan, and as it was resorted to by one, there could, of course, be no reason why the example should not be followed by the other. The battle, from first to last, was a manly, upright struggle for pre-eminence—neither man attempted to take an unworthy advantage—and had it not been for the ridiculous appeals made by the seconds on each side, would have been a model mill in every sense of the word. Such a fight for the Championship has not been seen for very many years.Once again the Old Tipton made public his “grievance,” declaring that the award of “foul” in their former encounter had deprived him of the honour of the belt and the profit of the stakes, and that the bold Harry held the Championship by “a fluke.” Harry accepted his offer, and articles were entered into, but when £25 were posted, Broome forfeited the money down; his plea being that he had an engagement with Aaron Jones (this went off), and another with Paddock. Forfeits seem to have been in fashion in 1855. On February 20th, 1855, Harry Broome forfeited £180 to Tom Paddock, and on March 12th, £10 to the same. In March, 1856, the Tipton received £70 forfeit from Aaron Jones; and on October 2nd, 1856, he also received £80 forfeit from Tom Paddock. Pleasant times for thebonâ fidebackers of men!It would have been well for Broome’s fame had his hard-won victory over the gallant Harry Orme been the closing scene of his Ring career; his increasing bulk, as was evident to all who knew him, forbade the absolutely necessary reduction of weight which must precede anything like fitness for a pugilistic contest of a prolonged and severe character. Not so, however, thought Harry Broome. On the 12th of December, 1855, he signed articles with Tom Paddock, for £200 a side, for a meeting on May 19th, 1856, and on that day experienced his final defeat, of which the full details will be found in the Memoir ofPaddockin our preceding chapter (pp.294–303).From this time forth Harry fell out of the rank of claimants for the “blue riband” of theP.R., leaving the struggle for supremacy to Paddock, Aaron Jones, the Tipton Slasher, and the little pugilistic phenomenon of 10st.12lbs.who successively beat all three of them, and whose exploits form the subject of our next chapter.Harry left London in 1856, and became the landlord of the Albion Tavern, in Warblington Street, Portsmouth, which was soon famous as a sporting rendezvous. From this house he backed several good men, the best known of whom was the unlucky Bill Bainge, or Benjamin, who as “Broome’s Novice” was twice unsuccessfully brought out to check the upward and onward career of Tom Sayers to the eminence of the Championship. For a few years following Harry was a public caterer and attendant at the principal race-meetings. The last time we met him in the flesh—and he had then too much of it—was at Epsom in 1865, in Gladiateur’s year, when, in reply to an inquiry after his health and prospects, he told us he was “in charge” of the Count Lagrange’s invaluable horse; we suspect as a “watcher,” for which he was formidably well qualified, physically as well as mentally. He was, however, aptly described by a friend as “all to pieces,” and this was shown by his death, which soon followed, on the 2nd of November in the above-named year, at the early age of 39 years.[27][27]It may interest some readers to know that we are indebted to Harry Broome’s early opponent, Joe Rowe, for the original of the portrait which faces the first page of this memoir. In our search after authentic likenesses, we learned that “Joe” still flourished as the proprietor of a cigar and tobacco store in Sun Street, Finsbury. Thither we bent our steps, and there we found a pleasant-spoken and young-looking specimen of the fair sex, who, in answer to our inquiries, announced herself as Mrs. Rowe. Our first impression was that we had chanced upon “Young Joe’s” bride; but no, it was the spouse of “Old Joe,” who was “kicking up behind and before,” and in his sixty-second year is proprietor of the lady and the “Sultan Cigar Stores.” A shake of the hand and a recognition, a smoke, and a “liquor-up,” renewed acquaintance; and as Joe has a portfolio of “sporting celebrities,” he cheerfully placed them at our disposal, for which we thus record our thanks.
THE FIGHT.Round 1.—On throwing themselves into position each put out his feelers and advanced and retreated several times. After one or two feinting dodges Rowe tried his left, but was short; they got closer to their work, and left-hand counters were exchanged, Rowe catching it on the mouth and Broome slightly on the cheek. After a break away they again approached, and once more exchanged counter-hits with the left, Broomegetting well home on Rowe’s kissing organ, whence blood immediately trickled, and “first blood” was claimed for Broome and awarded. Broome rushed in, caught Rowe round the neck under his left arm, fibbed a little with his right, hitting up, then, giving him a leg, threw and fell on him. (7 to 4 on Broome offered.)2.—Rowe, on coming to the scratch, showed a stream of the crimson fluid from the side of his mouth. Broome led off with his left, but was neatly stopped, and in the second attempt equally well foiled. Slight exchanges, and Broome closed, and, after a short struggle, had his man down, but came himself to the ground rather heavily.3.—Rowe short with his left. Broome quickly caught him a smasher on his damaged mouth, repeating the dose twice, and playing round his man with a celerity that reminded us of Young Dutch Sam. Rowe tried to get home, first with one hand then the other, but was short, from the rapid shifting of his adversary. In the close Broome tried to get the lock, but Rowe kept his legs wide and declined the intended favour. Broome tried to hit up with the right, but Rowe slipped on one knee, catching a stinger on the jaw as he was falling, and Harry tumbling over him.4.—On Rowe coming up, his left eye, left cheek, and mouth gave evidence of renewed visitations. Harry, though flushed in the frontispiece, was not yet “adorned with cuts.” Rowe hit short with the left, and then stopped two or three attempts by Harry to get home with the same hand. In trying to return Rowe hit rather in the style of the sparring school, drawing back his elbow just as his fist reached its destination, instead of letting the blow go straight from the shoulder. A rally, in which Rowe succeeded in planting his left on Broome’s eye, and then stepped in with a rattling hit on the jaw that seemed for a moment to stagger the Young’un; in fact it looked for a moment as if he would go down from the stunning visitation; but he did not, and Rowe closed and threw his man amidst vociferous acclamations from the East-enders.5.—Broome came up smiling, steady, and resolute, showing little effects of the last round. He made play, but Rowe easily stopped two long shots from the left. Rowe retreated, but did not succeed in drawing Broome near enough, so the latter, after an exchange or two, got within distance, delivering left and right heavily on the head and body, then catching his man firmly on his left arm, he “fiddled” him with the right, and as he struggled away gave him the leg and fell heavily on him. (The Rowe-ites mute with astonishment.)6.—Both showed signs of punishment, Rowe on mouth, eye, cheek, and left ear, Broome on the left cheek. Rowe short with the left; a rally, when Harry caught Rowe an upper-cut with the left, but Rowe grappled him, and Harry got down through his hands, amidst the jeers and scoffs of the Rowe party.7.—Broome came up slowly; he sparred and shifted ground, but Rowe would not be drawn. Broome sent out his left, but was short, and in a second attempt just reached Joe’s neck with his right, who threw his head back with great quickness out of the way of mischief. Three times in succession Rowe stopped Broome’s left with great neatness. (“That’s the way to break his heart,” cried Jack Macdonald.) After some more clever sparring, in which little damage was done, Broome closed, and again threw his man, falling on him.8.—Broome was again neatly stopped, but he persevered and got in a smasher on Rowe’s damaged mouth, who counter-hit, but not effectively. Broome got in to half-arm and visited Rowe’s left eye. Joe, not relishing these pops, dropped on his knees, but Harry caught him with his left arm and lifted him bodily up from the ground, thus displaying immense muscular strength, threw him and dropped on him. (2 to 1 on Broome.)9.—Harry came up smiling confidently. He led off with his left, but Rowe stopped him three or four times beautifully. (Applause.) At length they got close, and Broome twice in succession got home on Rowe’s mouth and eye. Rowe, wild and stung, rushed into close quarters, but Broome got away, broke ground, and twice or three times popped in sharp hits in the face. Rowe got down in his own corner during a rally.10.—Broome played round his man actively, occasionally getting in a “little one.” Rowe was slow, and stood steadily on the defensive. He evidently reckoned on Broome tiring himself by doing all the work. He could not, however, keep Broome out, who gave him a tidy smack on the cheek, and Rowe got down.11.—Rowe still slow and on the defensive. Broome put in a nobber, and Rowe was down on the grass.12.—Rowe stopped a succession of hits with the left, but Broome would not come in to be propped; at last they exchanged two or three sharp hits, when Broome closed and threw Rowe, but not heavily.13.—Good out-fighting on the part of Broome, who planted on Rowe’s neck and ear. Rowe continued his stopping, and stepping back, until Broome, tired of the game, fought in, closed, and threw him.14.—Broome got home with his left, a cutting blow; Rowe let go right and left wildly, of which Broome took advantage, closed, caught him round the waist, and flung him cleverly.15.—Rowe still stopped steadily, but was sadly short in the returns. As we have before said, his blows did not go from the shoulder, but partook of the flip-flap character of the sparring school. Broome advancedand retreated, and at last, springing in, caught Rowe in the mark with his left, and gave the “first knock down.”16 to 19.—Broome made the fighting, got in his left, and threw his man in all these rounds.20.—Rowe maintained his steadiness amazingly. He stopped with precision, and was getting down from Broome’s onslaught when Harry seized him, lifted him by sheer strength, and threw him.21.—Rowe getting slow, and apparently vexed at not being able to get his man to hitting distance. Broome played half-round to the right, then to the left. Rowe went in desperately and forced a rally, in which he got home his right a sounder on Broome’s jaw, and both were down, amidst the uproarious cheers of the East-enders, who seemed “thankful for small mercies.”22.—Broome showed symptoms of fatigue; he coughed and hemmed, stepped back, and rubbed his arms, leisurely surveying his antagonist. “Don’t be gammoned,” said Bill Hayes; Rowe nodded his head assentingly. As Rowe would not advance Broome went to him, and in some sharp exchanges hit hardest and oftenest. Broome’s right came in sharp contact with Rowe’s sconce as he was going down, and Broome was seen pulling at his right little finger, to which some mischance had happened.23.—On coming to the scratch Broome again sparredà la distance. “Go in,” cried Crawley to Rowe; “his hands are gone, it’s all your own.” This was an error; “the wish was father to the thought,” for Harry frustrated his adversary’s attempt by sending his left slap in Rowe’s mazzard, hit him with the supposed disabled right in the ribs, closed, and got him down.24.—Broome popped in his left, closed, and rolled over his man as he got down.25.—Rowe, getting slower and slower, seemed to content himself with guarding his head and ribs, and shifting. Broome bided his time, but at length got home, and muzzled poor Joe, who went to grass somehow.26.—As before, Rowe on the defensive, stopping, but not returning. Broome followed him up, forced him on to the ropes, and rolled over with him.27th and last.—Broome came to the scratch cheerfully; his seconds certainly sent him up remarkably clean. Although Rowe, as before, stopped an experimental left-hander or two, Harry gave him two severe smashers on the mouth and cheek, then closing as Rowe was trying to get down, he gave him the crook, and fell heavily on him. It was all over. Rowe, though still strong on his legs, declined to continue the contest; and Bill Hayes threw up the sponge in token of defeat. Young Harry was highly elated. He jumped about the ring like a parched pea in a frying-pan, shook hands with his opponent, and performed acoup de théâtreby pressing the winning-colours to his lips, and then waving them round his head. At this moment Harry showed no further discolouration of the face than a blue mark under the left eye. One of the bones of his right-hand, however, was broken, and from that round it was of little effectual service, though he used it several times. The fight lasted exactly fifty-seven minutes, and from first to last was conducted with the utmost fairness, and without the slightest interruption from the surrounding multitude, which was largely increased by the accession of several Whitsun clubs, who were celebrating their holiday in the neighbourhood.Remarks.—Broome won the fight from superior tact, good in-fighting, and the clever use of his legs, both in getting away and throwing. To the quick use of his left—for he did but little with the right—the downfall of his game antagonist is also to be ascribed. Rowe, we must confess, from what we had previously seen, somewhat disappointed us. Not only was he slow, and generally short, but his hits were elbow-deliveries, while, before the battle was half through, he adopted such a determined line of mere defensive tactics as never could have gained him victory over such a courageous and active adversary as Young Broome. We almost suspected he had made up his mind to defeat early in the fight. Broome’s youth, though much against him, was relied on by Rowe, mistakingly, as the event proved. He was neither so much exhausted, or even tired, as his older opponent. It would be prudent, from the injury he has twice sustained in his right-hand, that he should, for a time, retire from the active pursuit of the profession he has adopted, until gristle has hardened to bone, and well-knit sinew and tendon replace his youthful rounded muscle. That Young Harry possesses steadiness, self-possession, game, and confidence he has fully shown, and these, aided by the increasing strength and stamina which time must bring, must ensure him a high position among pugilistic professionals. The weather was, throughout the day, most favourable, and order and regularity admirably maintained, Spring, Peter Crawley, Jem Burn, Owen Swift, Johnny Hannan, Jem Turner, Young Reid, Jemmy Welsh, and others of thecorps d’élite, contributing greatly to this desirable state of things.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On throwing themselves into position each put out his feelers and advanced and retreated several times. After one or two feinting dodges Rowe tried his left, but was short; they got closer to their work, and left-hand counters were exchanged, Rowe catching it on the mouth and Broome slightly on the cheek. After a break away they again approached, and once more exchanged counter-hits with the left, Broomegetting well home on Rowe’s kissing organ, whence blood immediately trickled, and “first blood” was claimed for Broome and awarded. Broome rushed in, caught Rowe round the neck under his left arm, fibbed a little with his right, hitting up, then, giving him a leg, threw and fell on him. (7 to 4 on Broome offered.)
2.—Rowe, on coming to the scratch, showed a stream of the crimson fluid from the side of his mouth. Broome led off with his left, but was neatly stopped, and in the second attempt equally well foiled. Slight exchanges, and Broome closed, and, after a short struggle, had his man down, but came himself to the ground rather heavily.
3.—Rowe short with his left. Broome quickly caught him a smasher on his damaged mouth, repeating the dose twice, and playing round his man with a celerity that reminded us of Young Dutch Sam. Rowe tried to get home, first with one hand then the other, but was short, from the rapid shifting of his adversary. In the close Broome tried to get the lock, but Rowe kept his legs wide and declined the intended favour. Broome tried to hit up with the right, but Rowe slipped on one knee, catching a stinger on the jaw as he was falling, and Harry tumbling over him.
4.—On Rowe coming up, his left eye, left cheek, and mouth gave evidence of renewed visitations. Harry, though flushed in the frontispiece, was not yet “adorned with cuts.” Rowe hit short with the left, and then stopped two or three attempts by Harry to get home with the same hand. In trying to return Rowe hit rather in the style of the sparring school, drawing back his elbow just as his fist reached its destination, instead of letting the blow go straight from the shoulder. A rally, in which Rowe succeeded in planting his left on Broome’s eye, and then stepped in with a rattling hit on the jaw that seemed for a moment to stagger the Young’un; in fact it looked for a moment as if he would go down from the stunning visitation; but he did not, and Rowe closed and threw his man amidst vociferous acclamations from the East-enders.
5.—Broome came up smiling, steady, and resolute, showing little effects of the last round. He made play, but Rowe easily stopped two long shots from the left. Rowe retreated, but did not succeed in drawing Broome near enough, so the latter, after an exchange or two, got within distance, delivering left and right heavily on the head and body, then catching his man firmly on his left arm, he “fiddled” him with the right, and as he struggled away gave him the leg and fell heavily on him. (The Rowe-ites mute with astonishment.)
6.—Both showed signs of punishment, Rowe on mouth, eye, cheek, and left ear, Broome on the left cheek. Rowe short with the left; a rally, when Harry caught Rowe an upper-cut with the left, but Rowe grappled him, and Harry got down through his hands, amidst the jeers and scoffs of the Rowe party.
7.—Broome came up slowly; he sparred and shifted ground, but Rowe would not be drawn. Broome sent out his left, but was short, and in a second attempt just reached Joe’s neck with his right, who threw his head back with great quickness out of the way of mischief. Three times in succession Rowe stopped Broome’s left with great neatness. (“That’s the way to break his heart,” cried Jack Macdonald.) After some more clever sparring, in which little damage was done, Broome closed, and again threw his man, falling on him.
8.—Broome was again neatly stopped, but he persevered and got in a smasher on Rowe’s damaged mouth, who counter-hit, but not effectively. Broome got in to half-arm and visited Rowe’s left eye. Joe, not relishing these pops, dropped on his knees, but Harry caught him with his left arm and lifted him bodily up from the ground, thus displaying immense muscular strength, threw him and dropped on him. (2 to 1 on Broome.)
9.—Harry came up smiling confidently. He led off with his left, but Rowe stopped him three or four times beautifully. (Applause.) At length they got close, and Broome twice in succession got home on Rowe’s mouth and eye. Rowe, wild and stung, rushed into close quarters, but Broome got away, broke ground, and twice or three times popped in sharp hits in the face. Rowe got down in his own corner during a rally.
10.—Broome played round his man actively, occasionally getting in a “little one.” Rowe was slow, and stood steadily on the defensive. He evidently reckoned on Broome tiring himself by doing all the work. He could not, however, keep Broome out, who gave him a tidy smack on the cheek, and Rowe got down.
11.—Rowe still slow and on the defensive. Broome put in a nobber, and Rowe was down on the grass.
12.—Rowe stopped a succession of hits with the left, but Broome would not come in to be propped; at last they exchanged two or three sharp hits, when Broome closed and threw Rowe, but not heavily.
13.—Good out-fighting on the part of Broome, who planted on Rowe’s neck and ear. Rowe continued his stopping, and stepping back, until Broome, tired of the game, fought in, closed, and threw him.
14.—Broome got home with his left, a cutting blow; Rowe let go right and left wildly, of which Broome took advantage, closed, caught him round the waist, and flung him cleverly.
15.—Rowe still stopped steadily, but was sadly short in the returns. As we have before said, his blows did not go from the shoulder, but partook of the flip-flap character of the sparring school. Broome advancedand retreated, and at last, springing in, caught Rowe in the mark with his left, and gave the “first knock down.”
16 to 19.—Broome made the fighting, got in his left, and threw his man in all these rounds.
20.—Rowe maintained his steadiness amazingly. He stopped with precision, and was getting down from Broome’s onslaught when Harry seized him, lifted him by sheer strength, and threw him.
21.—Rowe getting slow, and apparently vexed at not being able to get his man to hitting distance. Broome played half-round to the right, then to the left. Rowe went in desperately and forced a rally, in which he got home his right a sounder on Broome’s jaw, and both were down, amidst the uproarious cheers of the East-enders, who seemed “thankful for small mercies.”
22.—Broome showed symptoms of fatigue; he coughed and hemmed, stepped back, and rubbed his arms, leisurely surveying his antagonist. “Don’t be gammoned,” said Bill Hayes; Rowe nodded his head assentingly. As Rowe would not advance Broome went to him, and in some sharp exchanges hit hardest and oftenest. Broome’s right came in sharp contact with Rowe’s sconce as he was going down, and Broome was seen pulling at his right little finger, to which some mischance had happened.
23.—On coming to the scratch Broome again sparredà la distance. “Go in,” cried Crawley to Rowe; “his hands are gone, it’s all your own.” This was an error; “the wish was father to the thought,” for Harry frustrated his adversary’s attempt by sending his left slap in Rowe’s mazzard, hit him with the supposed disabled right in the ribs, closed, and got him down.
24.—Broome popped in his left, closed, and rolled over his man as he got down.
25.—Rowe, getting slower and slower, seemed to content himself with guarding his head and ribs, and shifting. Broome bided his time, but at length got home, and muzzled poor Joe, who went to grass somehow.
26.—As before, Rowe on the defensive, stopping, but not returning. Broome followed him up, forced him on to the ropes, and rolled over with him.
27th and last.—Broome came to the scratch cheerfully; his seconds certainly sent him up remarkably clean. Although Rowe, as before, stopped an experimental left-hander or two, Harry gave him two severe smashers on the mouth and cheek, then closing as Rowe was trying to get down, he gave him the crook, and fell heavily on him. It was all over. Rowe, though still strong on his legs, declined to continue the contest; and Bill Hayes threw up the sponge in token of defeat. Young Harry was highly elated. He jumped about the ring like a parched pea in a frying-pan, shook hands with his opponent, and performed acoup de théâtreby pressing the winning-colours to his lips, and then waving them round his head. At this moment Harry showed no further discolouration of the face than a blue mark under the left eye. One of the bones of his right-hand, however, was broken, and from that round it was of little effectual service, though he used it several times. The fight lasted exactly fifty-seven minutes, and from first to last was conducted with the utmost fairness, and without the slightest interruption from the surrounding multitude, which was largely increased by the accession of several Whitsun clubs, who were celebrating their holiday in the neighbourhood.
Remarks.—Broome won the fight from superior tact, good in-fighting, and the clever use of his legs, both in getting away and throwing. To the quick use of his left—for he did but little with the right—the downfall of his game antagonist is also to be ascribed. Rowe, we must confess, from what we had previously seen, somewhat disappointed us. Not only was he slow, and generally short, but his hits were elbow-deliveries, while, before the battle was half through, he adopted such a determined line of mere defensive tactics as never could have gained him victory over such a courageous and active adversary as Young Broome. We almost suspected he had made up his mind to defeat early in the fight. Broome’s youth, though much against him, was relied on by Rowe, mistakingly, as the event proved. He was neither so much exhausted, or even tired, as his older opponent. It would be prudent, from the injury he has twice sustained in his right-hand, that he should, for a time, retire from the active pursuit of the profession he has adopted, until gristle has hardened to bone, and well-knit sinew and tendon replace his youthful rounded muscle. That Young Harry possesses steadiness, self-possession, game, and confidence he has fully shown, and these, aided by the increasing strength and stamina which time must bring, must ensure him a high position among pugilistic professionals. The weather was, throughout the day, most favourable, and order and regularity admirably maintained, Spring, Peter Crawley, Jem Burn, Owen Swift, Johnny Hannan, Jem Turner, Young Reid, Jemmy Welsh, and others of thecorps d’élite, contributing greatly to this desirable state of things.
At this period (1846) there resided at Birmingham a boxer of high local repute, some five years the senior of Harry, and still in his prime, who, in the opinion of his fellow-townsmen, was well fitted to check the triumphantcareer of the juvenile representative of the house of Broome, which was considered to have transferred its pugilistic fame from its native place to London. This was Ben Terry, whose successive defeats of Jem Hodgkiss, Forster, Davis of Birmingham, and Tom Davis, in 1841, 1842, 1843, and 1844, all middle-weights, had earned for him a character approaching invincibility. After some cavilling with Johnny Broome in times passed by, before that boxer retired from the Ring, which, however, ended in nothing. Ben now proposed a match for £100 a side, with Young Harry, at 10st.4lbs., and the youngster, nothing loth, closed with the offer. There was much partisan feeling mixed up in the affair, and on February 3rd, 1846, the men met at Shrivenham, Berkshire, on the Great Western line. There was tedious disputation on the choice of a referee; and the behaviour of the partisans of Terry was simply disgraceful, and marked most significantly the falling fortunes of the Ring. The unfinished battle, which occupies an immense and undue space in the contemporary report, is not worth preserving. Suffice it to say that for the first half hour the fighting of Harry was singularly irregular and wild, and only accountable upon the supposition, loudly proclaimed by Brother Johnny, that Young Harry had been stupefied by the surreptitious introduction of some drug in his drink—in short, had been “hocussed.” We, who witnessed the fight, however loth we should be to admit such a shameful act without clear evidence, could not resist the suspicion of some foul play. Terry, however, seemed to fight very little better than his opponent. After the 35th round, the confusion and disorder defied description. The ring was broken in, and filled with an unruly crowd; repeated claims of “foul” were made from both sides; the referee was sought to be intimidated by uproar and threats; and finally the fight was claimed for Terry, without any decision being given by the properly constituted authorities, and the respective parties returned—the one to Birmingham, the other to London, to wrangle over the destination of the £200 in the hands of the stakeholder. After a tedious controversy and furious mutual recriminations, it is clear that the Terry party did not fancy a second meeting, and the affair ended by Johnny Broome, on behalf of his brother, consenting to draw stakes on receipt of a douceur of £5. Terry, who was subsequently beaten by Coates and Posh Price, died at Birmingham, October 12th, 1862.
We have noted in the life of the Tipton Slasher, how, after his defeat of Paddock, in December, 1850, he laid public claim to the Championship; how Bendigo, after stating that he was prepared to fight for £500, andno less, backed out when the Tipton offered to meet him for that amount; and further, that he, the Tipton, would fight any man for £100 or £200. This challenge was unanswered until May, 1851, when Broome declared himself ready to make a deposit for an “Unknown,” for £200 a side. This was accepted. At a subsequent meeting at Johnny Broome’s, on the 2nd of June, the articles were completed, and the battle agreed to take place within four months. On the occasion first named poor Tom Spring, who had in this case undertaken to see to the interests of the Slasher in London, lay stretched on a bed of sickness, struggling with that grim antagonist who soon after gave him his final fall; consequently Johnny Broome claimed and received forfeit at the second deposit, the Slasher’s friends not putting in an appearance. In the following week a gleam of hoped-for health on the part of Spring, and the arrival of Perry himself in London, led to a demonstration, and a sum of money was deposited in the hands of the Editor ofBell’s Lifeon the part of Tipton, to meet the “Unknown” for the sum proposed. That the “Great Unknown” was a mystery, like the authorship of “Junius,” and, for a time, the Waverley Novels, was evident, for men did not scruple to say that Johnny had had a lucky escape from “a bit of bounce” by the receipt of the small amount down. The mystery, however, was quickly dissipated, for at the next meeting, to the astonishment of all, Young Harry announced himself to be the “mysterious stranger,” prepared to join issue with the ponderous Slasher, and from that evening the match progressed satisfactorily.
In the interim, the Tipton, after a provincial tour, went into training at Hoylake, in Cheshire, under the mentorship of Jem Ward, and the superintendence of Jemmy the Black (Young Molyneaux). Harry was, of course, looked after by his brother, but was unable to do so much work as he required, owing to the necessity that arose of constantly shifting his quarters. This, we may now state, was owing to the embarrassed state of his pecuniary affairs, in connection with the Opera Tavern, in the Haymarket, of which he was then the landlord.
When we last saw Harry in the lists, in his interrupted combat with Ben Terry, he was looked upon as a “middle-weight,” his height 5 feet 9 inches, his weight 10½st.; and from this circumstance, despite the assertion that he had grown nearly two inches in stature, and would go to scale full two stone heavier in muscle and bone, there was an obstinate incredulity on the part of many who thought they knew the man, with respect to the 10½st. Harry and the 13st.Slasher ever facing each other in the Ring.
The stakeholder, upon whom devolved the duty of naming the place of fighting, selected Mildenhall. Johnny Broome had a predilection for Six Mile Bottom, near Newmarket, as suitable for the convenience of the sporting men going to the First October Meeting, but this he subsequently abandoned. The place having been appointed, Johnny Broome and Young Spring, on behalf of the Slasher, engaged a special train on the Eastern Counties Line, which, it was notified, would start at half-past eight. There was little excitement abroad, for the eve of so important an event as that which was to decide thevexata quæstioas to who was to be Champion of England. It is true, the houses of the two Broomes, and the Castle Tavern, were thronged, but we did not hear of a bet being made, and a strong impression prevailed up to the very day that something would occur to prevent the issue of the battle. On reaching the platform whence the train was to start we found the assemblage was limited, and we should calculate that not more than one hundred took their places in the carriages, so that these who speculated on gain were on the wrong side of the post. With the exception of Peter Crawley and Old Tom Oliver, we recognised none of the representatives of the old school.
The travellers having taken their seats—the Tipton, accompanied by Nobby Clarke and Molyneaux, being among them—the whistle sounded, and off went the party. A good deal of consternation was expressed by some persons at the non-appearance of Broome; but, on the train arriving at Bishop Stortford, all doubt was set at rest by his presence on the platform. The train once more got under weigh, and shortly the goal was reached. Pursuing a winding lane, the veteran Commissary led the way to the field where Bendigo won his parting laurel from Paddock, in 1850. This ground, however, was found to be under plough, and the travellers had to go further afield; nevertheless, all was soon in apple-pie order for business. The London train band was reinforced by a few of the Norfolk and Suffolk Militiamen, and a cavalry contingent from Newmarket, and by one o’clock there was a tolerable muster round the roped arena. At ten minutes after that hour the Tipton hero advanced to the ring-side, and, removing his nob-cover, tossed it gaily within the magic circle. Harry was not long in answering the Tipton’s call for him to come forth, and was loudly cheered on presenting himself. After shaking hands, the difficult point of choosing a referee came on thetapis. This knotty question seemed likely to occupy the whole day, for to each proposition a negative was offered, chiefly by the Tipton and his friends. One hour and forty minutes were thus cut towaste, but at twenty-five minutes past two the differences ended by the selection of Peter Crawley, and the men commenced their toilettes. Crawley had been previously rejected by the Tipton, from an apprehension that his predilections were in favour of Broome; and it was not until Harry offered to fight without a referee that he at last consented. The choice made, the Slasher approached Crawley, and said all he desired was a fair fight and no favour. If he did anything foul he must abide by the consequences, and if his antagonist did wrong he hoped an equal measure of justice would be meted out to him. Crawley said he might rely on his performing his duty strictly and impartially. All he desired was to see a fair and manly contest, and to see it fairly and manfully fought out.
The attendants on the Slasher were Nobby Clarke and Jem Molyneaux. The bold Harry was esquired by Callaghan, of Derby, and Bob Castles, Johnny, of course, being in the corner. A little interlude, in the shape of a shindy between Molyneaux and Callaghan, enlivened the interval of suspense, but, on everything being ready, they were soon quieted down. The ring was admirably kept throughout, Tom Callas, Jerry Noon, Mallet, and others lending a helping hand. The betting at the commencement was 2 to 1 on the Slasher; and at forty-five minutes past two business began.
THE FIGHT.Round 1.—And so the men stood up, and all doubts, fears, and suspicions as to whether there would or would not be a fight were at an end, and the question was now to be set at rest as to what sort of a fight those present were to witness, and we were to record. No sooner had the youthful Harry struck his canvass, and exhibited himself in Nature’s buff suit, than an almost audible buzz of surprise and admiration broke from the spectators. Never did gladiator of old offer a finer study for the chisel of the sculptor or the pencil of the painter. 5ft.10½in.in stature, his height was only fairly proportioned to his weight, 12st.10lbs.on the morning of the battle, which, by-the-bye, was 10lbs.too much. His chest and scapulæ, with their masses of prominent and rigid muscle, were almost preternaturally developed; and as he swung his long, round arms, with the motion of one practising with the dumb-bells, closing and unclosing his hands (black with the astringent juices applied to them), to supple his joints for the impending encounter, all seemed to agree that he was up to the standard of weight and measure which the veteran Captain Barclay said “was big enough to fight any two-legged creature that ever walked.” There is much, however, in “a name”—despite Juliet’s declaration to the contrary, which, coming from a green young Miss, don’t carry much authority—and, accordingly, the old ring-goers were half inclined to a belief in the Slasher’s invincibility, and doubted whether the audacious “boy,” as the Tipton contemptuously called him in our hearing, would stand up to his ancient friend and fellow-trainer in bygone days. That this was a mistake was soon apparent. Throwing up his hands with smiling confidence, Harry toed the scratch, saying, as he did so, “Here I am, old boy, and I mean to win to-day.” The Tipton grinned—the absence of his incisors imparting that expression to his laugh. On the present occasion, though he looked brown, hardy, and sunburnt, there was somewhat of an antiquated cut about his figure-head which was not observable on his last public appearance, which, as we have already recorded, was with Paddock, in December, 1850. His frame, however, showed no waste or diminution of its formidable proportions. Poised upon his letter K-like pedestals, his huge upper works, broad shoulders, immense blade-bones, wide loins and well-ribbed carcase showed the ponderous athlete, though the bloom and freshness of youth had fadedfrom his skin. It was clear he meant to give no rest, and as little room and opportunity, to his antagonist as he could help. Harry offered with his left high up, in the direction of the Slasher’s nob; it was a sort of measuring, and he stepped aside, breaking ground with graceful agility. Slasher followed him, when he stepped aside laughing, closing and unclosing his hands, playing about out of reach, and sparring. “Go to him, Tipton,” cried Jemmy Wharton; “he’s afraid of you.” The Tipton did as he was bid, and Harry retreated until near the ropes. The Tipton let go his right, and just reached Harry’s ribs, who rapidly caught him a cross-counter with the left on the face. A couple of rather hasty exchanges brought the men together; they separated, and Broome delivered an upper cut on the Slasher’s face, who retaliated on Harry’s body so effectively that he slipped in jumping back, and fell, throwing up his feet as he reached the ground, to prevent the Tipton falling on him, and, when he found himself safely landed, bringing his heels over his head with a spring, and turning a complete somersault. A claim for a knock-down; but it was anything but that. Four minutes. (6 to 4 on the Tipton, and no takers.)2.—Harry came up laughing, and nodded at the Tipton, who laughed and nodded in return. Nothing was the matter on either side. Slasher followed Broome, who retreated to the ropes. “Get nearer, Harry,” cried Brother Johnny. “Don’t go after him,” said Molyneaux, and the Tipton in turn retired to the scratch, to which he pointed down with his index-finger. Harry stepped right up to his head, and delivered his left flush on the Slasher’s mouth. (Cheers.) There was a momentary pause, Slasher pursued Harry to the ropes, where the latter jumped into a close, and caught his opponent round the waist. Harry tried to get the lock, but both were down, Tipton having hold of the upper rope with his right.3.—Broome was all confidence and elasticity. He went up to the Slasher, and reached his head, then retreated from the return. “He’ll stand it,” cried Callaghan. The Tipton got in his left on Harry’s right cheek, who, in return, gave him a sounding flush hit on the olfactory organ. The Slasher let fly right and left, and the men closed near the centre stake. Harry got an unmistakable outside look with his right leg over the crooked knee of the Slasher. There were a few seconds of severe struggling, when Broome, having fixed his hold, brought the Slasher over on his back. Down he came, shaking the earth with the concussion, his shoulders, neck, and back part of his caput first saluting the ground, while Harry rolled over on him. The effect was electrifying: even “Peter the Great” gave an audible grunt in unison with the “thud” that accompanied the Slasher’s downfall. There lay the crooked Colossus prostrate, till his active seconds, seizing him by the legs and wings, conveyed him to his corner, whither Harry followed him with inquiring eyes.4.—Tipton came well and boldly, but not till time had been several times vociferously called, the Broomites evidently in most hurry. Harry shifted round and round the corners, the Slasher following him. Harry reached the Tipton’s mouth smartly, who let go both hands. The hit sounded. Broome closed, and tried the lock again. The Tipton avoided his hips, and both were on the grass.5.—The Tipton had shaken off the effects of his fall. He tried to gammon Harry within reach of his formidable right by short feints with the left. As this did not have the desired effect, he went in, hitting out with both hands. Harry nailed him on the frontispiece, and as he came on again, administered an upper-cut. It was not quite close enough, or it might have told tales. In the close the Tipton was under at the ropes, but it was no detriment.6.—Broome went to the Slasher’s head in the most manly style, and popped in one. “Fortune favours the brave.” Tipton retorted, but missed one very mischievous hit. The men closed, Harry hit up, catching the Tipton on the nose, and both were down in the scramble—the Tipton, if either, first.7.—“First blood” for Broome, which was unmistakably distilling from the Slasher’s nose, to which he put his hand as if to feel it. The Tipton forced Broome to the ropes, threatening with his right, where they closed, and after some not very effective fibbing, Broome brought the Tipton down on his back, falling on his stomach with his latter end. (An offer to take evens on Broome.)8.—Smart active sparring and a bustling exchange. Harry gave the Slasher a very heavy hit on the jaw, producing a slight cut. The Tipton retorted with a nobber, and also sent home a body-hit. Whether the Tipton’s right hand had lost its cunning or not, these ribbers did not seem to stagger the Young One as they did former adversaries. Still, the old one rattled in, and in the scuffle was jobbed in the head, till at the end of the round Broome pushed him from him sideways with both hands, when he got down. Bellows to mend on both sides.9.—The Slasher came up grinning, but his merriment looked rather forced, although the hitting had left but little traces on his hard features. He hit very short with his left, and Broome walked round smiling. There was a close at the ropes in Harry’s corner, in which the Tipton got Broome awkwardly over them, and hung on him, holding the rope with his right, his left hand being across Harry’s face. The rope was slacked, and Harry was let down. The referee was appealed to, who ordered the fight to proceed.10.—Exchanges: Harry gave the Tipton a blow on the left eye that raised a lump,then swung round and broke away from the return. He jobbed the Slasher as he advanced, but was driven to the ropes, whence he suddenly sprang forward, took a half-arm hit, and making his favourite grip, brought the Tipton over—a heavy fall—tumbling on him with his knees. As Harry lay on the grass, he blew like a grampus.11.—The Slasher came slowly up. There was a short pause, when again Broome went up to his head. The Slasher’s right reached Harry’s body, who put in a sharp left-hander that cut the Tipton’s lip; there was some quick half-arm hitting, in which Broome delivered a clever upper-cut with his right, and both were down. Broome uppermost, the crimson fluid from the Slasher’s nose and lip smearing Harry’s frontispiece as they embraced.12.—The Tipton bored Harry to the ropes, was on to him before he got his chance for a lunge, and had him down in a scramble.13.—Harry retreated to the ropes. The Tipton followed. Broome stopped his left, and shifted from his right, but got a slight taste as he broke ground, and moved round his man. Harry dashed at the Slasher, and got within his guard. There was a short scrambling rally, when the Tipton got down to avoid the lock. Offers to take evens, and then to bet the short odds on “the Young’un.” Bob Castles retired from Broome’s corner in this round, and his place was supplied by Macdonald. An objection to the change of seconds overruled.14.—Broome milled prettily on the retreat, the Tipton hitting remarkably short with his left. Harry unclosed his hands, and shifting round towards the Slasher’s corner, said, cheerfully, “I’ll take odds ‘the boy’ licks him without a black eye.” The Tipton was evidently more bothered than beaten, and the facility with which he was thrown made him put on his considering cap. Broome went up to his head, as if to attack, but as quickly stepped back. The Slasher followed, and let go both hands, his right alone getting home. Harry turned at the instant, hit up sharply with the left, and weaving away, the Tipton got down. In the in-fighting there were some heavy hits exchanged, and Broome’s over-weight told sadly on his bellows, which heaved and jerked like those of a pumped-out steeplechaser.15th and last.—There was a little squabble about time, the Slasher slowest from his corner. Both sides seemed somewhat inclined to spar for wind. Harry dashed in, evidently with the intention of closing and trying for a heave. He hit the Tipton on the chin, but the Ould’un got away, as if to get room for his right. Harry advanced, closed, and a struggle took place, each attempting to hit. The Tipton grasped him tightly with his left, and was trying to hit with his right, when Harry slipped down on both knees. The Tipton let go his right just as he reached the ground, giving him a decided nobber, which certainly did not reach its destination till Harry was down. It was the work of a moment. The shouts from all sides were tremendous. Broome’s seconds ran to the umpires and referee, as did the ever-active Molyneaux, on the side of the Tipton. There was a short pause, during which “Peter the Great” declared he had not yet been formally appealed to. This was done, the umpires, of course, disagreeing. “A most deliberate foul,” said “Peter the Great,” and the ring broke up. Thirty-three minutes had sufficed for the present decision of the question, “Who is the Champion of England?”As the ponderous Peter left the roped enclosure, another instance was added to the many previous of the suicidal conduct of the present race of Ring men. The referee was surrounded by a vociferous and violent mob, whose language was of the most outrageous description. The Tipton himself, too, so “raised the dander” of the referee by his remarks and conduct, that the veteran Crawley declared he would fight for his credit and integrity, and, to the no small amusement of many, was disencumbering his portly person of his outer coat, to inflict summary punishment on his assailants, when the Tipton was forced away.Remarks.—Upon this battle, ending in a manner so unsatisfactory, few remarks are necessary. The style of fighting will speak for itself. It was clear that the Tipton was surprised by the vigour and determination of his youthful opponent, and not less so at the manner in which he exhibited his throwing powers; for, in closing, not only was Harry the better wrestler, but apparently the stronger man. How the battle would have terminated had it proceeded in the ordinary way it is impossible to say, and in this respect opinions naturally differed. For, on the one hand, the little punishment that was administered came from the Young One, while the Old One had evidently lost none of his personal confidence, and no doubt anticipated that Harry would out-fight himself, and, by the rapidity of his movements, increase that exhaustion which had already shown itself at the conclusion of some of the earlier rounds. The sudden termination of the battle came upon all by surprise, and few believed that there was a “deliberate” intention on the part of the Tipton to administer the blow which was pronounced “foul.” That Harry was on his knees when he received the ugly hit we can aver, as we were seated by the side of the referee at the time of the appeal. The men were certainly in a scrambling close at the moment; and it was obvious that, while Harry desired to get out of trouble, the Tipton felt inclined to make the most of his fancied advantage. Crawley’s experience thoroughly enabled him to form a correct opinion, and we have no reason to believe that his judgment wasnot given fairly and impartially. Of course those not over-honest persons, who always attribute unworthy motives to others, assert that Crawley’s prepossessions were in favour of Broome, and that this was the reason why the Tipton originally objected to his being selected as referee. To this we can distinctly oppose that, to our own knowledge, the bias of Peter, if he had any, would have carried him the other way. Such, however, was not the opinion of the Tipton nor of his friends, as the latter, on the following day, served the stakeholder with notice “not to part with their money,” and the Tipton still asserted himself to be “Champion of England.”Upon this unsportsmanlike proceeding the Editor commented with much severity, arguing that if such practices were pursued, there would be an end to all confidence between man and man in sporting matters, and would assuredly deter any one from posting money on any similar event, as well as from holding stakes.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—And so the men stood up, and all doubts, fears, and suspicions as to whether there would or would not be a fight were at an end, and the question was now to be set at rest as to what sort of a fight those present were to witness, and we were to record. No sooner had the youthful Harry struck his canvass, and exhibited himself in Nature’s buff suit, than an almost audible buzz of surprise and admiration broke from the spectators. Never did gladiator of old offer a finer study for the chisel of the sculptor or the pencil of the painter. 5ft.10½in.in stature, his height was only fairly proportioned to his weight, 12st.10lbs.on the morning of the battle, which, by-the-bye, was 10lbs.too much. His chest and scapulæ, with their masses of prominent and rigid muscle, were almost preternaturally developed; and as he swung his long, round arms, with the motion of one practising with the dumb-bells, closing and unclosing his hands (black with the astringent juices applied to them), to supple his joints for the impending encounter, all seemed to agree that he was up to the standard of weight and measure which the veteran Captain Barclay said “was big enough to fight any two-legged creature that ever walked.” There is much, however, in “a name”—despite Juliet’s declaration to the contrary, which, coming from a green young Miss, don’t carry much authority—and, accordingly, the old ring-goers were half inclined to a belief in the Slasher’s invincibility, and doubted whether the audacious “boy,” as the Tipton contemptuously called him in our hearing, would stand up to his ancient friend and fellow-trainer in bygone days. That this was a mistake was soon apparent. Throwing up his hands with smiling confidence, Harry toed the scratch, saying, as he did so, “Here I am, old boy, and I mean to win to-day.” The Tipton grinned—the absence of his incisors imparting that expression to his laugh. On the present occasion, though he looked brown, hardy, and sunburnt, there was somewhat of an antiquated cut about his figure-head which was not observable on his last public appearance, which, as we have already recorded, was with Paddock, in December, 1850. His frame, however, showed no waste or diminution of its formidable proportions. Poised upon his letter K-like pedestals, his huge upper works, broad shoulders, immense blade-bones, wide loins and well-ribbed carcase showed the ponderous athlete, though the bloom and freshness of youth had fadedfrom his skin. It was clear he meant to give no rest, and as little room and opportunity, to his antagonist as he could help. Harry offered with his left high up, in the direction of the Slasher’s nob; it was a sort of measuring, and he stepped aside, breaking ground with graceful agility. Slasher followed him, when he stepped aside laughing, closing and unclosing his hands, playing about out of reach, and sparring. “Go to him, Tipton,” cried Jemmy Wharton; “he’s afraid of you.” The Tipton did as he was bid, and Harry retreated until near the ropes. The Tipton let go his right, and just reached Harry’s ribs, who rapidly caught him a cross-counter with the left on the face. A couple of rather hasty exchanges brought the men together; they separated, and Broome delivered an upper cut on the Slasher’s face, who retaliated on Harry’s body so effectively that he slipped in jumping back, and fell, throwing up his feet as he reached the ground, to prevent the Tipton falling on him, and, when he found himself safely landed, bringing his heels over his head with a spring, and turning a complete somersault. A claim for a knock-down; but it was anything but that. Four minutes. (6 to 4 on the Tipton, and no takers.)
2.—Harry came up laughing, and nodded at the Tipton, who laughed and nodded in return. Nothing was the matter on either side. Slasher followed Broome, who retreated to the ropes. “Get nearer, Harry,” cried Brother Johnny. “Don’t go after him,” said Molyneaux, and the Tipton in turn retired to the scratch, to which he pointed down with his index-finger. Harry stepped right up to his head, and delivered his left flush on the Slasher’s mouth. (Cheers.) There was a momentary pause, Slasher pursued Harry to the ropes, where the latter jumped into a close, and caught his opponent round the waist. Harry tried to get the lock, but both were down, Tipton having hold of the upper rope with his right.
3.—Broome was all confidence and elasticity. He went up to the Slasher, and reached his head, then retreated from the return. “He’ll stand it,” cried Callaghan. The Tipton got in his left on Harry’s right cheek, who, in return, gave him a sounding flush hit on the olfactory organ. The Slasher let fly right and left, and the men closed near the centre stake. Harry got an unmistakable outside look with his right leg over the crooked knee of the Slasher. There were a few seconds of severe struggling, when Broome, having fixed his hold, brought the Slasher over on his back. Down he came, shaking the earth with the concussion, his shoulders, neck, and back part of his caput first saluting the ground, while Harry rolled over on him. The effect was electrifying: even “Peter the Great” gave an audible grunt in unison with the “thud” that accompanied the Slasher’s downfall. There lay the crooked Colossus prostrate, till his active seconds, seizing him by the legs and wings, conveyed him to his corner, whither Harry followed him with inquiring eyes.
4.—Tipton came well and boldly, but not till time had been several times vociferously called, the Broomites evidently in most hurry. Harry shifted round and round the corners, the Slasher following him. Harry reached the Tipton’s mouth smartly, who let go both hands. The hit sounded. Broome closed, and tried the lock again. The Tipton avoided his hips, and both were on the grass.
5.—The Tipton had shaken off the effects of his fall. He tried to gammon Harry within reach of his formidable right by short feints with the left. As this did not have the desired effect, he went in, hitting out with both hands. Harry nailed him on the frontispiece, and as he came on again, administered an upper-cut. It was not quite close enough, or it might have told tales. In the close the Tipton was under at the ropes, but it was no detriment.
6.—Broome went to the Slasher’s head in the most manly style, and popped in one. “Fortune favours the brave.” Tipton retorted, but missed one very mischievous hit. The men closed, Harry hit up, catching the Tipton on the nose, and both were down in the scramble—the Tipton, if either, first.
7.—“First blood” for Broome, which was unmistakably distilling from the Slasher’s nose, to which he put his hand as if to feel it. The Tipton forced Broome to the ropes, threatening with his right, where they closed, and after some not very effective fibbing, Broome brought the Tipton down on his back, falling on his stomach with his latter end. (An offer to take evens on Broome.)
8.—Smart active sparring and a bustling exchange. Harry gave the Slasher a very heavy hit on the jaw, producing a slight cut. The Tipton retorted with a nobber, and also sent home a body-hit. Whether the Tipton’s right hand had lost its cunning or not, these ribbers did not seem to stagger the Young One as they did former adversaries. Still, the old one rattled in, and in the scuffle was jobbed in the head, till at the end of the round Broome pushed him from him sideways with both hands, when he got down. Bellows to mend on both sides.
9.—The Slasher came up grinning, but his merriment looked rather forced, although the hitting had left but little traces on his hard features. He hit very short with his left, and Broome walked round smiling. There was a close at the ropes in Harry’s corner, in which the Tipton got Broome awkwardly over them, and hung on him, holding the rope with his right, his left hand being across Harry’s face. The rope was slacked, and Harry was let down. The referee was appealed to, who ordered the fight to proceed.
10.—Exchanges: Harry gave the Tipton a blow on the left eye that raised a lump,then swung round and broke away from the return. He jobbed the Slasher as he advanced, but was driven to the ropes, whence he suddenly sprang forward, took a half-arm hit, and making his favourite grip, brought the Tipton over—a heavy fall—tumbling on him with his knees. As Harry lay on the grass, he blew like a grampus.
11.—The Slasher came slowly up. There was a short pause, when again Broome went up to his head. The Slasher’s right reached Harry’s body, who put in a sharp left-hander that cut the Tipton’s lip; there was some quick half-arm hitting, in which Broome delivered a clever upper-cut with his right, and both were down. Broome uppermost, the crimson fluid from the Slasher’s nose and lip smearing Harry’s frontispiece as they embraced.
12.—The Tipton bored Harry to the ropes, was on to him before he got his chance for a lunge, and had him down in a scramble.
13.—Harry retreated to the ropes. The Tipton followed. Broome stopped his left, and shifted from his right, but got a slight taste as he broke ground, and moved round his man. Harry dashed at the Slasher, and got within his guard. There was a short scrambling rally, when the Tipton got down to avoid the lock. Offers to take evens, and then to bet the short odds on “the Young’un.” Bob Castles retired from Broome’s corner in this round, and his place was supplied by Macdonald. An objection to the change of seconds overruled.
14.—Broome milled prettily on the retreat, the Tipton hitting remarkably short with his left. Harry unclosed his hands, and shifting round towards the Slasher’s corner, said, cheerfully, “I’ll take odds ‘the boy’ licks him without a black eye.” The Tipton was evidently more bothered than beaten, and the facility with which he was thrown made him put on his considering cap. Broome went up to his head, as if to attack, but as quickly stepped back. The Slasher followed, and let go both hands, his right alone getting home. Harry turned at the instant, hit up sharply with the left, and weaving away, the Tipton got down. In the in-fighting there were some heavy hits exchanged, and Broome’s over-weight told sadly on his bellows, which heaved and jerked like those of a pumped-out steeplechaser.
15th and last.—There was a little squabble about time, the Slasher slowest from his corner. Both sides seemed somewhat inclined to spar for wind. Harry dashed in, evidently with the intention of closing and trying for a heave. He hit the Tipton on the chin, but the Ould’un got away, as if to get room for his right. Harry advanced, closed, and a struggle took place, each attempting to hit. The Tipton grasped him tightly with his left, and was trying to hit with his right, when Harry slipped down on both knees. The Tipton let go his right just as he reached the ground, giving him a decided nobber, which certainly did not reach its destination till Harry was down. It was the work of a moment. The shouts from all sides were tremendous. Broome’s seconds ran to the umpires and referee, as did the ever-active Molyneaux, on the side of the Tipton. There was a short pause, during which “Peter the Great” declared he had not yet been formally appealed to. This was done, the umpires, of course, disagreeing. “A most deliberate foul,” said “Peter the Great,” and the ring broke up. Thirty-three minutes had sufficed for the present decision of the question, “Who is the Champion of England?”
As the ponderous Peter left the roped enclosure, another instance was added to the many previous of the suicidal conduct of the present race of Ring men. The referee was surrounded by a vociferous and violent mob, whose language was of the most outrageous description. The Tipton himself, too, so “raised the dander” of the referee by his remarks and conduct, that the veteran Crawley declared he would fight for his credit and integrity, and, to the no small amusement of many, was disencumbering his portly person of his outer coat, to inflict summary punishment on his assailants, when the Tipton was forced away.
Remarks.—Upon this battle, ending in a manner so unsatisfactory, few remarks are necessary. The style of fighting will speak for itself. It was clear that the Tipton was surprised by the vigour and determination of his youthful opponent, and not less so at the manner in which he exhibited his throwing powers; for, in closing, not only was Harry the better wrestler, but apparently the stronger man. How the battle would have terminated had it proceeded in the ordinary way it is impossible to say, and in this respect opinions naturally differed. For, on the one hand, the little punishment that was administered came from the Young One, while the Old One had evidently lost none of his personal confidence, and no doubt anticipated that Harry would out-fight himself, and, by the rapidity of his movements, increase that exhaustion which had already shown itself at the conclusion of some of the earlier rounds. The sudden termination of the battle came upon all by surprise, and few believed that there was a “deliberate” intention on the part of the Tipton to administer the blow which was pronounced “foul.” That Harry was on his knees when he received the ugly hit we can aver, as we were seated by the side of the referee at the time of the appeal. The men were certainly in a scrambling close at the moment; and it was obvious that, while Harry desired to get out of trouble, the Tipton felt inclined to make the most of his fancied advantage. Crawley’s experience thoroughly enabled him to form a correct opinion, and we have no reason to believe that his judgment wasnot given fairly and impartially. Of course those not over-honest persons, who always attribute unworthy motives to others, assert that Crawley’s prepossessions were in favour of Broome, and that this was the reason why the Tipton originally objected to his being selected as referee. To this we can distinctly oppose that, to our own knowledge, the bias of Peter, if he had any, would have carried him the other way. Such, however, was not the opinion of the Tipton nor of his friends, as the latter, on the following day, served the stakeholder with notice “not to part with their money,” and the Tipton still asserted himself to be “Champion of England.”
Upon this unsportsmanlike proceeding the Editor commented with much severity, arguing that if such practices were pursued, there would be an end to all confidence between man and man in sporting matters, and would assuredly deter any one from posting money on any similar event, as well as from holding stakes.
Harry Orme having, as we have seen in the preceding chapter, defeated Aaron Jones a second time, was strongly urged to put forth his claim to the Championship, and to meet Harry Broome on his “advertised” terms. Months, however, passed before the match was made. First Broome made one stipulation, and then Orme’s friends showed their “stupid cleverness” in a counter-proposition, and there was a cannonade of angry correspondence of the most futile controversial character. Late in the year 1852, however, articles were signed and delivered for a fight to come off on the 18th of April, 1853, for £250 a side, the Editor ofBell’s Lifeto name the place of fighting, and also appoint a referee.
Harry, who since developing into a Boniface had become excessively corpulent, at once placed himself under the care of Levi Eckersley, at Cleave Hill, near Cheltenham, and here diligently subjected himself to an immense amount of work. Orme went into training near Maidstone, whence, the Monday before the battle, he removed to Greenstreet Green, in Kent.
It being stipulated in the articles that the stakeholder should name the whereabouts for the event, a special train was engaged on the Eastern Counties Railway, for “an excursion of 100 miles or thereabouts,” the exact spot being undivulged to the general sporting public, lest the gentry then known as “Cheapsiders” should get down “by hook or by crook,” and, by alarming the county, spoil sport. The arrangements with the railway company were made with despatch, and the gentlemen at the Shoreditch Station took every care to make such dispositions on the eventful morning as effectually to prevent any of the unprivileged classes from obtaining admittance. The time for starting was nominally a quarter-past eight, but long before that hour the neighbourhood of Shoreditch was in a perfect ferment; the streets and the station-yard were crowded with spectators anxious to get a glimpse of the chief performers in the forthcoming drama; but in this they were disappointed, as they hadboth proceeded a certain distance on the line of march on the previous day. As the time for starting approached, the arrival of cabs and other vehicles was incessant, and it was perfectly clear that there would be a very large muster of patrons of the sport, the majority of whom were what Pierce Egan would have called “reg’lar nobs and tip-top swells,” but who are, in the present Ring vernacular, classed as patrician and Corinthian patrons of the noble art. At no fight for many years past had there been such a congregation of noblemen and gentlemen; and certainly at no encounter since that between Caunt and Bendigo, in 1845, was so much interest excited. Among the company present we were glad to observe some patrons of the Ring of the Old School—gentlemen who remembered the battles of Cribb, Spring, Hickman (the Gas-man), Oliver, &c. There was also a good sprinkling of Turfites present, attracted partly owing to its being a bye-day in the racing world, and partly by the fact that Orme’s backer was a gentlemen well known in the betting-ring. Among the latest arrivals at the station was the “Arch” Bishop of Bond Street, with a considerable number of his flock. The reverend “gent.” although suffering from gout, had strained a point to be present at such an important contest, no doubt anticipating that the winner would insist upon his “crowning” him upon the spot; but in this the “mad priest” was disappointed: his services were not required, and he had to return to town after the battle, without being called upon to distinguish himself in any manner except in the voracious devouring of the contents of a huge sandwich-box, which he was compelled to attack by the calls of appetite, and in the ceremony of swallowing which he highly distinguished himself. At length the train was full, the station-doors were closed, and at half-past eight precisely the whistle sounded, and we were off. The caravan, consisting of some sixteen carriages, all of which were crammed, proceeded steadily on its way until we reached Bishop Stortford, where we took in Orme (for the fight), and water (for the engine). The next stoppage was Elsenham, where Broome got into the train, and the engineer received his orders as to the final destination. He, acting under directions, pulled up at Ely, where a pilot, who had gone on the previous day, took up his position on the train, and informed us of that of which we had already our misgivings—viz., that an immense number of persons had gone by parliamentary train from London to Mildenhall, early in the morning, and were there in waiting to receive the combatants and their friends. This being the case, proved the correctness of the precautions we had taken in sending on a pilot beforehand.That gentleman now undertook to conduct us to a spot where business could be proceeded with in peace and comfort, and the train once again sped on its way. As we passed Mildenhall, we saw hundreds of disappointed travellers, who had been patiently waiting all the morning, and who were thus, very properly, baulked in their parsimonious intentions. At Lakenheath, the next station, we perceived a company of mounted blues in readiness to spoil sport. These worthies, like the would-be spectators at Mildenhall, also had their trouble and expense for nothing. There was no intention of breaking the peace within their bailiwick, so still the train went on. At length the appointed spot was reached, between two stations, and about 108 miles from London. Here a hasty debarkation was effected, and the train returned to the nearest station. Tom Oliver, his son, and Tom Callas, at once proceeded to erect the lists, while Dan Dismore carried on a brisk business in the sale of inner-ring tickets. Some idea of the number of gentlemen present may be gathered from the fact that the tickets so disposed of realised between £40 and £50. There were, of course, a great number of outsiders on the ground, but owing to the precautions that had been taken in keeping things dark, the total number of spectators did not exceed 2,000. All these persons, by the admirable arrangements, and the activity of the ring-keepers of the Pugilistic Association, obtained an admirable view of the contest throughout, and we did not, during the day, hear of a single disturbance calculated in the slightest degree to interfere with the sport, or those anxious to witness it. By a quarter-past one o’clock the ring was completed. Orme immediately pitched his castor within the ropes, and followed himself, attended by Tom Sayers and Jack Grant. He looked well and hardy, and wore a smile of confidence on his good-humoured mug. In about ten minutes more the other Harry made his appearance, closely followed by Bill Hayman, of Birmingham, and Callaghan, of Derby, his brother Johnny being, as he had promised, “in the corner.” Harry smiled, and shook hands with t’other Harry, and both were loudly cheered. The ceremony of peeling now commenced, and by half-past one the men were delivered at the scratch in fighting undress.
On toeing the scratch, there was a very perceptible difference in the appearance of the men. Broome overtopped his adversary a good two inches, and was proportionably longer in reach. His weight, we are told, did not exceed 12st.5lbs., but of this he might well have spared half a stone. There was much loose flesh about his back, chest, and ribs, and althoughhe was evidently in rude health, he had not been drawn fine enough to stand a long day’s work under such a burning sun as shone down upon the combatants during the fight. Broome, had he been permitted to take that pains with himself requisite to make him fit, would have been about as awkward a customer as could have been well conceived. As it was, however, he was so much harassed with law and other proceedings that he could not pay that attention to his training that he otherwise would have done. We think at 11st.8lbs.his condition would be about perfection. His attitude, as he stood awaiting the attack, was admirable, and, had it not been for his fat, he would have looked all over a gladiator. Orme, whose colour is almost mahogany, is barely 5ft.8in.in height, but is a thick-set, powerful fellow, with a frame of iron, long arms, a perfect bull-neck, and a pair of understandings fit for an Atlas. His weight was 11st.8lbs., and of this scarcely 2lbs.was superfluous stuff. His attitude, when on the defensive, is not graceful, but he looks rough and ready, his dangerous right being across his mark, but always ready to be dashed out at the least opening on his adversary’s ribs. It was clear that there was a determination on both sides “to do or die,” and the spectators made up their minds that they were in for a good thing. Before the men entered the ring, the betting was 6 and 7 to 4 on Broome, but these odds were, previous to the fight, increased to 2 to 1, at which price a good deal of business was done. The colours having been duly tied to the stakes (blue and white spot for Broome, green, with small white rings thereon for Orme), the signal was given that all was in readiness, and “time” was called.
THE FIGHT.Round 1.—Broome, after one or two feints, approached his man and attempted to draw him, but Orme was wary, and stepped back. They both then advanced and retreated several times, Broome repeatedly making attempts to kid his man within reach, but Orme was too wary. Broome scratched his ear, as endeavouring to rouse an idea what to do next, when Orme approached and lunged out heavily with his right out of distance; Broome then let fly both hands, but was neatly stopped. Orme now went up to his man and sent out both mauleys, but Broome jumped away. More sparring and fiddling, Orme several times stopping Broome’s left. At length Broome crept close again, lunged out one, two—his left was stopped, but his right just reached the left side of Orme’s nut; Orme returned very heavily with his right on the ribs, and after receiving a gentle tap on the forehead from Broome’s left, the latter closed, and both rolled over. This round lasted eight minutes, and at once showed to the spectators that Orme was much better on his legs and cleverer at stopping than the public had given him credit for.2.—Again did each man make ineffectual feints out of distance. Broome at length let go his left, but Orme jumped cleverly away. Broome tried it again, but was stopped. “There’s luck in odd numbers,” however, for, in a third attempt, he got home heavily on Orme’s left peeper, and then on his mouth, and, on Orme rushing at him to make a return, Broome turned his back and ran round the ring. They quickly got together again, when, after one or two very slight exchanges, Orme got down.3.—Broome, on nearing his man, led off with his left, and reached Orme’s kissing-trap. Sharp counter-hits followed, Ormereaching Broome’s left ogle with his right, and Broome getting heavily home on Orme’s right eye. A few weaving half-arm hits followed to a close, and both were down, Orme under.4.—Broome feinted with his left, but it was no go. At length he succeeded in drawing Orme, who rattled at him, when Broome propped him heavily on the left peeper, drawing “first blood” from a cut on the brow. Some heavy exchanges followed, Orme delivering his right with terrific force on Broome’s ribs three times, and receiving heavy spanks in return on his right ogle and mouth, drawing more claret, and in the end, as Orme lunged out with his right, his head came forward, and Broome administered a terrific upper-cut in the mark, which doubled him up completely. Orme turned round, and gradually fell to the ground. It was now thought to be all over, but Orme, being in good condition, quickly rallied.5.—Orme, on coming up, showed marks of Broome’s visitations on his right peeper, which was beginning to close, while the marks on Broome’s ribs proved that Orme’s right had done him good service in that quarter. Broome dodged his man, and on Orme poking his head forwards, instantly dashed in his left on the dexter optic. He tried to repeat it, but was stopped. Both now let fly out of distance, crept close, and Broome made his one, two, on the right eye and side of Orme’s canister. Orme returned with severity on the ribs, and then on Broome’s mouth. A pause ensued, during which Broome put down his hands. On lifting them again he approached Orme, planted one hand on the forehead, and the other on the left lug, and cleverly jumped away from Orme’s return. Broome made two attempts to repeat the dose, but Orme got quickly away. Orme now took a turn, swung out his right heavily on the ribs, and got away. Long sparring followed, during which the perspiration came from Broome’s every pore—the sun was insufferably hot for the time of year, and must have been distressing to both men. Caution was now the order of the day, until Broome got within distance, when he sent out his left and caught Orme on the right eye, but not heavily; this he repeated, when Orme again swung out his right, catching Broome heavily on the ribs, and jumped away. Some wild hitting out of distance succeeded, but, on their getting steadier, Broome let go his left spank in Orme’s mouth, and jumped away; again he crept close, made his one, two heavily on the left and right cheek, drawing claret from the latter. On Orme attempting to rush in, Broome again turned tail and ran across the ring. Orme followed him up, when Broome jumped quickly round and delivered his left heavily on the right cheek. Orme countered him heavily on the mazzard—received another spank on the right cheek, when Broome once more turned his back and retreated. Long sparring for wind now took place, after which there was some mutual stopping. Broome, at length caught Orme sharply on the mouth and right cheek, which brought them to a rally, in which Orme’s right was excessively busy on Broome’s ribs, while the returns of Broome did no execution. The repeated “thuds” on his ribs made Broome wince, and screw himself up, evidently with pain; he retired, blowing, while Orme (instead of following him up) stood in the middle of the ring until Broome recovered himself. The latter now popped in his left on the right cheek, but Orme countered him with the left heavily on the nozzle, drawing claret from a cut on the bridge of that organ, which, in Harry, as well as Johnny Broome, is slightly of the Roman order. Orme also caught Broome another spank on the ribs with his right, which led to heavy exchanges, in the course of which Broome reached Orme’s mouth and right cheek, while the latter caught Broome a tremendous hit on the left eyebrow, with his right, inflicting a deep, perpendicular cut, and drawing the ruby in profusion. Broome retired, and wiped away the fluid as it ran into his ogle, Orme again refusing to profit by opportunity, and go in while his man was confused. Broome soon recovered his presence of mind, went at his man, and, after some rattling exchanges, Orme was down, amidst the vociferous cheers of his friends, who considered that in this round he had infinitely the best of the hitting. It was a tremendous round, lasting sixteen minutes, during the greater part of which time the hitting was extremely severe.6.—Both came up puffing, and their countenances considerably changed since the last round. After a good deal of sparring out of distance, Broome opened the ball, just reaching Orme’s nose with his left. A second attempt was frustrated by Orme jumping away and lunging out his right most viciously at the body; luckily, however, for the Champion, it did not reach him, or it would most assuredly have “found him at home.” Broome again crept up, caught Orme on the potato-trap with his left, but was prettily stopped in a second attempt. He tried once more, reached Orme’s left whisker-bed, but napped it heavily on the sore spot, his left eyebrow, from which a fresh tap was instantly opened. Broome retreated to wipe away the carmine from his peeper, and as Orme attempted to follow him up, he met him with a straight shooter on the mouth, which opened up another spring. This caused Orme to rush in wildly, when he caught it severely on the smeller, from which more claret trickled; Broome then closed, and, after a long struggle, threw and fell heavily on Orme.7.—Broome led off with his left, but was neatly stopped; he tried again left and right, and was again parried, Orme returning a stinger with his right on the left eye. Orme now took the initiative, dashed in regardlessof consequences, and was propped heavily on the left eye. This led to tremendous counter-hits with the left, each getting well home on his opponent’s smelling-bottle. A ding-dong rally followed, both getting it severely on the mouth and nose, left and right, and Orme punching Broome’s ribs with great severity. At length they closed, and rolled over together, Orme under.8.—Both came up much the worse for wear. They sparred cautiously for wind, until Broome got close and sent out his left, which Orme parried, and missed his return. Broome led off twice in succession; the first time Orme jumped away, but the second Broome paid a visit to his right cheek. Orme then made his left on the chest, Broome returning with both hands on the side of his opponent’s nut and his right cheek-bone. Two more attempts were cleverly stopped by Orme, after which they rested a short time. Broome was first to recommence, caught Orme on the left cheek, and received another awkward reminder on the left eyebrow from Orme’s right sledge-hammer. Heavy exchanges followed, Orme getting well home on Broome’s mug and nose, and Broome on the right ogle and mouth. Broome now resorted to his old system of turning his back and running away, Orme after him. Broome at length turned round, let out his left, but was countered heavily on the nozzle and mouth. Heavy hits were now exchanged, left and right, and in the end Orme caught Broome full on the point of his conk, drawing the ruby in profusion, and knocking the Champion off his legs; “first knock-down” being awarded to Orme amidst vociferous cheering. This round, which, like the fifth, was extremely severe, lasted twelve minutes.9.—Broome came up snuffling; the crack on his snuff-box in the last round had evidently been a teazer. His left eye was fast closing, and the hopes of the East Enders began to be in the ascendant. The betting receded almost to even money, and it was clear Broome had made the discovery that his adversary was no such catch as people had expected. He, nevertheless, opened the proceedings by dashing out his left, which was well stopped. Counter-hits followed, Broome reaching his opponent’s left cheek, and receiving in return on the mouth. Broome next made play left and right, caught the gallant Orme heavily on each cheek, and then, closing, threw and fell on him. (One hour had now elapsed.)10.—Broome once more took the lead, but was prettily stopped. Heavy counter-hits followed, Broome on the nose and Orme on the left cheek. A close at the ropes succeeded, when Broome hugged Orme round the neck. Orme, however, punched away at his ribs until Broome released him, and Orme retreated to the centre of the ring, whither Broome followed him, and some heavy exchanges took place, Orme reaching Broome’s nose and left peeper, and Broome punishing him severely on the mouth. In the end Orme got down.11.—Broome, first to open the ball, caught Orme sharply on the ivory box with his left, drawing claret and loosening several of his head rails. Orme would not be stalled off, but immediately rattled in, when some heavy counter-hitting took place, each getting it severely on the nose and mouth. A break away and at it again. The hitting in this round was really tremendous, both men staggering away after the counters, and each having his cork drawn to some purpose. At length they closed, and after a slight struggle Orme got down.12.—Broome, in coming up, looked weak and distressed. Orme was also by no means in good order; both his cheeks were considerably swollen, and his mouth was “reethur” out of shape. Orme led off, but was well stopped. A second attempt from his right reached Broome’s ribs very heavily, and caused the latter to wince like a galled horse. He quickly got over it, however, and dashed out his left on Orme’s mouth. He tried again, but Orme stepped back, propping Master Broome on the sneezer with his left as he came in. Exchanges followed, Orme inflicting a fresh cut under Broome’s left peeper, and receiving sharply on his damaged kissing trap. In the end Orme got down to avoid the fall.13.—Broome, after a little cautious sparring, let go his left and right, but was short, and Orme immediately returned on his right peeper; Broome retreated, and as Orme came after him Broome sent out his left on the mouth again, drawing the cork freely. Broome now made two attempts to get in his one, two, but on each occasion Orme was too quick for him, and jumped away. In a third attempt he reached Orme’s smeller, a heavy nose-ender, which again tapped his best October. He repeated the dose on the mug, whereupon Orme dashed in, caught him on the left cheek with his right, closed, and, after a short struggle, both were down.14.—Orme feinted with his left, and then dashed in his right on Broome’s left ogle, a very heavy hit. Broome returned on the mouth, and then retreated; some sparring at a distance followed, and on their again getting close, Broome sent out both mawleys, but was cleverly stopped. Orme then popped in his left on the right cheek, and Broome, in getting away from further visitations, fell through the ropes.15.—Both slow to the call of “time,” and on reaching the scratch they stood and looked at each other until Orme advanced, when Broome tried to meet him with his left, but Orme stopped him neatly twice, and at a third attempt jumped away. Orme then again crept in and made his right tell heavily on the ribs. Broome now sent home his left and right on the left ogle and nose of Orme, repeated the dose on the nose and mouthheavily, and as Orme dashed in with his right on the ribs, Broome caught him a tremendous upper-cut on the mark with his right, and Orme fell.16.—Orme, on coming up, appeared to have suffered severely from the upper-cut in the last round; he was evidently much shaken, in addition to which both his eyes were gradually going. He nevertheless tried to lead off left and right, but his blows wanted power. Broome returned on the left cheek, and then on the mouth, Orme’s return being out of distance. Orme still persevered, but got propped heavily on the nose from Broome’s left. Broome at length closed, when Orme punched him heavily on the ribs, but Broome succeeded in throwing and falling heavily on him.17.—Orme led off left and right, but was stopped; he then rushed in, and was propped heavily on the nose, and got down. (Time, one hour and a half.)18.—Broome rattled in left and right on the ogles of Orme, and got away. Orme followed him up, reached his chest with the left, and was propped heavily on the left cheek. Broome closed, and catching Orme round the neck, hugged him until Orme dropped on his knees. Orme then put his hands round Broome’s thigh, but Broome got away, and walked to his corner. A claim of “foul” was made on the part of Broome, on the ground that he (Orme) had attempted to pull him over by catching him below the waistband. The claim, however, was not allowed, the referee believing that Orme was utterly unaware as to where he had caught hold of Broome.19.—Broome again led off left and right, reaching Orme’s cheek and mouth heavily. A close, and some in-fighting in favour of Broome, followed by a break-away, and at it again, Broome delivering heavily on Orme’s nose and eyes, and drawing claret from several bottles. In the end Broome closed, and threw his man again, making the unpleasant addition of his own weight.20.—Both long in answering to the call of time, but Broome first up. On getting close Orme caught Broome on the ribs, and was countered sharply on the nose. Broome then took the lead, and planted on his right cheek heavily. This brought them to some sharp exchanges in favour of Broome. In the end, Orme got down on his knees, and Broome caught him on theos frontiswith his left while in that position. A claim of “foul” was now made by Orme’s friends, but it was clear Broome’s blow had started before Orme reached the ground, and could not have been withheld. The decision was again “fair,” and the mill proceeded.21.—Broome, after one or two feints, let go his left, reaching Orme’s snuff-box with effect; slight exchanges ensued, and Orme again got down weak.22.—Broome, seeing his man was much shaken, at once went to work, caught Orme heavily on the left cheek, and closed at the ropes, where he hung on Orme; the latter pegged away at Broome’s ribs until he let him go, and Orme then planted his right heavily on Broome’s left cheek. Tremendous exchanges followed, each staggering from the effects of the blows, Broome reaching Orme’s left eye and nose, and he receiving on the left peeper and ribs. Broome then stepped back, and as Orme came again caught him heavily on the left ogle, and Orme fell. Both were now much distressed, and lay on their backs on the ground until time was called.23.—Orme was the first at the scratch, and attempted to lead off, but Broome got cleverly away, and then went at his man, delivering both hands on the mouth and nose heavily, and jumped easily away from Orme’s returns, which were sadly out of distance. Orme, however, followed him up, and although Harry met him full on the snout, he planted his dangerous right on the ribs with astonishing effect. Harry then reached Orme’s sinister peeper heavily, drawing more of the Falernian, and finally shut up the shop. Rattling exchanges followed, Broome getting well home on the mouth, and receiving a slogging right-hander on the jaw, from the effects of which he staggered back and fell in his corner.24.—Orme came up almost blind, but still he persevered; he feinted, and tried to get on to Broome, who stepped cleverly away, and waited for the attack. Orme did not keep him long in suspense, but dashed out left and right; the former was stopped, but the latter reached Broome’s damaged peeper, drawing more blood. Broome, however, by way of retaliation, cross-countered him on the nose heavily, again drawing a crimson stream. Broome now walked to his corner, took a sponge and wiped his eye, and went at it again, caught Orme heavily on the point of the nose with his left, and Orme dropped on his knees, Broome again catching him a snorter just as he reachedterra firma, giving rise to another appeal, which was not allowed.25.—Caution the order of the day, both evidently tired. Orme at last led off, and caught Broome with his right on the side of his cranium, on which Broome closed, and Orme immediately got down.26.—Orme led off with his left, but was short. Broome quickly returned one, two, on his left cheek and mug, and got away from Orme’s return. Orme persevered and bored in, but Broome hit him straight on the cheek, Orme being again out of distance with his returns. At last he reached Broome’s ribs with a heavy right-hander, and Broome returned on the mouth. Both now retired to their corners, and permitted their seconds to wipe their phisogs for them, and took a pull of “Adam’s ale,” after which refreshing ceremony they once more returned to the scratch, and Broome let fly his left onOrme’s left cheek, closed, and after a short struggle both were down. (Two hours had now expired.)27.—Broome set a good example by dashing out his left on Orme’s right cheek, which led to light exchanges at the ropes. Orme then walked to the middle of the ring, whither Broome followed, gave him a spank in the left eye, and walked away. He again approached his man, caught him heavily on the mouth, and in return received another rib-bender from Orme’s right. Broome now made his right tell on Orme’s ribs, and in getting away from the return fell.28.—Orme, although almost in darkness, led off with his right on the ribs—he attempted a repetition, but Broome caught him heavily on the mouth and then on the nose. After some slight exchanges in favour of Broome, they again retired to their corners and had a rest, and came at it again; Orme was receiver-general, and in the end got down.29.—Orme again led off, but was well stopped; he tried it yet once more, but from the style of his hitting it was pretty clear he could scarcely see his adversary. He, however, reached Broome’s ribs heavily after one or two attempts, and Broome missed a well-intended upper-cut in return. The latter, however, soon approached his now fast-sinking adversary, delivered his left and right heavily on Orme’s left ogle and smeller, drawing a fresh supply of claret from the latter, and knocking his man down.30.—Orme came up very groggy and wild, but determined; he led off with his right, but Broome laughingly stepped on one side; he tried again but was stopped, and received heavily on the left eye and mouth, and was again knocked down. His backers and seconds, seeing that it was useless to prolong the contest, wished to throw up the sponge, but the gallant fellow would not hear of it, and he laid on his back until time was called, when he again went to the scratch for the31st and last round.—It was evident that he came up only to receive, and that he was struggling against nature; he was all but blind, and tremendously punished about the head, but was still tolerably strong on his pins. He led off wildly, but of course was out of distance. Broome then went to him, administered thecoup de grâce, in the shape of a gentle tap on the nose, and the brave fellow went to earth almost insensible. Tom Sayers now threw up the sponge, and Harry Broome was proclaimed the victor, and still Champion of England, amidst the vociferous cheers of his friends. The battle lasted exactlytwo hours and eighteen minutes. All being over, all at once made for the station to which the train had been removed, the vanquished man being conveyed there on a truck. The only personage left behind on the ground was Jem Burn, who, being still a martyr to the gout, declined attempting to walk a good mile along the railway to the station, and intimated his intention of remaining on the field of battle all night. All necessity for his imposing on himself such a penalty as this was, however, avoided by the engineer taking the engine and tender which had been attached to the train down the line to the place where “my nevvy” was located, and bringing him up, sitting on a heap of coke, to the door of the carriage in which his patrons were already seated. All now quickly ensconced themselves in the train, and the homeward journey was commenced about half-past four o’clock, and the Metropolis was reached about eight o’clock, after many stoppages. On the homeward passage a collection was made for the game and resolute Orme, which reached the handsome sum of £22, and this was considerably increased at the giving up of the stakes.Remarks.—This battle took everybody by surprise. On the one hand, there had been continual rumours that Broome never intended fighting, that he could not possibly get himself anywhere near fit, and that the match would end in a juggle. On the other, it was asserted that Orme had overreached himself, and was flying at too high game; that he would never be able to reach Harry Broome, and must be beaten in half an hour. Our readers will perceive, by the foregoing account, that the “croakers” were far from the mark. The fight was the best we have had for years between two big men. Broome has lost none of his scientific acquirements. He is a good straight hitter, clever at stopping, an excellent wrestler, and quick on his pins. He is, however, remarkably awkward in getting away when in difficulty—instead of jumping back, as we are accustomed to see others do, he turns his back and runs, leaving himself open to severe punishment from a cleverer tactician than Orme. Although he was much out of condition, and was hit very hard, both in the ribs and on the frontispiece, and several times was in great difficulties, he persevered most gamely throughout, and took his punishment like a thorough glutton. Should he make another match, he ought to commence training much earlier than he did on the present occasion, and reduce himself certainly to 11st.10lb., which is the outside weight at which he ought to fight. If he does this, we think, looking at the way in which he fought on Monday, he will prove himself a tough customer to all comers, and the man who wrests the laurels of the Championship from him will have reason to be proud of his achievement. Orme, since his last battle with Aaron Jones, has wonderfully improved in science and quickness. On Monday, for a considerable length of time, Broome found it exceedingly difficult to get on to him; he could stop well, get away sharply, and, directly he saw an opening, was ready with his dangerous right,which, as will be seen above, proved a dreadful teaser to the flesh-covered ribs of Broome. We consider him to be the severest hitter of the present day, and did he but understand leading off with his left, instead of giving his head, as he must necessarily do when he makes play with his right, would be “hard to beat.” The knock-down blow on Broome’s nose and jaw, and one or two of the punches in the ribs, administered early in the fight, were of such a nature as for the time to reduce Broome to a standstill, and had Orme only possessed the requisite skill to follow up his advantage, things might have presented a very serious aspect as regarded Broome’s chance of winning. By saying that Orme did not possess skill, we do not for an instant impute to him a want of ordinary boxing capability, but a want of tact in knowing when to “force the pace,” and prevent his opponent recovering wind and strength. Had Orme been capable of pursuing that system, the result might have been “a horse of another colour.” This only applies to the earlier part of the contest. After the upper-cut administered on the mark in the 15th round, a great deal of the steel was taken out of Orme, and we are informed that he felt sick during the remainder of the fight, while Broome slowly, but surely, improved his position. Although Orme now and then got again on the damaged ogle and ribs, Broome almost invariably met him on the eyes and mouth, gradually reducing his chance, until, in the last round, he was completely blind, and nature had deserted him. Some remarks were made on the novelty of the men retiring to their corners, and “taking a drink” during the rounds. We do not recollect ever witnessing a similar scene before; but the want of condition on the part of Broome, combined with the heat of the day, was a very good excuse for his adopting such a plan, and as it was resorted to by one, there could, of course, be no reason why the example should not be followed by the other. The battle, from first to last, was a manly, upright struggle for pre-eminence—neither man attempted to take an unworthy advantage—and had it not been for the ridiculous appeals made by the seconds on each side, would have been a model mill in every sense of the word. Such a fight for the Championship has not been seen for very many years.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Broome, after one or two feints, approached his man and attempted to draw him, but Orme was wary, and stepped back. They both then advanced and retreated several times, Broome repeatedly making attempts to kid his man within reach, but Orme was too wary. Broome scratched his ear, as endeavouring to rouse an idea what to do next, when Orme approached and lunged out heavily with his right out of distance; Broome then let fly both hands, but was neatly stopped. Orme now went up to his man and sent out both mauleys, but Broome jumped away. More sparring and fiddling, Orme several times stopping Broome’s left. At length Broome crept close again, lunged out one, two—his left was stopped, but his right just reached the left side of Orme’s nut; Orme returned very heavily with his right on the ribs, and after receiving a gentle tap on the forehead from Broome’s left, the latter closed, and both rolled over. This round lasted eight minutes, and at once showed to the spectators that Orme was much better on his legs and cleverer at stopping than the public had given him credit for.
2.—Again did each man make ineffectual feints out of distance. Broome at length let go his left, but Orme jumped cleverly away. Broome tried it again, but was stopped. “There’s luck in odd numbers,” however, for, in a third attempt, he got home heavily on Orme’s left peeper, and then on his mouth, and, on Orme rushing at him to make a return, Broome turned his back and ran round the ring. They quickly got together again, when, after one or two very slight exchanges, Orme got down.
3.—Broome, on nearing his man, led off with his left, and reached Orme’s kissing-trap. Sharp counter-hits followed, Ormereaching Broome’s left ogle with his right, and Broome getting heavily home on Orme’s right eye. A few weaving half-arm hits followed to a close, and both were down, Orme under.
4.—Broome feinted with his left, but it was no go. At length he succeeded in drawing Orme, who rattled at him, when Broome propped him heavily on the left peeper, drawing “first blood” from a cut on the brow. Some heavy exchanges followed, Orme delivering his right with terrific force on Broome’s ribs three times, and receiving heavy spanks in return on his right ogle and mouth, drawing more claret, and in the end, as Orme lunged out with his right, his head came forward, and Broome administered a terrific upper-cut in the mark, which doubled him up completely. Orme turned round, and gradually fell to the ground. It was now thought to be all over, but Orme, being in good condition, quickly rallied.
5.—Orme, on coming up, showed marks of Broome’s visitations on his right peeper, which was beginning to close, while the marks on Broome’s ribs proved that Orme’s right had done him good service in that quarter. Broome dodged his man, and on Orme poking his head forwards, instantly dashed in his left on the dexter optic. He tried to repeat it, but was stopped. Both now let fly out of distance, crept close, and Broome made his one, two, on the right eye and side of Orme’s canister. Orme returned with severity on the ribs, and then on Broome’s mouth. A pause ensued, during which Broome put down his hands. On lifting them again he approached Orme, planted one hand on the forehead, and the other on the left lug, and cleverly jumped away from Orme’s return. Broome made two attempts to repeat the dose, but Orme got quickly away. Orme now took a turn, swung out his right heavily on the ribs, and got away. Long sparring followed, during which the perspiration came from Broome’s every pore—the sun was insufferably hot for the time of year, and must have been distressing to both men. Caution was now the order of the day, until Broome got within distance, when he sent out his left and caught Orme on the right eye, but not heavily; this he repeated, when Orme again swung out his right, catching Broome heavily on the ribs, and jumped away. Some wild hitting out of distance succeeded, but, on their getting steadier, Broome let go his left spank in Orme’s mouth, and jumped away; again he crept close, made his one, two heavily on the left and right cheek, drawing claret from the latter. On Orme attempting to rush in, Broome again turned tail and ran across the ring. Orme followed him up, when Broome jumped quickly round and delivered his left heavily on the right cheek. Orme countered him heavily on the mazzard—received another spank on the right cheek, when Broome once more turned his back and retreated. Long sparring for wind now took place, after which there was some mutual stopping. Broome, at length caught Orme sharply on the mouth and right cheek, which brought them to a rally, in which Orme’s right was excessively busy on Broome’s ribs, while the returns of Broome did no execution. The repeated “thuds” on his ribs made Broome wince, and screw himself up, evidently with pain; he retired, blowing, while Orme (instead of following him up) stood in the middle of the ring until Broome recovered himself. The latter now popped in his left on the right cheek, but Orme countered him with the left heavily on the nozzle, drawing claret from a cut on the bridge of that organ, which, in Harry, as well as Johnny Broome, is slightly of the Roman order. Orme also caught Broome another spank on the ribs with his right, which led to heavy exchanges, in the course of which Broome reached Orme’s mouth and right cheek, while the latter caught Broome a tremendous hit on the left eyebrow, with his right, inflicting a deep, perpendicular cut, and drawing the ruby in profusion. Broome retired, and wiped away the fluid as it ran into his ogle, Orme again refusing to profit by opportunity, and go in while his man was confused. Broome soon recovered his presence of mind, went at his man, and, after some rattling exchanges, Orme was down, amidst the vociferous cheers of his friends, who considered that in this round he had infinitely the best of the hitting. It was a tremendous round, lasting sixteen minutes, during the greater part of which time the hitting was extremely severe.
6.—Both came up puffing, and their countenances considerably changed since the last round. After a good deal of sparring out of distance, Broome opened the ball, just reaching Orme’s nose with his left. A second attempt was frustrated by Orme jumping away and lunging out his right most viciously at the body; luckily, however, for the Champion, it did not reach him, or it would most assuredly have “found him at home.” Broome again crept up, caught Orme on the potato-trap with his left, but was prettily stopped in a second attempt. He tried once more, reached Orme’s left whisker-bed, but napped it heavily on the sore spot, his left eyebrow, from which a fresh tap was instantly opened. Broome retreated to wipe away the carmine from his peeper, and as Orme attempted to follow him up, he met him with a straight shooter on the mouth, which opened up another spring. This caused Orme to rush in wildly, when he caught it severely on the smeller, from which more claret trickled; Broome then closed, and, after a long struggle, threw and fell heavily on Orme.
7.—Broome led off with his left, but was neatly stopped; he tried again left and right, and was again parried, Orme returning a stinger with his right on the left eye. Orme now took the initiative, dashed in regardlessof consequences, and was propped heavily on the left eye. This led to tremendous counter-hits with the left, each getting well home on his opponent’s smelling-bottle. A ding-dong rally followed, both getting it severely on the mouth and nose, left and right, and Orme punching Broome’s ribs with great severity. At length they closed, and rolled over together, Orme under.
8.—Both came up much the worse for wear. They sparred cautiously for wind, until Broome got close and sent out his left, which Orme parried, and missed his return. Broome led off twice in succession; the first time Orme jumped away, but the second Broome paid a visit to his right cheek. Orme then made his left on the chest, Broome returning with both hands on the side of his opponent’s nut and his right cheek-bone. Two more attempts were cleverly stopped by Orme, after which they rested a short time. Broome was first to recommence, caught Orme on the left cheek, and received another awkward reminder on the left eyebrow from Orme’s right sledge-hammer. Heavy exchanges followed, Orme getting well home on Broome’s mug and nose, and Broome on the right ogle and mouth. Broome now resorted to his old system of turning his back and running away, Orme after him. Broome at length turned round, let out his left, but was countered heavily on the nozzle and mouth. Heavy hits were now exchanged, left and right, and in the end Orme caught Broome full on the point of his conk, drawing the ruby in profusion, and knocking the Champion off his legs; “first knock-down” being awarded to Orme amidst vociferous cheering. This round, which, like the fifth, was extremely severe, lasted twelve minutes.
9.—Broome came up snuffling; the crack on his snuff-box in the last round had evidently been a teazer. His left eye was fast closing, and the hopes of the East Enders began to be in the ascendant. The betting receded almost to even money, and it was clear Broome had made the discovery that his adversary was no such catch as people had expected. He, nevertheless, opened the proceedings by dashing out his left, which was well stopped. Counter-hits followed, Broome reaching his opponent’s left cheek, and receiving in return on the mouth. Broome next made play left and right, caught the gallant Orme heavily on each cheek, and then, closing, threw and fell on him. (One hour had now elapsed.)
10.—Broome once more took the lead, but was prettily stopped. Heavy counter-hits followed, Broome on the nose and Orme on the left cheek. A close at the ropes succeeded, when Broome hugged Orme round the neck. Orme, however, punched away at his ribs until Broome released him, and Orme retreated to the centre of the ring, whither Broome followed him, and some heavy exchanges took place, Orme reaching Broome’s nose and left peeper, and Broome punishing him severely on the mouth. In the end Orme got down.
11.—Broome, first to open the ball, caught Orme sharply on the ivory box with his left, drawing claret and loosening several of his head rails. Orme would not be stalled off, but immediately rattled in, when some heavy counter-hitting took place, each getting it severely on the nose and mouth. A break away and at it again. The hitting in this round was really tremendous, both men staggering away after the counters, and each having his cork drawn to some purpose. At length they closed, and after a slight struggle Orme got down.
12.—Broome, in coming up, looked weak and distressed. Orme was also by no means in good order; both his cheeks were considerably swollen, and his mouth was “reethur” out of shape. Orme led off, but was well stopped. A second attempt from his right reached Broome’s ribs very heavily, and caused the latter to wince like a galled horse. He quickly got over it, however, and dashed out his left on Orme’s mouth. He tried again, but Orme stepped back, propping Master Broome on the sneezer with his left as he came in. Exchanges followed, Orme inflicting a fresh cut under Broome’s left peeper, and receiving sharply on his damaged kissing trap. In the end Orme got down to avoid the fall.
13.—Broome, after a little cautious sparring, let go his left and right, but was short, and Orme immediately returned on his right peeper; Broome retreated, and as Orme came after him Broome sent out his left on the mouth again, drawing the cork freely. Broome now made two attempts to get in his one, two, but on each occasion Orme was too quick for him, and jumped away. In a third attempt he reached Orme’s smeller, a heavy nose-ender, which again tapped his best October. He repeated the dose on the mug, whereupon Orme dashed in, caught him on the left cheek with his right, closed, and, after a short struggle, both were down.
14.—Orme feinted with his left, and then dashed in his right on Broome’s left ogle, a very heavy hit. Broome returned on the mouth, and then retreated; some sparring at a distance followed, and on their again getting close, Broome sent out both mawleys, but was cleverly stopped. Orme then popped in his left on the right cheek, and Broome, in getting away from further visitations, fell through the ropes.
15.—Both slow to the call of “time,” and on reaching the scratch they stood and looked at each other until Orme advanced, when Broome tried to meet him with his left, but Orme stopped him neatly twice, and at a third attempt jumped away. Orme then again crept in and made his right tell heavily on the ribs. Broome now sent home his left and right on the left ogle and nose of Orme, repeated the dose on the nose and mouthheavily, and as Orme dashed in with his right on the ribs, Broome caught him a tremendous upper-cut on the mark with his right, and Orme fell.
16.—Orme, on coming up, appeared to have suffered severely from the upper-cut in the last round; he was evidently much shaken, in addition to which both his eyes were gradually going. He nevertheless tried to lead off left and right, but his blows wanted power. Broome returned on the left cheek, and then on the mouth, Orme’s return being out of distance. Orme still persevered, but got propped heavily on the nose from Broome’s left. Broome at length closed, when Orme punched him heavily on the ribs, but Broome succeeded in throwing and falling heavily on him.
17.—Orme led off left and right, but was stopped; he then rushed in, and was propped heavily on the nose, and got down. (Time, one hour and a half.)
18.—Broome rattled in left and right on the ogles of Orme, and got away. Orme followed him up, reached his chest with the left, and was propped heavily on the left cheek. Broome closed, and catching Orme round the neck, hugged him until Orme dropped on his knees. Orme then put his hands round Broome’s thigh, but Broome got away, and walked to his corner. A claim of “foul” was made on the part of Broome, on the ground that he (Orme) had attempted to pull him over by catching him below the waistband. The claim, however, was not allowed, the referee believing that Orme was utterly unaware as to where he had caught hold of Broome.
19.—Broome again led off left and right, reaching Orme’s cheek and mouth heavily. A close, and some in-fighting in favour of Broome, followed by a break-away, and at it again, Broome delivering heavily on Orme’s nose and eyes, and drawing claret from several bottles. In the end Broome closed, and threw his man again, making the unpleasant addition of his own weight.
20.—Both long in answering to the call of time, but Broome first up. On getting close Orme caught Broome on the ribs, and was countered sharply on the nose. Broome then took the lead, and planted on his right cheek heavily. This brought them to some sharp exchanges in favour of Broome. In the end, Orme got down on his knees, and Broome caught him on theos frontiswith his left while in that position. A claim of “foul” was now made by Orme’s friends, but it was clear Broome’s blow had started before Orme reached the ground, and could not have been withheld. The decision was again “fair,” and the mill proceeded.
21.—Broome, after one or two feints, let go his left, reaching Orme’s snuff-box with effect; slight exchanges ensued, and Orme again got down weak.
22.—Broome, seeing his man was much shaken, at once went to work, caught Orme heavily on the left cheek, and closed at the ropes, where he hung on Orme; the latter pegged away at Broome’s ribs until he let him go, and Orme then planted his right heavily on Broome’s left cheek. Tremendous exchanges followed, each staggering from the effects of the blows, Broome reaching Orme’s left eye and nose, and he receiving on the left peeper and ribs. Broome then stepped back, and as Orme came again caught him heavily on the left ogle, and Orme fell. Both were now much distressed, and lay on their backs on the ground until time was called.
23.—Orme was the first at the scratch, and attempted to lead off, but Broome got cleverly away, and then went at his man, delivering both hands on the mouth and nose heavily, and jumped easily away from Orme’s returns, which were sadly out of distance. Orme, however, followed him up, and although Harry met him full on the snout, he planted his dangerous right on the ribs with astonishing effect. Harry then reached Orme’s sinister peeper heavily, drawing more of the Falernian, and finally shut up the shop. Rattling exchanges followed, Broome getting well home on the mouth, and receiving a slogging right-hander on the jaw, from the effects of which he staggered back and fell in his corner.
24.—Orme came up almost blind, but still he persevered; he feinted, and tried to get on to Broome, who stepped cleverly away, and waited for the attack. Orme did not keep him long in suspense, but dashed out left and right; the former was stopped, but the latter reached Broome’s damaged peeper, drawing more blood. Broome, however, by way of retaliation, cross-countered him on the nose heavily, again drawing a crimson stream. Broome now walked to his corner, took a sponge and wiped his eye, and went at it again, caught Orme heavily on the point of the nose with his left, and Orme dropped on his knees, Broome again catching him a snorter just as he reachedterra firma, giving rise to another appeal, which was not allowed.
25.—Caution the order of the day, both evidently tired. Orme at last led off, and caught Broome with his right on the side of his cranium, on which Broome closed, and Orme immediately got down.
26.—Orme led off with his left, but was short. Broome quickly returned one, two, on his left cheek and mug, and got away from Orme’s return. Orme persevered and bored in, but Broome hit him straight on the cheek, Orme being again out of distance with his returns. At last he reached Broome’s ribs with a heavy right-hander, and Broome returned on the mouth. Both now retired to their corners, and permitted their seconds to wipe their phisogs for them, and took a pull of “Adam’s ale,” after which refreshing ceremony they once more returned to the scratch, and Broome let fly his left onOrme’s left cheek, closed, and after a short struggle both were down. (Two hours had now expired.)
27.—Broome set a good example by dashing out his left on Orme’s right cheek, which led to light exchanges at the ropes. Orme then walked to the middle of the ring, whither Broome followed, gave him a spank in the left eye, and walked away. He again approached his man, caught him heavily on the mouth, and in return received another rib-bender from Orme’s right. Broome now made his right tell on Orme’s ribs, and in getting away from the return fell.
28.—Orme, although almost in darkness, led off with his right on the ribs—he attempted a repetition, but Broome caught him heavily on the mouth and then on the nose. After some slight exchanges in favour of Broome, they again retired to their corners and had a rest, and came at it again; Orme was receiver-general, and in the end got down.
29.—Orme again led off, but was well stopped; he tried it yet once more, but from the style of his hitting it was pretty clear he could scarcely see his adversary. He, however, reached Broome’s ribs heavily after one or two attempts, and Broome missed a well-intended upper-cut in return. The latter, however, soon approached his now fast-sinking adversary, delivered his left and right heavily on Orme’s left ogle and smeller, drawing a fresh supply of claret from the latter, and knocking his man down.
30.—Orme came up very groggy and wild, but determined; he led off with his right, but Broome laughingly stepped on one side; he tried again but was stopped, and received heavily on the left eye and mouth, and was again knocked down. His backers and seconds, seeing that it was useless to prolong the contest, wished to throw up the sponge, but the gallant fellow would not hear of it, and he laid on his back until time was called, when he again went to the scratch for the
31st and last round.—It was evident that he came up only to receive, and that he was struggling against nature; he was all but blind, and tremendously punished about the head, but was still tolerably strong on his pins. He led off wildly, but of course was out of distance. Broome then went to him, administered thecoup de grâce, in the shape of a gentle tap on the nose, and the brave fellow went to earth almost insensible. Tom Sayers now threw up the sponge, and Harry Broome was proclaimed the victor, and still Champion of England, amidst the vociferous cheers of his friends. The battle lasted exactlytwo hours and eighteen minutes. All being over, all at once made for the station to which the train had been removed, the vanquished man being conveyed there on a truck. The only personage left behind on the ground was Jem Burn, who, being still a martyr to the gout, declined attempting to walk a good mile along the railway to the station, and intimated his intention of remaining on the field of battle all night. All necessity for his imposing on himself such a penalty as this was, however, avoided by the engineer taking the engine and tender which had been attached to the train down the line to the place where “my nevvy” was located, and bringing him up, sitting on a heap of coke, to the door of the carriage in which his patrons were already seated. All now quickly ensconced themselves in the train, and the homeward journey was commenced about half-past four o’clock, and the Metropolis was reached about eight o’clock, after many stoppages. On the homeward passage a collection was made for the game and resolute Orme, which reached the handsome sum of £22, and this was considerably increased at the giving up of the stakes.
Remarks.—This battle took everybody by surprise. On the one hand, there had been continual rumours that Broome never intended fighting, that he could not possibly get himself anywhere near fit, and that the match would end in a juggle. On the other, it was asserted that Orme had overreached himself, and was flying at too high game; that he would never be able to reach Harry Broome, and must be beaten in half an hour. Our readers will perceive, by the foregoing account, that the “croakers” were far from the mark. The fight was the best we have had for years between two big men. Broome has lost none of his scientific acquirements. He is a good straight hitter, clever at stopping, an excellent wrestler, and quick on his pins. He is, however, remarkably awkward in getting away when in difficulty—instead of jumping back, as we are accustomed to see others do, he turns his back and runs, leaving himself open to severe punishment from a cleverer tactician than Orme. Although he was much out of condition, and was hit very hard, both in the ribs and on the frontispiece, and several times was in great difficulties, he persevered most gamely throughout, and took his punishment like a thorough glutton. Should he make another match, he ought to commence training much earlier than he did on the present occasion, and reduce himself certainly to 11st.10lb., which is the outside weight at which he ought to fight. If he does this, we think, looking at the way in which he fought on Monday, he will prove himself a tough customer to all comers, and the man who wrests the laurels of the Championship from him will have reason to be proud of his achievement. Orme, since his last battle with Aaron Jones, has wonderfully improved in science and quickness. On Monday, for a considerable length of time, Broome found it exceedingly difficult to get on to him; he could stop well, get away sharply, and, directly he saw an opening, was ready with his dangerous right,which, as will be seen above, proved a dreadful teaser to the flesh-covered ribs of Broome. We consider him to be the severest hitter of the present day, and did he but understand leading off with his left, instead of giving his head, as he must necessarily do when he makes play with his right, would be “hard to beat.” The knock-down blow on Broome’s nose and jaw, and one or two of the punches in the ribs, administered early in the fight, were of such a nature as for the time to reduce Broome to a standstill, and had Orme only possessed the requisite skill to follow up his advantage, things might have presented a very serious aspect as regarded Broome’s chance of winning. By saying that Orme did not possess skill, we do not for an instant impute to him a want of ordinary boxing capability, but a want of tact in knowing when to “force the pace,” and prevent his opponent recovering wind and strength. Had Orme been capable of pursuing that system, the result might have been “a horse of another colour.” This only applies to the earlier part of the contest. After the upper-cut administered on the mark in the 15th round, a great deal of the steel was taken out of Orme, and we are informed that he felt sick during the remainder of the fight, while Broome slowly, but surely, improved his position. Although Orme now and then got again on the damaged ogle and ribs, Broome almost invariably met him on the eyes and mouth, gradually reducing his chance, until, in the last round, he was completely blind, and nature had deserted him. Some remarks were made on the novelty of the men retiring to their corners, and “taking a drink” during the rounds. We do not recollect ever witnessing a similar scene before; but the want of condition on the part of Broome, combined with the heat of the day, was a very good excuse for his adopting such a plan, and as it was resorted to by one, there could, of course, be no reason why the example should not be followed by the other. The battle, from first to last, was a manly, upright struggle for pre-eminence—neither man attempted to take an unworthy advantage—and had it not been for the ridiculous appeals made by the seconds on each side, would have been a model mill in every sense of the word. Such a fight for the Championship has not been seen for very many years.
Once again the Old Tipton made public his “grievance,” declaring that the award of “foul” in their former encounter had deprived him of the honour of the belt and the profit of the stakes, and that the bold Harry held the Championship by “a fluke.” Harry accepted his offer, and articles were entered into, but when £25 were posted, Broome forfeited the money down; his plea being that he had an engagement with Aaron Jones (this went off), and another with Paddock. Forfeits seem to have been in fashion in 1855. On February 20th, 1855, Harry Broome forfeited £180 to Tom Paddock, and on March 12th, £10 to the same. In March, 1856, the Tipton received £70 forfeit from Aaron Jones; and on October 2nd, 1856, he also received £80 forfeit from Tom Paddock. Pleasant times for thebonâ fidebackers of men!
It would have been well for Broome’s fame had his hard-won victory over the gallant Harry Orme been the closing scene of his Ring career; his increasing bulk, as was evident to all who knew him, forbade the absolutely necessary reduction of weight which must precede anything like fitness for a pugilistic contest of a prolonged and severe character. Not so, however, thought Harry Broome. On the 12th of December, 1855, he signed articles with Tom Paddock, for £200 a side, for a meeting on May 19th, 1856, and on that day experienced his final defeat, of which the full details will be found in the Memoir ofPaddockin our preceding chapter (pp.294–303).
From this time forth Harry fell out of the rank of claimants for the “blue riband” of theP.R., leaving the struggle for supremacy to Paddock, Aaron Jones, the Tipton Slasher, and the little pugilistic phenomenon of 10st.12lbs.who successively beat all three of them, and whose exploits form the subject of our next chapter.
Harry left London in 1856, and became the landlord of the Albion Tavern, in Warblington Street, Portsmouth, which was soon famous as a sporting rendezvous. From this house he backed several good men, the best known of whom was the unlucky Bill Bainge, or Benjamin, who as “Broome’s Novice” was twice unsuccessfully brought out to check the upward and onward career of Tom Sayers to the eminence of the Championship. For a few years following Harry was a public caterer and attendant at the principal race-meetings. The last time we met him in the flesh—and he had then too much of it—was at Epsom in 1865, in Gladiateur’s year, when, in reply to an inquiry after his health and prospects, he told us he was “in charge” of the Count Lagrange’s invaluable horse; we suspect as a “watcher,” for which he was formidably well qualified, physically as well as mentally. He was, however, aptly described by a friend as “all to pieces,” and this was shown by his death, which soon followed, on the 2nd of November in the above-named year, at the early age of 39 years.[27]
[27]It may interest some readers to know that we are indebted to Harry Broome’s early opponent, Joe Rowe, for the original of the portrait which faces the first page of this memoir. In our search after authentic likenesses, we learned that “Joe” still flourished as the proprietor of a cigar and tobacco store in Sun Street, Finsbury. Thither we bent our steps, and there we found a pleasant-spoken and young-looking specimen of the fair sex, who, in answer to our inquiries, announced herself as Mrs. Rowe. Our first impression was that we had chanced upon “Young Joe’s” bride; but no, it was the spouse of “Old Joe,” who was “kicking up behind and before,” and in his sixty-second year is proprietor of the lady and the “Sultan Cigar Stores.” A shake of the hand and a recognition, a smoke, and a “liquor-up,” renewed acquaintance; and as Joe has a portfolio of “sporting celebrities,” he cheerfully placed them at our disposal, for which we thus record our thanks.