Chapter IV (1)

JOSH. HUDSON, “THE JOHN BULL FIGHTER.”—1816–1826.

Among the names which a pugilistic Plutarch might find difficult to parallel for lion-hearted, fearless, and indomitable pluck, that of Josh. Hudson may be fairly cited. “The John Bull Fighter,” as his friends and admirers at the East-end fondly called him, fought his way into the battle of life at Rotherhithe, on the 21st of April, 1797. Although fond of a mill from his youth upwards, the juvenile John Bull earned the character of a thorough good-natured fellow, and this he preserved through life. There was no ferocity in Josh.’s composition, though once aroused in the fight his hitting was truly terrific, and his gameness in receiving as remarkable as his readiness in refusing to take an advantage of his adversary. Josh, was by no means an uninformed man, and, barring a propensity for practical jokes—a common thing in his day—remarkably inoffensive.

Josh.’s first reported contest was with Jack Payne, the butcher, at Dartford Brim, October 22, 1816, for ten guineas a-side. Jack, when he pleased, could fight well, but he was thought, not without reason, to lose pluck whenever he had not the “lead” in his hands. He soon found he had “caught a Tartar” in young Josh., for in thirty-five minutes he cried “enough!”

Our hero now flew at higher game, and challenged Aby Belasco. After a determined battle of one hour and thirty minutes the affair ended in a wrangle; Clark and Peter Warren, who seconded Josh., taking their man away. Belasco, however, got the stakes.

Hudson’s next battle was with Street, April 5, 1817, which he won in one hour and ten minutes. In “Boxiana,” vol. ii., p. 477, “Street” is called “Connelly.” It was David, Josh.’s brother, who fought and beat Connelly. Tom Oliver and Clark seconded Josh. in this battle.

His next match was with Charles Martin, at Sawbridgeworth, for a stake of twenty guineas, June 10, 1817. Richmond and Harry Holt seconded Josh., who won cleverly in thirty minutes.

Thompson, an Essex coachman, and rather fast with his fists, fancied Josh. for a “tenner,” and challenged him within six weeks of the last-named battle. They fought at Woolwich, July 17, 1817, when, in twenty-five minutes, Thompson dropped his whip and declined any further proceedings.

Josh, having in a spree “milled the wrong person,” was bound over by the magistrates to keep the peace for twelve months. He determined to keep out of the way of mischief for that period, so engaged himself as butcher on board the Surat Castle, Indiaman. Pierce Egan embellishes this voyage with fights with nobodies, to fill up the story of Josh.’s sea life. On his return, Hudson accepted the challenge of a formidable Chatham caulker, of the name of Bowen. This rough and ready customer stood six feet two inches in his stockings, and weighed thirteen stone and a half without an ounce of superfluous flesh; while Josh, drew ten stone seven pounds at scale. The battle was truly desperate; but in seventeen minutes Josh. was knocked out of time. This occurred on March 25, 1819.

Josh. lost no time in emerging from the cold shade of defeat, and on Tuesday, April 17, 1819, a month after the last event, he entered the ropes with Williams, the waterman, for ten guineas a-side, in Essex, opposite to Woolwich Warren. There were 5,000 persons present, say the reports at the time. Hudson was the favourite at five to four. At thirteen minutes past one Tom Owen and Donnelly conducted Josh. into the ring, followed by Williams, who was seconded by Tom Oliver and Harry Holt. The first three rounds were full of manœuvring, and decidedly in favour of the waterman; but when Josh. came to force the fighting, the scene was quickly changed. The waterman, however, proved a truly game man: he was terribly punished before the sponge was thrown up; and Josh., too, had napped it heavily. It was on both sides a manly fight, and Josh. was prophesied by Tom Owen—who dubbed him “his boy”—as likely to take a top place among the boxers of England.

JOSHUA HUDSON.

_From a Miniature by_ T. COOPER.
]

On the 24th of August, 1819, at the renowned battle-field of Moulsey, after Cy. Davis had beaten Boshell, a purse of 25 guineas was made up on the ground, and Jack Scroggins (JOHN PALMER, see his life in vol. i.) agreed to fight Josh. Hudson for the amount. Tom Owen and Sutton esquired Hudson, Harry Harmer and Tom Shelton picked up “Scroggy.” Scroggins hesitated, saying, he had been drinking overnight, and was in bad condition: but, added the daring little sailor, “Here goes—I’ll have a shy for it.” The fight requires but little description; Scroggins rushed headlong at his opponent, scrambling for a hit, and often losing his balance. Josh., on the contrary, was steady, and nobbed the once formidable hero with stupefying effect. When Scroggins fell at the close of round one, two to one was offered on Josh., and soon after three to one was without takers. At the end of the sixth round Tom Owen exclaimed, “It’s your own, Josh., my boy; you don’t want any seconding. Meet him as he comes in—one more like that, and the ‘pence’ you shall have.” In the eleventh and last round Scroggins over-reached himself, and came down on his knees, when Josh. caught him a stinger on the side of the head. “Foul, foul!” “Fair, fair!” echoed from all sides of the ring, for the rough and ready “merry-andrew of the ring” had many friends. The umpires decided the blow to be unintentional, and ordered them to “go on.” Scroggins refused, declaring he “was not used fair.” The purse was then awarded to Hudson. Scroggins, during the first few rounds was as full of antics as a clown in a pantomime, but soon became convinced that he was getting the worst of it, and broke off with an attempt to “snatch a verdict.” About this period Phil. Sampson, the Birmingham Youth, who had, as will be seen by his biography, a talent for quarrelling with his friends, fell out, Phil., _more suo_, talking about “serving out” Josh. at the first opportunity. Hence, after Ned Turner and Martin had left the ring (see Life of TURNER, vol. i.), on the 26th of October, 1819, at Wallingham Common, Surrey, ten guineas a-side having been posted, and a ten guinea purse subscribed by the P. C., Sampson intimated his readiness to meet Josh., and the John Bull Fighter stepped into the ring with alacrity. Tom Owen and Purcell waited upon Hudson; Shelton and Harmer seconded the Birmingham Youth. On stripping, Owen said to Josh., “Now, my boy, remember the _multum in parvo_.” “Is that a new hit?” asked Josh. laughing. “No, my boy,” replied Tom; “it’s Latin for doing a lot of work in a little time.” “I’m awake,” replied Josh.; “he won’t catch me napping.” The men stood up, and the seconds having retired to their corners, they began—

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Scarcely had the combatants shaken hands than it appeared
that they had no intention to protract hostilities. Sampson dashed
in at Josh. and planted a tremendous teazer flush in his ivories.
Josh. returned, and some rattling exchanges followed, Sampson
literally nobbing Hudson till he reeled staggering away; but he
returned to the attack like a bull-dog, and went on weaving away
till he was hit down. (Tumultuous applause for Sampson, and the two
to one offered on Hudson no longer heard. “I’ll bet six to four, and
have Sampson,” cried a Corinthian amateur.)

2.—Sampson again led off, and nobbed Josh. three times on the head.
Josh. returned, and caught Phil. heavily on the ribs and side of the
head. The men got into a ding-dong rally, right and left, in which
unshrinking courage was displayed on both sides. The round closed by
both being down side by side covered with claret.

Twenty-five rounds ensued, occupying forty minutes, all of which
were distinguished for tremendous fighting. Hudson received three or
four flooring hits. In one instance, in the struggle, he fell with
his knee on the private parts of Sampson, when the latter observed,
“Is that the way you mean to win it, Josh.?” “I couldn’t help it—it
was accident,” replied Hudson. “Well, I believe it was,” said
Sampson. This small trait of feeling during the rage of battle is a
fine proof of the generous courage of Englishmen. Such a good fight
has not often been witnessed. At length victory was declared in
favour of Hudson. It was a nice thing, and dearly bought, for Josh.
fainted on his second’s knee after he was proclaimed the conqueror.

Hudson, from the game and milling talents he had displayed, was next matched against Jack Martin, for 50 guineas a-side, which took place at Colnbrook, on Tuesday, December 14, 1819, when, in the second round, Hudson’s shoulder was dislocated, and of course he lost the battle. (See the Life of MARTIN in vol. i.)

In the course of the evening after the battle, Hudson, in company with a friend, called at the house of Abrams (Little Puss), near the Royalty Theatre, to take a glass of liquor. One Guyly, a big costermonger, took up some money which was upon the tap-room table, belonging to Hudson, and refused to return it. The courage of Josh. made him forget the crippled state of his shoulder for the instant, and he let fly so severely upon the nob of Guyly that the saucy costermonger quickly gave back the cash. Owing to this circumstance a report got into circulation that it was untrue that Hudson’s shoulder had ever been put out by Martin.

An off-hand match was made for Hudson against Rasher, a determined Welshman, a butcher belonging to Whitechapel Market. The latter boxer had the weight of Josh.; nevertheless, he fought Rasher ten guineas to eight. This contest took place at Plaistow, in Essex, on Tuesday, January 11, 1820. Hudson was seconded by Owen and his brother David; Rasher by Mendoza and Cy. Davis. It occupied twenty-nine minutes and a half, and fifteen rounds. After the first round, which was tremendously contested, Hudson had it all his own way. The science displayed by Josh. was much admired, and he made many clever feints with his left hand, to get the right well into play. Rasher was covered with claret, and his gameness astonished every one present, but he was too slow in his movements. He was floored in the last round; and on coming to himself wanted to renew the fight.

Hudson, still continuing to rise in the estimation of his friends, was backed against Benniworth, the Essex champion, the hero of the country for several miles round, for 50 guineas a-side. Benniworth was six feet in height, weighing thirteen stone twelve pounds; nevertheless, Hudson was the favourite. This contest took place on Tuesday, April 4, 1820, on a common near Billericay, in Essex. Hudson was seconded by Owen and Purcell; Benniworth was attended by his brother and another yokel.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—About a minute elapsed in sparring, Benniworth making
numerous awkward feints, and dancing about, sometimes standing with
his right leg first, then changing it for the left. He made three or
four hits, but they proved short. At length Benniworth made a slight
blow with his right hand on Hudson’s body. Josh. seeing what sort of
a customer he had before him, made play, and let fly right and left
in the middle of Benniworth’s nob, both of which told, and the
claret flowed copiously. Benniworth’s left eye was much damaged. He
rushed in to his opponent, when, in getting away, Hudson’s heel hung
in the grass, and Benniworth made a slight half round hit on the
neck with his left hand, flooring him. (Great rejoicings from the
yokels.)

2.—Hudson, with much dexterity, in a sort of half-arm rally, placed
three straight hits on Benniworth’s nob. Josh. also drew backwards,
and avoided all Benniworth’s half round blows. Hudson now made
himself well up, and planted a most tremendous right-handed blow on
the nose of his opponent that floored him like a shot. (Any odds,
but no takers, and the Johnny Raws all blue.)

Further description would be useless. Hudson had it thenceforth all
his own way. He laughed at Benniworth, and nobbed him at pleasure.
The Essex champion lost his temper, rushed in, and followed Hudson
all over the ring, with his head leaning forward and both his hands
open. Hudson kept retreating, and jobbing his adversary on the head
with his left hand. Benniworth was a complete receiver-general;
nevertheless, he succeeded in driving Hudson to the ropes; but here
he had the worst of it, a guinea to a shilling. Josh. nobbed him
terribly away; and in following him, floored him with a terrific
right-handed hit on his nose. Benniworth, when “time” was called,
was in such a state of stupor that he could not leave the knee of
his second, whereon Hudson was declared the conqueror.

Thus was the vaunted rustic champion disposed of in the short space
of seven minutes. As a scientific pugilist, Benniworth did not
appear to possess a single point: he had no idea of fighting. From
the moment he entered the ring Hudson kept laughing at him, and beat
him without a scratch upon his face. It certainly was a laughable,
but not an interesting contest; and it was matter of astonishment
how such a boxer could have obtained so terrific a character. Upon
the Essex champion coming to himself, he exclaimed, with great
surprise, “Be I licked?” “You are, indeed,” replied Josh., laughing;
“but you may have a round or two for fun, if you like it, Benny.”
“Noa, noa,” said the champion; “as I’ve lost the stakes, there be no
fun in that loike.” Benniworth, it seems, had made so sure of
conquest, that he invited his mother and sister to be near at hand.
The yokels had also booked it, and provided themselves with blue
ribbons to decorate their hats the instant victory was declared in
Benniworth’s favour.

Josh. was suddenly called into action with Spring at Moulsey Hurst, on Tuesday, June 27, 1820, for a purse of £20; and, notwithstanding the disparity of size, weight, and science between the combatants, Hudson showed himself a good man. (See the Memoir of SPRING, vol. ii.)

Hudson, during the time he was at Norwich, had a battle with Abraham Belasco in the long room at Gurney’s Bowling Green, July 19, 1820. In this contest, which might be termed for honour, Josh.’s shoulder went in and out three times.

Moulsey Hurst, on Tuesday, December 5, 1820, was again the favourite “bit of turf” for a genteel mill between a swell of the name of Williams and Josh. Hudson. Williams was unknown to the mass of sporting men; but those persons who knew him pretended to be acquainted with his prime fighting qualities, and chaffed all the old ring-goers out of conceit of their own judgment, and Williams was the favourite, six and five to four. This sort of “whisper” importance was also kept up at friendly Bob Lawrence’s, the Red Lion, at Hampton, where the fancy met to take a bit of a snack before they crossed the water, and make their “books” complete. Richmond, downy as a hammer, spoke in raptures of the swell’s superior science with the gloves. Bill Eales, who had stood before Williams many times, nay, who had given him instructions several years back, pronounced him “a downright slaughterer.” The Master of the Rolls was quite infatuated with this pink of the gloves. Martin had tried him again and again, and not having found Williams “wanting,” was this day £50 the worse for his opinion. Tom Shelton was also led away by the stream, and Spring was taken in upon the same suit. Oliver, too, was out of his know, and out of pocket in consequence. Cocker had nothing to do with the fight in question; indeed, who could make any calculation about an unknown man? Randall and Belcher, somehow or other, were persuaded into the good milling qualities of their hero; in short, there was a sort of fashion attached to the betting. The “Swell” was supported and brought forward by the swells. Judgment was shoved, as it were, into the background, or else a novice in the ring would never have been backed, at high odds, against a well-known high-couraged man, one who had often been put to the test, and admitted to be a boxer of talent. But then the shoulder of Hudson was ricketty; no dependence could be placed upon it. Things went on in this manner till about a few minutes before one o’clock, when Williams appeared and threw his hat into the ring, followed by Belcher and Randall as his seconds. The look of Williams was swellish in the extreme. He bowed in the most graceful manner, and there was a superior air about him. He paced the ring up and down for about eight minutes, when Josh., with his white topper, a fancy upper Benjamin, and a blue bird’s eye round his neck, came brushing along and threw his castor into the ring. He immediately went up to Williams and shook hands with him in the true open-hearted English style. To witness the manly act, this characteristic trait of Britons, is worth more in its influence upon society than the perusal of a thousand canting essays tending to fritter down the courage of Englishmen. Williams observed to Hudson, that he hoped there was no animosity between them. “Not in the least,” said he; “we are going to fight for a prize, and to see which is the best man.” Tom Owen and Ned Turner were the seconds for Josh. The latter tied his colours (yellow) to the stakes, and Randall covered them with the blue of Williams. Owen, who had never seen “the Swell” till he entered the ring with “his boy” Josh., observed to the latter, “Why, my chaff-cutter, if you don’t go and lick this Bond Street blade in a jiffy, the white topper shall never more be placed on your nob. My dear boy, the East against the West End for milling.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On stripping, Williams displayed a fine muscular frame, and
good legs; but his face was pale, and his countenance showed him to
be between forty and fifty years of age. Josh. was in high trim, and
seemed confident of winning. Some time elapsed after the combatants
had placed themselves in attitude before Williams let fly; but
Hudson got away. Counter hits followed, when Josh.’s right eye
showed blood, and the nose of the swell looked a little red.
Williams made a right-handed hit, which Hudson stopped prettily, and
then went to work. The exchanges were sharp and hard, but the
wisty-castors of Josh. were so tremendous that he spoilt the
gentility of the Swell, and positively milled him down. (Great
applause from the plebeians; and Tom Owen smilingly said to Josh.,
“I told you so, my boy: that’s the way to clear Regent Street in a
brace of shakes.” Seven to four.)

2.—Josh.’s eye was bleeding when he came up to the scratch. The
Swell looked rather puzzled; but he touched Hudson’s other peeper so
severely that his nob was chanceried for an instant. Hudson made a
plunge with his right hand upon his opponent’s face that produced
the claret, followed him up to the ropes, and punished him down.
(Three to one, and “It’s poundable,” was the cry. Here Owen told
Josh. he had “done the trick, and lots of Daffy were in store for
him.”)

3.—The confident appearance of Williams had left him; he had paid a
visit, as Tom said, to “Pepper Alley.” Williams showed game, but he
had no chance to win. He, however, made some sharp hits; but the
pepper-box was again administered, and Williams went down
distressed. (Ten to one.)

4.—This round was the quietus; the Swell was hit out of the ring. It
was Cayenne at every dose. Williams was completely done up, and his
seconds dragged him up all but gone.

5.—Williams was brought up to the scratch in a most distressed
state. He, however, showed fight, and with his right hand put in a
heavy body blow: it was his last effort. Josh. now went in right and
left, and punished the Swell so terribly that he staggered and fell
against the ropes; but, on recovering himself a little, Tom Owen
said to Josh., “Don’t give a chance away; a finisher only is
wanting.” The finisher was applied, and Williams was down all
abroad. The swells looked blue, and Josh. received thunders of
applause. (“Take him away!” was the general cry.) Josh. in this
round did not like to hit the Swell when he had got him at the
ropes, feeling like the British sailor, so finely described by
Dibdin—

“In me let the foe feel the paw of a lion;
But the battle once ended, the heart of a lamb!”

6.—Williams came to the scratch in a deplorable state, and Hudson
pushed him down _sans cérémonie_. When time was called he could not
leave his second’s knee.

REMARKS.—Thus, in the short space of nine minutes, Josh. defeated
this much-vaunted opponent. After remaining a short time in a state
of stupor, Williams came to his recollection, and asked if it was
over. The flash side were completely floored in consequence,
according to themselves, of their calculating upon Josh.’s shoulder
giving way. The Swell showed great steadiness in the first round,
which occupied upwards of three minutes; but afterwards had no
chance, and found out the great difference between sparring and
fighting. Instead of losing so much time in sparring in the first
round, as he was clearly a stale man, he ought to have gone to work.
He could hit hard, and most certainly did not want for knowledge of
the science. But he was too old to take; his mind might be firm
enough to endure punishment, but his frame could not stand it. At
all events, he should have commenced pugilism (if he wished to
obtain a high place in the prize ring) some seventeen or eighteen
years earlier. Drummers and boxers, to acquire excellence, must
begin young. There is a peculiar nimbleness of the wrist and pliancy
of the shoulder required, that is only obtained by early practice.
Youth and strength, however, are indispensable ingredients in a
pugilist. The backers of Williams, _i.e._, those amateurs who made
the match for him, had no right to complain of his conduct. There
was nothing of the cur about him; on the contrary, he fought like a
game man: he never said “No,” and he tried to win the battle till he
lost sight both of his opponent and friends.

Josh.’s combat with Ned Turner, when _Bacchi plenus_, and which ended in a defeat, will be found noticed in the life of that boxer, _ante_, vol. i.

A second match with his former antagonist, Phil. Sampson, was the next public appearance of Josh. This took place on Saturday, March 3, 1821, at Banstead Downs, Surrey. The torrents of rain did not deter hundreds from leaving the metropolis, and several aristocrats of the highest class were upon the ground.

At one o’clock the Birmingham Youth, followed by Spring and Randall, threw up his hat in the ring; and in a few minutes after, Hudson, attended by Oliver and Purcell, repeated the token of defiance. Spring and Oliver went up smiling together, and tied the colours of the combatants to the stakes.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On stripping, Hudson looked extremely well, but rather too
fat. Sampson was in excellent condition: both gay, confident, and
eager. They had tasted plentifully of each other’s quality in their
former fight, and much difference of opinion existed among the
spectators who had really won it. A short pause occurred, when
Hudson made an offer to hit, and Sampson drew back. Another pause.
Sampson endeavoured to put in right and left, which proved short, in
consequence of Josh.’s getting away. After looking at each other for
about a minute, Hudson went in; some sharp work took place, and in
the struggle, Sampson was undermost. (Loud shouting, and “Josh., you
have begun well.”)

2.—The nose of the Birmingham Youth appeared rosy. Both now began to
slash away, and the pepper-box was handed from one to the other,
till Josh, either went down from a hit, or slipped on his knees.
(“Go along, Sampson.”)

3.—Hudson missed a tremendous hit at Sampson’s head. The latter drew
the claret from Josh.’s mug by a facer; but Josh. rushed in and
exchanged hits to his own advantage, and sent his opponent down.
(The shouting was now like thunder—the old fanciers dancing
hornpipes, the East-enders all in spirits, and the Bermondsey boys
offering odds on their favourite, Hudson, six to four.)

4.—The Birmingham Youth took great liberties with the upper works of
his opponent. The round was terrific. Both went down, Sampson
undermost.

5.—“It’s a good fight,” was the cry all round the ring. Sampson was
more than busy, and the face of Hudson was clareted. The latter,
bull-dog like, did not care about receiving, so that he could go in
and punish his opponent. He did so most effectively in this round,
and Sampson was hit down. It is impossible to describe the joy of
Hudson’s friends. (Seven to four.)

6 to 9.—These were all busy rounds, and the partisans of each of the
combatants claimed the best.

10.—Sampson meant nothing but mischief, and at out-fighting placed
his hits, in most with tremendous effect. In this round he went down
from the force of his own blow.

11 and 12.—The Birmingham Youth always good for punishment in
commencing the round; but Josh. finishing them all to his own
advantage.

13.—Sampson in this round was, from the heavy blows he received,
almost at a stand-still, till both down.

14.—This was a terrible round on both sides. Hudson’s mug was
terrific. The men hit each other away staggering, then returned to
the charge game as pebbles, till Sampson scarcely knew how he went
down. (“Go along, my Joshy; it’s as safe as the Bank.”)

15.—Sampson was floored from a heavy blow under the listener. (The
Hudsonites were uproarious, and offering any odds.)

16.—Sampson came up like a true Briton, and, after several severe
exchanges, was again sent down.

17.—Hudson either could not, or did not attempt to, protect his
head, and Sampson hit him down. (“Bravo, Sampson! do so again, and
you can’t lose it,” from his friends; “you behave like a good one.”)

18.—If Josh. had not been an out-and-out bottom man, from the
repeated tremendous facers he received, he must have been beaten
before this period; but the more he received the more courage he
appeared to have, and after another desperate round, Sampson was
sent down.

19.—It was Pepper Alley on both sides, and neither appeared anxious
to stop. Josh., as usual, napt it in the first part of the round,
but finished it in prime style, and hit the Birmingham Youth down.
(Here some hissing occurred, as it was said by a few that Hudson
touched the head of his opponent improperly as he laid on the
ground; but it was evident that Hudson was moving out of the way to
avoid it. “He’s too high-couraged to behave unhandsomely to a brave
opponent,” was the general expression.)

20.—Sampson, after a few exchanges, was again hit down. (Two to
one.)

21.—It was evident that Sampson was getting weak; his knees began to
tremble, but his courage and anxiety to win were strong. He strained
every nerve to turn the fight in his favour, and, although he did
not succeed in this respect, he was still a dangerous customer. All
fighting till Sampson was down. (Three to one, and the Hudsonites
quite up in the stirrups.)

22.—Sampson took the lead. The face of Hudson was pinked all over,
and his head went back twice. Sampson’s mug was also painted. The
latter could not keep Hudson out; he would always be with his man
till he had the best of him. Sampson down.

23 to 25.—All milling; but, in the last round, Sampson was exhausted
and dropped.

26.—Sampson came up distressed, and was soon sent down. (“It’s all
u-p up,” says an over-the-water lad. The Hudsonites all in good
humour.)

27.—No chance remained to win; but Sampson would not allow his
seconds to say “No.” He came unsteadily to the scratch, but it was
only to be sent down. (“Take him away.”)

28.—Sampson, it is true, reached the scratch; and although Hudson
was in a bad state, from the punishment he had undergone, yet he
still remained fresh enough to finish the exhausted Sampson, who
went down without knowing where he was. The shouts of victory gave
Hudson new life; he jumped up, put on his own coat, and was
immediately taken to a carriage.

REMARKS.—All that a boxer could do towards victory Sampson
attempted; but he had not strength enough to dispose of Hudson, who
would not be denied. Sampson by no means disgraced his character in
defeat. He was led out of the ring in a very distressed state. The
fight was over in thirty-two minutes. Hudson received by far most
punishment about the head; and, although quite abroad once or twice,
his game was so out-and-out that he returned to fight with his
opponent at each repulse as though nothing could daunt him.

A slight skirmish took place between Josh. and Jack Ford, the pugilist, on Thursday evening, March 29, 1821, at the east end of the town, over a pot of heavy. Ford offered to fight David Hudson, when Josh. said it was cowardly to challenge “a blind one.” Ford immediately gave Josh. a snorter, which produced the claret. Josh. could not return the favour till he had put the pot and glass out of his hand, when the John Bull boxer caught hold of Ford, and put in such a shower on his nob that he roared out for help, and begged of the company to take Josh. away from him, if they did not wish to see him (Ford) murdered! Josh. offered to accommodate Ford any time in a public ring, if he liked it, but observed that he must take no more liberties in future with his head, or he should answer before “the beak” for such conduct.[44]

In June, 1821, Josh., by way of keeping the game alive, offered to fight Tom Oliver for £100 a-side; and in October of the same year sent the following to the editor of the _Weekly Dispatch_:—

“SIR,—

“‘The John Bull Fighter,’ as he is termed, without meaning any
offence, or a long preface on the subject, wishes to make it known
that he can be backed for £100 a-side against Martin, if it meets
with the approbation of the latter. Also, the same sum is ready to
enter the lists with Garrol, the Suffolk champion; but if Garrol
cannot get £100, I have no objection to accommodate him for £50. I
am to be found at all times ready to make a deposit to the above
effect.

“Yours, etc.,
“JOSHUA HUDSON.

“_October 10, 1821._”

The second fight which was to have taken place between Josh. Hudson and the Suffolk champion on Tuesday, the 11th of December, 1821, after Neat defeated Hickman, for £50 a-side, went off, in consequence of a demur about the stakes. An appeal was made to Mr. Jackson, who advised the money to be returned. The Suffolk champion threw up his hat in the ring, but Hudson did not think it necessary, under the circumstances, to answer it. Had the fight taken place, Tom Owen was on the ground to second his boy Josh. The forfeit of £20 was given to Hudson by consent of Garrol’s backers.

A match was made immediately after the above forfeit between Hudson and the Chatham Caulker for £100 a-side. Bowen, six feet two inches in height, as the reader has seen, had defeated Josh. a few years before, at Chatham, in seventeen minutes. David Hudson had likewise surrendered to his conquering arm. However, the gay boys—the East-enders, with ould Tom Owen at their head—said Josh. should have another shy for it, if he lost his stick. The odds were six and seven to four against him. “What of that?” said Tom Owen; “do you mind me, the bigger the Caulker is, the better mark my boy Josh. will have to hit at.” This battle was decided on Wimbledon Common on Tuesday, February, 5, 1822.

Soon after peep of day the fancy were in motion to reach Banstead Downs, the appointed spot for the mill; but the secret had slipped out, and the beaks had got hold of the scent; yet timely notice was given to the travellers, to prevent their proceeding farther than the Cock at Sutton. Some doubts also existed upon the subject on the preceding evening at the sporting houses in town, and several swells preferred starting for Croydon to be in readiness for the result. Sutton, however, was the rallying point; and after some little consideration, Smitham Bottom was the next place determined upon, to accomplish which, two roads presented themselves (and precious ones they were), when the company brushed off in all directions, and bad was the best. To describe the ludicrous incidents which occurred across the country for nearly seven miles a small volume would scarcely suffice. In many instances several of the horsemen, mounted on good cross-country bits of horseflesh, went the pace in steeple-chasing style; and, by way of increasing the effect, at one period sly Reynard appeared in view, followed by the Surrey hounds in full cry. A few of the ring-goers, who were upon horses (now reduced to hacks) which in better times were hunters, found their situations become ticklish, and one of the “Jemmy Green” fraternity, who was floored slap in the mud, observed, with a face as long as one’s arm, “That the stable-keeper had not used him well by putting him on a hunter, and not tellin’ of him.” The puffing and blowing of the poor toddler, to keep up with the carriages: gigs shivered to pieces, upset, or their springs broken; post-chaises fast up to the naves of the fore wheels in clay, altogether formed so serio-comic a sketch that the pen cannot do justice to it. Boreas, too, took unwarrantable liberties with the head covers of the company, and many a hero’s tile was not replaced on his upper story without a scampering of a quarter of a mile for it. Smitham Bottom was at length reached in a tremendous shower of rain, the turnpike was paid without murmuring, and all the preceding troubles were forgotten on the ring appearing in sight. But here another difficulty arose: the stakes had been scarcely put into the ground, when a “beak” unexpectedly appeared, attended by his clerk, and put a stop to the battle. This was a reverend gentleman, upon whom no remonstrances could prevail. A funny fellow immediately observed to the preacher, “That it would not hinder him from receiving one jot less of his tithes; but if he was determined to prevent the contest taking place, he might, in lieu thereof, be kind enough to give them a sarmon against the noble old English practice of boxing. This might have two advantages—make them disperse, if not, perhaps change their opinions upon the subject.” The only answer elicited was, “That he would follow them all over the county.” No time was to be lost, and the assemblage again hurried off in all directions to gain Wimbledon Common. The sudden influx of company which poured into Croydon, put all the good people of that place on the stare; the doors and windows of the houses were crowded to witness the movements of the discomfited fancy. The bipeds by this time were dead beat; in fact, they were off their legs. The horses, too, were almost baked to a stand-still; and the storm coming on thicker and faster, many preferred the comforts of a good inn and a prime dinner to a doubtful chase; indeed, numerous bets were laid that no fight would take place on that day. The champion, Tom Cribb, with several of his friends, being of this opinion, preferred toasting milling over a bottle of black strap to further adventures. But the out-and-outers, whom neither wind, weather, hail, rain, nor shine can get the best of, regardless of the pitiless pelting storm, braved its fury for many a long mile, without a dry thread upon their backs, till they again met Bill Gibbons, with the stakes, on Wimbledon Common. The ring was quickly made; but the spectators were select and few, some thousands being left behind. Neither had the beak pluck enough to encounter the storm or distance, the persevering ones having travelled nearly forty miles to witness the battle. At seventeen minutes to five o’clock, Hudson, attended by Tom Owen and Randall, threw his hat into the ring. The Caulker immediately followed him, attended by Sutton and Jackson, a butcher, from Chatham. The Caulker was decidedly the favourite, six and five to four. Hudson immediately went up to his opponent and shook hands heartily with him. The President of the Daffy Club (Mr. R. Soares) held “the ticker.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The person of the Caulker was unknown to the ring-goers.
True, his fame had gone before him, and he had been represented as
nothing else but an out-and-outer, a terror to all milling coves in
the neighbourhood of Chatham, and the best and strongest man in the
dock-yard. David Hudson proved a mere chick in his hands, and Josh.
had been licked against his will in seventeen minutes. The knowing
ones, who do not like to remain idle, and who always endeavour to
get a guinea upon a safe suit, were thus induced to lay the odds
upon the Caulker, and in many instances rather heavily. It was
farther said of him that he was a second Bill Neat, and that his
right, whenever it told, was a sort of quietus. On the appearance of
the Caulker in the ring, the general remarks were in his
favour—“That he was a good nobbed one, snake-headed, had the length
of his adversary, and looked a dangerous customer.” However, on
peeling and getting rid of the swell white upper tog (which,
by-the-bye, seemed to fit him like a purser’s shirt upon a
handspike), he appeared a thin, lanky man, yet with good arms. On
shaking hands with Hudson, he stood over the latter several inches.
The round frame and ruddy face of Josh. was in singular contrast
with the countenance of his opponent. It was observed on all hands
that the John Bull Fighter was too fat, when a wag remarked that the
contest being between roast beef and soup-maigre, John Bull was
perfectly in character. Very little sparring took place before the
Caulker endeavoured to put in his right hand, but Hudson got away
from its force with much dexterity. The Caulker endeavoured to
repeat this mode of attack, when Hudson again retreated with
success. Some hard fighting ensued, several hard blows were
exchanged, and the length of the Caulker was thought to give him the
superiority. Hudson planted a tremendous hit upon his opponent’s
ivories, that not only made them chatter, but produced a pinky
appearance upon his lips. The Caulker, however, was not behind hand
in returning the favour, and put in such a slap under Josh.’s right
ogle as started the claret, sent him off his balance, and dropped
him on one knee; he would have fallen, if he had not been caught
hold of by Tom Owen, when the round finished.[45] (The Chathamites
were up in the stirrups at the success of their hero, and loudly
offered to back him at six to four.)

2.—This triumph was of short duration, and Josh. convinced the
spectators that he was by far the better fighter, as well as the
harder hitter. John Bull was now in his glory; laughing at all
danger, he resolutely went in to his opponent. Some tremendous blows
were exchanged in favour of Hudson; indeed, it was all fighting. For
a rally, there was never a better boxer or a more determined one
than Josh. Hudson. He finished the round in fine style, and floored
his adversary by a terrific hit on his knowledge box, that gave the
Caulker quite a different view of the battle. (The East-enders were
now dancing with delight, and offering to sport their blunt like
waste paper. In the ecstasy of the moment, five to two and two to
one was current betting. The Chathamites looked blue. “My boy,” said
Tom Owen, “I always knew you were good at a short cut, but I did not
think you could play half so well at long bowls. Do you mind me,
Josh.; another such a tickler will send all the Chathamites to
Gravesend with pockets to let.” “I’m awake, my Tommy,” replied
Josh.)

3 and last.—John Bull came up to the scratch jolly, and eager to
commence offensive operations; while, on the contrary, the Caulker
came up slow and shaky; however, as a last resource, he endeavoured
furiously to attack Hudson, who got away laughing. The combatants
now got into a desperate rally, and Josh, received the most pepper,
till he put in a Gas-light Man’s shot in the middle of his
opponent’s mug that sent him staggering some yards; he appeared as
stupid as a man without a nob. Hudson lost no time, but, from the
length of his opponent, two blows fell short upon his shoulder, till
he finished the battle by another Gas-lighter under his opponent’s
ear, when the Caulker fell in a state of stupor, from which he did
not recover for some time after Josh. had regained his post-chaise.
When time was called, the battle had only occupied three minutes and
a half and a few seconds.

REMARKS.—This last hit was an electric shock to the backers of the
Caulker, many of whom were naval men. Not a few of the travellers,
too, were disgusted at so short a fight after such a long and weary
journey. “How we have been gammoned,” said those who had been
persuaded to lay the odds on Bowen; “this man a terror to all the
dock-yard men and milling ‘salts’ in the neighbourhood of Chatham?
If so, what a prize Josh. must be!” When Josh. met the Caulker the
first time he was a stripling of ten stone four pounds; he was now
over twelve stone, had learnt much, and by his in-fighting set at
nought the Caulker’s great length of arm. Large sums of money were
lost throughout Kent upon the Caulker. A bright moon and pleasant
air, after the day’s storm, rendered the ride home doubly pleasant
to the winners.

Josh., ever anxious to be doing, addressed the following to the editor of the _Weekly Dispatch_:—

“SIR,—

“I wish, through the medium of your paper, to inform Mr. Martin that
I am ready to fight him for one or two hundred pounds, either before
or after his fight with Randall. Should he accept this challenge, I
am ready, at any time he shall appoint, to meet him at Mr. Holt’s,
Golden Cross Chop House, Cross Street, Long Acre, to make a deposit;
should he refuse (having been once defeated by him), I must, to use
the language he so generously adopted when challenging Randall,
pronounce him ‘a cur.’ I also wish to inform the sporting world that
the challenge to Ned Turner, which appeared in your paper of last
Sunday week, as coming from me, I know nothing of; and be assured
the John Bull Fighter, as I am termed, possesses too much of a John
Bull heart to exult over a defeated pugilist; and Messrs. Old Tom
and Old Time having made great inroads upon the constitution of poor
Ned, it was farthest from my thoughts to give a challenge, which I
know his proud heart could not brook, nor his health admit him to
accept.

“I am, sir, your obedient servant,
“JOSHUA HUDSON.

“_Golden Cross Chop House, May 4, 1822._”

A month or two subsequently, Bill Abbot having dared Josh. to the field, he inserted the following as an answer to Abbot’s challenge:—

“SIR,—

“With reference to your letter of Sunday last, I shall be happy to
accommodate you for fifty a-side, and any day this week you will
find me or my money at the Cock and Cross, Red Cross Street, London
Docks, to make the match. If your friends will back you for £100, I
wish to say my money is ready, and in that case I will wait upon you
to make a deposit of £20, as far West as you may appoint. I went the
other evening to Mr. Belcher’s, and did hope to have found you, or
some friend, to have made the match; but was there informed by one
of your backers it was a mistake.

“I am, sir, yours obediently,
“JOSHUA HUDSON.

“_July 14, 1822._”

The John Bull Fighter was matched, at short notice, with a countryman of the name of Barlow, called the Nottingham Youth, for £50 a-side. This battle was decided on Tuesday, September 10, 1822. Great sums of money were pending, and the road from London to St. Alban’s was covered with vehicles of every description, their inmates anxious to behold the “new hero” make his _début_. Barlow, according to report, had beaten twelve of the best men in Yorkshire, and the knowing ones were persuaded into the delusion that he would swallow Josh. at a bolt, afterwards dispose of Shelton, and ultimately put out “the Gas.” So many wagons on the ground well filled with country gentlemen (particularly from Yorkshire) had not been witnessed for a long time. A few minutes before one, Josh. threw his white topper into the ring with more than usual animation, as much as to say, “I mean to win, and nothing else!” He was followed by that “special original,” Tom Owen, and Randall, also in white hats. Hudson was loudly cheered by the spectators. The backer of Josh. accompanied him within the ropes, wearing the same emblem. Barlow was not forgotten by the crowd on making his appearance arm-in-arm with Belcher and Harmer. Hudson went up and shook hands with him. Josh. peeled instantly, and got ready; but the countryman was so long in preparing, George Head lacing his shoes carefully, and a number of officiating attendants crowding about him, that Tom Owen sung out, “What are you arter, Mr. Bel-s-h-a-r; you are keeping us waiting? Your man don’t seem to like it much. D’ye mind me?” Hudson also observed, “Come, what are we waiting for; I’m ready—let’s go to work.” Five to four on Barlow.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On peeling, the frame of the Nottingham hero did not appear
calculated to punish, and most of the pugilists present made up
their minds Hudson must win. It is true, the John Bull Fighter was
rather too fleshy; nevertheless, he was in fine condition, and,
united with his laughing, open, and confident countenance, setting
defeat at defiance, made a considerable impression in his favour
with the surrounding multitude. On setting-to, Josh. stood firm as a
rock, with his left arm extended, nearly touching the fists of
Barlow, for half a minute; on the contrary, the knees of the
countryman shook (by-the-bye, he was a bad-legged one); he appeared
puzzled, and at a loss how to commence the attack. Josh., finding
his opponent in no hurry to begin, let fly, and counter-hits took
place. The ivory box of John Bull received a small taste; but the
nose of Barlow napped a rap which produced the claret. Josh.,
laughing, said to the umpires, “First blood.” This decided numerous
wagers. (The East-enders began to chevy it was all right, and the
“special original” offered ten to one on Hudson, when Belcher
replied, “I’ll take it.” “Stop till the round is over,” said Owen,
“and it will be twenty to one.”) Hudson put down his hands and
rubbed them on his drawers, but the countryman did not take
advantage of this opening. Josh. saw that he had got him, stepped
in, in the Randall and Curtis style, and, without ceremony, planted
a tremendous hit under the listener of Barlow that sent him down
like a shot. The countryman seemed all abroad. The shouting by the
boys from the Tower was uproarious in the extreme, and five to one
was offered all round the ring. Anything like description must fall
short in portraying the emotions of the various countenances. The
chaff-cutting countrymen, who had been so jolly before, were all
struck of a heap; the few knowing ones, too—who knew everything
about the feats of Barlow, and had been let into the secret, “as how
the Nottingham boy had beaten twelve men in the country, had knocked
Tom Belcher about in a private set-to, and had got the best of Gully
in a bout with the gloves”—began to drop down a little, and to look
blue; while the sages of the East offered “little all” that John
Bull would again prove victorious. “Do you mind me, Josh.,” said Tom
Owen, “it’s as right as the day; you have only to go in and lick him
off-hand.” “Yes,” replied Josh., laughing, “I’ve got him safe enough
now; I liked him when I first saw him.”

2.—The countryman was reduced to a mere dummy: he was quite puzzled,
and came up to the scratch to be floored by Josh. in a twinkling.
(Ten to one offered, but no takers. Hudson as strong as a horse.)

3.—Similar to the last: Barlow again measured his length on the
turf.

4.—Barlow, although without a chance to win, showed himself a game
man, and came to the mark for another shy; but it was only to be hit
down. (Here the president of the Daffy Club interfered, and
requested he might be taken away. The long faces of “I’s Yarkshire”
beggared all description.)

5 and last.—Barlow came again to fight, but soon found himself in
Pepper Alley. Belcher satisfied that he could not win, put up his
arm to stop further punishment, and he fell down. Josh. jumped out
of the ring as conqueror, only six minutes and a half having
elapsed.

REMARKS.—The friends of Barlow showed great want of judgment in
selecting such a well-known, often-tried, high-couraged man as Josh.
Hudson for his trial opponent in the London prize ring. It was a
hundred pounds to a farthing against Barlow after the first round;
indeed, it was next to an impossibility that he should recover from
the stupefying effects of so tremendous a hit. That he was a game
man there is no doubt: his conduct in the ring decided that fact.
This battle afforded no opportunity of judging accurately upon the
subject of Barlow’s real capabilities. Hudson had not a single mark,
and said it was one of the easiest things he had ever had in his
life. On recovering from his surprise, in the post-chaise, Barlow
wished his friends to let him renew the combat on the ground.

Josh., anxious not to let his faculties lie idle, addressed the subjoined letter to the editor of the _Weekly Dispatch_:—

“SIR,—

“You will oblige me by inserting the following challenges in your
valuable paper. I understand that the friends of the Suffolk
champion have been at the other end of the town to make a match
against me; in answer to which I have only to say my friends are
ready to meet them any day next week, where they think proper, to
make a deposit, for 100 guineas a-side, to fight once within two
months. I am also informed that Mr. Abraham Belasco wishes to have
another trial with me. If any gentleman will make the match for
Belasco, my friends will meet them at Randall’s any day next week
they shall choose to appoint. I have only to add that, if either of
them wish to do as they say, they must enter the ring before
Christmas, as I mean to be like the rest of the pugilists, and
declare off. Answers from the Suffolk champion and Belasco will
oblige me, that I may know where to meet them on the subject, if
they mean to come to the scratch.

“I remain, sir, your humble servant,
“JOSH. HUDSON.

“_Cock and Cross, Redcross Street, October 4, 1822._”

Tom Shelton, after some delay, was matched with Hudson for £100 a-side, the mill to take place on Tuesday, November 19, 1822; but, owing to some reports having got into circulation that it was to be a cross on the part of Shelton, Mr. Jackson refused the use of the P. C. ropes. The friends of Shelton, nevertheless, were so satisfied with his integrity that they immediately made the following match:—

“_Golden Cross, Cross Lane, Long Acre._