Chapter VIII (2)

17–21.—(“Pray take him away,” said Tom Oliver to his backer; “he is
one of the gamest fellows I ever saw, but he cannot win; you will
get yourself into trouble—nay, all of us. It is a shame to let such
a brave fellow fight any longer.” “Well done, Tommy,” replied a
Manchester covey; “he is not half licked yet; Davis will soon begin;
he can’t lose it. Sam has not strength to lick a baby.”) The head of
Davis, by the repeated jobbers he had received, was quite out of
shape; both his peepers were damaged, his cheeks puffed up, and his
nose cut and bleeding. But his backers relied upon his gameness, and
several of them calculated upon his winning. The last round was well
fought, and rather in favour of Davis, who went in to fight. Sam was
down.

22, 23, 24.—Nose and mouth. Although it might be termed quite safe
to Sam, and three to one offered upon him, yet the son of the
Phenomenon treated Davis as a dangerous rival, and kept out of
mischief. He jobbed Davis at his leisure, reducing his strength
every round. (“Take him away!” from all parts of the ring.)

25–27.—Davis would not listen to anything like “giving in,” and
although his nose was hit two or three times in every round, he
fought in the most manly style. He was down in every round. (“Take
him away!”)

28.—The gameness of Davis never deserted him and it did appear to
the spectators that he would sooner part with his life than lose the
battle. (Ten pounds to a crown—any odds—but no takers.) Davis sent
down.

29, 30, and last.—Davis again appeared at the scratch and showed
fight. Sam now did as he liked with his brave opponent, punishing
him in all directions, until he hit him down in the corner of the
ring. His backers said Davis should not fight any more. In fact,
Davis could not have appeared again at the scratch. The fight
occupied _three hours and thirty-five minutes_.

REMARKS.—Against a fine fighter like Dutch Sam something more than
gameness is required. Davis may defeat a mob of yokels, but it is
quite a different thing to tackle London prize-fighters. Davis is a
good man, a scientific hard hitter, and stands up like a
chopping-block; but the above requisites, although essential to a
boxer, will not ensure victory unless he can fight more than a
little. He must learn to give as well as to take; a receiver-general
is but a foolish character. Davis was severely punished about the
head. Had he gone in according to the direction of Sampson a
different account might have been given of the fight; yet it is but
common justice to say of Davis that he exerted himself all in his
power to win the battle. Sam, notwithstanding it took him upwards of
three hours to defeat his opponent, won the fight like a first-rate
tactician. If the left hand of Sam had not been injured he would
probably have won the battle in half the time. He left the ring
quite fresh, and could have fought another hour without difficulty.

The backers of Sam, without hesitation, now pitted him against the “all-conquering Bishop Sharpe” for £100 a-side. This match excited an unusual degree of interest. Sharpe had the majority in his favour, particularly the old ring-goers; nevertheless, Young Sam stood well with the Corinthians and the lovers of fine fighting. The following remarks as to the different capabilities of the combatants were published a few days previous to the day appointed for the battle to take place: “First on the list stands Bishop Sharpe, the Bold Smuggler, who has proved himself successful in upwards of twenty battles, both in and out of the Prize Ring. The Smuggler never picked his customers, but took them as they came, and always got through the piece with victory. As a fighter, Bishop Sharpe is not generally admired; but as a hitter he is tremendous, and one blow well planted has often rendered it ‘no go’ to his opponents. The Sage of the East pronounces him to be ‘prodigious;’ and the John Bull Fighter asserts, ‘He hits them as I like, and so hard as his opponents do not like!’ But Sharpe will be opposed by a ‘leary’ fighter in Sam, cautious in a high degree, and who has a very great aversion to be hit at all. This renders Sam a very difficult cove to be ‘got at.’ He is also a very dangerous adversary for those customers who like to ‘go in,’ as he nobs and gets away, frequently without any return; his blows are considered light, and of the sparring school; but the Manchester Pet tells another tale. We are inclined to think—nay, almost certain—that Young Sam cannot punish anything like his late papa, nor hit as hard; but he has a knack of hitting a man twice in a place which nearly amounts to the same thing. Sam is confidence personified, and the Bishop thinks victory is as safe to him as if the battle were at an end. Sharpe is at present the favourite, five to four.”

Tuesday, October 23rd, 1827, was the day set apart for the battle to take place, and great anxiety was manifested upon the event. Many of the Londoners started overnight for the scene of action; and in consequence the Bonifaces on the road to No Man’s Land came in for a turn, more especially at St. Albans, the “Blue Boar” being the grand rallying point.

Before peep of day on Tuesday morning, the North London road was covered with vehicles of every description, filled with the lads of the Fancy, picturing to themselves a prime day’s play between Sam and the Bishop, and the complete fill up of the scene by Barney Aaron and Redmond. The “Crown,” at Holloway, kept by Joe Emms, was attractive; Young on Highgate Hill was not forgotten; Pepper, at the “King’s Arms” at Barnet, came in for a good slice, and “Little Tim’s Crib,” near to the twelfth milestone, was overflowing with company.

Sharpe, on the Monday evening, made his quarters at St. Albans, and Sam took up his residence for the night at “Little Tim’s.”

As the day wore on, it was ascertained that a screw was loose, and five to one offered that no fight would take place. Such was the state of things for two or three hours at St. Albans; at length it was announced that Sam was upon the road, and he shortly afterwards made his appearance in a post-chaise.

Time was on the wing; and Sharpe and his seconds, Peter Crawley and Ward, made the best of their way to No Man’s Land, where the ring had been previously made by Joe Fishwick. At one o’clock Bishop Sharpe threw his hat into the ring, according to custom, in order to claim the stakes should Sam not make his appearance, but Sam, attended by Curtis and Harry Holt, showed himself within the ropes. All was happiness amongst the crowd for a few minutes, and nothing but a scientific battle expected to take place; but the mishap was soon developed; Sam took off his fogle, but the remainder of his toggery remained untouched. The traps now appeared, and said they had a warrant against Sam; but on no occasion whatever did officers ever conduct themselves more gently, or act “according to their instructions” to behave in a gentlemanly manner to the offender against the law, than these did. This compliment is most certainly due to them. The warrant was demanded, and was soon brought to light. It purported to be from Marylebone Office, signed by Mr. Rawlinson, directing all constables, &c., “to apprehend Samuel Evans and bring him before the said magistrate of the county of Middlesex, on suspicion of his being about to commit a breach of the peace with one Bishop Sharpe.” During the conference with the traps, the Bishop addressed himself to several gentlemen in the ring, observing, “It is too bad—it is rascally conduct to rob me of the battle-money,” and taking off his clothes, went up to his opponent, and said to him, “Sam, do you mean to fight? I am ready for you.” Sam replied, “What am I to do?—I can’t fight in the face of the officers.” His seconds, Holt and Curtis, declared they would not give a chance away by seconding Sam in defiance of the law. The traps, to prevent any further misunderstanding on the subject, and to make “their visit pleasant,” in the most gentle manner gave Sam a hint that his services in the ring would be dispensed with, so, like “a good boy,” he retired from within the ropes without giving them any further trouble. Bishop Sharpe put on his clothes; but before he left the ring he said he had no doubt the lovers of fair play would not let him be deprived of the stakes, and thus the affair ended.

On Thursday, October 25th, 1827, the Pet of the Fancy took his benefit at the Tennis Court; and, considering the unfavourable state of the weather, it was a good one. Several bouts proved attractive; but the great feature of the day was the set-to between Harry Holt and Young Dutch Sam. This gave the amateurs an opportunity of judging of Sam’s condition; and, in the general opinion of the audience, he appeared nothing wanting; on the contrary, he was considered up to the mark. Young Sam was pitted against one of the best sparrers on the list, and one who has had great experience, not only in fighting with Jack Randall, but continually setting-to with the Nonpareil in his best days. Holt has been opposed to all the first-rate men on the list, and always proved himself a distinguished scientific artist. The attack and defence were a masterpiece on both sides. Harry was perfectly aware that he had a troublesome customer before him, and Sam had not to learn that the eyes of all the Court were on him. We do not know a better opponent than Holt for Sam to produce a trial scene for the Fancy in order that they may draw their own conclusions. Harry was capital, and Sam proved himself excellent. The “best of it” was of a doubtful nature, and a feather in the scales of candour and justice might have been the award on either side; but it should be recollected that Sam was in condition, and Harry quite out of it. This, however, was not the point in view; but the most remarkable and valuable feature in the above set-to was this—Sam, it was seen, could change his mode of fighting as circumstances presented themselves—no hopping about, no standing still, but stopping and hitting his opponent with the utmost ease, rallying like the most determined boxer, and getting out of trouble with ease, style, and decision. Indeed, such was the display of Sam and Harry Holt that the greatest admirers of Bishop Sharpe on witnessing the set-to, must have pronounced the “Young One” a formidable and dangerous customer to the Bold Smuggler. Tumultuous applause crowned their exertions and exits from the stage. It was pronounced by the whole of the visitors one of the best sets-to ever witnessed at the Tennis Court.

Several persons of rank who were present wished that Sam would give some explanation on the subject of his not fighting with Sharpe. He replied “that he had no explanation to give; he had been used very ill, and it was not his fault!”

DECISION OF THE STAKEHOLDER.—The “Castle Tavern” was overflowing on Wednesday, October 24th, 1827; Bishop Sharpe and his backers were present. The stakes of £200 were demanded by the Bishop, on the score that he was in the ring, and ready to fight, according to the articles of agreement. He said that Sam had declined to fight through the collusion of parties, under the idea they would lose their blunt if he fought, and not on account of any fair magisterial interruption. One of the backers of the “Young One” resisted the stakes being given up until the whole of Sam’s backers were present, as they had nothing to do with the matter in dispute. The stakeholder, Tom Belcher, considered, in point of right and fairness, the Bishop was entitled to the battle-money, and accordingly gave Sharpe one hundred pounds, holding the other hundred as an indemnity against any legal proceedings which might be instituted against the stakeholder.

Sam, full of pluck, and anxious to obtain a job, offered to fight Peace Inglis, but no match was made.

In April, 1827, Dan M’Kenzie was matched against Young Sam for £50 a-side, but the backers of M’Kenzie ultimately preferred a forfeiture to running the risk of a battle.

In a set-to with “the Young Gas” at the Tennis Court, Sam distinguished himself, proving a most troublesome customer. Jonathan had “all his work to do” to prevent his being placed in the background by the superior tactics of Young Sam.

The set-to between Young Sam and Harry Holt had given so much satisfaction to the amateurs that a second bout was called for by the admirers of the art of self-defence. At the benefit of Jem Burn at the Tennis Court on Tuesday, December 11th, 1827, the above pugilists again met. Sam, as a rising performer, appeared anxious to obtain the superiority, and Holt was equally on the alert to prevent losing his laurels obtained as an accomplished sparrer. The latter defended himself with considerable skill; but the length and activity of Sam ultimately gave him the advantage. Upon quitting the stage they received thunders of applause from a delighted audience.

The following statement, addressed to the sporting world, appeared in the newspapers in vindication of Young Sam’s character:—

“November 1st, 1827.

“GENTLEMEN,—I have been much surprised to perceive that almost all
the blame of the disappointment experienced by the fancy owing to
the fight not taking place between Bishop Sharpe and myself has been
laid upon my shoulders, and yet I have been unquestionably the
greatest sufferer; for I am confident that had no interruption taken
place the battle-money would be now in my possession. An inference
is drawn to my prejudice that as the warrant from the Mary-la-bonne
Office was granted on the information of my mother, I had employed
her to give such information, or, at least, that she acted with my
knowledge and consent; but I declare most solemnly that this was not
the case. I had no previous knowledge whatever that any one intended
to adopt such a course, nor did I know that such a warrant was
issued, till informed of it on the morning of fighting. Whether or
not this warrant was obtained at the instance of persons who had
taken a strange alarm and were afraid to risk their money on me, I
shall not pretend to say; but of this the Fancy may be assured, that
I meant _to do my best to win_, and felt fully confident of success.
With respect to the assertion that the officers had no authority to
take me, as their warrant was issued from Middlesex, and was not
backed by a Hertfordshire magistrate, I can safely plead that they
told me they certainly had full powers to act, and I did not feel
sufficiently acquainted with legal niceties to resist their
authority. I could not venture to fight in defiance of a couple of
experienced officers, who I reasonably concluded must be much better
judges of the extent of their powers than I could be. As to the
alleged error of a _misnomer_ in the warrant, _my real name is
Samuel Evans_, so that the document was correctly drawn in that
respect at least. The whole affair has ended most unfortunately for
me; I am bound over to ‘keep the peace towards all his Majesty’s
liege subjects for twelve months,’ and am thus prevented from
exercising my profession in the Ring during that period—a
consequence of most serious import to a young man who, vanity apart,
was rising into notice, and had been hitherto invariably successful.
Of course, it is useless for me to talk of making any match at
present; but, when the above period has expired, I shall be prepared
to fight any man in England, of my weight, for from £100 to £500.
And now a word or two to Bishop Sharpe: If he has one spark of
English feeling belonging to him, he will not fail to give me the
preference as soon as I am free from the fetters of the law and able
to meet him. I have a prior claim upon his notice, and shall never
rest satisfied till I have a fair opportunity of proving which is
the best man. Good luck, and the unfair precipitation of the
stakeholder, have placed the battle-money for our late match in the
Bishop’s possession (to which, under all the circumstances, he was
not entitled); let him add to the windfall as much more as he
pleases up to £500, and, at the end of one year from the date of
this letter, I will fight him for the whole.

“Yours, &c.,
SAMUEL EVANS
“(Commonly called Young Dutch Sam).”

During the twelve months of enforced exclusion from the ring as a principal, Sam figured in a turn-up in February, 1828, with a big carman who insulted his friend, Dick Curtis, near London Bridge, polishing off the wagon-driving Hercules in five rounds. The affair will be found in the memoir of Dick Curtis, _post_.

In the autumn of 1828, in consequence of some personal unpleasantness, the veteran Jack Martin (the once-renowned conqueror of Scroggins, Josh Hudson, Phil. Sampson, and Ned Turner) challenged Young Sam to the battle-field, and a match was made for £100 a-side. For some months this affair was the talk of sporting circles; Sam’s conduct being the subject of much censure. At length, all preliminaries being arranged, the men met on the 4th of November, 1828, at Knowle Hill, Berks, thirty-four miles from London, a spot celebrated from its having been the scene of similar exhibitions on a former occasion—we allude to the fights between George Cooper and Baldwin, Young Dutch Sam and Ned Stockman, and Goodman and Reidie, all of which were decided on the same excellent arena without interruption. In fact, a more suitable spot could not have been selected; first, from its being at a distance from any populous neighbourhood; and next, from one side of the grounds being bounded by a gradual elevation, from which the spectators could look down upon the sports as from a sort of amphitheatre. The distance from London, too, four-and-thirty miles, brought the journey within the scope of a day, and enabled the amateurs to go and return without any serious sacrifice of time or labour.

Both men had been attentive to their training; Martin at Milford, in Surrey, and Sam first at Hartley Row, and then at the “New Inn,” Staines. In the early part of his training, Martin, from having but just recovered from a severe fit of illness, as well as from the deep wound which his feelings had sustained, was in anything but promising condition. At last he came out with every appearance of renovated health. At his benefit, on the previous Tuesday, he seemed to have reached his pristine vigour, and, as he said himself, was quite as well as an “old ’un” could expect to be. Of the result of the battle he always spoke with perfect confidence, and led his friends to believe that victory was certain. So persuaded was he himself of this issue that he advised all whom he knew to back him without hesitation, and actually gave them money to lay out on his account. In the end this confidence proved to be misplaced, and the milling maxim that “old stale ones are of no use to young fresh ones,” was fully exemplified; Martin, who had been for some years a licensed victualler, being in his thirty-third year, while Sam’s summers numbered but twenty-one. It was stipulated in the articles that Martin should not weigh more than 11st. 7lbs. on the morning of fighting—a superfluous condition, seeing that his weight, in his prime, was under 11st., and his recent illness had reduced him some pounds. Sam stated his weight at 10st. 12lbs.; to us he looked more than half a stone heavier. The toss for choice of place was won by Sam, and he very naturally named the scene of his former good fortune. On Monday afternoon Martin reached the “Castle Inn,” on the further side of Maidenhead; and Sam, accompanied by Dick Curtis and other friends, shifted his quarters from Old Shirley’s at Staines, to the same neighbourhood. It was soon ascertained that the magistracy would not interfere, and the anticipation of the approaching contest was thus unalloyed by those fears which were but too common even in those days in meetings of a like character.

The road from London during Monday afternoon was crowded by drags of every description. A great number pushed on to Maidenhead, while others pulled up at Cranford Bridge, Colnbrook, or Slough.

The dawn of day produced a new cavalcade from all quarters. Carriages, post-chaises, and gigs kept pouring through the town all the morning in an almost uninterrupted line, reminding men of the days when Crawley Downs was the favourite resort of the Fancy. Many persons of distinction were among the motley assemblage, whose patronage, under the encouragement afforded by the Fair Play Club, was hourly increasing. The weather was as propitious as the most fastidious could desire; the sun shone with brilliancy, and every countenance seemed gladdened by the cheering prospect of a good day’s sport.

The Commissary was early on the ground, and formed the ring with his usual judgment. The whole was surrounded by wagons and other vehicles, which were drawn up three and four deep, and the most perfect regularity was preserved. As the hour of combat approached the throng came rattling in from every point of the compass, and the “yellowman” of Sam and the “blue bird’s-eye fogle” of Martin were everywhere sported. Tom Cribb and most of the old members of the P.R. were present, and we were glad to recognise in the circle many of those old Fancy mugs whose countenance in former days lent life to the scene.

At half-past twelve there were not less than ten thousand persons assembled. At this time the F.P.C. whips were put into the hands of twelve of the “Order of Regulators,” and the ring was immediately cleared of interlopers, all of whom, with a few exceptions, retired behind an outer ring of ropes, in which situation they remained throughout the contest.

At a quarter before one o’clock it was announced that both men were on the ground, and in a few minutes afterwards Sam entered the ring, attended by Dick Curtis and Jem Ward. He looked serious, and was a little pale, but still appeared well and confident.

In a few minutes afterwards Martin entered from the opposite side of the circle, attended by Tom Spring and Peter Crawley. He was received with loud cheers, and appeared in high spirits. He came forward with a smile on his countenance, as if, to use the words of an old toast, “the present moment was the most happy of his life.”

Martin paid but little attention to his antagonist, while Sam eyed him with a searching look, and, turning towards his friends, said, “It will be seen to-day whether fear forms any part of my composition.” On peeling, Martin showed a fine muscular pair of understandings, and had some good points upwards; but it was obvious that his frame was not in its prime. His breast showed marks of recent blisters as well as the bites of leeches, and the flesh about his collar-bone and ribs wanted that fulness and freshness which betoken good health. Sam was “all over right,” and was evidently in slap-up condition. Though not so well pinned as Martin, his upper works were symmetry itself, and the fine muscle of his shoulders and arms was visible at every move. At length, both men being ready, the toss for choice of position took place, and was won by Curtis. The men then went to the scratch, and shook hands slightly, and immediately threw themselves into position. Breathless silence prevailed, and the seconds retired to their corners. At this time the betting was twenty-five to twenty on Martin.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The men set to across the sun, with their sides to it, and
each got close to the side of the ring. Sam had the higher ground,
and made one or two dips or half plunges with his left, as if going
to let fly; but Martin was steady, and held his arms well up to
guard his nob. In this way they stood opposite each other for some
seconds, when Sam again made a feint with his left. Martin
immediately broke away, and veering round, got the upper ground, so
that they, in fact, changed positions. Three minutes had now
elapsed, when Sam hit out slightly with his right, but was stopped.
He tried it again, and popped in his left and right with great force
on Martin’s right eye and left cheek. Martin then rushed in to a
rally, but was cleverly met by Sam with his left, and both hit away,
Sam well in, and quick with his right and left. Martin slipped on
his knees from the moist state of the ground, or from a hit in the
neck, but was up in a moment. Sam, ready at all points, instantly
plunged in to a close in the corner of the ring, and a desperate
struggle ensued, each trying for the advantage, Sam hitting right
and left at the body and head, while Martin grasped him round the
neck. Sam cleverly disentangled his left hand, and delivered a
slashing hit on his right eye; he then hit him with the right, and
both still continued to struggle with all their force, Martin
receiving some severe hits, but making no return; at last Sam threw
out his leg, and catching Martin on his thigh, flung him over, and
fell heavily on him. The ring was in an uproar, and all Martin’s
friends in dismay. It was a fearful but decisive struggle in favour
of Sam, for on Martin rising to his second’s knee his right eye was
closed and dreadfully swollen, while his face exhibited other marks
of Sam’s handiwork. Sam himself had not a mark. “It’s all over,” was
the general cry—“Sam must win;” and, indeed, it was evident that
Martin was quite abroad, as well as obviously distressed. The round
lasted five minutes, and six and seven to four were freely offered
on Sam, but no takers, for all were too much astonished to think of
hedging.

2.—Both men came to the scratch with deliberation, and each seemed
desirous of recruiting his wind, which was in full play from the
violence of the previous struggle. Sam again poised himself on his
left leg, keeping his head well up, and his fists ready for
delivery. At length Martin, as if he considered something desperate
was necessary, hit out with his right, but the blow fell short; he
then rushed in, but was met cleverly by Sam with his left. Martin,
quite wild, bored him to the ropes, but Sam, cool and steady, broke
away and jobbed him with his right. Martin, rather abroad, now tried
at the body, and rushed in with his head down—Sam again met him with
his right, and closed, when he caught poor Jack’s nob under his
right arm, and hit up with his left ultimately flooring him, and
falling on his head. Three to one on Sam, and no takers.

3.—Sam cautious, and in no hurry to begin. Martin stood with his
back close to the ropes, and many thought Sam ought to have gone in
to finish. He seemed to think, however, he had the game in his own
hands, and was evidently collecting his wind. At last he put in a
fearful job with his right on Martin’s left eye, and again with his
left on the nose, drawing claret in abundance. Martin broke away and
took up fresh ground (Approbation). Both got to the corner of the
ring, and again waited for Captain Wind-’em. Martin hit out with his
left, but was neatly stopped, and Sam smiled; Martin then tried his
right, but was short, and this was followed by another desperate
rally, in which Sam’s deliveries, right and left, were precise and
severe. His hitting was admirable, and style of attack beautiful.
Quick as lightning Martin had it in the chops, without being able to
make a successful return, and again in the throat. At last Martin
closed for the fall, running in with his head down, and succeeded in
getting Sam down, and falling upon him. (Ten minutes had now
expired, and it was pretty evident the first round had taken the
fight out of Martin).

4.—Martin all abroad; but still kept his hands well up. At length he
rushed in with his head down, and attempted to deliver a body hit,
which fell on Sam’s breast. Sam stepped back and met him as he came
in, and then closing hit up with great force, and delivered a
tremendous body blow with his right. In the struggle for the fall
both went down, Martin under.

5.—Spring now called for a lancet, if possible, to let the blood
from Martin’s right eye, but could not obtain one; he endeavoured to
scarify the skin with a penknife, but without effect, and poor Jack
was again brought to the scratch, when Sam lost little time in
jobbing left and right on the sore spots. This dose he repeated and
broke away. Martin rushed in wild, hitting right and left, but short
and without effect. Sam again closed, fibbed, and threw him.
(Fourteen minutes had elapsed.)

6.—Martin came up quite abroad, when Sam, after a feint, threw in a
tremendous smack with his right on the left jaw, and dropped him,
thus winning the first knock-down blow as well as the first blood.

7th, and last.—It was now Bushey Park to a lark sod. On Martin being
brought to the scratch Sam jobbed him right and left on the head and
ear, and repeated this discipline till his man went down completely
abroad and woefully punished. He tried to make a rally, but it was
all in vain, and on being lifted up by Spring, he said it was no
use, he was too stale, and had not a chance. Spring tried to
persuade him to get up for a few more rounds, but he would not “have
it,” and on his rising on his legs Spring gave in for him. He then
walked a few paces, and Spring gave him his knee when he complained
of his being sick at stomach. Sam was declared the victor in sixteen
minutes.

REMARKS.—In the history of Martin’s pugilistic feats—with the
exception, perhaps, of his quick despatch by Jack Randall in his
second fight, upon which so much was said at the time—we never
witnessed greater disappointment or astonishment than was manifested
on the present occasion. Hundreds of individuals, many of the
highest respectability, who had long since abandoned the sports of
the Ring, were induced to come from distant parts of the country in
full confidence that they would be gratified by seeing something
worth looking at, but what was their surprise to find that their
anticipations were groundless, and that the man on whose talent and
game they had relied proved to be below mediocrity, indeed, we have
never seen even the most unpretending commoner so easily and so
quickly disposed of. After the first round, in fact, he had not the
ghost of a chance. It is said that he was taken by surprise by the
quick assault of Sam, who from being a cautious out-fighter suddenly
changed his style and became the assailant. This may have been the
case; and we know that Sam, under the advice of Dick Curtis, adopted
this mode as the most likely to puzzle a man of Martin’s bustling
manner. Sam’s first feints were evidently dictated by a desire to
try what Martin meant, and whether he would stand to be jobbed if an
opening offered. The experiment told. Curtis saw the advantage, and
exclaiming to Sam, “Go it!” the latter at once made play. This
quickness immediately drew Martin to a rally, in which he clearly
lost his presence of mind, and left himself open to the severe
punishment, which he received without making anything like a return.
Feeling the sting of Sam’s hits he had recourse rather to hugging
and endeavouring to get his man down than to the more prudent course
of dropping or breaking away. This effort in his state of
constitution was decidedly the worst he could have made, as it could
only lead to exhaustion on his part much more easily than with his
more vigorous and youthful assailant. It also gave Sam an
opportunity of hanging upon him, and fibbing him in a way which, of
all things ought to have been evaded. Sam was alive to all his
advantages and availed himself of them in the most decisive manner,
and in so short a time we have seldom witnessed more decided
execution. If anything were wanting to prove the “patched up” state
of Martin’s frame, it was the rapidity with which his eye puffed up
from the effect of Sam’s left-handed hit, and the distress which he
exhibited when he was placed on his second’s knee. It has been
observed that after this he lost his temper, but to this we do not
subscribe, as he came up with great coolness and courage. He had,
however, sufficient reason to lose his confidence, which combined
with the punishment he had received, led him to the wild efforts he
subsequently made, and exposed him to the excellent generalship
which Sam displayed—not only in averting his antagonist’s
injudicious rushes, but in making the best of the openings which
were offered. It is true that after the first round Sam’s work might
be considered as done, but still he preserved his caution, did not
throw his chance away, and finished his man in a very masterly
manner. After the first round Martin was sick at stomach, and when
all was over this was his principal complaint, for, though severely
hit, we have seen him take five times the hitting with not one tithe
of the effect. A good deal of regret was expressed that Martin
should have had so signal a defeat added to his other mortification.
We have only to look to the character of the men in the ring; and,
in this view, to give Sam every credit for his milling talent, which
we unhesitatingly pronounce of the first order. From the ring Martin
was led to an adjoining cottage, where he was put to bed, and
received every necessary attention. Previous to Martin quitting the
ring Sam went up to him and begged him to shake hands. This Martin
for a long time refused, but at last put up his hand coldly, and Sam
promised to give him £10 of the battle-money. Sam dressed on the
ground, and appeared as if nothing had happened. He returned to
dinner at Shirley’s, and arrived in town the same night. Martin, on
recovering went to the “Castle Inn,” and set off the same evening
for Godalming, where he arrived alone at twelve o’clock at night and
remained there. He was much depressed, and refused to see any person
who called.

The battle-money was given up to Young Dutch Sam on the following Thursday evening at Tom Cribb’s, in Panton Street, in the presence of a full muster of the Fancy, and all bets were of course paid.

In the September following the defeat of Ned Neale by Baldwin (White-headed Bob), Neale fought and defeated Nicholls, who had defeated Acton, an opponent of Jem Ward. This match was for £100 a-side, and was won by Neale in eighteen rounds and seventy-eight minutes. On the 2nd of December, 1828, he beat Roche for £100 a-side, in thirty rounds, occupying exactly half an hour, and was now without a competitor. At this time Young Dutch Sam, who was in the zenith of his fame, was naturally anxious still further to increase his reputation, and, although he knew that Neale was a much heavier man than himself, he, with a different feeling to that which is now but too prevalent, issued a challenge to fight Ned, provided he would confine himself to 11st. 10lbs., he (Sam) undertaking not to exceed 11st. His fighting-weight was declared to be under 10st. 10lbs., so that, in fact, he gave away at least a stone. Neale, although his milling-weight was 12st. 4lbs., agreed to reduce himself to the stipulated 11st. 10lbs., the match was made, and everything went forward satisfactorily, the battle exciting intense interest.

FIRST FIGHT BETWEEN YOUNG DUTCH SAM AND NEALE, FOR £100 A SIDE.

The battle took place on the 7th of April, 1829, at Ludlow, in Shropshire, but, owing to the distance from the Metropolis, and the difficulty of getting thence to the scene of action, did not attract that crowd of London Particulars which the known capabilities of the men would have undoubtedly attracted had it come off nearer home. The inducement to the men to go so far afield seems to have been a sum of £100 subscribed for them by the inhabitants of Ludlow.

Neale, it may be remembered, had but once found his master, and that in the never-flinching Baldwin (White-headed Bob); and Sam, although not quite so old a member of the pugilistic corps, had at this time never been beaten.

Strong apprehensions were entertained that Neale, by reducing himself so much below his fighting-weight, would weaken his frame, and give his more youthful antagonist an advantage over him (apprehensions which were fully justified by the result). Neale, however, did not participate in this feeling, and, after a sparring tour, he set out for his training quarters, at Milford, where, by constant labour, he gradually got off his superfluous flesh, and, a few days before fighting, was five pounds under the stipulated weight. This was certainly carrying the point too far, and although Ned himself said he never was in better health, he was forced to confess he did not feel so strong as when his weight was greater. In point of spirits and confidence, it was impossible that he could have been in better form, and he booked winning as a certainty. He left Milford on Saturday, and proceeded direct by mail to Ludlow, where he arrived on Sunday afternoon, under the convoy of a gallant Captain, and the Portsmouth Dragsman, the well-known Will Scarlett. It is needless to observe that such a journey so near upon the approaching struggle was not consistent with strict prudence, but such was Neale’s estimate of his opponent, and such his reliance on his own physical powers, that he treated the remarks on this subject with levity, and fancied the laurels of victory already entwining his brow. Young Sam, who trained first at Staines, was not less attentive to his duties. He was known to be in tip-top condition, and as sleek and active as a deer; showing at the same time a confidence in his carriage not less obvious than that of Neale. He said his game had been doubted, but the approaching combat would show whether these doubts were well or ill founded. He, more wisely than Neale, left London with his backers and friends on Friday, slept at Worcester, and reached Bromfield, near Ludlow, on Saturday, and there remained till the morning of fighting. He was attended by Dick Curtis and some of his favourite pals, who lost no opportunity of reminding him of those qualifications which he had so often shown to advantage, and which, in fact, had obtained for him the character of one of the prettiest fighters of the day. In point of age there was but little difference, Sam being twenty-two, and Neale twenty-five. In the course of Monday the town of Ludlow was all bustle and gaiety, and the certainty that no apprehensions were to be entertained from the officiousness of the beaks gave universal satisfaction.

The ground chosen for the lists was admirably suited for the purpose, and was situated upon the top of a hill, in Ludford Park, within a hundred yards of the adjoining county of Hereford. The ring was formed under the direction of Tom Oliver and his secretary, Frosty-faced Fogo, in their very best style, and was encompassed by an extensive circle of wagons, which were liberally contributed by the farmers in the neighbourhood, who behaved like trumps on this occasion, and were heart and hand in favour of the game.

On Tuesday morning the men were “up with the lark,” and having taken their customary walks, laid in a few strata of mutton chops, and other belly furniture, after which they submitted to the titivation of their respective barbers, who turned them out as blooming as a couple of primroses, and looking as well as the most sanguine hopes of their friends could have desired. As the day advanced, the crowd thickened, and all betook themselves to the ring-side. By twelve o’clock upwards of 5,000 persons were assembled. The weather partook of the varied character of April—alternate showers and sunshine—but, on the whole, was favourable.

At half-past eleven o’clock the men went to scale, and were both found within their weight, Sam about 2lbs., and Neale full 4lbs., but neither was weighed to a nicety. Neale, when stripped, looked extremely thin, and excited the surprise of many who had seen him in the same town a few weeks before in the full proportion of thirteen stone, and it was evident that his admirers became less sweet upon his chances, for the odds of two to one, which had been freely offered on the night before, received a sudden check, and few were found to offer them.

Immediately after the weighing had taken place, the £100 promised to the men was placed in the hands of a gentleman chosen by both, and thus the good folks of Ludlow honourably performed their part of the contract.

Soon after twelve o’clock Neale and his friends set out for the ground in a barouche and four, all sporting the blue bird’s-eye; while Sam, also in a carriage and four, displaying a bright yellowman, with a scarlet border, and a garter in the centre, surrounding the letters D.S., and bearing the Latin inscription, “_Nil desperandum_,” was close at his heels.

At ten minutes before one Sam entered the lists, attended by his backer and Phil. Simpson and Dick Curtis, who was very lame, as his second and bottle-holder. He was as gay as a lambkin, and remarked, as he paced backwards and forwards, “It has been said that I am not game, but the issue of this battle will prove whether this imputation is well or ill-founded. I have made up my mind to take a bellyful, and let him who first says ‘hold!’ be written down a coward.” There was nothing of foolish bravado in his manner, but his demeanour was such as betokened a man who felt the importance of the stake he had to play for, and the consciousness that he should have his work to do. His friends immediately offered to take £100 to £50, but there was no “done” in the case. Sam was loudly cheered on his arrival, and a similar compliment was paid to Neale, who soon approached, attended by Tom Spring and Harry Holt. He was the picture of health and good humour, and it was pretty clear that the last thought which found place in his breast was the apprehension of defeat. He shook hands with Sam, and offered to bet £5 each on first blood, first knock-down, and the battle, but this was no go. All was now fixed attention. The ring was admirably kept throughout under the superintendence of the Fair-play Club Whipsters. The toss for choice of position was won by Curtis for Sam.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On coming to the scratch, the frames of the men were open
to general criticism. Sam was admirably proportioned and had a
decided advantage in height and length of arm over his opponent. His
muscles, too, were well developed, and we must say that a finer
looking young fellow of his weight, age, and inches, has never
entered the ring. Neale also looked well, and his broad shoulders
and muscular arms betokened strength and vigour; but, taking him
downwards from the waist, he was much thinner than he appeared in
his former battles. Each threw his arms up, ready for attack or
defence. Mutual feints were made for an opening, but both were on
the alert. Sam poised himself on his left foot ready for a shoot,
and kept working for mischief, but Ned stood well to his guard. At
last Sam broke ground and planted his left slightly. Ned was with
him, right and left, and rushed to a close. Sam stepped a little
back, and jobbed him right and left as he came in. Ned grappled for
the throw, when Sam caught him round the neck, and fibbed with great
quickness. Ned stopped this game by seizing his arm, and endeavoured
to get his favourite lock, and give him a cross-buttock, but Sam was
too much on the _qui vive_, kept his legs well away, and at last
both went down at the ropes, Ned under.

2.—Again did each manœuvre for an opening, and show his readiness
for defence by throwing up his guard when assault was offered. At
length Ned rushed in, and planted his right on Sam’s head. Sam
returned as quick as lightning, when Ned rushed to the close, and
another trial for the fall took place, during which Sam fibbed
slightly, and at last got Ned down.

3.—Sam, elated, dodged on his left leg three or four times, and
tried to pop in his left, but was prettily stopped. Ned broke away.
Both sparred cautiously. Good stopping, right and left, by both men.
Ned now finding that nothing was to be done at long bowls, rushed
in, planted one of his right-handed slashers on Sam’s left cheek,
and then, boring Sam to the ropes, shoved him across them, chopping
with his fists as he lay, and this he continued till Sam fell on the
ground, amidst cries of “foul,” and “fair,” but no exception was
taken.

4.—Sam came up rather flushed in the physog, and looked serious.
Sam, steady, tried again for his favourite plunge with the left, but
Ned stopped him in good style, and then rushing in, hit Sam down
with a left-hander on his bird-call. (First knock-down blow for Ned;
and a cry of first blood, but none was forthcoming from Sam’s
dominoes, although pointed at.)

5.—Ned again bored, and planted a blow on Sam’s mouth, but had it
beautifully, right and left, in return. Ned now closed, and tried
once more for the fall. Sam, ready, fibbed prettily, and in the end,
Ned, finding it would not do, slipped down.

6.—Both their mugs flushed from hitting, and both looked serious.
Ned stopped Sam’s left, when Sam tried left and right in succession,
both hitting away in a beautiful rally, and each receiving pepper,
but the balance against Ned. Sam delivered a stinging upper-cut as
Ned got away. After a pause, both again fought to a rally, in which
the nobbing was heavy. In the close, Sam hit up, and Ned got down.

7.—Little time was lost in going to work, and a beautiful rally was
fought, in which hit followed hit in rapid succession. Sam’s blows
were delivered with most precision, and Ned’s right ogle began to
swell, while first blood was visible on his nose. Sam looked wild,
and a swelling on his temple showed that Ned’s operations had not
been without effect. Sam’s upper-cuts in this round were excellent,
and Ned went down weak; he had clearly reduced his ordinary
strength, and was altogether out in his wrestling calculations, as
Sam was too quick, and, when seized, too firm on his pins for a
clear throw.

8.—Ned’s face much altered and swollen, and Sam’s jowl puffy. Sam
dodged for his left, and planted it neatly on Ned’s smeller. Ned
rushed in, and forced back Sam to the ropes. Sam caught him round
the neck, and hit up. Ned slipped down.

9.—Ned distilling claret from his snuffler, and rather abroad. Sam,
ready, jumped in and jobbed him right and left, and Ned was down,
bleeding at all points. Sam decidedly the best out-fighter, and
betting even.

10.—Sam steady to his guard. Ned finding no chance at out-fighting,
rushed in, his right hand passing over Sam’s shoulder. Sam grasped
him round the neck, and hit up with great severity. Ned went down.

11.—Ned rushed in, planted left and right-hand round hits, and, in
getting back, fell.

12.—Ned rattled in with his left, but received a heavy counter-hit
on the nose. In the trial for the fall, both went down, Ned on his
back, Sam on him.

13.—Ned again rushed in, and planted his left on Sam’s throat, but
in return, Sam jobbed him right and left, with dreadful effect and
precision, and in the end Ned fell.

14.—Sam put in a left-handed snorter. Ned fought wildly, and, in
coming in, received the upper-cut, and fell.

15.—The odds were now in favour of Sam and the fight had lasted half
an hour. Ned hit short with his left, when good counter-hits with
the right were exchanged; both had it heavily, and Ned got down.

16.—Sam tried to plant his left, but was stopped; the blow was not
well home. Ned retreated, Sam following him rapidly, and Ned
stopping right and left. Ned at last fell, weak.

17.—Ned came up a little fresher, and well on his legs, but Sam was
too quick for him, and popped in his left and right. He then
retreated, Ned following him up, when Sam gave him a severe
upper-cut. Ned seized his arm to prevent repetition, and after a
struggle at the ropes, both went down, Sam uppermost.

18.—Ned stopped Sam’s left very scientifically, and planted his
right in exchange. Sam, not dismayed, drew back a step, and then
plunging in, caught Ned left and right as he approached, and hitting
up very heavily, Ned got down.

19.—Good stops on both sides. Ned closed for the fall, and after a
struggle, both went down.

20.—Good counter-hits, right and left. Ned rushed in, when Sam
seized him round the neck, and gave him a couple of heavy
upper-cuts. In the trial for the fall, both down, Ned under.

21.—Ned stopped Sam’s right and left, and after a short spar, Sam
rushed in to work. Ned retreated, and actually turned round and
bolted, to get away from his impetuosity. Sam still persevering, Ned
went down, amidst some grumbling, and cries of “Sam, it’s all your
own.”

22.—Good stopping by both, when Ned planted his right, and, in
retreating, fell.

23.—Ned popped in his right at the body, but had a nobber in return.
Good scientific stopping on both sides, when Ned popped in his right
on Sam’s muzzle. Sam rushed in to deliver tit for tat, but Ned got
down.

24.—Ned made his left on Sam’s mouth, but received a severe return
on the right eye. Hits were then exchanged, rather in favour of Sam,
who hit Ned down with a right-hander. Ned lay at full length on his
back till picked up by his seconds, and his face exhibited severe
marks of punishment, both eyes black, and his right all but closed.

25.—Ned stopped Sam’s left, and fought on the retreat. Sam followed
him up, jobbing him right and left, and Ned soon went down at the
ropes any how.

26.—Sam stopped Ned’s right and left, and, retreating, met Ned with
the upper-cut as he followed with his head inclined. Sam’s style of
fighting was the admiration of the ring; he was ready at all points.
Ned went down.

27.—Sam jobbed with his left. In a second effort his left was
stopped, but he planted his right on Ned’s jaw. Ned, in getting
away, fell, amidst cries of “foul,” but again the umpires saw
nothing to grumble at; indeed, there never was less disposition to
take frivolous advantage.

28.—Ned stopped Sam’s first attack, but in a weaving bout which
followed he had the worst of it, and went down.

29.—Ned showed his scientific powers of defence, stopping as he
retreated. Sam, however, pursued his assault, planted his right and
left, and hit Ned out of the ring. Two to one on Sam.

30.—Sam rushed in to punish, when Ned slipped on his knees.

31.—Heavy hits exchanged, right and left. In the close, both down.

32.—Right-handed hits exchanged. Sam retreated, but met Ned with the
upper-cut as he came in, and, in the close, Ned pulled him down.

33.—Ned rushed in rather wild. Sam again gave him the upper-cut, and
Ned went down.