Chapter XIII (1)

PHIL SAMPSON (“THE BIRMINGHAM YOUTH”)—1819–1831.

Phil Sampson, who was to the full as ready at chaffing and writing as at fighting, occupied at one period an undue share of newspaper space and of the public time. His milling career, though chequered, was not without brilliant gleams of success.

Sampson was born on the 27th of September, 1800, at Snaith, in Yorkshire; but when he was no more than a few months old his parents migrated to Birmingham and settled in the “hardware village,” then rapidly rising in manufacturing prosperity as the metropolis of gun-making, cheap jewellery, and hardware. Pierce Egan tells us that Phil was “intended for a parson,” but that “he preferred thumping nobs to a cushion.” If so, and we remember him well, his acquirements in the _literæ humaniores_ did not say much for his “college.” Indeed, we have seen specimens of Philip’s caligraphy which forbid belief in such a tradition. What we know, however, is that young Phil was a button-maker in a Brummagem factory at fifteen. We shall pass also young Phil’s apocryphal contests, in which he (and almost every other boxer in “Boxiana”) fought and “polished off” men of all sorts, weights, and sizes, and come to his introduction to the Ring.

Gregson being at Birmingham on one of his sparring tours, the proficiency of Sampson, who put on the gloves with several countrymen, attracted the attention of that clumsy practitioner, who observed to him, “I think thee hadst better coom and try thy fortin in Lunnon, lad, ’moongst some o’ t’ loight woights.” Sampson at that time had considerable scruples in his mind about fighting for a prize, although he was very fond of boxing, and declined the offer of Gregson. But, on his trade (button-making) failing badly from change of fashion, he determined to come to London to see his friend Bob. He found a hearty welcome from the latter at the “Mare and Magpie,” St. Catherine’s, but, before Gregson could bring his _protégé_ into the Ring, he left London for Dublin. Sampson was now quite adrift, but owing to the good services of Mr. Baxter (brother to Ned Turner) he found a friend who enabled him to take a turn among the fistic heroes of the Metropolis.

Sampson’s first appearance in the London Prize Ring might be termed little more than a turn-up. He had been witnessing the battle, at Moulsey Hurst, on Tuesday, August 24th, 1819, between Cy. Davis and Boshell, and also Scroggins and Josh Hudson, and had crossed the water, on the point of returning to town, when he was unexpectedly brought into action owing to the following circumstance. In the conversation which took place during dinner at Lawrence’s, the “Red Lion,” Hampton, it was mentioned by Ned Painter that a youth from Birmingham, about eleven stone and a half, had been on the Hurst to offer himself as a candidate, but none of the middle weights, much less the light ones, had fancied him, at which he was much disappointed. An eminent brewer and a gallant captain immediately offered ten pounds if Dolly Smith, who was at hand, and who had fought Tom Cannon and Bill Abbot, would try what the new “piece of hardware” was worth. Phil was sent for, and cheerfully accepted the task.

The combatants were informed that if anything like collusion or division of the stakes occurred not one penny would be paid over, and that the best man must win. A select party thereon returned to the Hurst, and at six o’clock in the evening Smith stripped, seconded by Rolph and Ned Weston, Sampson being waited upon by Josh Hudson and Baxter. The reporters having gone off to town, we are merely told that in fifteen minutes poor Dolly (who was decidedly out of condition) was defeated, being nobbed all over the ring and thrown like a sack by the newcomer. The activity and slashing blows of Sampson astonished the amateurs, some of his right-hand deliveries appearing to completely stupefy Dolly, who behaved gamely and well, but had not even a chance turn throughout.

Phil, being an active, chatty, and certainly fast and bounceable young fellow, was at once in high favour with the “upper crust.”

Accordingly, on Tuesday, October 26th, 1819, he was at Wallingham Common, when, Turner having defeated Martin, ten guineas was announced as a purse, in addition to ten guineas from the Pugilistic Club, for the best of two men of eleven stone and upwards. Josh Hudson, ever ready, offered himself; and Phil Sampson, as the event proved rashly, challenged the prize from the John Bull Fighter. It was a tremendous fight for a short time, but at the end of forty minutes Sampson was defeated. (See Life of HUDSON, _ante_, Chapter IV.)

Sampson, after a short interval, was matched against Abraham Belasco, the scientific Jew, for fifty guineas a-side. This battle took place at Potter’s Street, in Essex, twenty-one miles from London, on Tuesday, February 22nd, 1819. The badness of the day did not deter the Fancy from quitting the Metropolis at an early hour, and the combatants entered the ring, which was well covered with sawdust owing to the wetness of the ground, at one o’clock. Belasco appeared a few minutes before his opponent, attended by Oliver and Josh Hudson; the Birmingham Youth was waited upon by Painter and Shelton. Belasco was the favourite at six to four.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Sparring; Belasco let fly, but was stopped. Sampson put in
a sharp hit under the Jew’s arm. Both went in. Exchanges. In
struggling Belasco down. (“Go along, my little youth.”)

2.—Counter-hits; a pause; the Birmingham Youth rushed in, and got to
the ropes. In the struggle to fib the Jew, he slipped down. (Two to
one on Belasco.)

3.—The Birmingham Youth drew first blood, and, in a struggle, the
Jew went down from a slip. (Great shouting in favour of the
Birmingham Youth.)

4.—Belasco stopped and hit well; a good rally; Sampson received a
heavy body blow and went down.

5.—The Jew went to work, bled his opponent, and sent him down on his
rump, rather weak. The Jew also went down.

6.—Sparring, and the Birmingham Youth piping. The Jew put in two
good hits. Sampson returned, till he was got to the ropes, where he
got it sharply, and in the struggle went down, Belasco uppermost.

7.—Belasco slipped down, cunning, and the Youth stood looking at
him. (Hissing.)

8.—This was a well-fought round, and Belasco hit Sampson away; but
the latter, in game style, returned to the charge, and fought like a
hero till both were down, the Jew uppermost.

9.—Sampson commenced this round in gallant style; but Belasco
changed it by good fighting, and had Sampson down at the ropes.

10.—After a few exchanges at the ropes, Sampson went down, but a
good round altogether. (“Well done, Belasco!”)

11.—After a hit or two, the Jew got Sampson at the ropes, and was
fibbing him in good style, till he dropped on one knee. The strength
and skill of Belasco enabled him to hold up his opponent, and weave
on, till he got Sampson down on both his knees.

In the last two rounds Sampson was getting weak, and, to escape from
severe fibbing in the eleventh, he fell to one knee, but Belasco
kept holding him up and punishing till he was down on both of his
knees. “Foul” and “fair” were instantly cried out, when Painter and
Shelton took Sampson out of the ring, put him into a post-chaise,
and drove off without appealing to the umpires on the subject. This
was certainly wrong; and, owing to this circumstance, a fierce
dispute arose. No man should be taken out of the ring till the
umpires have decided upon the propriety of such a step. Both sides
may dispute, but it is only the umpires that can set it right. The
superior science of the Jew prevented the hitherto slashing hitting
of Sampson, which was so heavily experienced by Josh Hudson. Belasco
stopped many blows in good style, and gave the movements of Sampson
the appearance of being slow. It was by no means a decisive fight,
such as the “Ould Fanciers” are fond of witnessing; although two to
one was betted on Belasco, and even a point further, on the round
previous to Sampson’s being taken out of the ring. It was generally
asserted that the Birmingham Youth was the best man, owing to his
youth, but as to knowledge of milling, Belasco had the advantage.

The decision of the umpires being appealed to, the dispute was finally argued and determined before Mr. Jackson, in presence of several persons of experience. The judgment given was simply as follows—“That as no objection had been made to the umpires on their being appointed to their situations; and also both of them uniting in one opinion that Belasco’s conduct was fair; and, further, no interference of the referee having been called for, their decision must be considered final.” This decided the paying of bets; and as the battle-money was given up to the Jew, it was insisted upon, in sporting phrase, that bets follow the battle-money.

Sampson was not pleased with the termination of the fight, and accidentally meeting the Jew at a house in Bond Street, where some friends were arguing the subject, the men got suddenly in collision; but after fighting a few minutes, during which nothing was the matter, the friends of the Jew took him away, saying “it was no fun to fight for nothing.”

At Richmond’s benefit at the Royal Tennis Court, Windmill Street, Haymarket, on Tuesday, February 29th, 1820, on the announcement of “Belasco and the Birmingham Youth,” curiosity was on the stretch. It was a regular glove-fight for nine rounds, and Sampson appeared so determined to get the better of the Jew that he disdained allowing any time between the rounds, till he not only exhausted himself, but distressed his opponent to a stand-still. The Jew seemed now satisfied, and, while in the act of bowing to the audience and pulling off the gloves, Sampson said he should not leave off, and hit Belasco on the side of his head. The latter immediately returned the compliment, but had the worst of the round, and was thrown. It was considered necessary to part them, and Cribb took Sampson away. It was in fact a discreditable display of bad temper on the part of the Birmingham Youth.

In consequence of a purse of £50 given by the Pugilistic Club, and a private stake of £25 a-side, Sampson entered the lists with Jack Martin, at North Walsham, on the 17th of July, 1820. After a sharp battle Sampson was defeated. (See Life of MARTIN, _ante_.)

Sampson was now certainly “under a cloud.” Chance, however, brought him again into notice. A man of the name of Tom Dye, known as “Di the Table-lifter,” a public exhibitor of feats of strength, who could carry a mahogany dining-table seven or eight feet long with his teeth, tie a pair of tongs round a man’s neck by way of cravat, and break a poker across his arm like a rotten stick, was chaffed about the strength of Sampson. He expressed his opinion that he could dispose of the modern wearer of the name in very summary fashion, to which “the Youth” demurred, and a purse of five sovs. was offered if “Di” would make the experiment. It turned out an easy job for Sampson. In eight minutes, during which six rounds were fought, “Di” was completely _hors de combat_ when time was called. On coming to, the “strong man” declared he was not fairly beaten, on which “the Youth” told him to “take his own time,” and “Di” again put up his hands. He soon repented, for Sampson milled him down so suddenly that poor “Di” forgot for a while all about tables and pokers. Sampson had not a mark, and presented the crestfallen table-lifter with half-a-sovereign “to wash his teeth with.”

The ill feeling of Sampson towards Belasco again broke out, and the latter, it would seem, declared his intention of thrashing his late opponent wherever he met him. In consequence Belasco, at Tom Oliver’s benefit at the Tennis Court, on Monday, December 21st, 1820, mounted the stage, and said that being thus continually threatened he would accommodate Sampson for £100 or £50 a-side. Hereupon Sampson rushed on the stage intemperately and declared his intention to fight “if any gentleman, who is a gentleman, will hold the money. That is necessary,” he added, “as I have been robbed of the last fight. I am also ready to set to with Belasco immediately.” Belasco coolly replied by putting on the mufflers, and at it they went for

A GLOVE-FIGHT.

Round 1.—Both cautious, and eyeing each other. Sampson plunged in,
and some exchanges took place, when Belasco slipped down, and
Sampson was also on the floor.

2.—Very short work; Sampson’s temper got the mastery of his skill.
Belasco caught him as he came in, got his head in the corner of the
stage, and fibbed him down. (Hissing from some parts of the court.
“Nothing unfair,” was the cry from the other. “Never mind,” said
Sampson, “it’s all right, Belasco, come along.”)

3.—Milling without ceremony, till Sampson put in a most tremendous
nobber on the Jew’s temple that completely stunned him for the
instant, accompanying it with “Where are you now?” If it had been in
the ring, it must have proved a winning hit. Belasco caught hold of
the rails to prevent going down, and said, “Never mind, I’ll soon be
ready for you.” The Birmingham Youth waited till the Jew was ready
to commence another round.

4.—Very severe; both down.

5.—The Jew displayed science, but the rush of the Youth was sharp in
the extreme, and pepper was the result, till they separated.

6.—Each man appeared anxious to have the “best of it.” This was
altogether a fine round, but, in closing, both down, the Youth
undermost. In separating, the Jew, on getting up, from the motions
he made, seemed as if his shoulder were hurt. Belasco stretched his
arm on the rail, and the Youth rubbed his shoulder, amidst much
laughter.

7.—Both down again, when the Jew made a similar complaint, and
rubbed his arm. Here a surgeon stepped up, examined the shoulder,
and said it was not out.

8.—Sampson had the best of it; but in struggling and going down,
they both nearly fell through the rails of the stage into the court.

9.—The Jew said his shoulder was now so bad that he could not use
it; but, in order to prevent disappointment, he would continue the
combat with one hand only, if Sampson would agree to it. The latter
said he had no objection, and each of them pulled off one glove, and
commenced this _nouvelle_ exhibition. (Loud cries of “Leave off,”
“Go on,” &c.) Belasco received some pepper, and went down.

10.—This round was well contested: the Jew, however, used his arm in
the rally; indeed, neither of their hands were idle.

11.—Again a rally, and Sampson fought with both hands, Belasco
following suit.

12.—This was the finale. Belasco was hit down, or seemed to be so.
He sat upon his nether end quietly, and thunders of applause greeted
the success of Sampson, who threw his remaining glove on the floor.
Belasco rose and immediately addressed the spectators. He said he
would fight Sampson that day six weeks for £50. (“Bravo.”)

Mr. Sampson’s skill in letter-writing, and in avoiding making a match, was now in full play for some months, and nothing done _in re_ Belasco. Charley Grantham (alias Gybletts), however, was backed against Sampson for £50 a-side, and on Tuesday, July 17th, 1821, the men met on Moulsey Hurst. At one o’clock Sampson, attended by Tom Spring and Hickman (the Gas-light Man), threw his hat within the ropes. In a few minutes afterwards Gybletts, with Harry Harmer and Bob Purcell, entered the ring. Sampson was the favourite at seven to four.

“The Youth,” who looked in good condition, in his usual thrasonical style informed his friends he should “win in twenty minutes.” It was not, however, the “straight tip,” for Sampson was defeated in one hour and twenty minutes, the “flash side” losing their money, and another “moral certainty” going wrong.

Bill Abbott, whose recent victory over Tom Oliver had given him a high position, offered himself to Sampson, and the men met at Moulsey on December 13th, 1821. Here again Sampson was beaten in forty-seven minutes, forty-three rounds having been fought in that time.

The current of adversity now ran hard against Phil. His nominal townsman (Phil himself was a Yorkshireman), Bill Hall, assuming to himself the title of “the New Birmingham Lad,” challenged “the slashing and scientific Sampson,” as Pierce Egan was wont to call him.

On Tuesday, July 30th, 1822, on Warwick Racecourse, in a roped ring, in front of the grand stand, the “countryman” beat Sampson, after a shifty tumbledown fight of ninety-one rounds; Josh Hudson giving in for him with odds of two to one in his favour. The contemporary reports intimate that Sampson had only “a small amethyst under his eye,” and had hard work to “look like losing it.”

Sampson was pathetically verbose in print and talk about “the cruelty” of charging him with a complicity in his own defeat. He also expressed his desire for another trial with Hall, attributing his failure solely to want of condition. Meanwhile, Bill Hall had been consummately thrashed by Ned Neale (see Life of NEALE), a fact which did not tend to the satisfaction of the backers of the boastful Birmingham Youth, who left London “disgusted at their desertion.”

At length Phil, who had certainly improved in strength and condition, persuaded his Birmingham friends that if they would give him another chance with Hall he would dispose of him with ease and win their money to a certainty. So a second match was made for £50, and on Wednesday, March 19th, 1823, the old Hurst at Moulsey was the arena of encounter, after the ring had been quitted by Arthur Matthewson, who that day polished off Mishter Israel Belasco, brother of Aby of that ilk.

Sampson had good attendants; no other than Tom Spring, champion _in esse_, and Jem Ward, ditto _in posse_. Hall had behind him Josh Hudson and “a friend from Birmingham.” Such, however, was the want of confidence in “the Youth,” that six to four on Hall went begging. “We’ll wait and see,” said those who were asked to speculate. The spectators had not long to wait, as will be seen by our report of

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—No sooner had the men shaken hands than Hall ran at his
opponent like a mad bull. Sampson got out of the way of his fury
like an agile toreador, and then, by a half-turn, put in so severe a
blow on Hall’s nob that he lost his legs in a twinkling. (“Halloo!
What’s the matter? Sampson will win this time!”)

2.—Hall seemed furious at his unexpected floorer. He ran after
Sampson, pelting away, without any regard to science, and making
Sampson fight under the idea of reducing his strength. In a short
rally at the ropes Sampson put in a right-handed hit on his
opponent’s left eye, after the manner of his agonistic namesake, and
Hall fell like a log. On his seconds picking him up he was
completely insensible. The battle of course was at an end. A medical
man stepped into the ring, bled Hall, and paid him every humane
attention requisite, but several minutes elapsed before a return of
consciousness could be discerned. Hall was then driven off, nearly
in a state of stupor, in a coach, accompanied by the doctor.

REMARKS.—Hall, not the “John,” but the “mad,” bull fighter, to the
great surprise and satisfaction of his friends, appeared at the
Castle Tavern as early as eight o’clock on the same evening, thus
contradicting the alarming rumours of his death. It appears that his
recollection did not return to him till after he had been twice
bled, and twenty-five minutes had elapsed, and even then his ideas
were in a very confused state, so tremendous were the effects of the
blow. Hall informed the company he did not feel himself any the
worse, except from the sore state of his arm, rendered so by the
instruments of the surgeon. The latter thought Hall in fine
condition. It was now evident to the amateurs that Sampson was an
improved man; and this little slice of fortune increased his
confidence so much that he returned to Birmingham with all the
honours of war.

In January, 1823, we find Sampson inditing insulting letters on Israelites in general, and Belasco in particular, in the _Weekly Dispatch_, which were responded to in more parliamentary language in the columns of _Bell’s Life_, and “these paper pellets of the brain,” after five months of popping, assumed the form of “Articles of Agreement,” dated June 19th, 1823, whereby Philip Sampson and Abraham Belasco mutually bound themselves to fight in a twenty-four foot ring, half-minute time, for £100 a-side, on Tuesday, the 25th of August, 1823, Mr. Jackson to name the place. “On signing the articles,” says the reporter, “Sampson poured out a couple of glasses of port, and, handing one of them to his opponent, gave the toast, ‘May the best man win.’ ‘I hope he will,’ said Belasco, tossing off his glass.”

Crawley Downs, in Sussex, was the fixture, and such of the Fancy as respected their nags too much to give the animals some sixty-six miles in a day were to be seen on the Monday trotting through Riddlesdown, Reigate, and East Grinstead, stopping to bait, “blow a cloud,” and enjoy a chaff with Boniface, whose jocund countenance bespoke his pleasure at sight of such good customers.

In the morning Crawley Downs were alive with arrivals from all quarters of the compass. Sampson came on the ground in a barouche and four, enveloped in a large blue military cloak; while Belasco trotted over the turf behind eighty guineas’ worth of horseflesh, driven by a well-known East-end sportsman. At a few minutes past one Sampson threw his white nob-cover into the ring, and taking his bright crimson kerchief from his throat handed it to Josh Hudson, who, with Ben Burn, were his chosen seconds. Belasco quickly followed suit, dropping his beaver quietly within the ropes, and his colours, “a yellowman,” were also fixed to the centre stake. Peter Crawley, in a bright green Newmarket and Belcher tie, with Bill Richmond, in West End Corinthian costume, acted as “esquires of the body” to Aby, who said to Josh across the ring, “Now, let’s have a quiet fight, let it go which way it will.” The seconds concurred, and we must say we never saw a mill better conducted, as a whole, by all parties concerned. The betting opened at five to four on Belasco.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Sampson never looked better. The appellation hitherto borne
by him of the Birmingham Youth seemed a thing of the past; the
gristle had become bone, and the smoothness of limb laced and
knotted with hard and well-marked muscle. In fact, he looked a model
athlete. Belasco was also a picture of a man in fine health; his
bust, a perfect anatomical study, together with his black nob,
penetrating eye, and Mosaic countenance, rendered the Jew an
interesting object in this ballet of action. Confidence sat on his
brow; he was cool, collected, and evidently anticipated victory.
Upon shaking hands it was the general opinion that Sampson would
have attempted to slaughter Belasco, in order to win off-hand, as a
long fight might prove dangerous to him. Not so; Sampson was
cautious in the extreme. Belasco placed his hands very high,
convinced the spectators he was an adept in science, and appeared
armed at all points against the slashing onset of his adversary.
Considerable dodging occurred, and several slight offers were made
on both sides, but neither of them was to be deceived by the feints
of the other. Belasco’s left hand told slightly on Sampson’s body
without a return; it was soon after repeated. Both eyeing each other
for a short period, when Sampson put down his hands and rubbed them
on his drawers. Sampson still cautious. The left hand of Belasco
again told slightly on his antagonist’s body. A pause. Each
combatant attempted to hit, but their blows fell short. (Four
minutes had elapsed.) Sampson at length made himself up for
mischief, and let fly at the Jew’s nob with tremendous force, but
Belasco stopped it in the most skilful style. (“Beautiful! bravo!”)
Sampson again tried it on, when an exchange of blows occurred, and
Belasco’s right eye received a little damage. The Jew got away
cleverly from another well-aimed nobber; and, in closing at the
ropes, Belasco had the best of the fibbing, till Sampson went down
on his back, and his opponent upon him. (Applause on both sides. The
Sheenies said “it was all right,” and the Brums observed “nothing
was the matter.”)

2.—Sampson hit the Jew in the body, but Belasco soon afterwards put
in a sharp facer, and followed his opponent to do mischief.
Counter-hitters and nobbers were the result. A short rally followed,
the left eye of Sampson received a touch. In closing, both down,
Sampson undermost. (“First blood,” exclaimed Josh; “look at the side
of Belasco’s nose.” The claret was just peeping, as it were, between
his ogles.)

3.—The fine science displayed by Belasco, in stopping the heavy hits
of his opponent, was the admiration of the spectators. The Jew went
sharply towards his antagonist, when, after an exchange of blows,
Sampson got down.

4.—This was a pretty round, and fine fighting on both sides was
conspicuous. In struggling at the ropes, Sampson went down rather
awkwardly, and Belasco, being in the act of hitting, struck his
opponent on the nob. “Foul, foul!” by the Sampsonites; “Fair, fair!”
by the Sheenies. The referee said “nothing wrong had occurred; but
he felt afraid that he had consented to take upon himself a very
difficult situation, as the opposite parties did not appear to agree
on the true principles of prize-fighting. However, he had not one
farthing upon the fight, and he should do his duty if called on to
decide.”

5.—This round was decidedly in favour of Belasco. He not only got
away from a nobber that might have proved a settler, but in turn
gave Sampson so heavy a hit on his head that the latter turned round
from the force of it, and went a yard or two away; but he soon
returned to fight. In closing at the ropes, pepper was used between
them till both were down, Belasco undermost. (The latter was much
applauded, and, up to this period of the fight, continued the
favourite.)

6.—The Jew was also the hero in this round. Sampson appeared rather
distressed. Belasco proved himself a more troublesome customer than
his opponent had anticipated; he was indeed very difficult to be got
at. Some blows were exchanged, when they closed at the ropes, and
ultimately the Jew had the best of it, planting a blow on Sampson’s
nob as he was going down.

7.—Sampson was on the look-out to put in a slogger on the nob of the
Jew, but the science of the latter prevented him. In fact, Sampson,
although rather evil-disposed towards his opponent, which he let
escape now and then in words, was nevertheless cool in his conduct.
The cunning of the Jew, and the firmness of his guard, pointed out
clearly to Sampson that he must be careful to avoid committing
mistakes when opposed to so accomplished a boxer as Belasco, which
accounts, in a great measure, for the Birmingham hero altering his
hitherto smashing mode of fighting. The Jew stopped well; and, after
an exchange of blows, Belasco dexterously planted a heavy body hit
about an inch and a half below the mark, which sent Sampson down on
his latter end. (A great burst of applause from the partisans of
Belasco, who now, without hesitation, offered £10 to £5—100 to
50—two to one, all over the ring. “It’s ash right ash the tay, Aby;
feel for his vind next time.”)

8.—Sampson, however, did not appear a great deal the worse for his
floorer, for he came to the scratch instantly at the call of time.
This was a well-fought round on both sides; but the science
displayed by Belasco extorted applause from all parts of the ring.
He planted a body blow with his left hand, and protected his head so
finely with his right as to stop a well-meant heavy hit.
Counter-hitting, but Sampson’s blows were most severe, from his
length; still in closing at the ropes the Jew fibbed Sampson down
and fell upon him.

9.—Sampson went in quickly to do mischief, but Belasco made as usual
some excellent stops. The Jew, in making a body blow, hit rather
low. “What do you call that?” said Sampson. In closing, Sampson went
down.

10.—This round was against Belasco. The Jew stopped delightfully at
the commencement, but in counter-hitting Belasco received a terrific
blow in the middle of his head, which almost knocked him backwards;
but he returned to the attack as game as a pebble, and in closing at
the ropes had the best of it while hanging upon them, until Sampson,
by a desperate effort, extricated himself, and, strange to say,
placed the Jew in his own former situation, fibbing Belasco till he
went down, bleeding profusely. (The faces of the Brums, which had
hitherto been very grave, now assumed a smile, and “Sampson for
ever!” was the cry.)

11.—The face of Belasco exhibited punishment. Sampson had also the
lead in this round, but he determined not to give a chance away, and
in closing he went down. (Murmuring from the Sheenies.)

12.—Belasco endeavoured to plant a hit, but Sampson got away. In
closing, Sampson again went down.

13.—The Jew put in a heavy body blow, but one of Sampson’s hard hits
met Belasco in the middle of his head. The battle was now alive, all
parties highly interested, and doubts and fears expressed on both
sides. The Jew, full of game, tried to get the lead, obtained it,
and Sampson went down.

14.—The length and height of Sampson enabled him to stand over his
opponent, and this, added to his excellent knowledge of boxing and
increased strength, rendered him no easy opponent for Belasco. (The
Jew was irritated in this round from the expressions of Sampson,
while they were sparring together, who observed, “I have got you
now, Belasco, and I’ll not only lick you, but drive your Jew brother
out of Birmingham.” “Be quiet,” said Josh; “fight, and don’t talk
so.” “You can do neither,” replied Belasco, “but you are an
illiberal fellow.” “Keep your temper,” urged Crawley.) Belasco ran
in and planted two hits; and, in closing, Sampson went down in the
best way he could, and received a hit in consequence, which
occasioned cries of “Foul!” and “Fair!”

15.—Belasco displayed superior skill in stopping two blows, but in
counter-hitting he received such a tremendous blow near his temple
that he fell out of the ropes on his head quite stunned. (“It is all
up,” was the cry; and “Ten to one he does not fight again!”) The
Sheenies were alarmed, and none but the gamest of the game would
ever have come again. Belasco might have left off with honour.

16.—No sailor “three sheets in the wind” appeared more groggy at the
scratch when time was called. In fact, Belasco did not know where he
was—his eyes had lost their wonted fire, and it really was a pity to
see him standing up to a fine, strong young man like Sampson. The
latter, very cautious, did not make play, and the Jew had none the
worst of the round. Both down, but Sampson undermost. Six to four on
Sampson.

17.—Belasco, recovered a little, fought like a brave man till he was
hit down.

18.—The Jew seemed better—he exchanged hits, and was again sent
down. Two to one on Sampson.

19.—Against Belasco; but he held up his arms well, and, after
stopping a hit or two, got down.

20.—The Jew had recovered considerably; and, although he had the
worst of it, Sampson thought it prudent to fight cautiously. Belasco
made play with great spirit; but, in counter-hitting, received
another severe blow on his head, which sent him out of the ropes. If
he had not been a truly game man when time was called he would not
have paid attention to it. Three to one.

21.—The Jew resolved that “his people” should have no reason to
complain. He commenced fighting, although sorely distressed. The
result of the round was that Sampson received a hit, and went down
on his knees. (“Bravo, Belasco, you are a game fellow,” from Tom
Owen, “but you are overmatched.”)

22.—The finish of this round was in favour of Belasco, and he fibbed
Sampson down. (“It is anybody’s battle, now,” cried an old
sportsman; “a good hit would decide it either way.” “I’ll lay forty
to ten,” said Tom Oliver, “Sampson wins!” “Stake,” said a gentleman
from Houndsditch, “and I will take it.” Oliver didn’t.)

23.—The face of Belasco was piteous, and his right eye swelled
prodigiously; but he came to the scratch determined to dispute every
inch of ground while a chance remained. “A little one for Mother
Melsom,” said Josh, “and the battle is at an end.” Sampson saw that
conquest was within his grasp, and he was determined to win it
without risk. He accordingly let Belasco commence fighting before he
offered to return. The Jew went down from a straight blow, quite
exhausted. (“Take the brave fellow away; he ought not to be suffered
to come again.” “I am not licked yet,” said Belasco.)

24, and last.—It was evident the battle must be soon over, but
Belasco answered the call of time like a man. The Jew was too
distressed to protect himself with his usual skill, and he received
a hit in the middle of his face that floored him slap on his back.
He was picked up by his seconds, but in a state of stupor. When the
half-minute had elapsed Belasco remained insensible, and Sampson was
declared the winner. It was over in forty-two minutes.

REMARKS.—Sampson retired from the contest with very trifling marks
upon his face. He is altogether an improved man; his frame is set,
and his fighting eminently superior to the style he exhibited in his
battles with Martin, Gybletts, and Abbott. We think that he ought to
have won the last-named fight. Nevertheless, it confers honour upon
his milling talents to conquer so accomplished a boxer as Belasco
proved himself to be. To speak of the Jew as he deserves, or of one
brave man that has surrendered to another, it is thus: It is true
Belasco has been defeated, but he stands higher in the estimation of
his friends than ever; let no more slurs be thrown upon him as to “a
white feather”! He had to contend against height, length, weight,
and youth, added to which Sampson was also a good fighter and a
high-couraged man. He has not disgraced “his people.” The Jew was
brought into the ring in spirited style, but we applaud most the
feeling manner in which he was supported out of it. Every attention
that humanity could suggest was paid to Belasco. A medical
gentleman, of his own persuasion, brought down from London solely
for that purpose, had the care of him. We could, if necessary,
mention a list of Israelites who were most assiduous on this
occasion, but we feel assured the sporting world will appreciate
such feeling, generosity, and gentlemanly conduct. The weight of
Sampson was said to be twelve stone three pounds; his height, five
feet ten-and-a-half inches—Belasco, in his clothes, eleven stone six
pounds; his height, five feet seven inches. To the credit of both
men it may be stated that they now shook hands and became friends;
Belasco, as we shall see, becoming a zealous second to Sampson on
several important occasions.

Phil now flew at high game. He challenged Jem Ward, then the most promising of the candidates for the Championship. Jem, nothing loth, accommodated him for £100 a-side, and on Monday, June 21st, 1824, gave Mr. Sampson an indisputable thrashing in fifty minutes, as chronicled in the memoir of WARD (_ante_, p. 206).

One of the peculiarities of Sampson, which he shared with the renowned Blucher, was that of “not knowing when he was beaten.” He had further the remarkable faculty of talking and writing other people over to his own opinion. Thus, in December of the same year, 1824, he got himself backed a second time against Jem Ward, and on this occasion it took “the Black Diamond” only thirty-seven minutes and a half to finally floor “the strong man,” all the circumstances of which will be found fully written in the book of “Pugilistica,” in the Life of WARD (_ante_, p. 207), to which we beg to refer the reader.

Phil’s “vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps the lists and falls on the other side,” had now a temporary check, and “My Uncle Ben,” who was looking out for a job for his “Nevvy,” Jem Burn, proposed a battle with Sampson for £50 a-side. After much ink-spilling the articles were formulated, and Tuesday, June 22nd, 1825, fixed. Mr. Jackson named Harpenden Common, near St. Albans, and thither, on the day appointed, the Fancy repaired. Unfortunately on the previous evening a whisper had gone forth that it was to be a squared fight, in consequence of which unfounded rumour lots of gents made up their minds to turn their backs upon the thing altogether. Burn, of course, as he was to win, and nothing else, according to “the man in the street,” was backed at six to four, seven to four, and sooner than go without a bet those wiseacres (a wonderfully numerous class at all times) who thought they were in possession of the secret laid two to one. A meddlesome man in office, “dressed in a little brief authority,” also turned up, and forbade the mill taking place on the old spot at No Man’s Land. The Fancy, always ready to obey the mandates of the authorities, accordingly toddled on a few miles farther, and the ring was formed at Shere Mere, in Bedfordshire. Sampson declared he had been ill-treated by these sinister reports, and hoped his conduct would soon give the lie to his enemies. Jem Burn, at one o’clock, attended by Randall and Uncle Ben, threw his hat into the Ring, and was received with loud cheers. Sampson soon followed, and planted his topper within the ropes, waited upon by Josh Hudson and Rough Robin.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Young Jem looked well; he was highly fancied, and the
general opinion seemed to be that the Young One would win it. The
canvas of Sampson appeared to be the tougher, and with the utmost
coolness he himself went and tied his colours to the stakes, over
his opponent’s, confidently observing, “These belong to me.” The
caution displayed by Sampson showed he was anxious to win; and the
steadiness of Jem told the fanciers victory was the object he had in
view. Two minutes elapsed in eyeing each other, when the Young One
let fly, and touched Sampson’s body. Sampson gave a grin. A long
pause. (The John Bull Fighter was so tired that he laid himself down
in the ring, observing, “We are all right; Phil will win at his
leisure.”) Sampson put in a small taste on Jem’s cheek. (“Bravo,
Samsy!”) The caution observed on both sides was so tiresome to the
spectators that “night caps” were called for. At length Burn went
spiritedly to work, but Sampson skilfully stopped him right and
left. Sampson planted one on the head of his adversary, which
provoked Jem to rush in, when Sampson caught him with an
uphanded-hit, and My Nevvy fell on his face. The blow was a stunner,
and visible on his forehead; the umpires, however, did not decide
this to be a knock-down blow. Thirteen minutes and a half.

2.—Jem appeared to be fighting according to “orders”—he was over
cautious. (“Never mind,” said Josh, “let them do as they like; it is
the ‘Rising Sun’ against the ‘Half Moon’—the Moon for my money!”)
Sampson had decidedly the best of this round, hitting his man right
and left. In closing, Burn was hit down. This round decided first
blood and the first knock-down blow. Five to four on Sampson.

3.—Jem was not deficient in pluck, and came to the scratch like a
good one. Jem planted a nobber, but Sampson countered well. A rally,
in which Jem was sent down. Seven to four on Brummagem.

4.—This was a fine round, and good fighting on both sides. Burn was
troublesome; but the skill and coolness displayed by Sampson were
the admiration of the spectators. Some exchanges that told on both
sides, but Jem had the worst of it. The claret made its appearance
under Burn’s left ogle, and Sampson, by way of a finish, hit his
antagonist down. Two to one on the Brum.

5.—Burn, full of spirit, tried to punish the Brum, but he was
stopped, nobbed right and left, and thrown into the bargain.

6.—This was short but sweet to Phil. Sampson stopped capitally, and,
in turn, planted two facers—botherers—so much so that Burn
staggered, turned round, and fell on his face.

7.—The nob of Jem was changed, but his courage never forsook him.
The coolness of Sampson enabled him to plant his blows with effect.
Jem lost many hits by being on the blinking system; he rushed in to
mill, but Sampson caught him as he came. In a sharp rally, Jem went
down.

8.—A tiny bit of a change for Jem—he sent Sampson down at the close
of the round. (Loud shouting for Burn. “Do that once more; Phil
don’t like it—you’ll soon make his knees tremble.” “Tremble,
indeed!” replied the Brum. “Fetch a fiddle, and I’ll bet a pound I
dance a hornpipe.”)

9.—Jem was piping, and Sampson a little winded. The latter planted a
jobber over the left eye of his opponent, and got away. (Great
applause. “Fighting such as this looks like a +, don’t it?” said
jolly Josh, rubbing his hands.) Some excellent stops on both sides,
and sharp exchanges of blows, till Burn napped an out-and-out one on
his nob, which dropped My Nevvy. Three to one on Brummagem.

10.—Forty-eight minutes had elapsed, and Sampson was as fresh as a
four-year-old. Burn, notwithstanding the state of his face, was game
as a pebble, and stood to his work like a man. Sampson received a
note of hand on his conk, without giving the return. Sharp fighting,
till Burn went down.

11.—This round was a fine specimen of the art of self-defence; and
both combatants displayed great skill. The right eye of Jem was
nearly in the dark, and he raised his hand to wipe it. Sampson,
quick as lightning, endeavoured to take advantage of the opening,
let fly with his left, but to the surprise of the spectators Burn
stopped him. This circumstance produced thunders of applause for
Jem. Burn again stopped several blows; but at the conclusion of the
round he was floored like a shot by a tremendous hit on the mouth.
Jem put his hand to his head as he lay on the ground.

12.—This round, by the decided manner in which he took the lead, and
also in finishing it by a heavy throw, rendered Sampson the
favourite at four to one.

13.—The friends of Jem still stuck to him, and were filled with
hopes that, as he had displayed so much real game, he might be able
to wear out Sampson; but the latter was cool and collected. Jem was
countered, and, in a hard struggle at the ropes, severely fibbed
down. (“The ‘Half Moon’ now,” said Josh, “has nearly put the ‘Rising
Sun’ into darkness. Very nasty, Mr. Broad Day, eh?”)

14.—Jem went down from a left-handed blow.

15.—Burn was really mischievous, and in close quarters nobbed
Sampson heavily. (“Keep off,” said Josh, “don’t give a chance
away.”) Sampson measured his distance well, and poor Jem again went
down.

16.—It was booked that Jem could not win; but the brave fellow had
not the slightest notion of saying “No!” Sampson waited for an
opportunity, and by a flush hit nearly took the fight out of Jem by
a floorer. (“Take him away!”)

17.—It was now lick or be licked with Jem, and he acted boldly on
this determination. Notwithstanding his blinking state, he
administered several heavy thumps on Sampson’s nob when in close
quarters. In closing, Sampson caught Burn’s nob under his arm,
fibbed, and dropped poor Jem with ease.

18.—A little turn in favour of Burn; the latter, by his boldness,
planted some heavy hits, one of which made Sampson stagger, and he
fell on the ropes. (A tremendous shout from the friends of Burn, who
did not give up hopes of victory.)

19.—Jem came to the scratch, but he was nearly blind. He was soon
thrown.

20.—It was piteous to see Jem throw his blows away; he could not see
his opponent. Burn received a heavy blow on the nose, and fell on
his back. Ten to one, but no takers.

21.—It was nearly “all up” with Jem; he appeared like a man groping
in the dark. The humanity of Sampson is worthy of record; he
scarcely touched him, and only planted a tap to put an end to the
battle. Burn was sent down quite exhausted. (“Take him away.”)

22.—Jem, like a drowning man catching at a straw, made a desperate
effort, and in a rush at Sampson received another floorer. (“Don’t
let the brave fellow fight any more—take him away.”)

23, and last.—It is worse than death to a man of true courage to
experience defeat, and Jem had made up his mind not to pronounce the
afflicting “No.” Burn had scarcely arrived at the scratch when he
was sent down by a trifling touch. (“He shall fight no more,” said
Uncle Ben, positively, stepping up to the umpires.) It occupied an
hour and ten minutes. Sampson immediately shook hands with his
fallen opponent. Burn was severely punished about the head, but
scarcely any body blows were given throughout the battle.

REMARKS.—Burn fought according to orders. Had he adopted the milling
style which characterised the last seven or eight rounds, even if he
had not proved victorious, it might have rendered the fight a more
even thing. Sampson in all his battles has proved himself a good
fighter. Like Jem Burn, he began his career too young. This battle
was a most honourable contest, and reflected credit on both the
combatants. Jem Burn is a truly game man. Every person returned home
well satisfied with the fairness and honesty of the battle.

Hall, of Birmingham, now declared himself anxious to try his luck in a third battle with Sampson; and Phil, with the utmost politeness, agreed to accommodate him without delay for £50 a-side. This mill was decided on Tuesday, November 22nd, 1825. The fight was booked as a certainty; “if,” as the chaff went, “it was not already made right.” Sampson was the favourite at six to four.

Early on Tuesday morning the Fancy were on the alert at Birmingham, Worcester, Coventry, Lichfield, &c., to arrive at Basset’s Pole, between Birmingham and Tamworth. Few of the London Fancy were present, as their “minds were completely made up,” from the capital fight Sampson made with Ward at Stony Stratford, that Phil must win the battle in a canter; therefore “it would not pay” to undertake so long a trot.

The description of the fight between Sampson and Hall lies in a nutshell, one round having put an end to the contest. Sampson was in prime condition, and certain of winning. Hall was upon equally good terms with himself. Sampson was seconded by Ward and Holland, and Hall by two brothers. On setting-to Sampson did not treat his opponent with indifference, but waited for him cool and collected. Three minutes had nearly elapsed in dodging about, when Hall planted a bodier. (“Bravo!” from his friends.) Sampson returned the compliment with great activity; hit for hit soon took place, and a sharp rally was the result. The men separated, and a trifling pause occurred. Sampson made himself up for mischief, and with his left delivered a heavy blow under his opponent’s ear which gave him the doldrums; by way of quietus he then planted with his right so severe a facer that Hall was floored like a shot. When time was called Hall was insensible, and remained in a state of stupor for several minutes. Thus Sampson was pronounced the conqueror in the short space of four minutes and three-quarters. The backers of Hall looked not a little blue on viewing their man so easily disposed of by Sampson, and the spectators in general were much disappointed at so short a contest. The winners, however, held a contrary opinion, and were in high spirits, observing “the fight was long enough for them;” and Sampson, with a smile upon his face, stated that “he should like to be paid for such another job, as £100 for under five minutes was not to be done every day, even in the highest professions.” The “Sage of the East,” in a discourse upon the event, declared Sampson’s right-hander to be “a golden hit”!

Owing to a quarrel with Josh Hudson at the East End, January 31st, 1826, Josh being by no means _compos_, Sampson beat the “John Bull Fighter” in six rounds, not much to the credit of the former. As a _per contra_, on June 30th, 1826, his bounce and quarrelsomeness got him a _third_ thrashing from Jem Ward, which was administered by the Champion in ten rounds, at Norwich, while on a sporting tour. Sampson also put out at this time a challenge to Brown, of Bridgnorth, to fight for £50 a-side; but the “big one” replied that the price did not suit him, so Sampson wrote again and again to show that Brown _ought_ to fight for that sum!

Paul Spencer, a native of Ireland, elegantly designated the “Mud Island Devil,” having defeated Manning, of Manchester, felt anxious to obtain a higher situation on the pugilistic roll, and challenged Sampson for £50 a-side. Phil approved of this match, observing at the same time, “No Irishman can lick me.” The articles stated that the fight should take place on Tuesday, November 27th, 1827, between Birmingham and Liverpool; and Newcastle-under-Lyme was named as the rallying point. During the Sunday and Monday previous to the battle the above town was filled with visitors from Liverpool, Birmingham, and Manchester. About two miles from Newcastle-under-Lyme the ring was made in front of the grand stand on the race-course. A few minutes before one o’clock the men arrived on the ground. Sampson threw his hat into the ring, attended by Tom Oliver and Young Gas; and Spencer was waited upon by Donovan and Bob Avery. Both combatants were in excellent condition. Spencer was an object of great interest to his Irish friends. He was a fine strong young fellow, in height five feet eleven inches and a half, weighing thirteen stone one pound. The colours were a crimson fogle for Sampson, and a green with a yellow spot for Spencer. Six to four on Sampson.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The men prepared for action in good style, Spencer adopting
Ned Neale’s mode of keeping up his left hand. Sampson was also on
the alert. After a short time occupied in manœuvring, Spencer
endeavoured to make his right and left tell, but Phil got out of
danger. A short pause; both on the look-out for an opening, when the
Mud Island Devil planted his right hand on Sampson’s nob; the latter
boxer returned left and right, and a brisk rally was the result. In
closing Phil fell on his knee, and Spencer, in fibbing, hit Sampson
as he was down. (“Foul!” “Fair!”) The friends of Sampson claimed the
fight, but the umpires ordered the battle to proceed.

2.—Caution on both sides. Spencer held his left still up, and let
fly with his right. Sampson stopped him skilfully, and hit out right
and left, delivering well on the nob. A desperate rally followed, in
which sharp hits were exchanged. Sampson planted his right on
Spencer’s mouth as he was rushing in, when Spencer caught him on top
of his canister with his right, and made a slight incision. Sampson
then closed, and fibbed at the body with his right, while Spencer
peppered away at his upper works, but without much effect. At length
Spencer got the lock with his right leg, and threw Sampson a
cross-buttock, falling heavily upon him. (The Liverpool blades in an
uproar; and, “You are sure to win it, Pat.”)

3.—Sampson showed blood from his nob, and Spencer from his mouth.
Spencer looked a little flushed and dropped his left. Sampson saw
the opening, rushed in, and hit him down with a straight one, two,
right and left. (“Sampson for ever!” and “Phil, it’s all your own!”)