From the time of Molineaux no sable champion had achieved so great a name as Sutton, and that, too, in a brief period. A native of Baltimore, he ran his slavery and worked, with an industry unusual in niggers, as a corn-runner in the Deptford granaries. Led by curiosity to see two of his own colour, Robinson and Stephenson, display their tactics in the ring, he repaired to Coombe Wood, May 28, 1816. While here as a spectator, Sutton, who was a tall athletic man, was asked by a gentleman what he thought of meeting another black who had challenged for a purse to be given on the ground. Sutton, who was as brave a fellow as ever sported a black suit of nature’s livery, consented readily, and another “black job” was soon started. Richmond and Harmer seconded Sutton; Cropley and Paddington Jones taking the other black under their most especial care, who was inferior in every point of view—in height, strength, make, look, and age—to Sutton. The set-to was something new and amusing.
Round 1.—The long arms of Sutton looked formidable, and though he began in a hurry, Cropley’s black seemed equally eager to meet him. Such a term as science was not to be mentioned. It was slinging, wild hitting, dodging, and turning round, till at last they came to a violent hug, when much pummelling took place. They, however, broke away from this close embrace, and made a complete stand-still of it, looking at each other and panting for breath. Cropley’s black now folded his arms, nodded his head, and began to point his finger, laughing at his opponent. This so enraged Sutton that he rushed in and planted a chopping hit, which made Cropley’s beauty dance again. It was now a comic scene, and new tricks were introduced at every step. Sutton, in making a blow at his opponent’s nob, hit his cap off, and his bald pate appearing, the spectators were in roars of laughter; yet, notwithstanding the variety of ludicrous postures exhibited by these black Quixotes, some heavy milling took place. Four minutes and a half had passed, amid the most uproarious shouts and applause, when Sutton put an end to this singular round, grappled his opponent and brought him down.
2.—On setting-to some hornpipe steps were jigged by Cropley’s black. The arms of Sutton trembled astonishingly, and his frame seemed much agitated. He made use of the chopping blow, and whenever his distance proved correct, his hits were tremendous. Some few blows passed, when Cropley’s black was thrown.
3.—Cropley’s man did not seem to like it; and perhaps, had it not been for the charms of a purse, he would have bolted. In fact, he was no match for his opponent. He hopped about and hit at random. Sutton chopped at his opponent. Some few blows were exchanged, when Cropley’s black fell, and refused to come again. Thus finished this caricature on milling.
On June 4, 1816, at a benefit for Eales and Johnson at the Fives Court, Sutton mounted the stage to contend with the powerful Tom Oliver. Sutton appeared rather diffident. His sparring, however, was far from contemptible, and, as a novice, he achieved more than could have been expected. Oliver had very little the best of him, and it was observed that Tom took the gloves off first. George Cooper (the late competitor of Donnelly in Ireland, and who was reported to be dead) made his appearance and also had a set-to with Sutton. Cooper put in several heavy facers, and showed considerable science; but Sutton, no way dismayed, stood well up to him, and, in a sharp rally, returned some heavy hits and exchanged blows advantageously. Upon the whole, the new man of colour received much applause. Cooper, like Oliver, it was also remarked, took off the gloves first.
The milling qualities of Sutton being now better understood, he was matched with Robinson; and these men of colour met at Doncaster Races, September 25, 1816. The fight took place in a paddock (where each spectator was charged three shillings as the price of admission), in a twenty feet roped ring, for a subscription purse. Robinson, who had twice fought with Carter, and defeated Stephenson, Butcher, etc., was seconded by Crouch and Saunders, and, in consequence of his boxing notoriety, five to four was betted upon him, in the metropolis, and six to four upon his setting-to in the ring. Sutton was attended by Richmond and Harmer. At half past twelve the signal was given, and offensive operations commenced without farther ceremony. It appears in the first round that Robinson sustained so severe a hit from his opponent that it quite spoiled him as to any vigorous exertion afterwards. An appeal was made to the umpires upon this momentous point, on which the fate of the battle hung; but these rustic arbiters of milling, not ignorant of the precedents of Moulsey, or the practice at Coombe Warren, and not wishing to make a chancery suit of it, instantly ordered the fight to proceed. The long arms of Sutton not only took great liberties with the upper works of Robinson, but soon put the wind of the latter out of order, and ultimately made him measure his length upon the ground. The betting now rapidly changed, and Sutton became the favourite, with odds upon him. It was all up with Robinson, and during twenty-five rounds he had no opportunity of turning the battle in his favour; and in thirty-six minutes, after receiving a severe milling, he was compelled to acknowledge that he had had “enough!” It is but fair to state that he was out of condition, never had any training, was overturned in the coach, and entered the ring within a very few hours after his journey from London. But the knowing ones asserted Sutton could beat him at any time, and that he would soon look out for a customer much higher on the boxing list than ever Robinson stood. Sutton was scarcely hurt, and gave visible proof of the great improvement he had made. Sutton by the above battle gained little more than the honour of proving a conqueror.
From the capabilities displayed by Sutton in this fight he rose in the estimation of the patrons of scientific boxing, and was judged an able competitor for the game Ned Painter. A match was accordingly made between them, for 25 guineas a-side and a P. C. purse, and they entered the lists at Moulsey Hurst on July 23, 1817.
Painter at this time had been the victor in two battles, over Coyne, the Irishman, and Alexander, the gamekeeper; but he had two defeats, per contra, with Tom Oliver (then in his best day), and with the gigantic Shaw, the Life-guardsman, a defeat without disgrace. The betting on the day was six to four on Painter.
Painter showed himself near the ring sitting on a basket a considerable time before the Black appeared in sight. In fact, he was sent for by the Commander-in-chief.[31] Sutton at length came forward with his second and threw his hat in the ring, which was soon followed by his opponent performing the same act of defiance. During the time Painter was taking off his clothes Sutton never took his eyes off his person. Cribb and Harmer seconded Painter; Tom Oliver and Paddington Jones waited upon Sutton. The anxious moment had now arrived (ten minutes after one); the combatants and seconds shook hands, and the battle commenced. Both men appeared in good condition, but Painter looked somewhat thin. Five to four upon Sutton.
Round 1.—Some trifling sparring occurred. Sutton’s long arm stood out like a pole, and upon the whole his frame looked tremendous. Painter hit first, but not effectively, when they got to hammering each other, and arrived at the ropes. Here Ned fibbed his opponent severely, until the strength of Sutton enabled him to break away. The Black now returned to the attack impetuously, but without judgment, and got nobbed preciously for his fury. Painter went down from a slight hit or a slip.
2.—The men were now both upon their mettle, and the tremors of a first round had subsided. Notwithstanding the Black’s long arm the science of Painter prevailed to that extent upon Sutton’s upper works that he seemed to possess a body without a head. It was almost a question if he knew whether he was in or out of the ring. A desperate rally occurred, and, in closing, Painter endeavoured again to fib his opponent. The Black caught hold of his hand to avoid punishment, and ultimately Painter was down.
3.—It is impossible to describe the execution which took place on both sides during this round. If one was bold, the other was fearless: it was hit for hit, in the most finished style of boxing; in fact, it was truly tremendous, and the amateurs were now convinced that the man of colour possessed “devil” enough for anything. At length Painter planted a body blow with so much severity that the Black was missing in a twinkling, and seen gasping for breath on the ground. (The uproarious applause that took place was like a fire of artillery, the confusion of tongues immense. “That’s the way to win my boy!” and two to one all round the ring upon Painter.)
4.—It is true the Black was brought to the scratch, but his breath escaped from his lips like a pair of bellows in full blow. This was a trying round for both parties, and Painter seemed to have out-fought his strength. They almost tumbled against each other, so much were they exhausted, till they again got into determined milling. Here Painter gave Sutton such a tremendous pimpler that his head seemed to rotate on his shoulders with the rapid twirl of a Bologna. In closing, Painter exerted himself in fibbing his opponent; but Sutton resolutely disengaged himself and threw his adversary.
5.—Painter now appeared bleeding, and half a minute time was too short for the men to appear anything like themselves, so furiously had the battle raged in this early period of the fight. This round, however, was decidedly in favour of Painter, and he stopped the rashness of his opponent in a scientific manner. He gave Sutton three such heavy facers, that the nob of the Black did not seem to belong to him, and gallantly finished this round by sending him down. (The applause here was a tumult of joy, and in the ecstasy of the moment five to one was offered. It was now the expressed opinion that Ned would win the battle in a canter.)
6.—The fight must have been finished in this round, or at least he would have rendered it certain, had Painter possessed sufficient strength. The Black could scarcely leave his second’s knee, and had it not been for the skill of Tom Oliver he would not have been in time to meet his opponent at the scratch. They both stared at each other, and appeared fit for anything but milling. However, they went at it pell mell, and Painter received so sharp a blow on his left eye that the claret run down. The Black also got such a nobber that he was quite abroad, and moved his hands like a puppet pulled with strings. It was all chance work, and Painter went down.
7.—Painter again “faced” the Black, and had the best of the round, but he went down.
8.—The Black endeavoured to bore in, but he was stopped in fine style. Painter milled him in every direction, planted three facers with ease, and finished the round by levelling Sutton. (Great shouting.)
9.—Both extremely distressed; and notwithstanding the many nobbers the Black had received, all Painter’s work in point of appearance went for nothing. Sutton’s frontispiece seemed to defy all hitting. Painter was bored to the ropes, where, in struggling, both fell.
10.—Sutton floored his opponent by a tremendous hit in the chest. The partizans of Sutton here manifested their approbation.
11.—Painter’s exertions in this round were astonishing. He had it all his own way. He nobbed the Black so repeatedly that his arms were of no use to him, as he could not place himself in a position, and Sutton fell from exhaustion.
12.—Some blows were exchanged, materially to the advantage of Painter. His exertions, however, were more than his strength could support, and he ultimately went down.
13.—Sutton had been so much beaten about the head, that he seemed in a state of stupor, and “time” might have been vociferated in vain had not his attendant roused him into action. He was literally pushed forward to meet his opponent, when Painter kept paying away till he went down from weakness. Painter planted eight facers without return.
14 to 17.—In the first three rounds Painter went down; but in the last, notwithstanding his bad state of vision, he milled the Black so successfully that Sutton measured his length on the grass. (Loud shouting, and “Painter will yet win,” was frequently asserted.)
18.—In this distressed state a rally occurred, and Painter was floored.
19.—This was a most singular round: it was anybody’s battle. Both the men were dead beat. The Black turned away from Painter on his making a hit; and soon afterwards Painter turned from him, and went down. (Two to one on Sutton.)
20.—Painter not only made some good hits, but, in closing, he fibbed Sutton sharply, and dropped him.
21 to 23.—Painter was down in all these rounds, although he had the best of the hitting. He was distressed beyond description.
24.—Painter seemed to have revived a little, and made a desperate hit on the nose of Sutton that floored him upon his back, and his legs rebounded from the earth. It appeared a finisher, and he was got upon the knee of his second with considerable difficulty. (The odds now changed again in favour of Painter.)
25 to 31.—It was astonishing to witness the desperation with which many of these rounds were contested. Painter showed most science, but the Black’s strength was more than could be reduced, and the former was down almost every time from sheer exhaustion.
32 to 40 and last.—Painter was almost blind and destitute of strength, yet he contended up to the last moment for victory. He was so far gone, in some instances, that he almost tried to lie down; and it was owing to his extreme weakness that Sutton was enabled to recover his strength, and brought him the smiles of victory. It was strength alone that won it. It is due to Sutton to state that a fairer fighter never entered the ring; but it is more pleasure to assert that no prejudice was expressed as to his colour—impartiality was the order of the day. Painter was led out of the ring, while Sutton walked from the scene of action without his clothes. The battle lasted forty-eight minutes and a half. A liberal subscription was gathered for Painter by Mr. Jackson on the ground. He returned to Belcher’s in the evening, where the most considerate attention was paid to him. He experienced no body blows of consequence, but his head and arms were terribly beaten.
Remarks.—Painter, although defeated, has not fallen in the estimation of his friends. His courage was equal to the task he had to accomplish. In point of science he was far superior to his opponent; but in strength he was materially deficient. It was a complete sporting fight, and the odds were continually changing. Two better men never had a meeting; and a more determined battle could not be witnessed. Sutton has raised himself in the opinion of the amateurs, and he is considered to have evinced as much pluck, if not more, than any man of colour that has yet exhibited. Though his exterior did not show much punishment, yet his cheeks had a “rainbow” appearance. He is not likely to remain long in a state of inactivity, and will certainly prove a desperate customer to any one who dares contend with him. His prodigious length of arm is of great advantage; and he is pronounced by the best informed upon this subject to be the hardest hitter on the present list of boxers. Sutton owed his success greatly to the management and prompt determination of his second, Tom Oliver. Painter never fought so well before. He stopped fifty blows at least with his right hand, and also punished Sutton severely about the body. Upon the whole, it was one of the evenest contended battles that had been viewed for a long time, until the last seven rounds, when, during some of these Painter strained every effort to turn the chance in his favour. What the human frame could perform towards obtaining conquest this determined boxer attempted. He actually fought till nature refused to move. So much regret was never expressed upon the defeat of any pugilist as upon this occasion, owing to Painter’s inoffensive disposition and respectful behaviour in society at all times.
The sporting amateurs of Norwich desiring a fight in their vicinity, had, it seems, subscribed the sum of £100, £80 to the winner and £20 to the losing man, and Painter having challenged Sutton, to a second trial, they were offered a premium to bring off the affair at Bungay Common, Suffolk, the day appointed being the 16th of December, 1817. The battle was truly tremendous, and after fifteen rounds, all fighting, in one hour and forty-two minutes, Sutton was carried from the ring. (See Painter, ante p. 79.)
The no-fight between Shelton and Oliver which took the fancy on a wild goose chase to Blindlow Heath and Copthorne, on the tempestuous 23rd of December, 1819, led to another black job for Massa Sutton. Kendrick, the black, had come down that day, determined, he said, to fight anybody, should there be a purse, after the “big affair,” and resolved, moreover, to have “a bit of beef for his Christmas dinner.” Fifteen guineas were collected, when Sutton, considering it an easy prize, offered himself for a game at “black and all black.” At three o’clock the men faced each other, Randall looking after Kendrick, and Jack Martin attending upon Sutton.
Round 1.—Kendrick hit short with his left hand, and delivered his right well home on Sutton’s head, but his hand was open and it did no mischief. Sutton rushed in, closed, and threw Kendrick a heavy fall.
2.—Sutton delivered a straight and well-directed blow with his left hand in Kendrick’s bread-basket, which made him cry “Hem!” and drove him back two yards. Sutton, going in to follow up his success, was met in the middle of the head, when a rally commenced. Some blows exchanged, and Kendrick was thrown. It was evident here Sutton was too strong for him.
3.—Sutton put in another left-handed doubler, and followed with his right on Kendrick’s eye, which floored him as if shot. Kendrick bled freely from his nose and mouth.
Nine other rounds were fought, in which Sutton had it all his own way, and Kendrick received some heavy blows and falls. In the twelfth round Sutton hit him with the left hand in the mark, and caught him on the head with the right as he was going down, which so knocked the wind and senses out of Kendrick that he could not be moved from his second’s knee. The fight lasted seventeen minutes. Sutton was scarcely marked, his condition being very superior to that of poor Kendrick, who was severely punished. A liberal subscription was made for him through the exertions of Mr. Jackson, and sympathy was expressed as it was his third defeat in succession, and he was “out of luck.”
Remarks.—Kendrick’s weakness was visible early in the fight; but, without taking that into consideration, he could not in his best trim conquer Sutton. Though without a chance of winning the purse, he showed himself a game man. He received a tremendous hit on the right eye, and also complained of a severe stomacher, that puffed the wind out of his empty frame like a pair of bellows; Sutton also fell upon him heavily. A gentleman very humanely gave up an inside place, and rode outside a coach, in order that poor Kendrick might be brought to London comfortably and free of expense; he also paid other attentions to his wants. Several gentlemen proposed that Kendrick should be sent into training, and that they would back him against the Gas-light Man for 25 guineas a-side. With patronage and training, Kendrick, it was thought, might become as it were a new man.
Sutton, although he attended the Fives Court and every benefit and sparring match and prize fight, could not find a customer. His thirteen stone nine pounds, and six feet and half an inch in height, were too great odds for middle weights, and the big ones wanted larger figures than Harry could get backed for. He was, however, matched with Larkin, the guardsman, to fight on the 4th of November, 1819, and 20 guineas posted; but in this he was disappointed, for Larkin was ordered off by his colonel, and Sutton’s only consolation was the twenty yellow boys. Sutton now went on a sparring tour with Jack Carter through Lancashire and to Ireland, as may be seen in Carter’s life. As from this period Sutton merely appears as a sparring exhibitor, we here close his pugilistic career.
Bill Abbot, whose victories over Hares, Dolly Smith, the renowned Tom Oliver, and Phil. Sampson, give him a claim to a niche in the Walhalla of pugilism, was a Westminster lad and a disciple of Caleb Baldwin. He stood five feet eight inches, and weighed eleven stone seven pounds. His first battle of any note was with a man of the name of Jones, at Wimbledon Common, whom he defeated in good style.
Abbot next fought Dick Hares on Wimbledon Common, on June 16, 1818, after Randall and Burke had left the ring. Hares displayed his usual good fighting and game qualities; but he was compelled to surrender to Abbot. Hares was over-weighted.
Abbot was matched against Dolly Smith for twenty guineas a-side, and this battle took place near the Barge House, in Essex, on Tuesday, February 2, 1819, on which day the amateurs, heedless of rain, left the metropolis and mustered numerously on the ground. Mr. Soares was chosen umpire. Dolly was well known to the ring, from his combats with Hares, Scroggins, and Cannon, though these were all defeats. Abbot, from defeating Hares and Jones, was considered a rising boxer. At half past one Smith threw up his hat in the ring, accompanied by his seconds, Randall and Owen; and Abbot followed by Oliver and Shelton. There was also an outer ring. The ceremony of shaking hands took place, when the men set to. Five to four on Abbot.
Round 1.—The men appeared in good condition, Abbot the best. They were more cautious than was expected, and some long sparring occurred. If Smith had not hit first, Abbot, in all probability, would have remained on the defensive. Dolly, with his right hand, put in a sharp bodier, which, had it been a little higher, must have floored his opponent. Abbot returned short. Dolly hit and got away, when, after some exchanges, they closed. Smith went down, and the claret was seen on his right eye.
2.—The caution of Abbot astonished the amateurs. Dolly again hit and got away. Some blows were exchanged. In closing, Dolly again went down bleeding.
3.—Dolly meant to punish his opponent, and went to work with his right hand, but it was out of distance, and he was again on the ground.
4.—Dolly was too short to get at Abbot; he could not nob him, and was always compelled to hit first. They closed, and some sharp fibbing occurred, when both went down, Dolly undermost. (Six to four on Abbot; the confident betters roared out two to one.)
5.—The short arms of Dolly frequently failed in planting a blow. This was a tolerable round, and Smith received a severe hit that sent him staggering away, but he recovered himself. In closing, Dolly paid away, but went down bleeding copiously.
6.—Abbot made some feints, when, after a short round, Dolly was hit down. (Bravo, and loud shouting.)
7.—Dolly came quite fresh to the scratch, but he received a heavy body hit that floored him. (“Well done, Abbot!”)
8.—A sharp round, and both down.
9.—Both hit short. Long sparring. In closing, some fibbing occurred, when Dolly broke away. More sparring. Abbot hit short. In closing at the ropes, Abbot hit Dolly down. (Shouting, and “Bravo, Abbot!”)
10.—The expected smashing forte of Abbot was not seen, and he kept retreating till Dolly hit first, when he then let fly frequently to advantage. Both down.
11.—Dolly’s mug was painted in every direction, while Abbot had not received a scratch. Some sharp fibbing, and Dolly the worst of it, and down.
12.—Abbot never tried to take the lead, although he generally got the best of the round. He was the best at in-fighting; and Dolly now bled copiously, till both went down.
13.—Both down.
14.—Dolly gave a good bodier; and, after some hard hitting, both again down.
15.—Dolly put in a snorter that made Abbot’s pimple rattle again. (“Such another pretty Dolly,” roared out Tom Owen, “is not to be seen in the kingdom.”) After some sharp exchanges, Dolly was hit down on the right side of his head.
16.—The punishment on Dolly’s mug was conspicuous. Both down.
17.—The right eye of Dolly was nearly closed. Some sharp work in a close, but Dolly down. Thirty-three minutes.
18.—This was a good round, but the left hand of Dolly appeared of no use to him, while Abbot’s right seemed tied to his shoulder. The latter waited with the greatest patience for the attacks of Dolly, which did not at all times shield him from heavy blows on the side of his neck and one of his jaws. In closing, some severe fibbing occurred, when Dolly extricated himself with some talent. Two sharp counter-hits. Dolly received a facer which put him in a dancing attitude, and he performed some new steps without the aid of music; but he at length recovered himself, returned to the charge like a Waterloo trump, and made so formidable a stand that Abbot resorted to some long sparring. Dolly, however, got the worst of it, and was floored. (Shouting on both sides of the ring. Smith shared the applause with his opponent.)
19 to 24.—In some of these rounds, when Dolly was breaking away, Abbot made several chops at him, but without doing any material execution. In the last round Smith began to fight with both his hands, and the ear and neck of Abbot exhibited marks of heavy hitting. Both down.
25.—Dolly was cleanly hit down. (“Well done, my cabbage-cutter; that’s the way to finish it.”)
26.—The dose was repeated by Abbot, and the claret from Dolly’s mug was copious.
27 to 32.—Dolly never could effect any change. Abbot was patiently waiting every round for Smith. The head of the latter was terrific.
33.—Dolly had decidedly the best of this round. Both down.
34.—Smith was down; but the ground was in a most wretched slippery state. (A guinea to a shilling was offered, but this was thought more bravado than judgment.)
35 to 39.—Long sparring, and the partizans of Abbot roaring out for him to “go in,” “No, no,” says Owen; “he knows the advantage of keeping his distance better. D’ye mind me, he’s what I call a distance cove. By the Lord Mayor we shall win it now. Go along, my boy, with your left mauley, and his nob will be of no service to him.” In spite, however, of all the encouragement of his lively second, Dolly was ultimately floored.
40 to 69.—To detail the minutiæ of these rounds would be superfluous. Dolly at times made some sharp hits, but there was no alteration in his favour.
70 to 127.—The rain came down in torrents, but the mill went on with all the regularity of sunshine. Abbot showed nothing like a decisive fighter; and there was once or twice he did not like the nobbers he had received. Dolly, in the majority of these rounds, went down.
128 to 138 and last.—It appeared Dolly entertained an opinion that he could not lose it; and even after two hours and a quarter had passed, he nodded satisfactorily to his friends that his confidence had not deserted him. There was nothing interesting in the whole of these rounds to amateurs; and Dolly endeavoured to tire out his adversary by going down, but without effect, when he at last said he could fight no more. Two hours and fifty-five minutes had elapsed.
Remarks.—Abbot is by no means a first-rate fighter, or he ought to have beat Dolly off-hand. He was all caution, and his strength enabled him to last the longest. He was very glad when Dolly said “No.” It was a most fatiguing fight; and, owing to the pitiless, pelting shower, and the amateurs having to stand up to their knees in mud, the ring was almost deserted before the fight was ended. It was only the out-and-outers that remained. To describe the pitiful appearance of the amateurs would have required the pencil of a Hogarth—they had not a dry thread about them. Abbot had scarcely a scratch upon his face; but was much distressed towards the end, and led out of the ring. Smith was put to bed at the Barge House. Little betting occurred. Owing to the bad state of the weather, no collection was made for Smith, but he had a benefit given to him, under the patronage of some spirited amateurs.
Abbot was defeated by West Country Dick in a turn-up on March 2, 1819. (See vol. i., pp. 478, 479.)
Abbot fought with a knight of the last, to make up a fourth battle, for a small purse, on Hounslow Heath, on Tuesday, June 1, 1819; it served the amateurs to laugh at. Abbot had been sacrificing too freely at the shrine of Bacchus either to stand upright or to make a hit, and the “translator of soles” seemed also to have too much respect for his hide to encounter even his reeling opponent. “Master Waxy” gave in upon his pins, after jumping about in the most ridiculous postures for twenty minutes, without having a mark to show.
The sporting world felt great disappointment on Friday, February 18, 1820, in consequence of the severe illness of Spring preventing the combat which had been fixed for the above day. The ring was formed on Epsom Downs, and at half past twelve o’clock Ben Burn threw his hat up, and loudly declared he was ready to fight Spring. (See ante, p. 9.) Richmond also came forward and asked if any gentleman present appeared on the part of Spring, but no answer was given. The man of colour told Burn not to be in any hurry, as a fight could be made up in the interim. A purse of twelve guineas was collected upon the ground, and Abbot entered the lists with a raw countryman from Streatham, who appeared anxious for milling honours. Abbot was seconded by the Guardsman and Hopping Ned; the “yokel” was attended by Richmond and Clark. At two o’clock the men set to.
Round 1.—Johnny Raw, who was quite a novice in the ring (in fact it was his first appearance), went to work pell mell; but the science and experience of Abbot gave him the best of it, and after a few hard blows he put in a hit upon the throat of the countryman that floored him like a shot. For the instant Johnny was quite senseless, and upon Richmond’s picking him up, he asked, “Who done that? What’s that for? Where am I?” Richmond, with a smile upon his mug, observed, “Why you are in the Court of Chancery; and, let me say, you are not the first man that has been bothered by its practice.”
2 to 4.—Abbot had the best of these rounds, and he explained to the countryman the term pepper.
5.—The clumsy hitting of Johnny Raw gave him a turn, and Abbot received a tremendous floorer; and, notwithstanding the chevying of the lads to daunt the countryman, it was seven to four in his favour.
6 to 30.—It was a sort of reciprocal milling during all the rounds; many hard blows passed between them. Abbot showed the first blood, and was also the worst punished.
31.—Abbot got his opponent at the ropes; but with all his endeavours to fib the poor countryman’s nob, he failed.
32 to 40 and last.—It was never exactly safe to Abbot till in this round, when he again floored Johnny by a tremendous blow on the throat. Johnny was now quite senseless, and all attempts to bring him up to time were useless. Water was thrown on his face; but Abbot was pronounced the conqueror after one hour and twenty minutes had elapsed. Abbot was by far the worst punished. On Johnny’s recovering his recollection, he observed, “Who done that? Dang it, have I been in the Court of Chancery again? I don’t like that place; it makes a body so stupid. But I am ready to take another turn.”
Abbot entered the lists with a sturdy navigator, at the close of Hampton Races, 1820, for a small subscription purse. Abbot was seconded by Purcell and Brown, and the navigator by Shelton and West Country Dick. It was a good battle, and the navigator proved himself a very troublesome, dangerous customer. He stood over Abbot, and was also very strong, game, and would not be denied; but the superior science of our hero enabled him to win it cleverly in forty-five minutes.
Abbot, in a turn-up in Harper’s Fields, Marylebone, on Monday, June 5, 1820, defeated a Birmingham man of the name of Bennyflood, for a small purse, in the course of a few minutes, without a scratch upon his face.
Abbot fought Pitman for £5 a-side and a small purse, on Wimbledon Common, immediately after Brown and Curtis had left the ring, on Monday, August 28, 1820. The former was seconded by Randall and Callus, and the latter by Bill Cropley and Joe Norton. This was a hammering fight for thirty minutes, occupying twenty-seven rounds. Pitman was a game man, and reminded the spectators of Pearce, denominated the Game Chicken, but it was only in appearance. Pitman was beat to a stand-still. Abbot retired from the contest with a slight scratch under his left eye, but received some ugly thumps upon his head.
We now come to Abbot’s most remarkable ring exploit. A dispute with Tom Oliver led to a hasty match, in which ten guineas a-side were posted; but it was thought absurd, and a forfeit on the part of Abbot fully expected. But time rolled on and the day fixed, Tuesday, November 6, 1821, came, with both men in the same mind; and the fancy received the intimation that Moulsey was the chosen champ clos. At one o’clock, Oliver, attended by Ben Burn and Bill Gibbons, threw in his hat; and shortly afterwards, Abbot, attended by Scroggins and Tom Jones, answered the signal of defiance. Seven to four, two to one, and in some instances three to one on Oliver were called out, without takers. The colours—dark blue for Oliver, light blue for Abbot—were tied to the stake, and the men stood up.
Round 1.—On shaking hands it was expected that Oliver would immediately go to work and spoil his opponent; but, instead of that, Oliver thought he had a mere plaything in opposition to him, and did nothing. Some attempts at hitting were made on both sides, but without effect, when Abbot ran in and Oliver held him in his arms and got him down. (Shouting for joy, and Oliver for any odds.)
2.—Abbot trembled very much on placing himself in attitude at the scratch. Oliver planted a slight nobber and got away. A pause. Abbot received another small taste, when he rushed in and pulled Tom down. (Shouting and laughing, “It can’t last long.”)
3.—Abbot still shaking, yet he tried to plant his right on Oliver’s nob, but the latter got away. Oliver hit short. In closing, Abbot hung on the ropes; but Oliver seemed wanting in strength to do execution. Abbot at length broke away and showed fight, till they both went down, Oliver uppermost. (Six to one, but no takers. “Oliver can’t lose it,” was the general expression round the ring.)
4.—Whether it was owing to the recollection of what Oliver had once been in the prize ring could alone be answered by Abbot himself, but his nervous trepidation was evident. Abbot, however, made a heavy right-handed hit on his opponent’s mouth which produced the claret. Some slight exchanges occurred, and, in a struggle for the throw, Oliver fell on Abbot in rather an awkward manner; but not wishing his opponent should entertain a bad opinion, Oliver said, “I beg your pardon; I could not help it.” “Book that,” said one of the time-keepers to the writer of this article, “as it serves to show the fancy it is a gentlemanly fight.”
5.—Oliver got away from a hit. A pause. “Go to work,” said Paddington Jones: “What are ye both about?” Abbot planted a bodier, and not a light one. Oliver gave a facer, and followed his opponent to the ropes, where they endeavoured to hold each other’s hands to prevent fibbing, when Abbot got down. Oliver seemed to smile with contempt on his adversary, as much as to say, “There was a time that such an opponent could not have stood before me for five minutes.”
6.—A scuffle, and both down. While Oliver was sitting on the knee of his second, the Gas, with a grin upon his mug, sarcastically observed, “Why this is a lark, ain’t it, Tom? Surely you don’t call this fighting.”
7.—Oliver got away, when Abbot, in following him, hit short and napt a facer in return. They followed each other to the ropes, when the wretched condition of Oliver was evident to all the ring, for instead of fibbing Abbot, he literally pushed him away, gasping for wind; but Tom was so much the favourite of the amateurs, that they were completely blind to his defects. Abbot went down, and the shouting was loud in Oliver’s behalf.
8.—Some little milling took place. Abbot was sent out of the ring, and Oliver fell from weakness. “The Sprig of Myrtle” stepped up to Abbot and told him it was all right. “We are sure to win it,” answered Scroggins.
9.—Oliver appeared to view Abbot in the light of a plaything; still his blows did not do any mischief. Abbot threw Oliver and fell heavily on him.
10.—Oliver threw his opponent right away from him. (Thunders of applause.) In fact, at every movement that Oliver made, either good or bad, he was cheered by the surrounding spectators.
11.—This round was decidedly in favour of Oliver. Abbot turned completely round from a hit, when Oliver took advantage of this circumstance, planted a nobber, and sent Abbot down. (The costermongers were now cheering to the echo, and Ned Turner offered £10 to £1, but no person would have it.)
12.—This was also a tidy round; Oliver best, but both down.
13.—If Oliver had gone up to the nob of Abbot he might have spoiled his “mitre;” but he was more intent on getting away from the blows of his opponent than punishing him. Abbot went down from a hit. (Loud shouting.) The time-keeper stated twenty-two minutes had elapsed, which floored the bets on time, that Oliver won it in twenty minutes.
14.—Abbot went sharply to work, and made a severe body hit. A pause. Oliver planted a header, smiling, but put down his hands as if tired. The right hand of Abbot, which went home on Oliver’s mouth, sent him staggering, and the claret flowed profusely. At the ropes a sharp struggle took place, when Oliver threw his opponent. (“Well done, Tom; go to work and finish it.” Oliver for any odds.)
15.—The right ear of Abbot appeared slightly tinged with blood; but in other respects the blows of Oliver had scarcely left a mark. Abbot was sent out of the ring.
16.—Oliver had the best of this round; and Abbot was again under the ropes.
17.—Oliver, instead of going to work, sparred away his time; but, in an exchange of blows, Abbot went down, and Oliver fell on him. (“Go along, Tommy; it will soon be over.”)
18.—The face of Oliver was the most punished, but he had the best of this round. In following his opponent he caught him at the ropes, when Abbot would have gone down, but Oliver held him up with one hand and fibbed him with the other till he was exhausted, when Tom dropped him. (A roar of artillery. Oliver for any odds.)
19.—On coming to the scratch the face of Abbot did not betray the severe punishment which might have been expected, which was a sufficient proof, as the flash term is, that Oliver could scarcely “hit a hole in a pound of butter.” Abbot tried to obtain a turn in his favour, and went boldly up to Oliver, but more passionately than collected; he, however, put in some severe hits, which did Oliver no good. The latter in return, hit Abbot down. (Great applause for Oliver.)
20.—If it had been any other boxer than Oliver, that is to say, not so old a favourite as Tom, the exertions of Abbot would not have been treated so slightly. He is a strong young man, not a novice in the prize ring, with a fist as hard as iron; and whenever he planted his right-handed hit, Oliver felt it, and more than once severely; yet the feelings of the amateurs were that Tom must win. After some exchanges, Abbot rushed in. Oliver stopped his opponent skilfully, and endeavoured to fib him as he went down at the ropes. (Lots of applause for Oliver.)
21.—In point of punishment, this was the worst round in the fight for Abbot. The latter went in right and left, but Oliver stopped his efforts, milled him, and, in struggling, threw him down so violently on his back that the claret gushed from his nose. (“It’s all your own now, Tom, to a certainty.”)
22.—Abbot made a hit, which Oliver stopped. The pause was now so long that Tom Jones roared out, “If you mean to fight, do, or I shall leave the ring.” A scuffle, and both down.
23.—Abbot planted a heavy right-handed hit on Oliver’s ribs, and was going to work in a sharp manner, when he received so straight a stopper on the throat that he went down in a twinkling. This was the first clean knock-down blow. (Oliver’s friends were quite elated, and the cheers were very loud.)
24.—Abbot showed that he was not destitute of science, and made some good stops. He also gave Oliver a facer, but ultimately went down. (Disapprobation. Indeed, Abbot did not appear to have many good wishers, except the Sprig of Myrtle, who often came to the ropes to cheer him up, as did also the Sprig’s father.)
25.—Oliver napt a facer, and appeared to get weak; but his friends were so sanguine that they would not have it for a moment that anything was the matter. Abbot fought well this round; but, on going down, Oliver fell severely on him.
26.—On setting-to, Randall exclaimed, “Tom, my dear fellow, don’t lose your fame; never be licked by such a man as Abbot. Only go to work, and you must win it easy.” Abbot seemed (if a man’s thoughts can be judged) as if a doubt existed in his mind about winning it, and retreated from Oliver. The latter held him up at the ropes, and kept fibbing him till he was exhausted, and dropped him as before. No favourite actor in a theatre ever received more applause than Oliver.
27.—Abbot, on putting up his hand, laughed, and planted a body hit. A long pause, the men looking at each other. This was one of Oliver’s great faults: instead of commencing fighting, Oliver was getting away from hits. Oliver went down from a slight hit, owing to the slippery state of the ring.
28.—Abbot rushed in to mill Oliver; but he got the worst of it, and napped a severe nobber that sent him down. (Tremendous shouting.) Abbot, on being placed on his second’s knee, dropped his head, and it was thought all was over.
29.—Abbot wanted to make this round as short as he could by going down, but Oliver caught him at the ropes and administered some little punishment. (“Bravo, Tom, you behave handsome.” Ben Burn offered twenty guineas to five, but of no avail.)
30.—This was a fine fighting round; some severe exchanges took place, and Abbot, at the close of the round, planted such a tremendous right-handed hit on Oliver’s ear that he went down like a shot. It was on the spot where Painter, Neat, and “the Gas” had done so much execution. Oliver seemed stunned: he was all abroad, and was lifted from the ground like a sack of sand. Randall, Sampson, Josh. Hudson, etc., with all their vociferation, could scarcely restore him to his senses to be in readiness to the call of “time.” It is impossible to describe the agitation of the ring, not on account of their losses—for there were scarce any takers—but the sorrow felt at witnessing this lamentable tie-up of a brave man. (Five to one against Oliver.)
31.—Oliver was brought to the scratch, but no sailor three sheets in the wind was half so groggy. Abbot went up to him like a bull dog, milled him in all directions, and floored him like a log. Hogarth’s pictures were fools to the mugs of the amateurs—the brave Oliver to be sent out of the ring by a “wooden man,” as Abbot had been previously termed.
32.—The old fanciers were deeply hurt in their minds at this reverse of fortune, and not a Westminster boy, or a costermonger, but almost felt for their “wipes” to dry up their moistened “ogles;” “but who can rule the uncertain chance of war?” Oliver put up his arms to avoid the punishment, and went down once more like a log of wood. (A guinea to a shilling, but it was of no use.) Oliver was in chancery, and completely at the mercy of his opponent; he was sent down by a push.
33 and last.—Oliver was brought up, but it was useless. He would not say “No.” Abbot went in and gave Oliver the coup de grace, and he measured his length, insensible to the call of time. The fight occupied fifty-three minutes and thirty-eight seconds.
Remarks.—Not a man on the Hurst but lamented this sad finish of Tom Oliver, who once aspired to the championship. He was slow as a top, and nature deserted him. He was still brave in idea, but he did not possess strength or wind to second his wishes. Oliver treated Abbot too cheaply; in fact, he gave the battle away from this circumstance. The smashing of Oliver was all out of the question. He was no more like that Oliver who fought with Painter at Shepperton, “the Gas,” and Spring, than “I to Hercules.” It is true that the partiality of the ring towards an old favourite made them anxious that he should not lose his once high fame, and be licked by an outside boxer, and every movement that he made was construed in his favour. Oliver ought to have won; if he had gone in and fought first, he could hardly have lost. Abbot gave his head, and several opportunities occurred, but Tom played with the chance, laughed at his opponent, and held him too cheap. For the first four rounds Abbot trembled, and the name of Oliver seemed a terror to him. He, however, put in some hard hits, and had none of the worst of the fighting. Oliver was punished about the nob; while, on the contrary, his blows, although planted on the face of Abbot, did not appear to make an impression. Still the amateurs were all in favour of Oliver, as an old one, and thought he could not lose it. Abbot went down several times, and the word “cur” escaped from the lips of several of the spectators. This epithet arose more from ill-nature than the fact. Abbot, however, was frightened at first, or else he could have won it in a short time, from the bad condition of Oliver. Oliver was terribly beaten: he was some time before he recovered himself, and was able to leave the ring. Abbot then shook hands with Oliver. Sampson immediately threw up his hat in, the ring, and offered to fight Abbot for £25, £50, or £100.
A winning man does not want friends, and Abbot was immediately matched with Sampson for £50 a-side. On Tuesday, December 18, 1821, Moulsey Hurst was again the scene of attraction, and the day being extremely fine, a strong muster of the fancy assembled on the above spot. When the office was given to cross the water, the pressure of the crowd was so great, and the lads so eager to get upon the Hurst, that some of the boats were nearly upset, so many persons rushed into them, in spite of all the entreaties of the watermen. The large flat-bottomed ferry-boat, which conveys the horses and carriages across, capable of holding between four and five hundred persons, was so overladen with passengers that it was ten to one this motley group did not bathe in Old Father Thames; indeed, it was only prevented by the great exertions and skill of the waterman. The wind was so high as to drive this prime cargo of the fancy a considerable way down the river before they had any chance of landing, and then it was only accomplished by the principal part of the passengers wading up to their knees in water before they could sport a toe on the Hurst. On the return of this boat to the shore at Hampton, the rush of persons to obtain a place in it was equally violent, although the danger and folly of such conduct had been so recently witnessed. A first-rate swell, who was extremely eager to get on board, lost his foot, and went head over tip into the water, to the no small amusement of the crowd.
The Birmingham Youth was the favourite, six and seven to four, an idea being entertained that his good fighting would bring him through the piece, more especially as a report had gone forth that Abbot had trained under the auspices of “Mr. Lushington.” At a quarter past one Abbot appeared on the ground, with a blue bird’s eye round his neck, and threw his hat into the ring. His countenance indicated perfect confidence. He was attended by Spring and Shelton. The Birmingham Youth, followed by Randall and Tom Jones, also shied his “castor” with a confident air, with Randall’s colours, green, round his neck.