Chapter IV (4)

A fortnight after the _annonce_, a letter appeared from Bendigo, stating that he would fight for £500 a side, but so far as the belt was concerned, it had been presented to him as a gift or testimonial, and was his own property. This vaunt was quickly replied to by the Tipton, who at once sent £50 to the Editor of _Bell’s Life_, “to make a match on Bendy’s own terms,” whereupon the latter backed out, and never after appeared as a candidate for fistic honours.

Finding that high prices would not command the market, the Tipton issued another challenge to fight any man for £100 or £200, but for several months this lay unaccepted. At length, at the latter end of May, 1851, his former patron and backer, Johnny Broome, appeared in print, accepting the Slasher’s gage on the part of “an unknown;” Johnny’s favourite mode of exciting public curiosity in matchmaking. Spring,[21] on this occasion, acted as Perry’s best friend, and declared his readiness to “go on” upon the name of “the unknown” being declared. What was the surprise of the “knowing ones” when Johnny declared his brother Harry to be the “veiled prophet,” on whose future championship he would wager £200, while Harry, who was present, stepped smilingly forward and modestly declared his candidature. The Tipton “grinned horribly a ghastly smile,” and could hardly be persuaded as he “saw Young Harry with his beaver up,” gallantly and coolly affirming his readiness to second his brother’s words by deeds. The Tipton, as Michaelmas day (September 29) was named as “no quarter-day,” at once went into training at Hoylake, in Cheshire, under the care of Jem Wharton and Jem Ward. How they met, and how the Slasher lost the fight, without a scratch, by his own clumsy precipitancy, must be read in the Life and Career of Harry Broome, in a future chapter of this volume.

Broome, on the giving up of the stakes, professing his readiness to maintain his title against all comers, accepted the offer of the Tipton to settle the _vexata quæstio_ by another meeting, and articles were drawn up, and deposits to the amount of £25 made good, when Harry forfeited, on the plea that he had a match on (it came to nothing) with Aaron Jones, and had also accepted an engagement with Paddock. Curiously enough, the Slasher, who now dubbed himself “Champion,” afterwards signed articles with both these men, who both forfeited to him; Aaron Jones to the tune of £70, in July, 1856, and Paddock (whom he had formerly beaten), to the amount of £80, in October following.

Perry, who had been twenty-one years before the public, now became a publican and vendor of eatables and drinkables in a canvas caravansery at races, fairs, and all sorts of rural gatherings in the Black Country.

All this time the star of a 10st. 10lb. champion had been rapidly rising on the pugilistic world. Tom Sayers, having polished off the middle-weights, had been playing havoc among the “big ’un’s;” in 1856 defeating Harry Poulson (who had once beaten Paddock), and, in 1857, Aaron Jones fell beneath his conquering arm.

Six years had elapsed when “The Old Tipton,” as he was now popularly designated, was dared to the field by this new David. Right cheerfully did the old “Philistine man of might”――for the Tipton never lacked personal courage――respond to the “little ’un’s” crow. How the oft-repeated error of “trusting the issue of battle to waning age,” was again exemplified on the 16th of June, 1857, at the Isle of Grain, when the once formidable Slasher was conquered in the contest for £400 and the Champion’s belt by the marvellous little miller, Tom Sayers, may be read by those who are curious in minute details, in the life of that phenomenal pugilist, in Chapter XI. of this volume. This was the closing scene of the Tipton’s long and chequered career. He retired, defeated but not dishonoured, to his native county and early associates. In his latter days the Tipton is said to have never refused “a drink for the good of the house,” said house being his own special “tap.” Death finally overtook him, rather suddenly, at his home, near Wolverhampton, on January 18, 1881, in his sixty-first year.

[19] From this period Freeman returned to his theatrical and
professional circus exhibitions, in which his gigantic size
attracted the popular wonderment. He was a careless,
good-natured fellow; and it was stated by the medical
officers of Winchester Hospital, where the emaciated giant
died of consumption on the 18th of October, 1845, that he
had within him the fatal seeds of pulmonary disease from his
first period of manhood. His end was of necessity
accelerated by repeated colds, caught in the light attire of
fleshings and spangles, in which he exhibited in draughty
canvas erections, and crowded theatres and booths. This last
remark is drawn from us by a senseless paragraph, in which a
Hampshire penny-a-liner endeavoured to “improve the
occasion” by suggesting that the early death of the
good-natured, soft-headed acrobat was due to the dreadful
injuries “he must necessarily have received in his terrible
combat with the formidable bruiser known as the Tipton
Slasher――injuries which from the tremendous stature of the
combatants, must have been beyond ordinary calculation.” To
this it may fairly be replied that the few fatal results on
record from battles between big men is actually
phenomenal――Andrew M’Kay (June, 1830) and Simon Byrne (May,
1833) being the only two on record; the others resulting
from contests between middle or light weights, and several
of these regrettable fatalities being proved by subsequent
surgical examination to have resulted from accident,
excitement, or apoplexy, induced by violent exertion.

[20] Not to complicate this confusion of “claimants” for the
belt, we may here state that while Caunt, Bendigo, the
Deaf’un, and the Tipton were playing duettos, trios, and
quartettes, as leading performers in the discordant overture
to the farce of “Who’s the Champion?” there was no lack of
accompanying instrumentalists, each blowing his own trumpet
of defiance, and thumping the big drum of “benefit” bounce.
At the end of 1845, Caunt introduced a new candidate in the
person of a formidable black, standing a trifle over six
feet, and weighing hard upon 13st., who, rather curiously,
dubbed himself William Perry! This mysterious “darkey”
displayed such remarkable talent with the gloves, and was,
in many respects, a man of such superior address and
conversation, that he might well have been expected to turn
out more than a second Molyneux. As, however, the proof of
all pudding, whether black or white, is in the eating, an
opponent was sought for the American importation. Bill
Burton, of Leicester, a much smaller man, standing five feet
nine, and weighing 11st. 10lb., was selected. Burton’s
credentials were good; he had defeated Angelo, of Windsor,
in May, 1845――a game contest of seventy-four rounds――and had
been previously victor in many unrecorded affairs. The
meeting took place on the 20th January, 1846. The Black more
than justified the anticipations of his backers. He defeated
Burton with the greatest ease in fifteen rounds, the
Leicester man’s friends humanely throwing up the sponge at
the end of twenty-four minutes of a hopeless, one-sided
contest. This was the first and last appearance of the
so-called William Perry in the English P.R. He proved to be
connected with a gang of forgers of American bank-notes, and
having been previously imprisoned more than once, he was now
transported to the Antipodes, being provided with passage to
Australia at Government expense, where, it would appear, he
became a ticket-of-leave man, as he is recorded as having
defeated Hough, the “Champion of Australia,” at Cumming’s
Point, Sydney, in December, 1849. In the last-named year
(1849) another “big ’un” came out, but quietly went in
again. This was Con (Cornelius) Parker, standing six feet,
and weighing 12st. 10lb.; his first victory was over Jem
Bailey (Irish), in the Essex Marshes, February 13th, 1849.
He then received forfeit from the Tipton in the same year;
but, on November 26th, also in 1849, he had his
“championship” pretensions ignominiously snuffed out at
Frimley, in Surrey, by Tass Parker, who somewhat retrieved
the disgrace of his double defeat by the Tipton, by
triumphantly thrashing Mister Con, who ended the battle by a
“foul.” Con then emigrated to America, where he died rather
suddenly, on the 2nd December, 1854, at Buffalo, U.S. Soon
after Tass took the money for this victory, his friends
injudiciously claimed for him the title of “Champion,” but
Tass wisely declined, in a letter, such a prominent
position.

[21] Spring, after a short illness, died on August 20th,
1851, while this match was in progress. (See vol. ii.
chapter 1.)