Chapter IX: Harry Broome (champion) (2)

The final agreement was that the renewal of the combat should take place on the 6th of May; Peter Crawley and Johnny Broome to name the locality. At a subsequent meeting at Spring’s, it being mentioned that the 6th of May was the day of running the Chester Cup, the date was altered to the 13th by mutual agreement, and the place of rendezvous was settled for Ensham, Oxfordshire, six miles from the University city. On the overnight the men and their mentors set off for that locality. The “London Particulars,” however, contented themselves with the half-past seven morning train, and the quarter to ten fast ditto, as their method of reaching the trysting-place. Soon after eleven all was alive in Ensham, and the cavalcade moved off for the battle-field, many of the drags being of the style and pattern that bespoke the Corinthian quality of their owners or occupants. At twelve the Commissary and assistants had made a model ring and enclosure in an emerald-green meadow near Ensham, and soon after Harry Broome, his brother Johnny, his seconds and friends, came on the ground on a four-in-hand; while Rowe, under the broad shadow of Peter Crawley, escorted by a numerous cavalcade of equestrians and charioteers, with a long queue of pedestrians was also “thar.” Harry Broome was waited on in the ring by his brother and Sam Simmonds, of Birmingham; Rowe by Jack Macdonald and Bill Hayes. Broome’s colours were blue with a large white spot, Rowe’s the old blue birdseye.

After some little delay in the choice of a referee, “time” was called, and the men, in fighting costume, advanced from their corners and shook hands. Young Harry, in point of condition, was all that his best friends could desire; he was indeed a model of youthful health and activity. He stood slightly over his opponent, and had evidently the advantage in length of reach. Rowe looked far more solid and burly at his weight (10st. 5lbs.), and was much less graceful in his movements; indeed, his look lacked the animation and confidence which beamed on the features of his youthful antagonist. The friends of Rowe were, nevertheless, sanguine of his success, and took the 5 and 6 to 4 readily which some of Broome’s patrons offered.

At a few minutes before one the men and their seconds crossed hands, the latter retired to their corners, and the twain stood up for

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.――On throwing themselves into position each put
out his feelers and advanced and retreated several
times. After one or two feinting dodges Rowe tried his
left, but was short; they got closer to their work, and
left-hand counters were exchanged, Rowe catching it on
the mouth and Broome slightly on the cheek. After a
break away they again approached, and once more
exchanged counter-hits with the left, Broome getting
well home on Rowe’s kissing organ, whence blood
immediately trickled, and “first blood” was claimed for
Broome and awarded. Broome rushed in, caught Rowe round
the neck under his left arm, fibbed a little with his
right, hitting up, then, giving him a leg, threw and
fell on him. (7 to 4 on Broome offered.)

2.――Rowe, on coming to the scratch, showed a stream of
the crimson fluid from the side of his mouth. Broome
led off with his left, but was neatly stopped, and in
the second attempt equally well foiled. Slight
exchanges, and Broome closed, and, after a short
struggle, had his man down, but came himself to the
ground rather heavily.

3.――Rowe short with his left. Broome quickly caught him
a smasher on his damaged mouth, repeating the dose
twice, and playing round his man with a celerity that
reminded us of Young Dutch Sam. Rowe tried to get home,
first with one hand then the other, but was short, from
the rapid shifting of his adversary. In the close
Broome tried to get the lock, but Rowe kept his legs
wide and declined the intended favour. Broome tried to
hit up with the right, but Rowe slipped on one knee,
catching a stinger on the jaw as he was falling, and
Harry tumbling over him.

4.――On Rowe coming up, his left eye, left cheek, and
mouth gave evidence of renewed visitations. Harry,
though flushed in the frontispiece, was not yet
“adorned with cuts.” Rowe hit short with the left, and
then stopped two or three attempts by Harry to get home
with the same hand. In trying to return Rowe hit rather
in the style of the sparring school, drawing back his
elbow just as his fist reached its destination, instead
of letting the blow go straight from the shoulder. A
rally, in which Rowe succeeded in planting his left on
Broome’s eye, and then stepped in with a rattling hit
on the jaw that seemed for a moment to stagger the
Young’un; in fact it looked for a moment as if he would
go down from the stunning visitation; but he did not,
and Rowe closed and threw his man amidst vociferous
acclamations from the East-enders.

5.――Broome came up smiling, steady, and resolute,
showing little effects of the last round. He made play,
but Rowe easily stopped two long shots from the left.
Rowe retreated, but did not succeed in drawing Broome
near enough, so the latter, after an exchange or two,
got within distance, delivering left and right heavily
on the head and body, then catching his man firmly on
his left arm, he “fiddled” him with the right, and as
he struggled away gave him the leg and fell heavily on
him. (The Rowe-ites mute with astonishment.)

6.――Both showed signs of punishment, Rowe on mouth,
eye, cheek, and left ear, Broome on the left cheek.
Rowe short with the left; a rally, when Harry caught
Rowe an upper-cut with the left, but Rowe grappled him,
and Harry got down through his hands, amidst the jeers
and scoffs of the Rowe party.

7.――Broome came up slowly; he sparred and shifted
ground, but Rowe would not be drawn. Broome sent out
his left, but was short, and in a second attempt just
reached Joe’s neck with his right, who threw his head
back with great quickness out of the way of mischief.
Three times in succession Rowe stopped Broome’s left
with great neatness. (“That’s the way to break his
heart,” cried Jack Macdonald.) After some more clever
sparring, in which little damage was done, Broome
closed, and again threw his man, falling on him.

8.――Broome was again neatly stopped, but he persevered
and got in a smasher on Rowe’s damaged mouth, who
counter-hit, but not effectively. Broome got in to
half-arm and visited Rowe’s left eye. Joe, not
relishing these pops, dropped on his knees, but Harry
caught him with his left arm and lifted him bodily up
from the ground, thus displaying immense muscular
strength, threw him and dropped on him. (2 to 1 on
Broome.)

9.――Harry came up smiling confidently. He led off with
his left, but Rowe stopped him three or four times
beautifully. (Applause.) At length they got close, and
Broome twice in succession got home on Rowe’s mouth and
eye. Rowe, wild and stung, rushed into close quarters,
but Broome got away, broke ground, and twice or three
times popped in sharp hits in the face. Rowe got down
in his own corner during a rally.

10.――Broome played round his man actively, occasionally
getting in a “little one.” Rowe was slow, and stood
steadily on the defensive. He evidently reckoned on
Broome tiring himself by doing all the work. He could
not, however, keep Broome out, who gave him a tidy
smack on the cheek, and Rowe got down.

11.――Rowe still slow and on the defensive. Broome put
in a nobber, and Rowe was down on the grass.

12.――Rowe stopped a succession of hits with the left,
but Broome would not come in to be propped; at last
they exchanged two or three sharp hits, when Broome
closed and threw Rowe, but not heavily.

13.――Good out-fighting on the part of Broome, who
planted on Rowe’s neck and ear. Rowe continued his
stopping, and stepping back, until Broome, tired of the
game, fought in, closed, and threw him.

14.――Broome got home with his left, a cutting blow;
Rowe let go right and left wildly, of which Broome took
advantage, closed, caught him round the waist, and
flung him cleverly.

15.――Rowe still stopped steadily, but was sadly short
in the returns. As we have before said, his blows did
not go from the shoulder, but partook of the flip-flap
character of the sparring school. Broome advanced and
retreated, and at last, springing in, caught Rowe in
the mark with his left, and gave the “first knock
down.”

16 to 19.――Broome made the fighting, got in his left,
and threw his man in all these rounds.

20.――Rowe maintained his steadiness amazingly. He
stopped with precision, and was getting down from
Broome’s onslaught when Harry seized him, lifted him by
sheer strength, and threw him.

21.――Rowe getting slow, and apparently vexed at not
being able to get his man to hitting distance. Broome
played half-round to the right, then to the left. Rowe
went in desperately and forced a rally, in which he got
home his right a sounder on Broome’s jaw, and both were
down, amidst the uproarious cheers of the East-enders,
who seemed “thankful for small mercies.”

22.――Broome showed symptoms of fatigue; he coughed and
hemmed, stepped back, and rubbed his arms, leisurely
surveying his antagonist. “Don’t be gammoned,” said
Bill Hayes; Rowe nodded his head assentingly. As Rowe
would not advance Broome went to him, and in some sharp
exchanges hit hardest and oftenest. Broome’s right came
in sharp contact with Rowe’s sconce as he was going
down, and Broome was seen pulling at his right little
finger, to which some mischance had happened.

23.――On coming to the scratch Broome again sparred _à
la distance_. “Go in,” cried Crawley to Rowe; “his
hands are gone, it’s all your own.” This was an error;
“the wish was father to the thought,” for Harry
frustrated his adversary’s attempt by sending his left
slap in Rowe’s mazzard, hit him with the supposed
disabled right in the ribs, closed, and got him down.

24.――Broome popped in his left, closed, and rolled over
his man as he got down.

25.――Rowe, getting slower and slower, seemed to content
himself with guarding his head and ribs, and shifting.
Broome bided his time, but at length got home, and
muzzled poor Joe, who went to grass somehow.

26.――As before, Rowe on the defensive, stopping, but
not returning. Broome followed him up, forced him on to
the ropes, and rolled over with him.

27th and last.――Broome came to the scratch cheerfully;
his seconds certainly sent him up remarkably clean.
Although Rowe, as before, stopped an experimental
left-hander or two, Harry gave him two severe smashers
on the mouth and cheek, then closing as Rowe was trying
to get down, he gave him the crook, and fell heavily on
him. It was all over. Rowe, though still strong on his
legs, declined to continue the contest; and Bill Hayes
threw up the sponge in token of defeat. Young Harry was
highly elated. He jumped about the ring like a parched
pea in a frying-pan, shook hands with his opponent, and
performed a _coup de théâtre_ by pressing the
winning-colours to his lips, and then waving them round
his head. At this moment Harry showed no further
discolouration of the face than a blue mark under the
left eye. One of the bones of his right-hand, however,
was broken, and from that round it was of little
effectual service, though he used it several times. The
fight lasted exactly fifty-seven minutes, and from
first to last was conducted with the utmost fairness,
and without the slightest interruption from the
surrounding multitude, which was largely increased by
the accession of several Whitsun clubs, who were
celebrating their holiday in the neighbourhood.

REMARKS.――Broome won the fight from superior tact, good
in-fighting, and the clever use of his legs, both in
getting away and throwing. To the quick use of his
left――for he did but little with the right――the
downfall of his game antagonist is also to be ascribed.
Rowe, we must confess, from what we had previously
seen, somewhat disappointed us. Not only was he slow,
and generally short, but his hits were
elbow-deliveries, while, before the battle was half
through, he adopted such a determined line of mere
defensive tactics as never could have gained him
victory over such a courageous and active adversary as
Young Broome. We almost suspected he had made up his
mind to defeat early in the fight. Broome’s youth,
though much against him, was relied on by Rowe,
mistakingly, as the event proved. He was neither so
much exhausted, or even tired, as his older opponent.
It would be prudent, from the injury he has twice
sustained in his right-hand, that he should, for a
time, retire from the active pursuit of the profession
he has adopted, until gristle has hardened to bone, and
well-knit sinew and tendon replace his youthful rounded
muscle. That Young Harry possesses steadiness,
self-possession, game, and confidence he has fully
shown, and these, aided by the increasing strength and
stamina which time must bring, must ensure him a high
position among pugilistic professionals. The weather
was, throughout the day, most favourable, and order and
regularity admirably maintained, Spring, Peter Crawley,
Jem Burn, Owen Swift, Johnny Hannan, Jem Turner, Young
Reid, Jemmy Welsh, and others of the _corps d’élite_,
contributing greatly to this desirable state of things.

At this period (1846) there resided at Birmingham a boxer of high local repute, some five years the senior of Harry, and still in his prime, who, in the opinion of his fellow-townsmen, was well fitted to check the triumphant career of the juvenile representative of the house of Broome, which was considered to have transferred its pugilistic fame from its native place to London. This was Ben Terry, whose successive defeats of Jem Hodgkiss, Forster, Davis of Birmingham, and Tom Davis, in 1841, 1842, 1843, and 1844, all middle-weights, had earned for him a character approaching invincibility. After some cavilling with Johnny Broome in times passed by, before that boxer retired from the Ring, which, however, ended in nothing. Ben now proposed a match for £100 a side, with Young Harry, at 10st. 4lbs., and the youngster, nothing loth, closed with the offer. There was much partisan feeling mixed up in the affair, and on February 3rd, 1846, the men met at Shrivenham, Berkshire, on the Great Western line. There was tedious disputation on the choice of a referee; and the behaviour of the partisans of Terry was simply disgraceful, and marked most significantly the falling fortunes of the Ring. The unfinished battle, which occupies an immense and undue space in the contemporary report, is not worth preserving. Suffice it to say that for the first half hour the fighting of Harry was singularly irregular and wild, and only accountable upon the supposition, loudly proclaimed by Brother Johnny, that Young Harry had been stupefied by the surreptitious introduction of some drug in his drink――in short, had been “hocussed.” We, who witnessed the fight, however loth we should be to admit such a shameful act without clear evidence, could not resist the suspicion of some foul play. Terry, however, seemed to fight very little better than his opponent. After the 35th round, the confusion and disorder defied description. The ring was broken in, and filled with an unruly crowd; repeated claims of “foul” were made from both sides; the referee was sought to be intimidated by uproar and threats; and finally the fight was claimed for Terry, without any decision being given by the properly constituted authorities, and the respective parties returned――the one to Birmingham, the other to London, to wrangle over the destination of the £200 in the hands of the stakeholder. After a tedious controversy and furious mutual recriminations, it is clear that the Terry party did not fancy a second meeting, and the affair ended by Johnny Broome, on behalf of his brother, consenting to draw stakes on receipt of a douceur of £5. Terry, who was subsequently beaten by Coates and Posh Price, died at Birmingham, October 12th, 1862.

We have noted in the life of the Tipton Slasher, how, after his defeat of Paddock, in December, 1850, he laid public claim to the Championship; how Bendigo, after stating that he was prepared to fight for £500, and no less, backed out when the Tipton offered to meet him for that amount; and further, that he, the Tipton, would fight any man for £100 or £200. This challenge was unanswered until May, 1851, when Broome declared himself ready to make a deposit for an “Unknown,” for £200 a side. This was accepted. At a subsequent meeting at Johnny Broome’s, on the 2nd of June, the articles were completed, and the battle agreed to take place within four months. On the occasion first named poor Tom Spring, who had in this case undertaken to see to the interests of the Slasher in London, lay stretched on a bed of sickness, struggling with that grim antagonist who soon after gave him his final fall; consequently Johnny Broome claimed and received forfeit at the second deposit, the Slasher’s friends not putting in an appearance. In the following week a gleam of hoped-for health on the part of Spring, and the arrival of Perry himself in London, led to a demonstration, and a sum of money was deposited in the hands of the Editor of _Bell’s Life_ on the part of Tipton, to meet the “Unknown” for the sum proposed. That the “Great Unknown” was a mystery, like the authorship of “Junius,” and, for a time, the Waverley Novels, was evident, for men did not scruple to say that Johnny had had a lucky escape from “a bit of bounce” by the receipt of the small amount down. The mystery, however, was quickly dissipated, for at the next meeting, to the astonishment of all, Young Harry announced himself to be the “mysterious stranger,” prepared to join issue with the ponderous Slasher, and from that evening the match progressed satisfactorily.

In the interim, the Tipton, after a provincial tour, went into training at Hoylake, in Cheshire, under the mentorship of Jem Ward, and the superintendence of Jemmy the Black (Young Molyneaux). Harry was, of course, looked after by his brother, but was unable to do so much work as he required, owing to the necessity that arose of constantly shifting his quarters. This, we may now state, was owing to the embarrassed state of his pecuniary affairs, in connection with the Opera Tavern, in the Haymarket, of which he was then the landlord.

When we last saw Harry in the lists, in his interrupted combat with Ben Terry, he was looked upon as a “middle-weight,” his height 5 feet 9 inches, his weight 10½st.; and from this circumstance, despite the assertion that he had grown nearly two inches in stature, and would go to scale full two stone heavier in muscle and bone, there was an obstinate incredulity on the part of many who thought they knew the man, with respect to the 10½st. Harry and the 13st. Slasher ever facing each other in the Ring.

The stakeholder, upon whom devolved the duty of naming the place of fighting, selected Mildenhall. Johnny Broome had a predilection for Six Mile Bottom, near Newmarket, as suitable for the convenience of the sporting men going to the First October Meeting, but this he subsequently abandoned. The place having been appointed, Johnny Broome and Young Spring, on behalf of the Slasher, engaged a special train on the Eastern Counties Line, which, it was notified, would start at half-past eight. There was little excitement abroad, for the eve of so important an event as that which was to decide the _vexata quæstio_ as to who was to be Champion of England. It is true, the houses of the two Broomes, and the Castle Tavern, were thronged, but we did not hear of a bet being made, and a strong impression prevailed up to the very day that something would occur to prevent the issue of the battle. On reaching the platform whence the train was to start we found the assemblage was limited, and we should calculate that not more than one hundred took their places in the carriages, so that these who speculated on gain were on the wrong side of the post. With the exception of Peter Crawley and Old Tom Oliver, we recognised none of the representatives of the old school.

The travellers having taken their seats――the Tipton, accompanied by Nobby Clarke and Molyneaux, being among them――the whistle sounded, and off went the party. A good deal of consternation was expressed by some persons at the non-appearance of Broome; but, on the train arriving at Bishop Stortford, all doubt was set at rest by his presence on the platform. The train once more got under weigh, and shortly the goal was reached. Pursuing a winding lane, the veteran Commissary led the way to the field where Bendigo won his parting laurel from Paddock, in 1850. This ground, however, was found to be under plough, and the travellers had to go further afield; nevertheless, all was soon in apple-pie order for business. The London train band was reinforced by a few of the Norfolk and Suffolk Militiamen, and a cavalry contingent from Newmarket, and by one o’clock there was a tolerable muster round the roped arena. At ten minutes after that hour the Tipton hero advanced to the ring-side, and, removing his nob-cover, tossed it gaily within the magic circle. Harry was not long in answering the Tipton’s call for him to come forth, and was loudly cheered on presenting himself. After shaking hands, the difficult point of choosing a referee came on the _tapis_. This knotty question seemed likely to occupy the whole day, for to each proposition a negative was offered, chiefly by the Tipton and his friends. One hour and forty minutes were thus cut to waste, but at twenty-five minutes past two the differences ended by the selection of Peter Crawley, and the men commenced their toilettes. Crawley had been previously rejected by the Tipton, from an apprehension that his predilections were in favour of Broome; and it was not until Harry offered to fight without a referee that he at last consented. The choice made, the Slasher approached Crawley, and said all he desired was a fair fight and no favour. If he did anything foul he must abide by the consequences, and if his antagonist did wrong he hoped an equal measure of justice would be meted out to him. Crawley said he might rely on his performing his duty strictly and impartially. All he desired was to see a fair and manly contest, and to see it fairly and manfully fought out.

The attendants on the Slasher were Nobby Clarke and Jem Molyneaux. The bold Harry was esquired by Callaghan, of Derby, and Bob Castles, Johnny, of course, being in the corner. A little interlude, in the shape of a shindy between Molyneaux and Callaghan, enlivened the interval of suspense, but, on everything being ready, they were soon quieted down. The ring was admirably kept throughout, Tom Callas, Jerry Noon, Mallet, and others lending a helping hand. The betting at the commencement was 2 to 1 on the Slasher; and at forty-five minutes past two business began.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.――And so the men stood up, and all doubts,
fears, and suspicions as to whether there would or
would not be a fight were at an end, and the question
was now to be set at rest as to what sort of a fight
those present were to witness, and we were to record.
No sooner had the youthful Harry struck his canvass,
and exhibited himself in Nature’s buff suit, than an
almost audible buzz of surprise and admiration broke
from the spectators. Never did gladiator of old offer a
finer study for the chisel of the sculptor or the
pencil of the painter. 5ft. 10½in. in stature, his
height was only fairly proportioned to his weight,
12st. 10lbs. on the morning of the battle, which,
by-the-bye, was 10lbs. too much. His chest and scapulæ,
with their masses of prominent and rigid muscle, were
almost preternaturally developed; and as he swung his
long, round arms, with the motion of one practising
with the dumb-bells, closing and unclosing his hands
(black with the astringent juices applied to them), to
supple his joints for the impending encounter, all
seemed to agree that he was up to the standard of
weight and measure which the veteran Captain Barclay
said “was big enough to fight any two-legged creature
that ever walked.” There is much, however, in “a
name”――despite Juliet’s declaration to the contrary,
which, coming from a green young Miss, don’t carry much
authority――and, accordingly, the old ring-goers were
half inclined to a belief in the Slasher’s
invincibility, and doubted whether the audacious “boy,”
as the Tipton contemptuously called him in our hearing,
would stand up to his ancient friend and fellow-trainer
in bygone days. That this was a mistake was soon
apparent. Throwing up his hands with smiling
confidence, Harry toed the scratch, saying, as he did
so, “Here I am, old boy, and I mean to win to-day.” The
Tipton grinned――the absence of his incisors imparting
that expression to his laugh. On the present occasion,
though he looked brown, hardy, and sunburnt, there was
somewhat of an antiquated cut about his figure-head
which was not observable on his last public appearance,
which, as we have already recorded, was with Paddock,
in December, 1850. His frame, however, showed no waste
or diminution of its formidable proportions. Poised
upon his letter K-like pedestals, his huge upper works,
broad shoulders, immense blade-bones, wide loins and
well-ribbed carcase showed the ponderous athlete,
though the bloom and freshness of youth had faded from
his skin. It was clear he meant to give no rest, and as
little room and opportunity, to his antagonist as he
could help. Harry offered with his left high up, in the
direction of the Slasher’s nob; it was a sort of
measuring, and he stepped aside, breaking ground with
graceful agility. Slasher followed him, when he stepped
aside laughing, closing and unclosing his hands,
playing about out of reach, and sparring. “Go to him,
Tipton,” cried Jemmy Wharton; “he’s afraid of you.” The
Tipton did as he was bid, and Harry retreated until
near the ropes. The Tipton let go his right, and just
reached Harry’s ribs, who rapidly caught him a
cross-counter with the left on the face. A couple of
rather hasty exchanges brought the men together; they
separated, and Broome delivered an upper cut on the
Slasher’s face, who retaliated on Harry’s body so
effectively that he slipped in jumping back, and fell,
throwing up his feet as he reached the ground, to
prevent the Tipton falling on him, and, when he found
himself safely landed, bringing his heels over his head
with a spring, and turning a complete somersault. A
claim for a knock-down; but it was anything but that.
Four minutes. (6 to 4 on the Tipton, and no takers.)

2.――Harry came up laughing, and nodded at the Tipton,
who laughed and nodded in return. Nothing was the
matter on either side. Slasher followed Broome, who
retreated to the ropes. “Get nearer, Harry,” cried
Brother Johnny. “Don’t go after him,” said Molyneaux,
and the Tipton in turn retired to the scratch, to which
he pointed down with his index-finger. Harry stepped
right up to his head, and delivered his left flush on
the Slasher’s mouth. (Cheers.) There was a momentary
pause, Slasher pursued Harry to the ropes, where the
latter jumped into a close, and caught his opponent
round the waist. Harry tried to get the lock, but both
were down, Tipton having hold of the upper rope with
his right.

3.――Broome was all confidence and elasticity. He went
up to the Slasher, and reached his head, then retreated
from the return. “He’ll stand it,” cried Callaghan. The
Tipton got in his left on Harry’s right cheek, who, in
return, gave him a sounding flush hit on the olfactory
organ. The Slasher let fly right and left, and the men
closed near the centre stake. Harry got an unmistakable
outside look with his right leg over the crooked knee
of the Slasher. There were a few seconds of severe
struggling, when Broome, having fixed his hold, brought
the Slasher over on his back. Down he came, shaking the
earth with the concussion, his shoulders, neck, and
back part of his caput first saluting the ground, while
Harry rolled over on him. The effect was electrifying:
even “Peter the Great” gave an audible grunt in unison
with the “thud” that accompanied the Slasher’s
downfall. There lay the crooked Colossus prostrate,
till his active seconds, seizing him by the legs and
wings, conveyed him to his corner, whither Harry
followed him with inquiring eyes.

4.――Tipton came well and boldly, but not till time had
been several times vociferously called, the Broomites
evidently in most hurry. Harry shifted round and round
the corners, the Slasher following him. Harry reached
the Tipton’s mouth smartly, who let go both hands. The
hit sounded. Broome closed, and tried the lock again.
The Tipton avoided his hips, and both were on the
grass.

5.――The Tipton had shaken off the effects of his fall.
He tried to gammon Harry within reach of his formidable
right by short feints with the left. As this did not
have the desired effect, he went in, hitting out with
both hands. Harry nailed him on the frontispiece, and
as he came on again, administered an upper-cut. It was
not quite close enough, or it might have told tales. In
the close the Tipton was under at the ropes, but it was
no detriment.

6.――Broome went to the Slasher’s head in the most manly
style, and popped in one. “Fortune favours the brave.”
Tipton retorted, but missed one very mischievous hit.
The men closed, Harry hit up, catching the Tipton on
the nose, and both were down in the scramble――the
Tipton, if either, first.

7.――“First blood” for Broome, which was unmistakably
distilling from the Slasher’s nose, to which he put his
hand as if to feel it. The Tipton forced Broome to the
ropes, threatening with his right, where they closed,
and after some not very effective fibbing, Broome
brought the Tipton down on his back, falling on his
stomach with his latter end. (An offer to take evens on
Broome.)

8.――Smart active sparring and a bustling exchange.
Harry gave the Slasher a very heavy hit on the jaw,
producing a slight cut. The Tipton retorted with a
nobber, and also sent home a body-hit. Whether the
Tipton’s right hand had lost its cunning or not, these
ribbers did not seem to stagger the Young One as they
did former adversaries. Still, the old one rattled in,
and in the scuffle was jobbed in the head, till at the
end of the round Broome pushed him from him sideways
with both hands, when he got down. Bellows to mend on
both sides.

9.――The Slasher came up grinning, but his merriment
looked rather forced, although the hitting had left but
little traces on his hard features. He hit very short
with his left, and Broome walked round smiling. There
was a close at the ropes in Harry’s corner, in which
the Tipton got Broome awkwardly over them, and hung on
him, holding the rope with his right, his left hand
being across Harry’s face. The rope was slacked, and
Harry was let down. The referee was appealed to, who
ordered the fight to proceed.

10.――Exchanges: Harry gave the Tipton a blow on the
left eye that raised a lump, then swung round and broke
away from the return. He jobbed the Slasher as he
advanced, but was driven to the ropes, whence he
suddenly sprang forward, took a half-arm hit, and
making his favourite grip, brought the Tipton over――a
heavy fall――tumbling on him with his knees. As Harry
lay on the grass, he blew like a grampus.

11.――The Slasher came slowly up. There was a short
pause, when again Broome went up to his head. The
Slasher’s right reached Harry’s body, who put in a
sharp left-hander that cut the Tipton’s lip; there was
some quick half-arm hitting, in which Broome delivered
a clever upper-cut with his right, and both were down.
Broome uppermost, the crimson fluid from the Slasher’s
nose and lip smearing Harry’s frontispiece as they
embraced.

12.――The Tipton bored Harry to the ropes, was on to him
before he got his chance for a lunge, and had him down
in a scramble.

13.――Harry retreated to the ropes. The Tipton followed.
Broome stopped his left, and shifted from his right,
but got a slight taste as he broke ground, and moved
round his man. Harry dashed at the Slasher, and got
within his guard. There was a short scrambling rally,
when the Tipton got down to avoid the lock. Offers to
take evens, and then to bet the short odds on “the
Young’un.” Bob Castles retired from Broome’s corner in
this round, and his place was supplied by Macdonald. An
objection to the change of seconds overruled.

14.――Broome milled prettily on the retreat, the Tipton
hitting remarkably short with his left. Harry unclosed
his hands, and shifting round towards the Slasher’s
corner, said, cheerfully, “I’ll take odds ‘the boy’
licks him without a black eye.” The Tipton was
evidently more bothered than beaten, and the facility
with which he was thrown made him put on his
considering cap. Broome went up to his head, as if to
attack, but as quickly stepped back. The Slasher
followed, and let go both hands, his right alone
getting home. Harry turned at the instant, hit up
sharply with the left, and weaving away, the Tipton got
down. In the in-fighting there were some heavy hits
exchanged, and Broome’s over-weight told sadly on his
bellows, which heaved and jerked like those of a
pumped-out steeplechaser.

15th and last.――There was a little squabble about time,
the Slasher slowest from his corner. Both sides seemed
somewhat inclined to spar for wind. Harry dashed in,
evidently with the intention of closing and trying for
a heave. He hit the Tipton on the chin, but the Ould’un
got away, as if to get room for his right. Harry
advanced, closed, and a struggle took place, each
attempting to hit. The Tipton grasped him tightly with
his left, and was trying to hit with his right, when
Harry slipped down on both knees. The Tipton let go his
right just as he reached the ground, giving him a
decided nobber, which certainly did not reach its
destination till Harry was down. It was the work of a
moment. The shouts from all sides were tremendous.
Broome’s seconds ran to the umpires and referee, as did
the ever-active Molyneaux, on the side of the Tipton.
There was a short pause, during which “Peter the Great”
declared he had not yet been formally appealed to. This
was done, the umpires, of course, disagreeing. “A most
deliberate foul,” said “Peter the Great,” and the ring
broke up. Thirty-three minutes had sufficed for the
present decision of the question, “Who is the Champion
of England?”

As the ponderous Peter left the roped enclosure,
another instance was added to the many previous of the
suicidal conduct of the present race of Ring men. The
referee was surrounded by a vociferous and violent mob,
whose language was of the most outrageous description.
The Tipton himself, too, so “raised the dander” of the
referee by his remarks and conduct, that the veteran
Crawley declared he would fight for his credit and
integrity, and, to the no small amusement of many, was
disencumbering his portly person of his outer coat, to
inflict summary punishment on his assailants, when the
Tipton was forced away.

REMARKS.――Upon this battle, ending in a manner so
unsatisfactory, few remarks are necessary. The style of
fighting will speak for itself. It was clear that the
Tipton was surprised by the vigour and determination of
his youthful opponent, and not less so at the manner in
which he exhibited his throwing powers; for, in
closing, not only was Harry the better wrestler, but
apparently the stronger man. How the battle would have
terminated had it proceeded in the ordinary way it is
impossible to say, and in this respect opinions
naturally differed. For, on the one hand, the little
punishment that was administered came from the Young
One, while the Old One had evidently lost none of his
personal confidence, and no doubt anticipated that
Harry would out-fight himself, and, by the rapidity of
his movements, increase that exhaustion which had
already shown itself at the conclusion of some of the
earlier rounds. The sudden termination of the battle
came upon all by surprise, and few believed that there
was a “deliberate” intention on the part of the Tipton
to administer the blow which was pronounced “foul.”
That Harry was on his knees when he received the ugly
hit we can aver, as we were seated by the side of the
referee at the time of the appeal. The men were
certainly in a scrambling close at the moment; and it
was obvious that, while Harry desired to get out of
trouble, the Tipton felt inclined to make the most of
his fancied advantage. Crawley’s experience thoroughly
enabled him to form a correct opinion, and we have no
reason to believe that his judgment was not given
fairly and impartially. Of course those not over-honest
persons, who always attribute unworthy motives to
others, assert that Crawley’s prepossessions were in
favour of Broome, and that this was the reason why the
Tipton originally objected to his being selected as
referee. To this we can distinctly oppose that, to our
own knowledge, the bias of Peter, if he had any, would
have carried him the other way. Such, however, was not
the opinion of the Tipton nor of his friends, as the
latter, on the following day, served the stakeholder
with notice “not to part with their money,” and the
Tipton still asserted himself to be “Champion of
England.”

Upon this unsportsmanlike proceeding the Editor
commented with much severity, arguing that if such
practices were pursued, there would be an end to all
confidence between man and man in sporting matters, and
would assuredly deter any one from posting money on any
similar event, as well as from holding stakes.

Harry Orme having, as we have seen in the preceding chapter, defeated Aaron Jones a second time, was strongly urged to put forth his claim to the Championship, and to meet Harry Broome on his “advertised” terms. Months, however, passed before the match was made. First Broome made one stipulation, and then Orme’s friends showed their “stupid cleverness” in a counter-proposition, and there was a cannonade of angry correspondence of the most futile controversial character. Late in the year 1852, however, articles were signed and delivered for a fight to come off on the 18th of April, 1853, for £250 a side, the Editor of _Bell’s Life_ to name the place of fighting, and also appoint a referee.

Harry, who since developing into a Boniface had become excessively corpulent, at once placed himself under the care of Levi Eckersley, at Cleave Hill, near Cheltenham, and here diligently subjected himself to an immense amount of work. Orme went into training near Maidstone, whence, the Monday before the battle, he removed to Greenstreet Green, in Kent.

It being stipulated in the articles that the stakeholder should name the whereabouts for the event, a special train was engaged on the Eastern Counties Railway, for “an excursion of 100 miles or thereabouts,” the exact spot being undivulged to the general sporting public, lest the gentry then known as “Cheapsiders” should get down “by hook or by crook,” and, by alarming the county, spoil sport. The arrangements with the railway company were made with despatch, and the gentlemen at the Shoreditch Station took every care to make such dispositions on the eventful morning as effectually to prevent any of the unprivileged classes from obtaining admittance. The time for starting was nominally a quarter-past eight, but long before that hour the neighbourhood of Shoreditch was in a perfect ferment; the streets and the station-yard were crowded with spectators anxious to get a glimpse of the chief performers in the forthcoming drama; but in this they were disappointed, as they had both proceeded a certain distance on the line of march on the previous day. As the time for starting approached, the arrival of cabs and other vehicles was incessant, and it was perfectly clear that there would be a very large muster of patrons of the sport, the majority of whom were what Pierce Egan would have called “reg’lar nobs and tip-top swells,” but who are, in the present Ring vernacular, classed as patrician and Corinthian patrons of the noble art. At no fight for many years past had there been such a congregation of noblemen and gentlemen; and certainly at no encounter since that between Caunt and Bendigo, in 1845, was so much interest excited. Among the company present we were glad to observe some patrons of the Ring of the Old School――gentlemen who remembered the battles of Cribb, Spring, Hickman (the Gas-man), Oliver, &c. There was also a good sprinkling of Turfites present, attracted partly owing to its being a bye-day in the racing world, and partly by the fact that Orme’s backer was a gentlemen well known in the betting-ring. Among the latest arrivals at the station was the “Arch” Bishop of Bond Street, with a considerable number of his flock. The reverend “gent.” although suffering from gout, had strained a point to be present at such an important contest, no doubt anticipating that the winner would insist upon his “crowning” him upon the spot; but in this the “mad priest” was disappointed: his services were not required, and he had to return to town after the battle, without being called upon to distinguish himself in any manner except in the voracious devouring of the contents of a huge sandwich-box, which he was compelled to attack by the calls of appetite, and in the ceremony of swallowing which he highly distinguished himself. At length the train was full, the station-doors were closed, and at half-past eight precisely the whistle sounded, and we were off. The caravan, consisting of some sixteen carriages, all of which were crammed, proceeded steadily on its way until we reached Bishop Stortford, where we took in Orme (for the fight), and water (for the engine). The next stoppage was Elsenham, where Broome got into the train, and the engineer received his orders as to the final destination. He, acting under directions, pulled up at Ely, where a pilot, who had gone on the previous day, took up his position on the train, and informed us of that of which we had already our misgivings――viz., that an immense number of persons had gone by parliamentary train from London to Mildenhall, early in the morning, and were there in waiting to receive the combatants and their friends. This being the case, proved the correctness of the precautions we had taken in sending on a pilot beforehand. That gentleman now undertook to conduct us to a spot where business could be proceeded with in peace and comfort, and the train once again sped on its way. As we passed Mildenhall, we saw hundreds of disappointed travellers, who had been patiently waiting all the morning, and who were thus, very properly, baulked in their parsimonious intentions. At Lakenheath, the next station, we perceived a company of mounted blues in readiness to spoil sport. These worthies, like the would-be spectators at Mildenhall, also had their trouble and expense for nothing. There was no intention of breaking the peace within their bailiwick, so still the train went on. At length the appointed spot was reached, between two stations, and about 108 miles from London. Here a hasty debarkation was effected, and the train returned to the nearest station. Tom Oliver, his son, and Tom Callas, at once proceeded to erect the lists, while Dan Dismore carried on a brisk business in the sale of inner-ring tickets. Some idea of the number of gentlemen present may be gathered from the fact that the tickets so disposed of realised between £40 and £50. There were, of course, a great number of outsiders on the ground, but owing to the precautions that had been taken in keeping things dark, the total number of spectators did not exceed 2,000. All these persons, by the admirable arrangements, and the activity of the ring-keepers of the Pugilistic Association, obtained an admirable view of the contest throughout, and we did not, during the day, hear of a single disturbance calculated in the slightest degree to interfere with the sport, or those anxious to witness it. By a quarter-past one o’clock the ring was completed. Orme immediately pitched his castor within the ropes, and followed himself, attended by Tom Sayers and Jack Grant. He looked well and hardy, and wore a smile of confidence on his good-humoured mug. In about ten minutes more the other Harry made his appearance, closely followed by Bill Hayman, of Birmingham, and Callaghan, of Derby, his brother Johnny being, as he had promised, “in the corner.” Harry smiled, and shook hands with t’other Harry, and both were loudly cheered. The ceremony of peeling now commenced, and by half-past one the men were delivered at the scratch in fighting undress.

On toeing the scratch, there was a very perceptible difference in the appearance of the men. Broome overtopped his adversary a good two inches, and was proportionably longer in reach. His weight, we are told, did not exceed 12st. 5lbs., but of this he might well have spared half a stone. There was much loose flesh about his back, chest, and ribs, and although he was evidently in rude health, he had not been drawn fine enough to stand a long day’s work under such a burning sun as shone down upon the combatants during the fight. Broome, had he been permitted to take that pains with himself requisite to make him fit, would have been about as awkward a customer as could have been well conceived. As it was, however, he was so much harassed with law and other proceedings that he could not pay that attention to his training that he otherwise would have done. We think at 11st. 8lbs. his condition would be about perfection. His attitude, as he stood awaiting the attack, was admirable, and, had it not been for his fat, he would have looked all over a gladiator. Orme, whose colour is almost mahogany, is barely 5ft. 8in. in height, but is a thick-set, powerful fellow, with a frame of iron, long arms, a perfect bull-neck, and a pair of understandings fit for an Atlas. His weight was 11st. 8lbs., and of this scarcely 2lbs. was superfluous stuff. His attitude, when on the defensive, is not graceful, but he looks rough and ready, his dangerous right being across his mark, but always ready to be dashed out at the least opening on his adversary’s ribs. It was clear that there was a determination on both sides “to do or die,” and the spectators made up their minds that they were in for a good thing. Before the men entered the ring, the betting was 6 and 7 to 4 on Broome, but these odds were, previous to the fight, increased to 2 to 1, at which price a good deal of business was done. The colours having been duly tied to the stakes (blue and white spot for Broome, green, with small white rings thereon for Orme), the signal was given that all was in readiness, and “time” was called.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.――Broome, after one or two feints, approached
his man and attempted to draw him, but Orme was wary,
and stepped back. They both then advanced and retreated
several times, Broome repeatedly making attempts to kid
his man within reach, but Orme was too wary. Broome
scratched his ear, as endeavouring to rouse an idea
what to do next, when Orme approached and lunged out
heavily with his right out of distance; Broome then let
fly both hands, but was neatly stopped. Orme now went
up to his man and sent out both mauleys, but Broome
jumped away. More sparring and fiddling, Orme several
times stopping Broome’s left. At length Broome crept
close again, lunged out one, two――his left was stopped,
but his right just reached the left side of Orme’s nut;
Orme returned very heavily with his right on the ribs,
and after receiving a gentle tap on the forehead from
Broome’s left, the latter closed, and both rolled over.
This round lasted eight minutes, and at once showed to
the spectators that Orme was much better on his legs
and cleverer at stopping than the public had given him
credit for.

2.――Again did each man make ineffectual feints out of
distance. Broome at length let go his left, but Orme
jumped cleverly away. Broome tried it again, but was
stopped. “There’s luck in odd numbers,” however, for,
in a third attempt, he got home heavily on Orme’s left
peeper, and then on his mouth, and, on Orme rushing at
him to make a return, Broome turned his back and ran
round the ring. They quickly got together again, when,
after one or two very slight exchanges, Orme got down.

3.――Broome, on nearing his man, led off with his left,
and reached Orme’s kissing-trap. Sharp counter-hits
followed, Orme reaching Broome’s left ogle with his
right, and Broome getting heavily home on Orme’s right
eye. A few weaving half-arm hits followed to a close,
and both were down, Orme under.

4.――Broome feinted with his left, but it was no go. At
length he succeeded in drawing Orme, who rattled at
him, when Broome propped him heavily on the left
peeper, drawing “first blood” from a cut on the brow.
Some heavy exchanges followed, Orme delivering his
right with terrific force on Broome’s ribs three times,
and receiving heavy spanks in return on his right ogle
and mouth, drawing more claret, and in the end, as Orme
lunged out with his right, his head came forward, and
Broome administered a terrific upper-cut in the mark,
which doubled him up completely. Orme turned round, and
gradually fell to the ground. It was now thought to be
all over, but Orme, being in good condition, quickly
rallied.