BOXING AT THE FIVES COURT, PRIZEFIGHTS AND PETS OF THE FANCY
Fist fights as a means of resolving disputes, attacking an enemy or defending oneself in a weaponless situation had long been a part of English life and, despite the fact that boxing matches were forbidden by law, a wide cross section of the population eagerly embraced the sport and would travel miles on foot, on horseback, in a carriage or any conveyance they could find, to attend a match. In The Unknown Ajax, Richmond Darracott was thrilled at the prospect of going to a prizefight at Sevenoaks with his cousin Vincent to watch Cribb’s latest protégé battle it out with Tom Bugle for twenty guineas a side. Although the magistrates rarely put a stop to illegal bouts, fights were generally held outside the main cities and towns and their location kept a closely guarded secret until the night before a match. In London, however, sparring was a regular attraction at the Fives Court in St Martin’s Lane, Leicester Fields. Up to a thousand spectators could be accommodated in the old, high-ceilinged, brick building where men had traditionally played at hand tennis or ‘fives’. Sparring exhibitions and boxing matches were held at the Fives Court each afternoon at two o’clock and, for a three-shilling admission, enthusiasts could watch up-and-coming pugilists demonstrate their skill, and learn something of the science of boxing, although Jessamy Merriville in Frederica felt that he had led his younger brother into a ‘haunt of vice’ by taking him there. Combatants had to be approved by the great man of Regency boxing, ‘Gentleman’ John Jackson, and several of the most famous names of pugilism, including Jem Belcher, Tom Cribb and Bill Richmond, made appearances there to the delight of the ‘fancy’.
Men of all classes attended sparring matches at the Fives Court.
The ‘fancy’ was a collective term for those who followed boxing and ‘pets of the fancy’ were those pugilists who had made names for themselves as champions or fighters with ‘bottom’ or great courage. They had huge followings among the populace and, as the Taverners discovered in Regency Buck when they arrived at Grantham on the day before a major match, fighters like Cribb, Belcher or Molyneux could draw crowds of twenty or thirty thousand spectators whenever they fought. Whether they walked, rode or drove, men of all classes would often set out the day before a match to be sure of a good vantage point and the opportunity to place their bets.
Much admired as an arbiter of sport, ‘Gentleman’ John Jackson
taught many gentlemen how to box.
In 1795, John Jackson had won the title of English Champion from the great Jewish boxer, Mendoza, and immediately afterwards set about establishing a boxing school for gentlemen. He took rooms at number 13 Bond Street and equipped the elegant saloon with a set of scales, boxing gloves, weights, fencing equipment, wooden staves for single stick and chairs for subscribers. The walls were decorated with pictures of famous bouts, well-known pugilists and diagrams explaining the art and science of boxing. Open three times a week throughout the Season, Jackson’s Saloon became a kind of boxing headquarters during the Regency and Jackson drew a huge following from among the aristocracy to the sport. He condemned fixed fights (known as crosses), never made a bet and his presence as either a referee or a spectator at a fight was a sign to onlookers that the bout would be fair. Entrée to Jackson’s Saloon could only be obtained through introduction and many upper-class men aspired to boxing lessons from the great man. Some among the nobility, such as Sir Richard Wyndham in The Corinthian, were privileged enough to strip to the waist, don a pair of boxing gloves and engage in a sparring contest with ‘Corinthian Jack’, and many famous Regency men, including Lord Byron, learned the art of self-defence at his Bond Street rooms. Charles Rivenhall in The Grand Sophy sparred there regularly and Jackson was wont to say that he could have made him a champion if he had not been an aristocrat. Jackson’s manners and well-bred demeanour earned him the sobriquet ‘Gentleman’ and he was respected by nobility and commoners alike.
After John Jackson, the most famous English Champion during the Regency was Tom Cribb, who fought his greatest matches between 1805 and 1811. Renowned for his courage and stamina, as well as for his ability to read an opponent and engage in the ‘science’ of boxing, Cribb was most famous for his hard-fought victories over the American Tom Molyneux and in particular the match fought in 1811 at Thistleton Gap in Leicestershire which Cribb won. Apart from an exhibition match given for the Allied Sovereigns during their visit to England in 1814, Cribb chose not to continue boxing after his victory over Molyneux. He bought the King’s Arms tavern and established ‘Cribb’s Parlour’, a neat little snuggery or separate room off the main taproom in which pugilists and the sporting men of the ton would gather to talk, smoke and admire the Champion’s cup—a prize Bertram Tallant in Arabella was thrilled to be able to hold. The King’s Arms was always crowded with men of all ranks and professions and it was not uncommon for eager young men with visions of glory to try and goad Cribb into fighting with them—only to find themselves hauled directly to the watch house or magistrate by the unimpressed Champion.
Cribb’s Parlour was a popular pleasure haunt among the Corinthians and Regency bucks.
COCKS AND DOGS
One of the oldest-known spectator sports, cock-fighting had a large following during the Regency and men (and sometimes women) would gather regularly at both indoor and outdoor venues. Betting was as much a part of the sport as spectating and sometimes entire estates were wagered on the outcome of a ‘main’ which consisted of an odd number of battles, sometimes run over several days, between two rival teams with each cock fighting once. The main was won by whichever team gained the majority of victories with prize money paid for each battle and a larger sum offered to the overall winner. In Regency Buck, the bet was a thousand guineas a side and forty guineas for each individual contest. Similarly, crowds would often gather in pubs, yards or purpose-built venues to watch dog-fighting where two or more dogs would fight to the death. Eager spectators would gather at local venues or the Westminster Pit in London to watch contests between different breeds. Battles between bulldogs and bull terriers were popular and dustmen, butchers, grooms and barristers would jostle with MPs, gentlemen and the nobility for a ringside view. As with all Regency sports, gambling was a vital part of the event and vast sums often changed hands during a contest at the Westminster Pit.
REVEL-ROUTS AND BOXING THE WATCH
The propensity for Regency men to drink heavily led many of them to take part in drunken revels late at night when few people were on the streets and the chances of being caught greatly reduced. Aristocratic young men up from the country, or sons of the nobility sent down from Oxford or Cambridge for outrageous behaviour, took great pleasure in getting drunk and engaging in the kind of ‘larks’ that such an uninhibited state allowed. A revel-rout was a gathering of usually young men for the specific purpose of drinking and engaging in revelry. In London the opportunities for mischief were many and a favourite sport for young bucks such as Dysart in April Lady was known as ‘boxing the watch’. The ‘watch’ were the city’s nightwatchmen, also known as ‘Charleys’, whose job it was to patrol the streets calling out the time and the weather on the hour, and ensuring that law and order were maintained. They were not very effectual as many of the watchmen were old and interested only in the small wage paid to them by the Parish.
Small wooden booths were set up at various points around the city in which the watchmen could sit and observe the passers-by. Each booth had a single door and inebriated young men considered it a great lark to overturn the booth (with the Charley inside) or to turn it door-side to the wall so he could not get out. This was known as ‘boxing the watch’. It was not uncommon for young men, finding their favourite gambling hell closed to them in the early hours of the morning, to wander the streets looking for a fight, break windows, wake a shopkeeper with a false call of ‘fire’ or cut the traces of a hackney cab while the coachman slept inside and take his horses to some other part of the city. Many revellers’ drunken antics ended with the unrepe
ntant young men being locked up in the watch-house before appearing in the magistrates’ court the following day while those who had managed to avoid arrest often chose to end the night at the Covent Garden coffee-house known as ‘the Finish’ where they fell asleep on a bench.
ON THE STRUT TO TATTERSALL’S
In 1766 Richard Tattersall of Lancashire, horse master to the Duke of Kingston and equine aficionado, established a horse sale-yard off Grosvenor Place in London. The business prospered and he acquired a ninety-nine year lease on premises at Hyde Park Corner and in (about) 1773, opened an auction house there. Although Tattersall died in 1795 he had built such a reputation for integrity and knowledge of horseflesh that his name had become synonymous with bloodstock sales and Tattersall’s had become an institution. In addition to its thoroughbred auctions, racehorses, coach horses, hunters, hacks, hounds and carriages could be bought and sold at the weekly sales, with stabling for over one hundred horses, kennels for the dogs and a coach-house for the carriages and harness available for inspection. Faced with a mountain of debt after the death of his father in a hunting accident, the new Viscount Lynton, Adam Deveril of A Civil Contract, felt compelled to sell his stable and sent sixteen hunters to Tattersall’s to be put up at auction. During the winter (the hunting season) sales were held on Mondays and Thursdays but in the summer only on Mondays. It was considered fashionable during the Regency to ‘take a look in’ at Tattersall’s, to stroll about the premises, examine the horses and discuss their respective merits or defects with other sporting men. Henry Stornaway in The Toll-Gate considered himself to be quite at home at Tattersall’s and spent considerable time there despite being generally held to be a poor judge of horseflesh. For a guinea a year a man could gain admittance to the subscription room where he could lay bets on any forthcoming race or sporting event. Monday was settling day (known by the less fortunate as ‘Black Monday’) during which gamblers received their winnings or were required to pay their debts. Known also as the ‘Repository’, Tattersall’s held its auctions outside in a courtyard enclosed on three sides by a wide veranda supported by pillars. Prospective buyers and onlookers would gather in the yard and the horses would be run around the perimeter before being offered for sale. Tattersall’s took a small commission on each sale and charged both sellers and buyers for any necessary stabling of their animals.
Many gentlemen took a ‘look in at Tattersall’s’ on the way to their club.
HUNTING, HORSE RACING, CURRICLE RACING AND WAGERS
Hunting was a winter sport and many people considered it a boon to have the hunt meet in their neighbourhood. The hunt drew the rich and fashionable to the countryside and especially to the famous village of Melton Mowbray and the hunting country of the ‘Shires’ (Leicestershire, Northamptonshire and Rutland) as well as to the three greatest hunting packs of the Quorn, the Belvoir and the Cottesmore. The position of Master of Foxhounds (or MFH) was a prestigious one and it was often held by the local squire or a member of the aristocracy with his own pack of hounds. During the actual hunt the hounds were controlled by one or more whippers-in who worked to keep the hounds together in a single pack by ‘whipping-in’ any animal that broke loose or strayed from the group. Hounds were vital to the hunt as it was the job of the pack to pick up the fox’s scent, pursue it and eventually run the fox to ground while the men and women of the hunt rode in pursuit. For those addicted to the chase, like Phoebe Marlow’s father in Sylvester, hunting was an expensive sport. A bruising rider like Lord Marlow needed a minimum of six horses to hunt the Shires for several days a week and in lesser country he required at least three hunters to manage four days a week during the hunting season. But for intrepid riders, the thrill of a cross-country gallop with hedges, stone walls, ditches, gates and water courses to jump made hunting the only sport.
By the early nineteenth century Newmarket had become the effectual headquarters of the racing world and during the racing season men of leisure would organise their lives around the racing calendar. Racing was enormously popular with all classes and ‘betting on the turf’ a principal occupation for many gentlemen. Wagers could be laid on races at the course itself or at Tattersall’s which was open to all classes (though not to women). Fortunes were won and lost on horse races and many men would go to the races with the intention of recovering from debt only to find themselves much worse off at the end of the day—although Simon Carrington proved himself the exception to this rule in Charity Girl.
Curricle racing was never a formal sport, but rather an activity engaged in by men of fashion with a competitive nature, an interest in horses, and a desire for ever greater speed. Curricles were two-wheeled carriages generally pulled by a pair of horses, although expert drivers sometimes harnessed four, or even six, horses to the vehicle. A race could be between two drivers and their teams, or against the clock over a specified distance. The drive from London to Brighton was a popular racing route because the much-used road tended to be well maintained and there were several excellent posting-houses along the way. Reliable posting-houses were essential in a race because of the need for lightning-fast changes of the team. It generally took a stagecoach and four six hours to travel the fifty-two miles to Brighton; in 1784 the Prince Regent—then Prince of Wales—accomplished it in four and a half hours driving a phaeton and three unicorn style (one horse in front and two behind the leader). During the Regency, however, a driver tooling one of the new, lighter racing curricles designed for speed and drawn by a pair of well-matched carriage horses, with good new teams for the changes along the way, could complete the journey in well under four hours.
The betting book at White’s was started in the early years of the club by members who wanted a written record of bets made between them. Up to the middle of the eighteenth century bets were recorded by a club official but after that wagers were written in the leather-bound book by those making the bet. Many famous names were recorded in the betting book, with large sums wagered on a range of contests or questions ranging from racing to politics, matrimony to life expectancy. Some of those who bet were themselves the subject of wagers. Beau Brummell was a frequent entrant in the betting book, accepting wagers on issues as diverse as whether the Empress Maria Louisa would be in Paris by October 1815 (for 100 guineas), whether peace would be made between Napoleon and the Allies in 1814 (for 25 guineas) or whether Sir William Guise would beat Mr Dalton for the seat of Gloucester in February 1811 (30 to 25 guineas). Brummell was also the subject of a number of bets, such as the one in 1815 between Thomas Raikes and Charles Greville who each wagered 25 guineas that Brummell would beat a certain Mr Mosseux to the altar. Although, as Mr Liversedge pointed out to Captain Ware in The Foundling, some of the bets were improbable (and many were entirely frivolous), others were an interesting reflection of the club members’ reactions to some of the important events and issues of the period. In terms of the number of bets made and the size of the sums wagered, the Regency was the high period of the White’s betting book.
Card games such as whist, faro and macao were hugely popular during the Regency.
GAMBLING, VOWELS AND DEBTS OF HONOUR
Betting and gaming were a major preoccupation during the Regency. Although both men and women gambled, upper-class women mostly confined their gaming to card games such as loo, silver-loo, faro, macao, whist and rouge-et-noir. Men also gambled at cards (particularly whist and faro) and often heavily, wagering vast sums on a hand in the clubs and hells of Pall Mall and St James’s, or risking their fortunes and estates on the roll of the dice when their luck at cards appeared to have deserted them. Almost any kind of bet was acceptable but once entered into was held to be binding: gambling debts were taken very seriously and, though legally unenforceable, were considered ‘debts of honour’. It was implicitly understood and accepted among the upper class that a debt created between individuals at the gaming table, over a hand of cards or as the result of any kind of wager between them, took precedence over, and must be paid before, any oth
er kind of debt—even if the repayment cost a man his entire fortune and his estate. Because of the propensity for gambling and the very large sums involved, where a debt of honour was concerned there could be no thought of asking that payment be delayed or the debt forgiven—even of one’s closest friend. A man of honour would not dream of defaulting on a gambling debt, although he might easily make his tailor or other tradesmen wait months or even years before paying them. Money owed to tradespeople was perceived quite differently by the upper class and for those tradespeople who preferred not to wait the weeks, months or years it often took for many among the ton to pay their bills it sometimes became necessary to dun their aristocratic clients. This usually took the form, as Nell Cardross found to her great dismay in April Lady, of repeated invoices, courteous written reminders, forcibly expressed letters or a personal visit from the creditor to the debtor’s home to demand payment.
A man caught up in reckless gambling and finding himself short of ready money to pay what he owed could write an IOU or vowel (so-called because of the vowels, i.e. the I, O and U it represented) and pay his creditor the next day or over an agreed period. As Bertram tried to explain to his sister in Arabella, such was the degree of seriousness attached to a debt of honour that borrowing from a woman, going to the moneylenders, taking the King’s shilling (which meant enlisting in the army as an ordinary soldier instead of being commissioned as an officer—a dire fate for an upper-class man) or even death, were all more honourable outcomes than forfeiture of payment. Although women also gambled during the Regency—and some of them such as Lady Denville in False Colours to dangerous excess—few of them viewed gaming debts as men did, although they too were still obliged to pay. For those men and women with enormous gambling debts, often the only alternative left to them was to sell what they could, borrow from friends or the bank, or, as a very last resort, go to the moneylenders. It was not uncommon for a man to rise from the card table with losses of several thousand pounds and go straight to Clarges Street and the house of the moneylender and radical pamphleteer Jonathan ‘Jew’ King, there to mortgage his house or pledge the family silver in order to pay what he owed. Moneylenders were also known as ‘cent per cents’ because of the interest charged on the loans and, during the Regency, establishments such as Howard and Gibbs, King’s, Hamlet’s (the Cranbourn Alley jeweller) or less reputable practitioners, such as Mr Goldhanger in The Grand Sophy, enjoyed considerable patronage from among the desperate and debt-stricken social elite.
Jennifer Kloester Page 22