Sir,
I had not intended to reply to yours of the 15th, which on immediate perusal I was inclined to dismiss as an unwarranted impertinence unworthy of notice. On reflection, however, it seems possible that you may have addressed me without intent to offend, since the aspersions on my character which your letter contains are not your own, but those of others, and that your repetition of their slanders, however insolent in itself, may have had the not unworthy object of inviting me to refute them. The question remains open in my mind, but I give you the benefit of the doubt for the time being, and I shall avail myself of the opportunity to rebut calumny and at the same time satisfy your other inquiries which by their nature suggest that you may be an earnest if importunate seeker after truth rather than a mere echo of scandalous gossip.
I must warn you, however, that any publication outwith this present correspondence of the defamatory matter to which you have referred, will meet with a prompt response. I allude not to redress at law, in which personal experience leads me to repose no confidence, but to certain facts anent myself to which you have made adversion in your letter – viz., that in my youth I was accounted the foremost amateur practitioner of the pugilistic art, that I was known to perform the feat of lifting with one hand an eighteen-stone man from the floor to a table, and that I pursued a course of exercise and diet designed to promote a health and vigour which, I
am happy to say, I retain even in my advancing years. Sir, you have been warned.
I proceed now to the statements which you attribute to Mr Charles Wheeler and an unnamed other party, touching my spar with Molineaux the prize-fighter at Jackson's Rooms in the summer of the year 1810. They say: “Barclay never forgave the nigger for beating him, and this, Mr Charles Wheeler, who knows Barclay well, assures me was the reason why the Captain took such an interest in Cribb's second match with the black and offered to train Cribb at his own expense.”
That, sir, is a disgraceful falsehood. I bore no grudge to Molineaux, indeed, I held him in esteem
as a pugilist
whose ability marked him as worthy of the highest honours of his profession, and my motives in training and sponsoring Cribb were in no way whatever influenced by any emotion of rancour towards his opponent. My interest in Cribb had been kindled years before Molineaux's arrival in England, and in training him for the bout referred to I was but continuing the policy begun when he was first brought to my notice by Mr Jackson, when I sponsored, trained, and backed him for 200 guineas in his victorious match against Jem Belcher. It will not, I think, appear strange that having trained and sponsored a fighter to the Championship of England, I should be moved by interest and friendship to assist him again when his laurels were in danger from an adversary whose formidable powers all acknowledged, but the suggestion that I did so from feelings of spite and ill-will towards that adversary is beneath contempt and merely dishonours him who makes it.
One word more, and I have done with this distasteful topic. It has been supposed by the ignorant mass who imagine their own prejudices to be universal, that the determination with which my principal and I laboured to resist Molineaux's challenge sprang in part from an aversion to his colour. That, too, is utterly false. It has been truly said of Thomas Cribb that an opponent's colour or country made
no difference to him. I may say of myself that had Molineaux been an Esquimaux or a Tartar, a Prussian or even a Frenchman, my feeling towards him would not have been altered by one iota from what it was. That I was concerned to keep the Championship out of a
foreign
grasp I am proud to acknowledge; that I was concerned to keep it out of a
black
grasp I most emphatically deny. That many of the public did not partake of my sentiments is true, alas, and a blot on our national escutcheon. That they
were
shared by the race of pugilists, who welcomed the Black American among them, and thought of him as one of themselves, is manifest, and found expression in one of many patriotic chaunts sung at Bob's Chophouse and those other houses of good fellowship where the milling professionals were wont to foregather. I quote it with apologies for its poetic shortcomings, but pride in its sentiments:
Since boxing is a manly game
And Britons' recreation,
By boxing we will raise our fame
'Bove any other nation.
If Boney doubt it, let him come
And try with Cribb a round;
And Cribb shall beat him like a drum,
And make his carcase sound.
Mendoza, Gully, MOLINEAUX,
Each nature's weapon wield,
Who each at Boney would stand true,
And never to him yield.
I believe, sir, that his fellow pugilists' regard for Thomas Molineaux needs no other endorsement, and the association of his name with three of the worthiest Champions is ample testimony to his stature in the annals of the Prize Ring.
Now, sir, the particulars which you seek of my preparation of Cribb for his second bout with Molineaux might
have been obtained without inconvenience from the work on Pedestrianism and Training by my friend and neighbour, Mr Thom, of Aberdeen, in which I assisted. However, to avoid any possibility of error leading to misinterpretation on your part, I summarise them herewith, commencing with an observation on the character of the Champion.
Cribb, on my first acquaintance with him in the year 1806, was in his twenty-sixth year, and endowed with such natural ability as to arouse peculiar interest in me. He possessed every attribute of the expert pugilist, save one. Being of a genial, quiet, and indolent nature, he had a deep aversion to that strenuous exercise essential to any person who aspires to success in the prize ring. In short,
he would not train
, being content to rely on his great scientific powers alone, and frequently pitted himself against the foremost and thoroughly trained opponents while himself in an ill-prepared condition, overweight, and in poor temper both mental and physical. On the occasion of his only defeat, by Nicholls, it is stated on good authority that Cribb came to the contest in a state of inebriation, which may well be true, for his easy-going and generous nature led him into companionable indulgence, and this failing, so fatal to any sportsman, but to a pugilist above all, was one which I was at pains to correct. Even then, his habitual resistance to a proper course of exercise, diet, and practice came near to being his downfall, as in his matches against Pigg and Gregson, in both of which he was entirely exhausted, and triumphed only through that indomitable refusal to surrender which endeared him to the public at large even more than did that pugilistic genius which (I believe) was born in him to a greater degree than in any professional fighter before or since.
His condition in his first encounter with Molineaux, for which I was not responsible (being occupied by military duties as aide to Lord Huntly) was far from satisfactory. He was too heavy and sluggish against a most dangerous opponent whom he had manifestly undervalued, whose one shortcoming was want of experience, and whose strength
and skill on the occasion were hardly, if at all, inferior to his own. It was evident that only by subjecting himself to the most rigorous preparation could the Champion hope to withstand his redoubtable challenger when their struggle was resumed in circumstances which must necessarily be more favourable to the American by virtue of his youth, anticipated improvement in skill, a less inhospitable climate, and, perhaps more than all the rest, the confidence accruing from his admirable showing on their first encounter.
I therefore began by removing Cribb from London, where the crowded confinement of the city and its unwholesome air had combined with his slothful and irregular mode of living and the influence of boon companions, to render him corpulent, big-bellied, full of gross humours, and short-breathed. When he arrived at my seat near Stonehaven, Kincardineshire, he weighed full sixteen stone and could walk ten miles only with difficulty. I prescribed a diet of beef, mutton, strong beer, stale bread, and Glauber salts, with a strict prohibition of butter, cheese, eggs, and fish, and subjected him to a course of physic, consisting of three doses, but did not yet commence his sweats. For recreation he walked about as he pleased, and spent many hours strolling the woods and plantations with a fowling piece; the reports of his gun resounded every where through the groves and hollows of that delightful place, to the great terror of the magpies and wood pigeons.
After amusing himself in this way for about a fortnight, in which he became accustomed to his diet, the absence of domestic comforts, and the discipline of regular hours, he commenced his regular walking exercise, which at first was about ten or twelve miles a day, increasing to eighteen or twenty. At first he was strongly disinclined to march such distances, so I took to filling my pockets with pebbles, and when he proved laggard I would pelt his shins severely, which stimulated him to pursue me, vowing revenge, but never able to overtake me. Twice a day, morning and evening, he ran quarter of a mile at the top of his speed,
and in consequence of these exercises and the physic his weight was reduced, after five weeks, to fourteen stone and nine pounds. This being still too heavy by a stone and more, I commenced his sweats, walking him under heavy loads of clothing and putting him to lie between feather mattresses. In this way, and with such purges and emetics as were necessary, he was further reduced, over four weeks, to thirteen stone and five pounds, which I determined to be his pitch of condition, beyond which he could not go without weakening.
He was under my care eleven weeks at Ury, from early July until a few days before his second bout with Molineaux in September, with two intervals of a week apiece in which I took him on a course of strong exercise in the Highlands. We walked sixty miles to Mar Lodge, in two days, and I was satisfied that he could have walked as far again without distress. He continued his regular exercises with zest in the splendid surroundings, and I believe his strength and wind were more improved by these Highland journeys than by any other part of his training.
Besides his regular exercise at Ury he was frequently engaged in other rural pursuits, ploughing, pulling carts, and felling trees, which he greatly enjoyed. Of pugilistic practice he had as much as seemed necessary, which was little enough, for once in condition his speed and science were beyond improvement. His hands were truly remarkable, the knuckles having hardened by long use into a sort of carapace with which he could strike the knotted bark from a mature ash tree, which he did once negligently during one of our walks. I forbade any repetition of this extraordinary feat in case of injury. We sparred with the gloves occasionally, and on visits to Stonehaven he gave lessons to the local youths, with whom he became a firm favourite.
On this head I feel bound to own that during our near three months together I conceived an increasing affection for him. He bore my tyranny with great good humour, pebbles and all, and his conduct and demeanour were proof
that, contrary to mistaken opinion, professional pugilists are, with a few exceptions, among the most gentle, modest, and good-natured of men. It may be that this becoming tolerance springs from the knowledge of their prowess, or, as I have heard it ventured, that vice and ill feeling have been beaten out of them and remain on the ground with their blood. It is a matter for conjecture, but whatever the cause I can assert that in my experience, “the better the miller, the better the man,” and point to Gully, Gregson, Jackson, Mendoza, Jones, Pearce, and many others to establish my case.
Cribb conducted himself with much propriety in Scotland, and showed his humane and charitable disposition on various occasions. I remember, when walking on Union Street in Aberdeen, he was accosted by an old woman in great distress. Her story affected him, and the emotions of his heart became evident in the muscles of his face. He gave her all the silver he had in his pocket, and was rewarded with: “God bless your honour, y'are surely not an orn'ary mon!” She spoke truer than she knew.
Sir, I have allowed myself to be carried beyond the scope of your inquiries. It remains for me to say only that when the period of his training was complete, Cribb was, by his own admission, in the best condition of his life, enjoying good spirits, and confident of success. He weighed thirteen stone and six pounds.
I remain, sir,
Your obedient servant,
Allardice of Ury
I'd ha' given the world and every single thing in it, to be by his side when he met Cribb again. That's the lasting sorrow o' my life, sir, and I know it's a selfish one, but what I told Bob Gregson was gospel true: I'd made Tom Molineaux, so far as a trainer ever can make a fighter (for the man must have it within him), and I wanted to share in his glory. That's only human vanity, course it is – but not vanity alone. Truth was I'd put such heart and soul into training him for Copthorn, so much hard graft and hope, so much of my own self, if you follow me, that 'twas almost as if we'd become one, Tom and I. And I knew, when we was
choused
out o' the fight by those dastard villains, that we'd come again a second time and take what was rightly ours – and 'twould ha' been
my
knee he rested on, and
my
hands to rub his flanks and ease his limbs, and
my
fingers to staunch and close the cuts and anoint the grazes, and
my
words in his ear when he'd fibbed the Champion of England into a blind bloody hulk in the third round … but, lo! I was not there, sir, not in his corner, nor within the outer ring, even, but perched on a farm cart where I'd paid a bob for a view, among all the chawbacons who'd never heard o' Pad Jones. That's sinful pride, ain't it, though? But you understand my feelings, I know.
I'd no one to blame but myself, mind. 'Twas I threw in my hand and left him, at Bedford, I think it was. Bob Gregson has told you how and why. Bill Richmond had sworn that there would be an end to Tom's slack ways, that he would buckle to training and leave off the daffy and doxies and stuffing and riotous living that had so spoiled his condition afore Copthorn – but he did not keep his word, sir. I would have had Tom back at the Nag and Blower, under my eye, training hard, but Bill it was who said we must take to the road with him. I was dead against it, sir, but Bill needed the dibs, and was sure the country air must benefit Tom, and what should hinder my keeping him in trim on tour as easy as in Town?