In the spring of 1827 it is recorded that the Heath "was much crowded to witness a match between a mare, the property of Sir Peter Soame, of Heydon, and a horse, the property of Mr. T. Berry, of Hertingfordbury.
Other matches were run by hunters belonging to those present; and, at a subsequent meeting in July, arrangements were made for a regular programme, and a cup for compet.i.tion the following year; and from that time the races continued for many years."
The revived Races were held every year on the 14th May, whereas the old Odsey Race meeting was in September. Among the stewards appear the names of Lord Hardwicke, Mr. Brand, Mr. Delme Radcliffe and Mr.
Barnett, while Mr. George Smith was the treasurer and clerk of the course.
In 1836, when Lord Hardwicke and Mr. Brand were stewards, it is stated that there were from five to six thousand persons present, and as to the character of the gathering, we are told that--
"The usual attendants at all amus.e.m.e.nts of this kind were there, and succeeded in victimizing a few who were green enough to fancy they had a _chance of increasing_ their funds on the race-course."
Genteel at first, with a grand-stand erected on the course and numerous booths for refreshments, these Races became in less repute as time went on and were a.s.sociated with many disagreeable incidents. Of the general characteristics of the scene of these Races in their best days during the present century, Mr. Butler"s poem gives us a vivid picture.
The preparations for the event are shown, where
Many a pole stripp"d of its native rind, Bears a pink flag, that rattles in the wind; And all the rustic villagers around Behold with wond"rous eyes the hallow"d ground, And often pause to view the ma.s.sive roll, Bear down the turf, and level round the goal.
Of the morning of the Races and the concourse of people coming in from all points of the compa.s.s, we get a glimpse
For ten miles round, each village yields Its b.u.mpkin swains, and labour quits the fields.
{134} Full many a smock shines white as driven snow, With pea-green smalls, whose polished b.u.t.tons glow.
Nor they alone the glorious sight to share, Their master"s family will sure be there.
Lo! the old wagon, lumb"ring on the road, Bears on its pond"rous sides the noisy load.
Lopp"d is the vig"rous tree, its spreading boughs Cling to the sides, and shade their vacant brows.
Other characters, too, of the dandy type are coming in
For many a sprightly Cantab springs to view, Borne swiftly on upon his licens"d steed, That all the day ne"er knows what "tis to feed; Cantabs and b.u.mpkins, blacklegs wend along, And squires and country n.o.bles join the throng!
Loud sounds the knotty thong upon the backs Of poor half-starv"d and kennel-smelling hacks.
In this fashion the noisy streams feed the growing crowd, as it nears the "painted landmark," where
With what delight they view, the colours fly, That flap and flutter "neath a windy sky.
Then we get a glimpse of the gentleman jockey as he "quits the just machine"--
Strutting along equipp"d in vest of silk.
Full many a hat is doff"d as he draws near, For gentlemen themselves turn jockeys here.
We see him sitting there on his mount "impatient for the start, while by his side, with equal pomp his lofty rivals ride," and anon the signal is given, and they are off! "Bending thousands raise a rending cry," and the incidents which accompany the exciting event are well described in the following lines--
And while all eyes are fixed upon the goal, The skilful lads from town are on the prowl, Swift fly the steeds along the even green, Bored by the b.l.o.o.d.y spur, and quickly seen The champion full in front, and as he goes He wins by half a head, or half a nose; Then betting fair ones fumble for their purse, Eager the trifling wager to disburse.
Alas! they"ve nothing hanging by their side, Save but the string by which the bag was tied, For through the silken dress a gash is seen, Where the pick-pocket"s impious knife hath been!
But others besides the fair s.e.x were sufferers from the same cause, while the "thimble-player" plied his trade and secured the attention of some countryman with "cash in his fob and forward with his prate."
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But old balances of this sort had a way of getting righted, and many will remember the scene here depicted--
Thinking all safe, the sharper wends his way, But soon his foolish dupes get up a fray.
So the poor mortal, by the raging pack, Receives the heavy throng upon his back, Until he sinks, exhausted by their rage, And finds, perchance, a lodging in the cage!
Such were the Royston Races during the present century. Their abolition some twenty years ago, and the scenes of disorder and of shop robberies in the town, which had marked the moribund stage of their course, are too familiar to most Roystonians to need further notice here.
From Royalty, down to the smallest stable or errand boy in the land, prize-fighting, or "the n.o.ble art of self-defence," as it was grandiloquently styled, was really looked up to as a manly and worthy spectacle during the first quarter of the present century, and a little later. When the Prince Regent, afterwards George IV., did not think it beneath his royal dignity to pet and encourage professional "bruisers,"
to attend the prize-ring, shake hands with Tom Cribb, the champion, or drive through the streets with a celebrated boxer in his carriage; and, when Gully, the champion, could be returned as a member of Parliament for Pontefract, it is not surprising to find the craze descending through all ranks of society. I am obliged to introduce into these Sketches something of this "seedy" side of the early years of the century, because, for good or evil, the neighbourhood of Royston was frequently the scene of some of the more notable contests in the prize-ring.
Farther back, about the middle of the reign of George III., these contests appear to have been almost entirely free, not only from any interruptions from the magistracy and the constable, but also from any risk of it. The result was that most elaborate arrangements were made not merely for the convenience of the combatants, but more especially with a view to make it a spectacle not unworthy of an arena of a Roman amphitheatre of old. Thus, in 1789, on February 11th, when _Johnson_ and _Ryan_ gave their patrons at Rickmansworth, Herts., a set-to which, we are told, "was prodigiously fine," it was found that four thousand persons had subscribed their guineas, half-guineas, and crowns, and so, as it was impossible for the event to come off in the yard of the Bell Inn, a stage was erected round the sides of a gravel pit in the bottom of which the fight took place. The "door money" was divided equally between the combatants, and amounted to 512 pounds.
In later years it was usual to select some spot where the combatants and their friends could, if interrupted by any Justice of the Peace more courageous than his fellows, speedily cross over into {136} another county and another jurisdiction. For this purpose few parts of the country offered better facilities than the neighbourhood of Royston; especially such spots as Noon"s Folly, near the borders of three counties--Herts., Cambs., and Ess.e.x--or Royston Heath, from which it was easy to cross over from Herts. into Cambs. This precaution was not often really needed, for the magistrate and the constable either did not appear or were themselves pa.s.sive spectators of the exciting scene. One exception may, however, be made, for I believe Mr. John George Fordham (father of Mr. Henry Fordham) had the courage to go and interfere with a fight on the Heath, and when they adopted the tactics of crossing over into Cambridgeshire, thinking he was not a magistrate for that county, he crossed over after them.
Sir Peter Soame, of Heydon Grange--whose father, Sir Peter Soame, was a gentleman of the Privy Chamber in the Royal household of George III.
(in 1798)--has been mentioned as a prominent figure in the hunting and racing world in this chapter. He was also often the chief promoter of encounters in the prize-ring in this district. His residence at Heydon was the scene of many a roistering gathering of the sporting fraternity, and the baronet was such a practised hand himself, that in the event of the fighting men not turning up according to appointment he would himself step into the ring and challenge anyone present if need be, rather than allow the spectators to go away disappointed.
There is a story of Sir Peter told by Mr. Cross in his _Autobiography of a Stage Coachman_, which, being, on both sides, of a local character, may be worth repeating here. On one occasion a local butcher, named Mumford, who had the reputation of "the fighting butcher," went to Sir Peter"s house, just as he had some guests to dinner, to demand payment of a small sum of money. The sporting baronet was equal to the occasion; asking his guests to excuse him a few minutes, he went down into the kitchen, saw the butcher, and asked him if he was not the "fighting butcher." The applicant acknowledged that they did call him by that name. "Well then," replied the baronet "that is the amount you say I owe you, and we will see who is to have it," depositing the money to be handed over. The terms were agreed to, sawdust was brought into the kitchen, and the butcher and baronet stripped and set to, with one or two of the servants to see fair-play.
The fight was furious at the outset, but the butcher was soon defeated by the superior science of the baronet, and he had to depart without his money, after which Sir Peter joined his guests in the dining room, as if nothing had occurred!
Perhaps the most memorable event in the prize-ring that ever happened in this neighbourhood was the contest between Jem Ward and Peter Crawley, for the championship, on Royston Heath, on the 2nd {137} January, 1827. The event was the occasion of tremendous excitement, and the concourse of people was enormous. Of the popular aspect of the event on the morning of the fight, the following graphic reminiscence is taken from some autobiographical notes by the late Mr. John Warren, who, however, was too young to know anything further of the event.
"I remember when I was a little boy that the neighbourhood of Royston was the scene of many prize-fights. That between Ward and Crawley for the championship took place when I was a youngster. Early in the morning our High Street was so full of people that you could walk on their heads. My father would not allow me to go on the Heath to witness the prize-fight; so I went to the top of our garden, where I could hear the roar of voices and fancied I could hear the blows!"
This famous "milling" came off on the Heath at the lower end of the cricket ground somewhere near the spot selected for the Jubilee tea in 1887. Cambridge and neighbouring towns sent their thousands of visitors, coaches were loaded and over-loaded, while the villages were nearly emptied.
The greatest precaution appears to have been taken to secure a spot where no interruption would be likely to take place, and with this end in view two places were appointed, one on Royston Heath, and the other at Heydon Grange, the seat of the boxing baronet, Sir Peter Soame. But whichever spot was to be fixed upon, Royston was the rendezvous. Jem Ward, the champion, made his head-quarters at the Red Lion, and Crawley and his friends stopped at "a road house about two miles from Royston."
The extraordinary ferment of interest and anxiety in Royston as to where the event was actually to come off was kept up till even the morning of the day! To increase the uncertainty, the parties actually got two rings, and one of them was put up at the famous fighting rendezvous near Heydon Grange, as a ruse; but there was little need of such a precaution. The rumour of the erection of the ring near Heydon Grange got wind, and away went an excited avalanche of human beings, helter-skelter, over fields and hedges that winter"s morning, for Heydon Grange, only to find themselves disappointed, and under the necessity of running back as fast as tired legs and panting lungs would carry them! In at least one case a Royston spectator lost his life by the excessive exertion and over-heating!
Upon the site of the battle, at the lower end of the cricket ground, about ten to fifteen thousand persons were a.s.sembled, including all cla.s.ses of society from post-boy to n.o.bleman.
The fight came off about mid-day amidst the utmost excitement and enthusiasm. In an age when fighting was reckoned among the "fine arts," Ward was allowed to be "the finest fighter in England." The {138} rapidity of his movements "gave amazing advantage for the display of his inimitably fine science," says the writer of the account in the _Cambridge Chronicle_ for 1827. "On taking the champion"s belt many sprung up in bravado, but none in arms sufficiently hardy to dispute his well-earned honours. At length, Peter Crawley got backed against him. Crawley was a giant and stood 6 feet, 2 inches, while Ward was 5 feet, 9 inches, and stout and active."
I am not going to describe the scene further, beyond the remark that the fighting was a furious and tremendous onslaught upon each other, so that in the s.p.a.ce of twenty-six minutes, and after eleven rounds, both men were perfectly exhausted, and in a wretched plight. Crawley had his cheek laid open and both eyes nearly closed, and Ward could not stand.
In this short s.p.a.ce the two pugilists had reduced themselves to the pitiable condition of simply mauling each other, hugging each other, and because Crawley just managed to _push_ Ward down and he could not rally in time, the champion lost his belt!
The scene as described by eye witnesses, of whom there are very few living, as well as from the facts on record from which I have quoted, must have been a brutal one as we now look upon such things, though it was considered a grand and memorable spectacle to thousands of those a.s.sembled on our fine old Heath!
Jem Ward, who was generally looked upon as a little above the ordinary run of pugilists in intelligence and education, lived to an old age, and died only a few years ago.