The year 1824 was the climax of the best period of the Prize-Ring. There were good fights in later years, as we shall see, first-rate champions, high skill, noble endurance: but the institution of the Ring was never in such good case again. And the most notable events of that year in pugilism were the two great fights between the Champion of England, Tom Spring, and the Champion of Ireland, Jack Langan.

This combat, which was for £300 a side, took place at Worcester Racecourse on January 7th. The men were splendidly matched, in years and in physique. Langan was twenty-five, Spring twenty-nine. There was no serious difference in their weight or height. Spring was the better built man, with the body of an all-round athlete; whilst Langan was awkwardly made, hard, angular, with enormous hands. He was known as a brave and skilful fighter, though he had never fought a battle yet with any men of the first rank.

The magistrates in the neighbourhood of Worcester had at first shown signs of opposition to the fight, but considerable influence was brought to bear upon them, so many great sportsmen were interested in the event, that they gave way; and, far from being secret and improvised, the arrangements for the great battle were as deliberate and as open as those for a public funeral. Stands were built about the racecourse, a special ring was constructed, and accommodation, it is said, for at least 20,000 spectators was provided. All the roads of England, so to speak, converged upon Worcester, and men paid a guinea for a shake-down in the loft of a small ale-house. Indeed, the people of Worcester subscribed £200 to the agents of Spring and Langan to make sure of the battle taking place there, so certain were they of the harvest to come. Onlookers were in their places two hours before the fight began, and the rigging of vessels lying in the Severn, which flowed beside the course, was full of those who could not raise the five shillings, which was the smallest price for a place on the stands.

Spring was once more seconded by Tom Cribb and Ned Painter, Lord Deerhrust acting as his umpire. Josh. Hudson and Tom Reynolds attended to Langan, whilst his umpire was Sir H. Goodricke. Colonel Berkeley was chosen by these umpires as the referee.

The first round was uneventful. The men were excessively cautious and few blows were struck. It was observed that Langan’s guard was highly efficient. Spring finally got in a heavy left on his opponent’s right eye and Langan went down. At the next meeting the Irishman went for the body, but Spring’s defence was very sure, and the two stood toe to toe watching for an opportunity for some time. Finally Spring landed with both hands, and later knocked Langan down with quite a slight hit. During this round one of the stands overlooking the ring collapsed and many people were severely injured. The two boxers waited to find out if any one had been killed before continuing to fight. Fortunately, broken arms and legs were the most serious injuries. This untoward event resulted in about 2000 people who had occupied seats being added to the crowd standing between the wrecked stand and the ring. Owing to this, violent pressure was, from then onwards till the end of the battle, thrown against the ropes, so that the outer ring was entirely broken, and the inner was constantly altering in shape, sometimes hardly leaving the men ten square feet to fight in. No doubt, as usual, many roughs were present, but the breaking of the ring on this occasion may reasonably be attributed to accident rather than a deliberate plan.

Langan still went for the body, and Spring, than whom there was never a cooler boxer, waited for the attack each time; and as Langan lunged forward from long range, lowering his head as he did so, the champion caught him on the face. There was a great deal of wrestling throughout this battle and in the early rounds Spring had been heavily thrown. In the eighth round, the champion who felt himself to be the better boxer, knowing well that he had been getting the worst of the throws, fought much harder and drove Langan into his corner. But he had been hitting the Irishman about his head with great force, and, like Jem Belcher with Tom Cribb, he had injured his hands. The knuckles were not actually driven up, but Spring’s hands “puffed” easily, and already they were swollen and soft, and each blow, especially with the left hand, was an agony to him. This round ended with both men slipping down. So far Spring was unmarked, while Langan was already a good deal disfigured and bleeding. A little later he sent in a tremendous left on the mark, but he had misjudged his distance and the blow was short and did no harm. A good bit of boxing followed, for Spring countered and the Irishman ducked from the blow, whereupon the champion caught him with a sharp upper-cut; then he closed and threw Langan hard. The thirteenth round was a hard one for Langan, Spring hitting him severely on the nose with the right and closing his eye with a smashing left.

It must be remembered that all this time the champion’s hands were growing more and more soft, that each blow he struck was more painful than the one before. And yet all the time he kept quietly confident, never grew flustered, and, besides throwing his man, still hit him hard. He, too, was often thrown, and the nineteenth round found both men panting with their exertions. In the next round Spring fought with tremendous vigour. He dashed at his man, drove him round the ring, then closed and hurled him to the grass, but refrained from falling on him which, by the rules of that day, he was entitled to do.

The Irish champion was now definitely getting the worst of it, though Spring showed signs of weakness. However, he ended the twenty-seventh round by a right-hand blow on the face which lifted Langan from the ground. Langan came up again and yet again, but now always to be knocked or thrown down. He was much marked, but had been perfectly trained and was a man of iron constitution. Spring was looking pale and was clearly growing weak, but his skill and judgment were never at fault. By the thirty-fifth round the officials had all they could do to keep a clear space in the ring for the men to fight in. The rounds now were very short. In the forty-fourth Langan made his last desperate effort and did, in fact, hit as well as Spring, the round ending by both going down together. After that, however, his strength had quite gone. The fight went on till seventy-five rounds had been fought in two hours and ten minutes. Finally Spring sent in a right-hander on the neck which knocked Langan clean out of time. He lost consciousness, and when he recovered on Cribb’s knee wanted to go on, furious when his seconds restrained him, mortified to find that time had indeed been called. He rose, but immediately fell back into Cribb’s arms.

It was generally held that Spring would have won much sooner but for the puffing of his left hand. His right was injured too, but remained effective if painful until the end.

After this battle, Tom Reynolds, Langan’s second and friend, complained that his principal had not been given fair play, and that the crowd had been allowed by Spring’s backers to break the ring because his antagonist was an Irishman. In point of fact, the breaking of the ring was no more to Langan’s disadvantage than the champion’s. Anyhow, Langan was not satisfied, and a little later challenged Spring again, this time for the very large prize (in those days) of £500 a side. Langan stipulated for a raised and boarded stage, such as had been used for the battle between Cribb and Molineux. At first the champion objected to this, because he knew Langan’s wrestling powers, and that to be thrown upon boards is a much worse business than upon grass. However, he agreed in the end, for he saw Langan’s point, namely, that a crowd cannot break a ring so easily upon a raised stage as in an open field.

The second match took place at Birdham Bridge, near Chichester, on June 8th, 1824. Once again there was an enormous crowd, and this time the ring was protected not only by being raised, but by a circle formed by fifty-three farm wagons round about it.

Spring was, naturally, the favourite. He brought down the scales at 13 stone 4 lb., whilst Langan was a stone under that amount, and was by some judges thought to have over-trained.

John Jackson, as was usual at all notable battles since his retirement, superintended all the arrangements in connection with the ring.

Spring was once again seconded by the old champion and Painter, Langan by Tom Belcher and O’Neil. Colours were tied to the posts in the men’s respective corners: blue with white spots for Spring, black for Langan.

The fight began in very much the same way as the other between these men. Nothing of any particular note occurred until the seventh round, which was as good as any ever seen in the Prize-Ring. Spring led with his left and hit Langan hard in the face, stepping back at once. In those days they talked of Spring’s “harlequin step,” for he danced up to a man, hit or missed, as the case might be, and danced away again, extraordinarily light and easy upon his feet, and wonderfully quick. Now he was dancing in again, and hit Langan on the ear and nose. The Irishman came for more and was driven away with a stinging spank on the cheek-bone. His backers now called on him to exert himself, and he rushed at Spring, a great rally taking place, blow for blow, though Langan got the worst of it. Then they closed, and Spring threw his man heavily on the boards. Both were blowing when the round ended. It was “the Bank of England to a nutshell” on Spring, but Langan was a true Irishman. One of the differences between the English and the Irish is this: the Englishman doesn’t know when he is beaten: the Irishman neither knows nor cares. With or without the chance of winning, Langan continued to fight.

By the eighteenth round Spring’s left hand was quite useless. But his right hand was sound still and he used it with great effect. It was Spring’s defence which made him one of the best knuckle-fighters that ever lived. He could guard and stop blows with greater dexterity and judgment than almost any other man, but he also understood the art of avoiding punishment by good footwork, which entails less effort. He was not a remarkably hard hitter, and, as we have seen, he suffered severely from his hands: but his skill lay in hitting again and again and yet again on precisely the same spot, so that the cumulative effect of many blows was as great, if not greater in a long fight, than that of a single smasher.

Certainly Langan succeeded, as he had in the previous affair, in throwing the champion and in hurling his own twelve stone violently on top of him, but as a boxer he was not, as they say, in the same street. There was no sort of question about his pluck. Not satisfied with the result of the previous battle, Jack Langan made his seconds promise on this occasion not on any account to give in for him or to interfere in any way. Indeed Tom Belcher more than once called on him to fight when he was past fighting.

The twenty-fourth round found them both exceedingly willing. Spring with slight marks on cheek and eye but otherwise undamaged by Langan. Both his hands, however, were very swollen now. The fight had already lasted fifty-two minutes, and Langan was much punished. But over and over again he tried his best to get past Spring’s incomparable guard and failed. And now, the champion was getting by far the better of the falls too.

Once or twice during the later rounds there was a certain amount of bickering between the opposing seconds. Cribb, on one occasion, complained that Belcher was trying to gain time between the rounds: and once when Langan seized his opponent by the breeches to throw him a protest was made on that account, and the referee ordered Langan not to do it again.

The thirty-second round ended with a heavy fall for Langan, who struck his neck against one of the wooden rails which were used instead of ropes around the ring. A little later, in the thirty-sixth round, Langan’s backer, Colonel O’Neill, asked that he should be taken away. But this he steadfastly refused, as did his seconds, who had given their solemn promise in that regard. Instead, Langan took a nip of brandy which helped him to recover momentarily: and battered and sorely spent as he was, he croaked out jestingly to his seconds to be sure and keep the brandy cold. He made one or two more attempts to force the fighting, but his antagonist was still quite strong, unhurt, and as alert to seize opportunities and avoid danger as in the first round.

At the beginning of the forty-seventh round Langan was brought up to the scratch by his seconds, which, though strictly speaking, against the rules then in force, was frequently winked at. It was a good rule, and should have been adhered to: because if a man could not come up to the scratch at the call of time he was certainly in no condition to continue fighting. After a time Langan’s conduct went beyond the boundaries of pluck and became—what we should certainly call to-day—foolish obstinacy. “There was nothing to be gained by going on.” And how often do we hear that remark to-day in all manner of diverse connections. But we should recognise a signal virtue in that (no doubt foolish) desire to go on where “nothing is to be gained.” “Leave me alone, I will fight,” Langan said, when his plight was so obviously hopeless that the crowd on all sides yelled for him to be taken away. And he went on until the seventy-seventh round. And for many rounds before the end Spring never hit at all, but gently pushed the brave fellow down. In the end he came tottering to the scratch and fell senseless without even the push.

This fight lasted for one hour and forty-eight minutes.

Both Spring and Langan retired after this and became fast friends. “Thormanby” tell us that every year on the anniversary of their first fight Langan used to send Tom Spring a keg of the very best Irish potheen. Spring told “Thormanby” this story in 1851, just before he died.

After his retirement the champion took the Castle Tavern in Holborn, Tom Belcher’s lease of which had just expired, and he became widely known as a great landlord and sportsman.

“Thormanby” has another story to tell of Jack Langan’s generosity. He settled at Liverpool when he retired and took an inn there; and when the Irish harvesters came over each year, Langan would put up as many of them as he could for a couple of days on their way inland. These men he fed and provided with plenty of beer and a nightcap of potheen—on the condition that before going to roost they left their sickles and shillelaghs in his care.

Towards the end of his life Tom Spring got into financial difficulties, owing to his trust in friends who used him as an agent in betting transactions, and then disappeared when the wrong horse got home or the wrong man gave in. He died at the early age of fifty-six, in 1851; Langan having predeceased him by five years.