by Joseph Dobrian

boxing's origins in antiquity; its resurgence in
18th-century england; the first champions; broughton's rules

I have often thought that the sparring instinct is inborn in everything, except women and flowers, of course. I have seen funny little spring roosters, without one feather's sprout to crow about, fight like real men. And then the boys! Isn't it funny how proud they are of their muscle, and how quiet the boy is who hasn't any? Almost as soon as a boy learns to walk he learns to jump into a position of defense and double up his fists.

—Nellie Bly, in a feature on World Heavyweight
Champion John L. Sullivan in the New York World, May 26, 1889

Probably there has been boxing for as long as there have been people. Longer, in fact, since other species box too.

Boxing as a formalized sport has been around for at least 6,000 years. The first historical evidence of it comes from the ancient Egyptians and Mesopotamians. The ancient Greeks, 3,000 years ago, produced many paintings and statues of boxers, as well as the first literature concerning boxing. Homer describes a boxing match in his Iliad. (It wasn't just a boxing match, but a "prize fight." The winner was given a mule; the loser got a large bowl.)

We don't know much for certain about what these ancient bouts were like. As far as we can tell, the rules varied tremendously. Sometimes the two men fought sitting down, nose to nose, flailing away at each other until one gave way. Sometimes they fought to the death. Sometimes they fought standing; sometimes wrestling was allowed; sometimes they fought with some sort of coverings on their hands. A gruesome variant of boxing was a sport called the pancratium, in which everything was permitted except biting and eye-gouging.*

Greek boxers generally wrapped their hands with leather thongs, to prevent broken knuckles. If it were a fight to the death, these primitive boxing gloves might contain metal studs or spikes. Sometimes gloves were fashioned from slabs of rawhide weighing several pounds. With these ghastly weapons, boxers could not throw punches as we know the term: They had to swing the arm like a club.

Boxing became an Olympic event in 688 b.c. The first Olympic boxing Champion was Onamastus; the first one whose physical image survives was Cleitomachus, who won both the boxing and the pancratium events in 216 b.c.† His statue, now at the National Museum in Rome, shows an immensely muscled man with curly hair and a bushy beard, sitting on a stump, wearing heavy rawhide gloves. Head turned sideways, he's looking upwards, as though listening intently to advice from his cornerman.

It's been said that boxing virtually disappeared at the end of the Roman Empire and didn't surface again until the early 1700s, in England, and that nobody knows why. This is not far from the truth, but it didn't just happen to boxing. Spectator sports in general flamed pretty low during that period.

Part of this has to do with the disappearance of the Olympics. In the days of the ancient Greeks, the Olympic Games were, if anything, more important than they are today. Warring states actually suspended hostilities for the duration of the games. (That's a far cry from the political crap that goes on these days in connection with the Olympics!) They were strictly amateur events, and contestants received only token prizes, such as wreaths. No lucrative endorsement contracts.

The Romans, when they conquered the Greek states, turned the Olympics into a big-money business. Professional athletes competed for large cash prizes; betting was encouraged; inevitably, the games became corrupt circuses. In a.d. 393, Emperor Theodosius abolished the Games.

I can only speculate as to other reasons for the disappearance of spectator sports, but I would guess that the main reason was financial. The period from about 400 to about 1600—the Dark Ages, the Mediæval Era, the Renaissance—was an incredibly difficult time in which to live. War, filth, disease, famine and sheer human folly made simple survival tougher than you or I could ever imagine. People simply didn't have time for sports. Oh, you might see a few guys kicking a football around now and then, or running a race, or having a quick punch-up for the hell of it, but it was all strictly on a local level, spur of the moment, with nobody watching except a few people from the neighborhood. Boxing suffered no more than did any other sport, and it was always around.

Professional boxing—such as it was—evolved in England. Small groups of fighters would travel the countryside, stopping in towns on market days to give exhibitions with their fists or with the backsword, a single-edged sword that produced only superficial wounds. They'd take on local challengers for whatever prize money they could drum up—hence the term "prize fighting."

Other terms associated with boxing cropped up in these early days: The fighting area was called a "ring" because, at first, its boundaries were formed by the ring of spectators. Anyone who wished to issue a challenge would throw his hat into the ring.

As life started getting a little easier, in the late 17th century, people had more time and energy to just have fun. Sports that had existed, but which had been played only by the very privileged, began to gain mass appeal. People started going in for cricket, tennis, horse-racing and golf. They organized clubs, held tournaments, placed bets.

It was starting to be better times in England then. The English Civil Wars were over. England was emerging as a colonial power, winning wars and making money. The King, Charles II, was a fun-loving guy. English scientists were making discoveries that seemed to bode well for everyone's quality of life. People were able to enjoy themselves for a change.

The first modern report of a professional boxing match that survives today is from a British newspaper, the Protestant Mercury, in 1681:

Yesterday, a match of Boxing was performed before His Grace the Duke of Albemarle, between the Duke's footman and a butcher. The latter won the prize, as he had done many times before, being accounted, though but a little man, the best at that exercise in England.

By the early 18th century, fist-fighting was one of the most popular sports in Great Britain. Impromptu street fights between boys or men were common forms of amusement. It was also not unusual for gentlemen and coachmen to settle disputes about a fare with their fists. In these instances, the men would fight each other without regard for their respective social classes.

Tradition has it that the first man generally regarded as boxing champion of England (and hence of the world, since boxing was not very popular elsewhere) was James Figg, or Fig (1695-1740?). We know little about him—indeed the year of his death is a matter of dispute—and we know practically nothing about his abilities as a boxer. Indeed, there are but very sketchy accounts of any of his battles, and some historians even assert that Figg never boxed at all! His business card, which survives, advertises that he "teaches Gentlemen ye use of y small backsword & Quarterstaff" but makes no mention of boxing. The card, designed by the famous illustrator William Hogarth, portrays Figg as a mean-looking guy with a shaved head, holding a single-stick. (This was a swordlike stick, with which opponents would whack each other. The quarterstaff was a pole about eight feet long, also used for striking, but requiring two hands. Men also sometimes fought with cudgels—weapons about the size and shape of baseball bats. Sadly, these sports are extinct today.)

Hogarth also painted a formal portrait of Figg, in which the champion has a full head of hair (Figg with a wigg, no doubt), and is fully clothed—but is brandishing his fists and looking straight at you as though he's just waiting for an opportunity to pop you in the nose.

That painting, I would say, is pretty conclusive proof that Figg was known as a boxer in his own day, although it would be more accurate on the whole to describe his profession as "martial artist."

By beating another brilliant fighter, Ned Sutton, in 1719, Figg established himself as the best boxer in the realm. He opened an amphiteatre in London, where, as noted, he gave lessons in genteel combat, and promoted
boxing matches. He also promoted and took part in matches with swords, single-sticks, quarterstaves and cudgels.

In Figg's day, official boxing rules didn't exist. Two men would simply stand up to each other, bare-fisted, and punch away until someone gave up. Biting, kicking and blows below the belt were forbidden; outside of that, anything went. Wrestling and throwing were allowed; so were strangling, gouging, butting and hair-grabbing. The most feared move was called getting your opponent "in Chancery"—that is, holding his head in the crook of your arm while you repeatedly smashed his face with your other fist.*

By 1730, Figg had largely given up competition, and was sticking to the business end of things. His amphitheatre was, of course, the most popular fight club in town, and various of Figg's protégés competed there to prove who was the baddest fighter in the realm. By the time Figg retired two men, Tom Pipes and George Gretting, had emerged as the two top claimants to the (still very unofficial) championship. Pipes beat Gretting, Gretting beat Pipes, and Pipes won a third encounter.

In 1734, though, Jack Broughton, a waterman†, beat them both, and beat another claimant to the championship, George Taylor. Broughton (1703-1789) thus gained general recognition as Champion§ and held that title until 1750. Broughton, aside from being possibly the best bare-knuckle boxer of all time, is known as the inventor of the first formal rules of boxing, and of the modern boxing glove.

He also pioneered an entirely new method of throwing punches. Prior to Broughton, boxers ordinarily stood in an attitude much like that of a fencer: right foot forward, right hand up and forward. The two standard punches were a weak, probing jab with the right hand, or a "round blow"—a long, swinging blow thrown from the hip. Broughton carried his left hand and foot forward, using his left arm mainly for blocking and guarding, and throwing most punches with his right. He introduced straight, snappy punches, which he threw from the shoulder, leaning in with his whole weight behind the punch. His favorite blow was a forerunner of the modern right cross, a pile-driving punch that he called the "projectile." Unlike most fighters before him, Broughton placed great emphasis on body punching, recognizing that a few good shots to the belly will take the fight out of anyone.

Broughton, like Figg, opened an amphitheatre where he fought and promoted fights. There, in 1743, he fought an especially brutal contest against a coachman, George Stevenson, who died a few days later from his injuries. Broughton was horrified. In consultation with a couple of friends, he drew up a set of formal rules—boxing's first. These came to be known simply as Broughton's Rules. With minor modifications, they would govern boxing for the next 150 years.

Of course, Broughton could only enforce his rules at his own club, but they were so obviously good rules that they fell into general use, and soon they were universally observed. They were slightly revised, and re-christened the London Prize Ring Rules, in 1838, but here they are as Broughton wrote them:

I. That a square of a Yard be chalked in the middle of the stage; and every fresh set-to after a fall, or being parted from the rails, each Second is to bring his Man to the side of the square, and place him opposite the other, and till they are fairly set to at the Lines, it shall not be lawful for one to strike the other.
II. That, in order to prevent any Disputes, the time a Man lies after a fall, if the Second does not bring his Man to the side of the square within the space of half a minute, he shall be deemed a beaten Man.
III. That in every main Battle, no person whatever shall be uipon the Stage except the Principals and their Seconds; the same rule to be observed in bye-battles, except that in the latter, Mr. Broughton is allowed to be upon the Stage to keep decorum, and to assist Gentlemen in getting to their places, provided always he does not interfere in the Battle; and whoever pretends to infringe these Rules to be turned immediately out of the house. Every body is to quit the Stage as soon as the Champions are stripped, before set-to.
IV. That no Champion be deemed beaten unless he fails coming up to the line, in the limited time; or, that his own Second declares him beaten. No Second is to be allowed to ask his man's Adversary any questions, or advise him to give out.
V. That, in bye-battles, the winning man to have two-thirds of the Money given, shall be publicly divided upon the Stage, notwithstanding any private agreements to the contrary.
VI. That to prevent Disputes, in every main Battle the Principals shall, on coming on the Stage, choose from among the gentlemen present, two Umpires, who shall absolutely decide all Disputes that may arise about the Battle; and if the two Umpires cannot agree, the said Umpires to choose a third, who is to determine it.
VII. That no person is to hit his Adversary when he is down, or seize him by the ham, the breeches, or any part below the waist; a man on his knees to be reckoned down.

As agreed by several Gentlemen at Broughton's Amphitheatre, Tottenham Court Road, August 16, 1743.

Note that these rules varied in several significant ways from today's rules. They say nothing about gloves. They permit wrestling and throwing. Rounds have no time limit, but end whenever a man is down. (In practice, a fighter would be thrown down far oftener than knocked down. The commonest ending to a round was "the close," in which the two fighters grappled each other to the floor. Some less sportsmanlike fighters would take the opportunity to fall on an opponent's belly with a knee or elbow outthrust.) Also, a downed fighter was not required to rise unassisted: His seconds could do whatever they needed to do to get him fit, provided they had him ready to go in half a minute.

Broughton invented padded gloves, called "mufflers," for training purposes, "to spare Gentlemen the inconvenience of black Eyes and broken Noses." Many of his pupils were from the upper classes, and they were rather more careful of their faces than a workingman like Broughton would have been. Besides, gloves protected the hands—a part of his body Broughton was far more concerned about!

Broughton is probably one of the two or three most historically important boxers of all time. He, almost single-handedly, turned the sport into an organized business, with sensible rules. He was also a fine person, idolized by the fans of his day.

Broughton whipped all comers until 1750, when a butcher, Jack Slack, challenged him. Slack (1720-17tk) was smaller than Broughton, and little known. Odds were 10 to 1 on Broughton.

Still, Broughton was expecting a big crowd for the fight, including his especial friend and patron, the Duke of Cumberland, son of King George II. On the eve of the fight, Broughton was afraid Slack would duck out on him, and so he paid him a bribe to ensure that he'd show up. Slack bet the money on himself.

Slack was tough as raw shrapnel and about as fierce, but as the bout got underway, it looked like Broughton would win. Although he was 46 and overweight, he was clearly stronger than Slack.

Almost immediately, though, the unthinkable happened. Slack caught Broughton a tremendous clout right on the bridge of the nose, which caused his entire face to puff up like a balloon. Within only a few minutes, the Champ's eyes had swollen completely shut. Helpless, he pawed about the ring, trying in vain to find his opponent. Slack, suddenly invisible, smashed Broughton to the floor with a right cross.

"What are you at, Broughton?" cried the Duke of Cumberland. "You can't fight and we shall lose all our money!"

"I am blinded, your Highness," Broughton replied, as his seconds tried to ease the swelling. "Let me see my man, and we shall still win the day!"

Broughton came out for one more round, but it was the same story: Slack beat the crud out of him. Finally, Broughton's seconds threw his sponge into the ring—the accepted gesture of surrender—and dragged the now ex-Champ back to his corner. Broughton was beside himself. "I'm blind, but I'm not beat!" he protested.

Broughton's "friend," the Duke, had bet £50,000 on him, and of course lost it all. If you want to know how much that was in terms of today's dollars, bear in mind that a London shopkeeper in those days could live comfortably enough on £50 a year.

You'd think that anyone with that kind of money to throw around would at least take its loss like a sport, but that wasn't the Duke of Cumberland's way. He put it about that Broughton had thrown the fight, pushed a bill through Parliament making prize-fighting illegal, and had Broughton's club closed down.§ Broughton, of course, never fought again.

(Broughton's story ends happily, though. He got his sight back as soon as the swelling went down. He became a successful antiques dealer and a Yeoman of the Guard at the Tower of London—a Beefeater, that is. He lived to a great old age, and died rich. He is buried in Westminster Abbey, the only boxer to be so honored.)

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Chapters  ii • iii • sources/succession