James Figg and Prizefighting’s First Rivalry

It was the Georgian era, when the last vestiges of medieval England were crashing head on into the emerging modern world. The reigning King, George II, was the last monarch born outside of Britain, and did not even share his subject’s native tongue. He would also be the final British royal to command an army in the field, during the Battle of Dettingen, in the War of Austrian Succession. The commoners enthusiastically placed bets on whether or not he would be killed. George II was popular with his people primarily for one reason: because he was not his despised father, George I.

It was the time during which the great philosopher, David Hume, observed that life was “nasty, brutish and short.” And to be certain, misery and hardship were common enough. Brutality was standard. The death penalty was dispensed by the courts with wanton liberality and public hangings were a popular, and regular, entertainment.

Yet, the popular attitude towards life seemed more cheerfully resigned than the intellectual cynicism of Hume. In an economy that was still pre-industrial, the pattern of work, even for most urban dwellers, more closely resembled the old, agricultural rhythms. Days, or weeks, of long, strenuous hours gave way to days at a time of idleness. With the puritanical mores of Cromwell’s England now officially in the past, idle time more often than not meant revelry.

It was during these decades of the early 18th century that prizefighting began to come into its own. At the time, it still existed as a subset of the general defensive arts — alongside fighting with foils, cudgels and quarter staffs. In fact, for the first great pugilistic figure in British history, James Figg, boxing was only one specialty among the rest. Although he was the recognized boxing champion of his time, he was generally acclaimed to be better with saber and staff.

At 6' tall and roughly 185 pounds in his prim, Figg was not large by modern, heavyweight standards, but of formidable size for the age and more than large enough to handle a man of any size when his athleticism and skill were factored into the equation. Figg was discovered while fighting with the saber, staff and fists on the Village Green in his native Oxfordshire, by noted sporting patron, the Earl of Peterborough. At that time, the defensive arts, like the fine arts, flourished through aristocratic patronage. The Earl took Figg to London, where the bull-necked brawler proved himself without peer in single combat.

Figg established his own academy, where he tutored the the sons of nobility, while training a cadre of true fighters that he promoted. According to his student and biographer, Captain Godfrey, training under Figg was a rugged affair, with no special gentleness reserved for the gentleman: “I have purchased my knowledge with many a broken head, and bruises in every part of me,” he wrote in his Treatise Upon the Useful Science of Defense. As for Figg himself, Godfrey writes that “he was of a rugged temper, and would spare no man, high or low, who took up a stick against him.”

Although Figg stands out as the preeminent star of his era, as has almost always been the case in the history of prizefighting, greatness required a rival to establish itself. In Figg’s case, this rival came in the form of the pipemaker, Ned Sutton, from Gravesend. The most famous clash between the two occurred on June 6, 1727, but it was almost certainly a rematch. In his terrific history of bare-knuckle prizefighting, Bare Fists, Bob Mee quotes a 1725 poem that tells the story of a previous bout between the two.

The June 1727 fight took place at the famed Adam and Eve, a venue on the road heading north from London, celebrated for all manner of entertainments, from good ale and food to dramatic productions to accommodating female companionship. Above all, though, it was the Mecca for prizefighting in that era, the early 18th century equivalent of Madison Square Garden, Caesar’s Palace or the MGM Grand. It filled to standing room only for Sutton’s great challenge to Figg. The nation’s Prime Minister, Robert Walpole, was in attendance. Literary giants Alexander Pope and Johnathan Swift were on had, as Swift was in London at the time to oversee the publication of Gulliver’s Travels.

Figg’s battle with Sutton was not exactly a traditional prizefight, but more a general contest of combat skill. Round 1 of the showdown was a sword fight.

According to the account Mee gives in Bare Fists, Sutton almost immediately drove Figg back and forced him to cut himself on the arm with his own blade. Apparently, that sort of wound was not considered sufficient to win a bout. The two continued to parry back and forth, until Figg drew blood with a wound to Sutton’s shoulder.

After a break for the crowd and fighters to buttress their spirits with ale, the fist fight itself began. Boxing in the bare-knuckle era more closely resembled contemporary MMA. Grappling, clinching and throwing were all as important as punching itself. In the last years before Figg’s star pupil, Jack Broughton, instituted his famous reforms, kicking a downed opponent was standard. MMA fans of today refer to the technique as a “soccer kick.” To the Fancy of the Georgian era, it was known as “purring.” Eye gauging was considered a valid technique, as well.

Rounds went on indefinitely, until one fighter was knocked down or thrown. A new round began when the downed fighter managed to make it back to the scratch line, quite often after having been gauged or stomped.

It would seem that bare-hand combat was the area in which Sutton was closest in ability to Figg. The two traded throws and Sutton knocked Figg from the stage with a hard body shot. But gradually Figg wore his challenger down. He knocked Sutton down, then pummeled him, forcing a verbal surrender.

The final stage of the combat was conducted with cudgels. Stick fighting had always been Figg’s specialty and he wasted no time in busting Sutton’s knee and bringing the festivities to a close.

I’ve read conflicting reports on the other major historical bout with which Figg was involved. In 1733, the Earl of Bath, William Pulteney, imported a massive gondolier from Venice, named Tito Alberto di Carini, after watching the giant beat three men in a single night.

Figg was considered the natural choice to uphold England’s honor. According to The Heavyweight Championship, by Ring founding editor Nat Fleischer, Figg quickly knocked di Carni out and sent him packing back to Italy. But according to Pierce Egan’s Boxiana and Mee’s Bare Fists, Figg handed off the task to one of his students, Bob Whittaker, who came back from a quick knockdown to stop the big man with a body shot.

Figg then used the excitement around Whittaker’s national triumph (witnessed by King George II, among other notables) to set up another fight between Whittaker and another student, Nathaniel Peartree. Figg bet heavily on Peartree to beat England’s new champion, and collected, as Peartree won within 10 minutes.

By this point, Figg was pushing 40, and his career as a fighter was at an end. He would remain a popular hero and successful promoter, though within two years, he would be dead.