How A Lion Fight Caused England To Stop The Breeding Of Both Ring And Pit Bulldogs
The story of the famous bulldog fancier Bill George and his trip to attend the lion fights happened in the year 1825 in England. That such a cruel exhibition of bulldogs fighting a lion could take place in public today, and the fact that it occurred only 100 years ago is striking evidence of the strides that we have made since that day toward humane consideration for our dogs. A snarling, vicious fighter in those times, entirely because he was bred and trained to be such, the bulldog today is recognized for his completely opposite characteristics of docility and steadfast devotion. Such a complete change is a credit indeed to present day fanciers. Notices of the lion fights appeared in issues of The Sporting Magazine in 1825, and the scattered facts have been gathered together to present this story, not as a glorification of the cruel "sport" to which the bulldog was subjected, for it is not a pleasant tale, but rather because, due to its very viciousness, it brought about the end of fighting bulldogs and eventually the different animal which we know today. As such it assumes importance as the turning point in bulldog history and is recorded for that reason. Bill George was an apprentice at the establishment of Ben White who operated a bulldog kennel for the "fancy" in a deserted section on the outskirts of London. The fancy, in those days, consisted of "sports" whose chief delight was to fight the bulldog in the pit with other bulldogs, or sometimes with a badger or even a monkey. They also fancied the art of bullbaiting and bearbaiting, which at one time became so popular as to amount to a national pastime. However, by the year of which we are speaking, such exhibitions had already fallen into popular disfavor, and many towns had local ordinances against them. Nevertheless, White carried on a brisk business in breeding, training, and selling fighting bulldogs, and his establishment was notorious throughout England. The lion fights took place on July 30, and the day was unusually hot even for that time of year. It was just noon when Bill George trudged into Warwick. The parched, dusty road had blistered his tired feet, and he headed straight for the horse-watering well in the village square to wash and cool off. At the well there was quite a crowd, mostly farmers from out of town, but interspersed with a few suspicious looking characters smacking of the race track who were busy booking bets on the outcome of the lion fights which were to take place that evening. It had been a long trip from London. On Friday morning, after he had swept the kennels, cleaned the dog pens and the fighting pit, Ben White had told him that he might go, but issued a stern warning to be back by Monday evening in time for the dog fights at Westminster Pit. He had made good time on Friday, thanks to a ride out of the city with a dairyman. By eight in the evening he had reached Brackley where he looked up "Scrap" Taylor who ran a small kennel of bulldogs for the "fancy" and who, at various times, had bought bulldogs from Ben White. "Scrap" had said that Bill might sleep in the barn that night if he would assist at a couple of dog matches first. Instead of a couple fights, there turned out to be seven, and it was two in the morning before the last dogs had been taken from the pit and the crowd gone home. The barn was rank with the odor of the men, the blood in the pit, and stale tobacco smoke. Since the shutters had been nailed shut to keep light from attracting passersby, there was no way of airing out the place. Tired as he was, Bill could not get to sleep. He lay thinking about the fights that evening and the cruel purposes for which his favorites were bred. Bulldogs were not naturally vicious. He knew that well. Raised as they were and encouraged to fight, any breed would become vicious and ill-tempered, but treated with kindness they became devoted companions. He tried to think of some other purpose for which they might be bred. But what was there? They were bred solely for the pit. Without that there would be no reason for breeding them at all. Anyway, tomorrow he would see Billy! There was a real bulldog! He turned over to try to get some sleep before morning. At six on Saturday morning, Bill set off for Warwick. He got a ride into Leamington; and with that help, he arrived in Warwick in good time. It would give him the whole afternoon to be with Billy. Billy had been whelped at White’s about a year and a half previously, and from puppyhood had been the favorite of Bill. He had made a pet of Billy much against White’s wishes who said that Bill would ruin him for the fighting pit. The dog became so devoted to his master that he became known as "Bill’s dog" which was later shortened to "Billy". However, at eight months, Billy showed evidence of becoming the best dog in the kennel, and White began to spend a great deal of time training him for the pit. By the time he was a year old, he could lick any dog his size and was sold to the well-known promoter, Sam Wedgbury, at a high price. Wedgbury had since fought him with so much success that he was known to the fancy all over the British Isles. At Factory Yard, Wedgbury greeted Bill with obvious pleasure, and it was not long before he was telling him about the first lion fights which had taken place on Tuesday over in Cannon. The Great Wombwell, proprietor of the famous traveling circus, had promoted the fights by offering to bet any "Sporting Gentleman" in England up to 5,000 sovereigns that his famous lion, Nero, could whip any six bulldogs in the land. The bet had been taken by a nobleman who engaged Wedgbury to furnish the dogs. The fight had drawn a tremendous crowd on Tuesday, and betting had run high with the odds five to one in favor of Nero. At seven in the evening, Nero had been rolled out into the arena in his cage where he sat surveying the crowd placidly, accustomed as he was to being on exhibit. At 7:30, Wedgbury brought the dogs forth, and three were selected to make the first attack. One dog was named Turk, a brown-colored dog weighing about 40 pounds whose many scars were ample evidence of his experience in the fighting pit. The second dog was Captain, a fallow-and-white with a wry face; and third was Tiger, a brown-and-white heavyweight. The three dogs had been aroused to a state of utmost excitement by their handlers, and were anxious to start fighting. As soon as they were let loose, they sprang into the cage and attacked Nero from both sides. Poor Nero, who had been lying on his paws not suspecting any danger, whirled with a roar of anguish, and tried to beat off the dogs with his claws. Undaunted, they came back to attack again and again, until Tiger pinned the lion by the lower lip; and Nero, in defense, caught the dog a severe blow, tearing his side wide open. Suffering badly from the wound, Tiger turned and fled outside the cage where he stood barking furiously, but not daring to enter again. The other two dogs repeatedly tore at Nero’s nose and face until the poor animal was bleeding profusely. Finally, he fled, at full speed, around and around his cage seeking refuge from his tormentors. The crowd howled victory for the bulldogs which were dragged from the cage, and Nero was given a 20-minute respite. The second trios to attack Nero were Nettle, a brindle bitch with a black head; Rose, a brindle-pied bitch; and Nelson, a white dog with brindle spots. Here the scene was the same. Poor Nero, driven to distraction by the pain, tried in vain to run away from his antagonists until he finally collapsed from utter exhaustion and was dragged to the side of the ring by the dogs. Wombwell, ashamed at the poor showing of his King of Beasts, at once came upon the stage and offered to match his other lion, Wallace, against six more bulldogs. The bet was taken and the fight was arranged to take place that Saturday night. Wedgbury had brought Tiger again and five new bulldogs for this combat, and took it for granted that they would be more than a match for Wallace. Besides Tiger, he had brought Billy who was so delighted at seeing his former master again that he would not leave Bill’s feet all afternoon. Then there was Ball, a tawny-and-white, two and a half year old weighing 40 pounds; Tinker, a red dog, four years old, weighing 46 pounds; Turpin a 60 pounder; and Sweep, which weighed less than 40 pounds, but known to be a fighter of great merit.
Subject: How A Lion Fight Caused England To Stop The Breeding Of Both 
Sun Apr 12, 2009 1:49 am
