How a Lion continued......

During the afternoon, a Quaker by the name of Wheeler came into the yard looking for Wedgbury. With Wheeler was the sheriff, and the former did his utmost to persuade the sheriff to arrest Wedgbury and put a stop to the proposed fight. The sheriff, however, was reluctant to enter into the affair, especially since the event had been well advertised and promised to bring the largest crowd of the year into town. After appealing to Wedgbury in the interest of being humane toward his dogs, Wheeler left to look up Wombwell but without much hope of stopping the fight, for he had tried to stop the Tuesday fight at Cannon only to be beaten up for his pains. By seven o’clock, the town was teeming with people who had come from far and near to witness the big event. In front of the single entrance to Factory Yard, Bill George came upon a gathering of members of The Society of Friends who were urging the crowd to refrain from patronizing such a disgraceful exhibition. However, the mob was in holiday mood and they either paid no attention to the Quakers or taunted them with jibes while filing into the arena. Bill paid 10 shillings for standing room in the pit and went into look at Wallace who was already ensconced in his big cage in the middle of the arena. Wallace was not the domesticated type that was Nero. He had been whelped in Scotland, and his mother had died when he was only two days old. He had been reared by a bulldog bitch, but had never taken to captivity. He was now pacing up and down his cage, eyeing the crowd with a most unfriendly mien as though suspecting that no good could come of this. Notwithstanding the disgraceful defeat of Nero, and perhaps because of the different attitude displayed by Wallace, the betting was once again five to one in favor of the lion. At 7:15, Mr. Wombwell, having made the necessary disposition of his customers, announced his intention of beginning immediately and proceeded to enter the cage. His appearance was hailed with applause; and like a second Daniel, he walked about with great gravity armed with nothing but a switch. The band struck up "Rule Britannia" and played until it was silenced by cries of the crowd, impatient to get started. Finally, Mr. Wedgbury was instructed to bring out his dogs, which appeared and were fastened to collars to heavy chains attached to stakes outside the cage. Ball and Tinker were selected for the first of three attacks and were led out by their handlers to an inclined ramp which ran up into the cage directly in front of the lion. Wallace’s attention was immediately attracted by the barking and anxious straining of the dogs which were endeavoring to break loose and begin the attack. After repeated calls from the crowd, Wombwell finally left the cage, and the words "Let go" were given. Wallace, by this time was crouching down, and on hearing the cry of the dogs instantly sprang at the side of the cage. His head was erect, the hairs of his fine, bushy mane stood up like bristles, his eyes sparkled from fire, and a general convulsion seemed to shake his entire frame. Both dogs, although excited to the highest pitch of fury by the handlers, appeared overawed at the terrifying appearance of the royal beast, and remained for several minutes on the platform without making any attempt to enter the cage. At length, Ball, going too close to the bars, was caught and dragged into the ring by one of Wallace’s paws. The poor dog had scarcely got to his feet before the lion caught him in his mouth and carried him around the cage as a cat would a mouse. Tinker, in the meantime, had entered the cage and began attacking the legs of the lion, finally succeeding in annoying the latter to such an extent that he dropped Ball to rush at his attacker. Ball, more dead than alive, dragged himself from the cage to die a few minutes later. Wallace grabbed Tinker furiously by the shoulder and would have crushed him to death had not one of the handlers enticed the lion by holding out a piece of meat on a pike. Wallace dropped Tinker who was dragged out of the ring by one of the men, and thereby saved. By this time the crowd, who had seen the tables turned, was wild; and bets were being offered as high as 50 to one in favor of Wallace winning the next two engagements, but there were no takers. After 20 minutes, the next two dogs were sent in. This time it was Turpin and Sweep, both of whom attacked boldly from the front. Turpin was severely injured almost at once and fled from the cage. Sweep put up a noble fight but was no match for Wallace which took the dog in his mouth and hurled him to the side of the cage allowing him to escape with his life. The third attack was delayed in starting owing to an attempt on the part of a large crowd outside the yard to rush the gate and gain entrance without paying. While this was going on, Bill sought out Wedgbury in a vain attempt to persuade him not to send Billy in against the lion. Wedgbury, who was now greatly concerned for his dogs, two of which had already died, was inclined to agree with Bill but dared not back out in the face of such a large crowd of spectators. It was nearly nine when the third match took place, and Bill hardly had time to get back to the ring before the two dogs were released. This time it was Billy, and Tiger, which had done so much barking but little fighting, in the fight on Tuesday night. Both dogs seemed terrified at the beast which was now so ferocious that not even his keepers would go near the cage. Neither dog would approach the bars for some time. Finally, there were forced into the cage by the handlers, and Tiger made a precipitate attempt to pin Wallace by the nose but failed and rushed from the cage where he remained barking, as in the former match, while the crowd booed loudly and shouted "Cur!" Billy, however, maintained the combat singly for some time with great spirit, until Wallace seized him by the loins and would have done away with him entirely had not one of the keepers again lured the lion away with a piece of meat allowing the dog to drop and escape. As soon as Wallace discovered that the dogs had made their escape, he displayed his anger by lashing his tail against his sides and roaring tremendously. His jaws were foaming with blood, and he strode back and forth in his cage for several minutes strewing it with gore. He was kept on exhibition for an hour after the fight to be inspected by the crowd which was harangued loudly by the boasting Wombwell, who stood at a safe distance from the cage appearing well pleased at having proved the worth of his lions. Bill rushed out to look at Billy which, though severely wounded, was expected to recover. Ball and Tinker had died, and Sweep lay in a very dangerous state. Although the fight had attracted a crowd of more than 1500 persons and had taken in a gate of 600 pounds, nevertheless both sides agreed that never again would there be a fight between lions and bulldogs. Bill spent Saturday night at Factory Yard and set out for London early Sunday morning. He arrived there late Monday afternoon to find that news of the fights, which had already reached London, had aroused the public to a high state of indignation. A city ordnance had been passed hastily, forbidding not only the practice of fighting dogs, but even prohibiting establishments dealing in such animals. By order of the sheriff, White’s establishment had been closed that morning and a deputy had been placed there to see that no business would be carried on. From that time on, the practice of fighting bulldogs rapidly declined. Exhibitions no longer took place in public, and the few that were held at all were private affairs taking place at night, in secluded rendezvous, to which only those known to the fancy were admitted. White moved his kennels out of London and continued to carry on his business for several years. In 1835, Parliament finally passed an act which forbade animal fighting throughout the British Isles. This, of course, brought about, for good and all, an end to the purpose for which bulldogs were then bred; and for some time thereafter the breed diminished until it became nearly extinct.
Ben White died about that time, and Bill George succeeded to the establishment. Naming it the "Canine Castle" he continued to raise his favorite breed. Indeed, he succeeded in establishing an enviable reputation for honesty in this profession which was still viewed with suspicion by the general public. The advent of dog shows in 1859 found George with an established strain and the best specimens in the land. In his declining years, he enjoyed the reputation of being the foremost breeder of bulldogs in England, and many of the first winners in the show ring came from his kennels. Indeed, succeeding generations of show bulldogs sprung directly from his stock; and practically all of our dogs today, which enjoy a happier lot, trace back directly through his strain to the fighting dogs of the early nineteenth century.



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The views herein expressed in this post do not necessarily reflect those of myelf nor the forum owner and should be viewed strictly as entertainment and for historical purposes only. I nor the forum owner either promote or condone any violations of the "Animal Welfare Act of 1976", or any other Local, State and/or Federal Laws.Again, this post should be viewed strictly as entertainment and for historical purposes only!