On December 8, 1913, in the hushed atmosphere of the National Sporting Club of London, the European title of heavy objects, for revenge, Georges Carpentier "Bombardier" Billy Wells.
The National Sporting Club is a historic site, private club founded by the Marquis of Queensberry in 1891, whose members (nobles and bankers in the City) show a passion for the noble art.
Before 1500 aristocrats dressed, this evening is exceptional in its display, but also because, for the first time, women will be allowed in places!
Difficult to raise the hand without returning to London on the first clash between the two men, one of the attractions of the Universal Exhibition in Brussels six months ago.
Turn the welterweight champion of Europe, means and heavyweight, Carpentier was running by the prestigious battle supernatural heavyweight title.

Less in size (15 cm!) And weight (17 kg!), The young Lensois, 19, had fluttered to the carpet several times during the first two rounds. His face smeared

Blood horrified assistance. The audience howled the ignominy of his manager, Francois Descamps, then called a murderer!

It was unfamiliar with the resources of the "little guy from Lievin", identified by Descamps from the age of 10 years during a street fight. An incredible complicity united the two chtimi (related orally throughout their careers). In the third, his pupil spent in the custody last opponent to break this curse and distance, one round later, a right uppercut to the body finally sent Wells to the mat.

The next day, the reception of the young hero at the Gare du Nord, was going to be up to the emotion aroused such a reversal ... Thousands of people were waiting for him and carried him shoulder to shoulder for more than one hour. Thus was born the immense popularity of Carpentier.

But in the eyes of English, "Bombardier" was by no means the loser, sure Carpentier enjoyed a lucky shot that can not be renewed.

And, 8 December 1913, the "Frenchy" in white panties, crossed the ropes first, hailed by some polite murmurs. The President of the premises, Lord Londsdale, shakes his hand as a sincere condolences.
In the recommendations, Carpentier, confident (he has since won six fights with new 5 by KO), seems at ease in this den foreign. He answers with a smile even to guests discreet encouragement of some French.

Early interactions, Wells button twice on the face, but the lesson of Ghent has paid off: Carpentier withdraws into itself and requires the close combat. His work is impressive to the body, left three powerful and a huge right to the stomach and once again cut in two,
the great athletic body of English falls heavily along the ropes!
Legs bent, Wells seems unable to regain his breath. In just one minute (73 seconds, including KO), the "Frenchy" humiliated once again the "Goliath" English.

Amazed and even shocked with the outcome, the faces of local aristocrats, who had mocked the chance of froggy in the first act, are as white as their fronts.
Not to remain on this effect, the Duke of Westminster stands up and gives the signal for applause. Wells then received a hearty burst forth with a few insults hoot less noble: "Dirty coward!", "Sissy". From even the most virulent of a boxer, a champion of the feathers, the Scottish Jim Driscoll does not hesitate to step into the ring to shake the poor Wells of discontent bruised enough jokes that both shots of the French.
He then addressed the audience in a cathedral silence: "Gentlemen, I have a weakness: the stomach. Carpentier beat me because he knew how to exploit that. But I assure you I did my best. Overcoming this man was the greatest ambition of my life. "

The following year, Carpentier still defend the European title twice before the heavy Pat O'Keefe and Ed Smith. Then he will be defeated by the fabulous black American Joe Jeannette before entering the First World War as an airman.
After the war, in 1919, Carpentier will return to its European well in front of Dick Smith and heavy against the "new British monster" Joe Beckett.

To conquer the world, Carpentier

down again in mid-heavy. It will KO in the 4th U.S. Battling Levinsky in Jersey City. But, always in search of the supreme title, he went up to the heavy in July 1921 for the "fight of the century." To more than 80,000 people, it will be in turn KO (4th) by the immense Jack Dempsey.

In the first quarter of the twentieth century, if we want to illustrate this type of aristocracy where boxing was to be a sport of reflexes and defense as well as aggressive, it finds its incarnation in France Georges Carpentier.
A boxer who symbolized more than any other boxer in the world, the scientific practice of gesture, where intelligence, the art of evasion and delivery dominant brute force.
Carpentier remains one of the greatest athletes that France has ever known.

Le 8 décembre 1913, dans l’ambiance feutrée du National Sporting Club de Londres, le titre européen des lourds oppose, pour une revanche, Georges Carpentier au "Bombardier" Billy Wells.
Le National Sporting Club est un lieu historique, cercle privé fondé par le Marquis de Queensberry en 1891, dont les membres (nobles ou banquiers de la City) montrent une passion pour le noble art.
Devant mille cinq cents aristocrates en habit, cette soirée est exceptionnelle par son affiche, mais aussi parce que, pour la première fois, les femmes seront admises dans les lieux !
Difficile d’évoquer la revanche de Londres sans revenir sur le premier affrontement entre les deux hommes, une des attractions de l’exposition Universelle de Bruxelles, six mois auparavant.
Tour à tour champion d’Europe des welters, des moyens et des mi-lourds, Carpentier briguait par ce combat surnaturel le prestigieux titre des lourds.

Inférieur en taille (de 15 cm !) et en poids (de 17 kg !), le jeune Lensois, 19 ans, avait voltigé plusieurs fois au tapis durant les deux premiers rounds. Son visage maculé de

sang horrifiait l’assistance. Le public hurlait l’ignominie de son manager, François Descamps, qualifié alors d’assassin !

C’était mal connaître les ressources du "p’tit gars de Liévin", repéré par Descamps dès l’âge de 10 ans lors d’une bagarre de rue. Une incroyable complicité unissait les deux Chtimis (liés oralement durant toute leur carrière). Au 3ème, son élève passa enfin sous la garde adverse pour rompre cette maudite distance et, un round plus tard, un uppercut du droit au corps envoya Wells définitivement au tapis.

Le lendemain, l’accueil réservé au jeune héros à la gare du Nord, allait être à la hauteur de l’émotion que souleva un tel renversement… Des milliers de personnes l’attendaient et le portèrent d’épaule en épaule pendant plus d’une heure. Ainsi, naquit l’immense popularité de Carpentier.

Mais, aux yeux des anglais, le "Bombardier" n’était en rien le vaincu, certains que Carpentier bénéficia d’un coup heureux qu’il ne saurait renouveler.

Et, ce 8 décembre 1913, le "Frenchy" , en culotte blanche, franchit le premier les cordes du ring, salué par quelques murmures polis. Le président des lieux, Lord Londsdale, lui serre la main en guise de sincères condoléances.
Durant les recommandations, Carpentier, confiant (il a depuis remporté 6 nouveaux combats dont 5 par KO), semble à son aise dans cette antre étrangère. Il répond même par un sourire aux discrets encouragements de quelques convives français.

Dès les premiers échanges, Wells touche deux fois à la face, mais la leçon de Gand a porté ses fruits : Carpentier se replie sur lui-même et impose le combat de près. Son travail au corps est impressionnant, trois gauches puissantes puis une énorme droite à l’estomac et, une nouvelle fois coupé en deux,
le grand corps athlétique de l'Anglais tombe lourdement le long des cordes !
Les jambes repliées, Wells semble incapable de retrouver son souffle. En à peine une minute (73 secondes, KO compris), le "Frenchy" humilie une nouvelle fois le "Goliath" anglais.

Stupéfiés et encore sous le choc du dénouement, les visages des aristocrates locaux, qui s’étaient gaussés de la chance du froggy au cours du premier acte, sont aussi blancs que leurs plastrons.
Pour ne pas rester sur cet effet, le duc de Westminster se lève et donne le signal des applaudissements. Wells reçoit alors une copieuse huée dont fusent quelques insultes peu nobles : "Sale lâche !", "Poule mouillée !". Les plus virulentes proviennent même d’un boxeur, le champion des plumes, l’écossais Jim Driscoll qui n’hésite pas à monter sur le ring pour bousculer de mécontentement le pauvre Wells déjà assez meurtri tant des quolibets que des coups du Français.
Il s’adresse alors à l’assistance dans un silence de cathédrale : "Gentlemen, j’ai un point faible : l’estomac. Carpentier m’a battu car il a su exploiter cela. Mais je vous assure que j’ai fait de mon mieux. Vaincre cet homme était la plus grande ambition de ma vie."

L’année suivante, Carpentier défendra encore le titre européen des lourds deux fois devant Pat O'Keefe et Ed Smith. Puis il sera défait par le fabuleux noir américain Joe Jeannette avant de s’engager dans le premier conflit mondial en tant qu’aviateur.
Après la guerre, en 1919, Carpentier retrouvera son bien européen chez les lourds devant Dick Smith puis face au "nouveau monstre britannique" Joe Beckett.

Pour conquérir le monde, Carpentier

redescendra chez les mi-lourds. Il mettra KO au 4ème l’américain Battling Levinsky à Jersey City. Mais, toujours en quête du titre suprême, il remontera chez les lourds en juillet 1921 pour le "combat du siècle". Devant plus de 80.000 personnes, il sera mis à son tour KO (au 4ème) par l’immense Jack Dempsey.

Dans ce premier quart du 20ème siècle, si l’on souhaite illustrer cette forme de noblesse où la boxe se voulait un sport de réflexes et de défense autant que d’agressivité, elle trouve son incarnation en France dans Georges Carpentier.
Un pugiliste qui symbolisa plus que tout autre boxeur au monde, cette pratique scientifique du geste, où l’intelligence, l’art de l’esquive et de la remise dominent la force brute.
Carpentier demeure l’un des plus grands sportifs que la France n’ait jamais connu.

another great article with some very good detail .This one I have about that contest


GEORGES CARPENTIER AND BOMBARDIER WELLS


BOMBARDIER WELLS has a most peculiar record. The chart of his successes and failures is like conventionalised lightning. He began with success and then failed miserably: then up again to the top of the tree and down again to the bottom of the ladder. His career, his temperament, the state of his nerves, have been more widely and more portentously discussed than the weight of Tom Sayers, the muscle of Tom Cribb, or the reach of Peter Jackson.

One school maintains that Wells is a first-rate boxer, another that he is a bad boxer. It all depends upon what you mean by boxing. If boxing is a game as golf is a game, an almost theoretical attack and defence, the rudest expression of which is what we call an "Exhibition" then Wells is a first-rater. But if boxing is the translation into rude and rough sport of a quite practical defence and offence, whereby one man disables another (but confined within rules which are unlikely to be obeyed in a very serious affair, any more than the Geneva Convention is obeyed in very serious wars) if, within these rules boxing means the real conflict between two men whose strength and endurance as well as skill are supremely tested then Wells is, on the whole, a bad boxer.

The explanation of Wells is extremely simple : he is a scientific boxer who does not really like fighting.

When we talk of a "natural fighter " we mean a man who, however good-natured and good nature has nothing to do with it enjoys bashing people and is willing to run the risk of being bashed. He may be skilful too, though that is beside the point. Wells has been called a coward which is frankly absurd. He has never provided any evidence of cowardice. He does, no doubt, " know the meaning of fear ": the bravest men always do. The " man who does not know what fear is "clearly is a very useful man indeed, but he is not so brave as the man who knows all about it, is indeed afraid, but keeps his fear in hand. In this sort of discussion too sharp a line is usually drawn between brave men and cowards: too sharp a line is usually drawn in any discussion about primitive qualities. I don't suppose that Wells enjoys being hurt any more than I do, but his difficulty lies in the fact, that he gets no enjoyment from hurting or, let us say rather, winning physical domination over other people. A boxer to be a good boxer must have the instinct for bashing. This may not be a highly civilised instinct, it may (for all I know) be highly reprehensible, but it is present in successful pugilists, and they can't get on without it.

Wells was born in 1889, and as a soldier and amateur won the Championship of all India by beating Private Clohessey in 1909. Two years later he won the English Heavy-weight Championship by knocking out Iron Hague at the National Sporting Club in six rounds. Wells was one of the names mentioned as a " White Hope" at the time when England, Australia, and America were being ransacked for a champion to beat Johnson. The match was actually arranged, but it was very wisely stopped by order of the Home Office. There was, as already said, a great deal too much "feeling" associated with the proposed contest which had nothing at all to do with the sport of boxing. It is impossible to say how any fight that never took place would have gone, and retrospective surmise is fairly unprofitable: but so far as we can judge from the two men's respective records, there seems to be no doubt that Johnson would have won quickly and with the utmost ease.

The two most interesting encounters in Wells's career were those with Georges Carpentier. The Frenchman's record will be described in more detail later: it is enough to say for the present that he was the first French boxer of the highest order, the first to make us realise that boxing was not the sole prerogative of the English-speaking races.

The first encounter took place at the Ghent Exhibition, on June 1st, 1913. Wells stands 6 feet 3 inches, and his weight is generally in the neighbourhood of 13 stone. Carpentier is half an inch under six feet, and in those days was probably little more than a middle-weight, if that. On this occasion he fought, if not at home, at least near home: and there was a big crowd present of colliers from Lens, just over the border, amongst whom he had been born and bred.

Natural advantage was with the Bombardier. Three and a half inches is a great "pull" in height, and he had a corresponding superiority in reach. So it was plain to Carpentier and his advisers that he must do his utmost to get close to his man and to keep there. Wells, on the other hand, under-rated his opponent. Like most Englishmen at the time he could not understand how a Frenchman could be a real boxer. It seemed to be against the settled order of nature.

Now Wells was weak in the body, and he knew it. He could see that Carpentier was strong, and soon found him a hard hitter, and as he kept on attacking the body, the Englishman propped him off with long straight lefts. And for a time he kept at a distance, and Carpentier, misjudging the extra reach of his opponent lowered his guard. Then Wells sent in a hard blow at long range and all but beat him. A hard blow, perfectly timed, but not quite hard enough. Carpentier tumbled forward and remained down for nine seconds. But Carpentier really loves fighting for fighting's sake, or did then. He had been all but knocked out, but he had in a superlative degree the will-to-go-on. And Wells, as had happened before, as happened afterwards too, failed to follow up his advantage with hot but reasoned haste. Having put in a good blow he was always rather prone to stand aside, so to speak, and admire its effects; thus allowing those effects to pass off. So it was now. It is true that he had decidedly the better of the second round, leading off with a splendid strong and long straight left: but he failed to bustle and worry Carpentier, and the Frenchman, as the very seconds went by, recovered. And in the third round Carpentier was himself again. Wells was utterly astonished. He had quite forgotten that the stunning force of a punch on the jaw passes very quickly: and he allowed himself to be flustered and confused, and he snowed plainly that he was puzzled. He forgot to box and hit wildly and wide of his mark. And now Carpentier had got back nearly all the strength that had been beaten out of him in the first round. He sent in a vicious right to the jaw which shook Wells. When a blow on the "point" has done damage short of knocking a man down, he generally gives the fact away by an involuntary tapping of his right foot upon the floor. It is like a strong electric shock which, communicated first to the brain, runs instantly through the whole nervous system. So the spectators could see that Wells had been more than "touched." And then the fourth round began and Wells was careless and in his turn lowered his guard: and Carpentier's right hand whipped across over the shoulder to the English champion's jaw, whilst an instant later his left came, bent, with his weight behind it, to the stomach. And that was all. Wells was counted out, and, as well they might, the colliers from Lens wildly yelled their triumph.

This encounter, pricking as it did the bubble of an age-old tradition, yet had very little effect on the admirers of the Bombardier. Or rather it was, perhaps, that they refused to believe that the Champion of England (however little that title may mean) could be really beaten by any one across the Channel. They regarded the final knock-out as an accident. After all, Wells had all but won at the very outset, and for some inscrutable reason he had given the fight away, first by lack of energy and then from sheer carelessness. This would surely have taught him a lesson ?

There followed after the affair at Ghent three contests in which Wells proved eminently successful. He knocked out Packey Mahoney in thirteen rounds at the National Sporting Club, after receiving early in the fight two very hard right handers in the body which made him visibly squirm. That was one of Wells's chief defects he showed when he was hurt. But it was interesting to be shown that, because it was not supposed that he could stand two such blows on the body. Yet he recovered from them gradually and did not, this time, forget his boxing.

The next fight was a very unequal affair with Pat O'Keefe, Middle-weight Champion of England, and subsequently winner outright of the Lonsdale Belt. O'Keefe was a fine, fair boxer, but he was giving a couple of stone, and Wells's head was right over him. He boxed with the utmost pluck and gave the heavyweight a lot of trouble before finally he was quite worn out and sent down beaten in the fifteenth round.

Then Wells knocked out Gunner Moir quite easily in five rounds, thus turning the tables, for Moir had knocked out the Bombardier more by good luck than by sound judgment two years before.

And then at last on December 5th, 1913, six months after his defeat at Ghent, the return match with Carpentier was arranged and took place at the National Sporting Club.

Of course, if you regard sport only from a competitive standpoint, this affair will seem to you a sheer disaster. It was England against France, and France decisively won. It is only human nature, I suppose, which sticks the national labels so prominently on to an event of this kind, but it seems unnecessary and rather a pity. There was really no England and no France in the matter, but two boxers called respectively Carpentier and Wells, who met in a roped ring to hit each other with padded fists for the ludicrously excessive stakes of £300 a side and a purse of £3000. And now that we are more used to the idea of Frenchmen boxing than we were in those days, the international habit of thought has largely, and fortunately, dropped into the background of our minds.

It is worth mentioning that members at the National Sporting Club that night paid for their guests' seats five, ten, and as many as fifteen guineas. One onlooker, just before the men entered the ring for the big contest of the evening, left the hall. "I'll be back presently," he said to a friend, " when they've settled down. I don't want to see all the preliminaries and handshaking." So he left his fifteen-guinea seat and went into another part of the club. On his return he found that it was all over. Rather an expensive drink, in fact.

The contest had lasted precisely seventy-three seconds. It was a dismal affair, and brief as the test was there was no possible doubt but that Carpentier was Wells's master. Both the men were extremely well-trained. Wells was in excellent health and could make no excuse on that score. At the very outset the Frenchman went straight for his man and planted a good left at his body before he knew the round had begun. Then he came in close and vigorously attacked him with a succession of short half-arm blows. He danced away for a moment and was at Wells again. The Englishman was entirely flabbergasted. His presence of mind was all gone. He sank his left in a futile attempt to guard his body, but Carpentier's right was past it in a flash, whilst his left followed instantly to Wells's nose. Wells tucked away his stomach and took a step back. Carpentier reached the body again, nevertheless; and as they went apart for a moment it was seen that Wells was stupefied more by the very speed of the onslaught, spectators said, than by punishment. Which is as may be. Carpentier hit to hurt, and it is exceedingly unlikely that he failed. But it was again the science of boxing which deserted Wells. He seemed to be paralysed. He did nothing: no long left came out to keep the Frenchman away. He wouldn't be kept away. A great lot of nonsense has been talked about his actual hypnotic power or that of his ebullient manager, M. Descamps. But the reason why Carpentier won
victories in those days and has won others and greater ones since, is simply that he is an extremely good boxer with any amount of fighting spirit the love of fighting, the sheer intention to win. That form of will-power does communicate itself to an opponent in the ring and with disastrous results, if he be a man of less vitality. Then Carpentier moved forward again and swung left followed by right hard upon Wells's jaw. Then left and right at the body.

Both blows landed on the mark and it was all over. Wells reeled for an instant and then sank forward. At the call of Four he rolled over on to his back. He tried to draw up his knees, but he was completely knocked out, paralysed, and done. And for those who like the national labels the Champion of England lay beaten at the feet of the Champion of France, without having struck a single blow.