After his defeat by Dempsey, Carpentier did not fight again until he met George Cook, the Australian, at the Albert Hall, on January 12th, 1922. In the World’s Championship contest he had been badly hurt: and a beating such as he had then might well have produced a lasting effect. It was, then, interesting to watch him to see if his previous downfall would manifestly alter his demeanour in the ring. But though it is not to be doubted that some of his behaviour arose from motives of policy, there was, genuinely, no sign of worry upon his boyish and almost preposterously unpugilistic face. Coming into the ring there was an elaborate nonchalance in the Frenchman’s mien which was intended to impress his opponent. With genial gravity Carpentier himself wound his bandages about his hands before drawing on his black gloves: and instead of remaining in his corner he moved his stool to a position in the ring more generally commanded by the spectators.

Cook is a man without any particular record in this country, though he was Heavy-weight Champion of Australia. By beating Carpentier he would have become Champion of Europe, and would, of course, have bounded into considerable fame. Wise after the event, large numbers of a critical public have observed that the result was for ever certain. But that is unfair to Cook, who showed himself to be a boxer by no means despicable, and who most emphatically had the better of one round out of the four. He was a stone heavier than his man, though this considerable difference was not plainly observable when they stripped. Cook was just a shade “beefy,” but he was strong and well. He looked across the ring with astonishment at the form of his 190 antagonist: for Carpentier is—a Greek bronze, dark-skinned, beautifully proportioned, covered with easy, flowing muscle, a sight to stir the hearts of older athletes with vain regret.

The huge hall was full. Large numbers of women were present, both English and French, and these called to mind the amusing discussions in and out of newspapers, before the war, as to the propriety of admitting female spectators to “Gladiatorial displays.” Indeed in one Correspondence Column under the title, “Should Ladies Watch Boxing Contests?” an irascible old sportsman declared that the question did not arise, as no lady would do such a thing. Without entering at length into a question which is not widely interesting, I would ask what hope there was for a gentility which depends upon obedience to a perfectly trivial convention, involving no question of right or wrong, manners, or even what we usually mean by “decorum”? In those days of 1914, before war broke out, and when the “boxing boom” was at its height, a woman whom it is unnecessary to call a “lady,” old enough also to have recognised for what they were and to despise many transient correctitudes of fashion, observed: “If my daughter likes to go and see two nasty men with hairy chests knocking each other about, why shouldn’t she?” And, really, that is all there is to be said on the subject.

To return to what the ladies watched, rather than exploring the “quite niceness” of their watching it—a very desperate encounter was not expected: but, provided that he doesn’t knock his man out in the first fifty or sixty seconds, Carpentier is always worth seeing.

The first round was level. Cook boxed well, particularly at close quarters, and the Frenchman appeared hesitating and tentative in all his movements. Early in the next round Cook sent out a quick and tremendous swing which, with greater quickness, Carpentier avoided, dancing right away from it. Then, a little later, the same thing happened on Carpentier’s side. Throughout this round Cook succeeded for the most part in keeping close to his man and in dealing him out short but powerful punches 191 on the back of the neck and head, in imitation of Dempsey, but without his power. From Cook these blows seemed to trouble his antagonist not at all. That was certainly Cook’s round. Whether the considerable margin of points in his favour was ent............