Daniel Mendoza

Object ID: JM 686

Date: Late 18th Century

Location: Stoke-On-Trent

Daniel Mendoza, a Sephardi Jew, was champion boxer of England for most years from 1788 until 1795. Mendoza was a hugely popular character who introduced a new ‘scientific’ style of boxing, and was famed throughout the country as a skilled and courageous fighter.This Staffordshire pottery jug dates from around 1800 and depicts a famous fight between Mendoza and Richard Humphreys in 1788.Mendoza’s success encouraged other Jews into the boxing ring, the most famous being Samuel Elias, known as ‘Dutch Sam’. Mendoza set up a school of boxing in 1787, and the many Jewish boys he trained helped to encourage a lasting connection between Jews and boxing in England. However in later life he was imprisoned for several criminal offences, ran a public house, and died leaving his family in poverty.

Daniel Mendoza – a short story

What are you doing with that jug, Matilda? Put it down. Carefully. Haven’t I told you never to touch it. It was your father’s, all that I’ve got left of him now. Yes, I know there’s a picture of your father on it.

This is a famous jug. Your father was a famous man. Yes, he was. All you can remember is him being the landlord here in an East End pub, and how grumpy he got sometimes, and how he could be a bit rough.  He grew up on the streets of Whitechapel, sticking up for himself when people called him a dirty Jew. Never one to back down, your father, always standing up for himself. That’s how he got started boxing.

Yes, he really was a boxer, a famous one, the best of his generation, some people said. I hated it. Bare knuckles, no rules. Sometimes the fights would go on for two hours. I used to go and watch him fight, when we were courting, before you were born, but boxing’s no place for small children.

Anyway, this jug. It shows your father’ most famous fight. Look, there’s his name, and his opponent, Dicky Humphries and the date 1788. Dicky used to be your father’s friend, but they fell out. Used to brag he could beat your father, one hand behind his back. The picture doesn’t show the most important bit. Ten thousand people came to watch. The Prince of Wales and the Duke of York and they bet £40,000. Your father slipped, sprained his ankle, had to withdraw. The fight made him famous. In all the papers. Of course there had to be a rematch. Dicky never beat him again.

Suddenly everyone wanted to know him. We had it made. We had money. He met the King. The world was at our feet.

But he was hopeless with money, never could keep hold of it. And he had a short fuse. Well, you know that. “Your own worst enemy,” I used to say. “Don’t know when to keep your mouth shut and your hands in your pockets.”

He did time. Put in prison when he hit the woman next door, thought she was calling me names. He wasn’t popular after that. A full-grown man, a boxer, hitting a woman. That’s when we took over the pub. Funny, he always thought the Prince of Wales would drop in for a pint one day, as if he’d be seen dead in Whitechapel. But I loved your father, and this jug shows him how I like to remember him, famous, respected, his greatest success, even though he lost that fight.

Rennie leads a creative writing and poetry group at his local U3A and chose to write a short story inspired by Mendoza’s life.