In the late 1700s, a plucky London boxer named Daniel Mendoza, standing five feet seven inches and weighing 140 pounds, became England’s first sports megastar. He began fighting at 16 (settling a dispute over money owed to his boss), but his popularity soared during three hyped bouts against his mentor-turned-rival, the “gentleman” boxer Richard Humphries. Hordes turned out for these bare-knuckle slugfests, with aristocrats and commoners alike betting on the victor.
Harvard’s Fine Arts Library holds a trove of nineteenth-century boxing illustrations (bequeathed to the University by Evert Jansen Wendell, A.B. 1882). Among them is a lithograph published days after the Mendoza-Humphries 1790 rubber match—which went to 72 rounds. The caption describes an unusual moment: “The manner in which Mendoza caught Humphries twice, and generously laid him down without taking the advantage of his situation.” In short, Mendoza could have trashed his opponent but chose not to.
His triumph reverberated. In showcasing his talents and new “scientific” techniques—clever defenses, footwork, jabs, and mental strategies—Mendoza elevated the art of pugilism. And as a heroic Jewish figure in sport, who also published two books and opened private boxing academies with his prize winnings, he was able to counter the antisemitism prevalent at the time. Lore has it that he even became the first Jewish person to meet privately with King George III. Mendoza later fell out of favor amid reported illegalities and debts (which eventually left his wife and 11 children destitute when he died in 1836). Yet his contributions have endured. “A complete artist,” once wrote English boxing historian Pierce Egan. “A star of the first brilliancy.”
