How Sandow Beat Samson
Eugen Sandow’s CHILDHOOD AND BOYHOOD
It is not necessary, as some may think, to be born strong in order to become strong. Unlike the poet, who, we are told, has to be born a poet, the strong man can make himself.
As a child, I was myself exceedingly delicate. More than once, indeed, my life was despaired of. Until I was in my tenth year I scarcely knew what strength was. Then it happened that I saw it in bronze and stone. My father took me with him to Italy, and in the art galleries of Rome and Florence I was struck with admiration for the finely developed forms of the sculptured figures of the athletes of old. I remember asking my father if people were as well developed in these modern times. He pointed out that they were not, and explained that these were the figures of men who lived when might was right, when men’s own arms were their weapons, and often their lives depended upon their physical strength. Moreover, they knew nothing of the modern luxuries of civilization, and, besides their training and exercise, their muscles, in the ordinary course of daily life, were always being brought prominently into play.
The memory of these muscular figures were ever present, and when we returned home to Konigsberg I wanted to become strong like them. But though I used to try my strength and attend the gymnasium, nothing came of my desire for some years.
So until I was eighteen I remained delicate. At that age I began to study anatomy. It was thus I ascertained the best means of developing the body, and invented the system of giving each individual muscle a movement, and of so arranging the form of the exercises that when some muscles are brought into play others are relaxed and left without strain.
About fifteen minutes every day was the average time devoted to special exercise at this period. It may be useful to remark here that no particular form of diet was adopted. I ate and drank in the ordinary way. It may be said at once that I have no belief in special diet; I have always eaten and drunk that which my fancy dictated, but I have always taken care to avoid anything in the nature of excess. There is no better guide to good living than moderation. That is a fact I am always anxious to impress upon my pupils. Let them be moderate in all things, and they need fear no interruption in gaining strength by my system of training.
HOW I CAME TO LONDON AND DEFEATED SAMSON
The years of my life between eighteen and twenty-one may be passed over with the remark that they saw a steady gain of strength and some occasional performances as an amateur athlete and wrestler.
In 1889 I made the acquaintance of Aubrey Hunt, the artist, who was then at Venice. One of the most charming views in the neighbourhood was to be gained from the grounds of my villa near Ledo. Naturally Mr. Hunt wished to paint it, and it was a pleasure to be able to afford him the facility. One result of our acquaintance was that Mr. Hunt painted me in the character of a gladiator in the Coliseum at Rome. This picture, which I prize very highly, is to be seen in the reception room at my St. James’ Street school. I am told that it is a very striking likeness.
It was from Mr. Hunt that I learned that Samson was offering, at the Royal Aquarium in London, £100 to the person who could perform the feats of his pupil, Cyclops, and £1,000 to anyone who could beat his own. Mr. Hunt suggested that I should accept the challenge, and it was my original intention to come to London with him. It was ultimately decided, however, that I should start without delay, and the journey to England was made on the same day that I first heard of the challenge.
Arriving in London at six o’clock in the evening, I went to Mr. Attila, a friend whom I had previously met at Brussels, to ask him to act as interpreter, for at that time I was unable to speak English. Mr. Attila not only promised his services, but gave me fresh hope by expressing his assurance that everything that Samson and his pupil could do I could accomplish easily.
We determined that the challenge should be accepted that night. With Mr. Albert Fleming to act as agent, we went at once to the Aquarium. When Samson appeared on the stage he gave the usual challenge. Apparently to his surprise, Mr. Fleming accepted it, asking him if he had the £100 at hand. Samson replied that there would be no difficulty about the money, but Mr. Fleming insisted on seeing it, and the note was accordingly produced. Samson was then asked if he had the £1,000 ready, and he promised that it would be forthcoming in the event of the defeat of his pupil.
The preliminary arrangements having been completed, and the note for £100 handed to Captain Molesworth, the manager of the Aquarium, I walked up to the stage. Seeing me in evening dress, the audience were unable to realise that I stood the slightest chance of defeating the strong man and his pupil. They even shouted to Samson not to heed me, but to get on with his performance. It seemed evident to them that I was unequal to the task that had been undertaken, and Samson himself burst out laughing when he saw me. The coolness and indifference of this first reception in London were not, perhaps, unnatural, for in evening dress there was nothing, as everyone said at the time, specially remarkable about my appearance. But when I took off my coat, and the people could see the muscular development, the tone of indifference changed immediately to surprise and curiosity. Samson and Cyclops themselves shared the general astonishment, though they did not allow their surprise to be shown for more than a moment, Samson being heard to remark, “We will beat him, anyhow.”
The first feat which Cyclops performed was to lift over his head two weights of 56 lbs. each, lowering them with arms fully extended. This performance I repeated. Cyclops next took the bar bell, weighing 240 lbs., and with two hands lifted it from the ground over his head. When the audience saw that for the second time the same feat could be accomplished with ease they began to cheer; and I repeated the performance, after Cyclops, using only one hand.
All this time Samson, anxious of the issue, kept asking me in asides in French to let him know my history. As, however, he did not, or would not, speak in German, he had to remain in ignorance.
The performance proceeded, and now Cyclops took with one hand a dumb-bell weighing 210lbs., and extending it at arm’s length, bent down and raised over his head with the other a second dumb-bell, of 100lbs. weight.
When I repeated this feat, it was thought that the challenge had been won, for this was the end of the performance for which it was understood it was offered. Mr. Fleming, accordingly, asked for the £100, but Samson refused, saying that the whole performance would have to be repeated and continued until one of the two competitors gave in. Nothing less would satisfy him as to which of the two was the stronger. On this point the audience disagreed, and called on him to hand over the money. Appeal was made to Captain Molesworth, who addressing the audience, promised to see fair play. He could not agree, he said, with Mr. Samson that it was fair that the performance should be continued until one of them dropped from sheer exhaustion, but he suggested that Cyclops should introduce two fresh feats, and that if I could repeat them the money should be mine without further question.
Although the audience still maintained that the challenge had been won, I expressed, through my interpreter, perfect willingness to perform not two only, but twenty more feats, should Cyclops wish to try them.
The first of the two extra feats was then taken: Cyclops lying on his back, raised a weight of 240 lbs. with two men sitting on it, and when the men jumped off he himself stood up, raising the weight with him. This performance I also repeated.
Now came the final effort. At the side of the stage stood a great stone, weighing, I should think, about 500 lbs. On this stone were secured the two 56lb. weights. Two chairs were brought, and Cyclops, standing on them, in order to get a position above the stone and its weights, raised the whole load with his middle finger some four inches above the ground.
When this performance had been repeated by me, Samson acknowledged that that part of the challenge relating to Cyclops had been won, and offered to hand over the £100.
My interpreter then explained that I had not come to London to win merely the £100; I had come for the greater sum, the £1,000, in fact, which had been offered to any person who should defeat Samson himself.
Samson, who was clearly surprised at the issue, replied that he was not prepared to meet me that night, and though the public disapproved of the postponement, it was eventually decided with Captain Molesworth that the test should be made on the following Saturday evening.
The eventful evening which was to decide the issue between us fell on the 2nd of November, 1889. Never, it was said, had the Royal Aquarium been so densely crowded. The people began to arrive as early as two o’clock in the afternoon. When I reached the building, in company with Captain Molesworth, Mr. Attila, and Mr. Fleming, twenty minutes before the hour announced for the challenge to be taken up, it was literally impossible to get through the crowd.
Here, at the very outset, was a difficulty of a new and an unexpected character. What was to be done? To try to get through the enormous throng in twenty minutes was obviously hopeless. Willing as the crowd might be to let us pass it was beyond their power to make way for us. We determined, therefore, to go to the stage door, and here a further difficulty presented itself. We could not gain admission; no one would open the heavy door. The man behind had received the strictest orders to prevent anyone from entering. In vain did Captain Molesworth implore him to let us through, explaining who we were. The man was obdurate. He said that he was very sorry, but he failed to recognize Captain Molesworth’s voice, and he could not disobey explicit instructions.
All the time the precious minutes were flying, and the hour when the challenge was to be met had actually arrived. It was, indeed, an anxious and a trying moment. We heard afterwards that when the hour of the challenge came and Samson saw that I was not there, he strutted up and down the stage, exclaiming: “Ah! see, he does not come! I thought he would not meet me. I will give him five minutes, nay, ten minutes more.” He took out his watch, the minutes were speeding, and still Samson stood alone.
Meanwhile, resolved not to be baffled by this absurd mischance, it was determined that, as fair words would not open the door, strength should smash it open. A blow well directed, and the door was burst from its hinges. The man inside was slightly injured by this rough method, but a ten pound note served to solace hiss feelings, and to heal his wounds. And we—well, we just managed to save the challenge by the space of half-a-minute.
The Marquís of Queensberry and Lord de Clifford were appointed judges, and they examined closely all the bars, bells, weights, and chains that were to be used in the performance. Samson first desired that I should follow him in some juggling feat with a water bottle, but the judges decided that this was not in the order of the performance. Only such tests of actual strength as Samson was in the habit of displaying could now be allowed. Samson, abiding by this decision, took a large iron bar and bent it over his calf, his arms, and his neck, just as, in a similar way, by striking it on the muscles of the arm, one may bend a poker. The thing is little more than a trick. Of course, muscle is essential to its successful performance; for if you have no muscle you will hit the bone, with the danger of breaking it. Such a performance, although there is a certain knack in doing it gracefully, and with ease, was not difficult to follow.
Samson next took a wire cable, winding it round his chest, under his arms, and then breaking it. This feat, which is performed by inflating the lungs and at the same time contracting the muscles of the chest, I was also able to repeat.
By the third item in the display it seemed that Samson desired to leave the issue of the challenge in doubt, for it consisted in snapping a chain which encircled his arm. This armlet, which fitted Samson well enough, was too small for me. Fortunately I was prepared for the emergency. I had ascertained where the chain was bought, and had got the same firm to make me an armlet of exactly the same strength, of a size suitable to my larger development. When I produced it, Samson at first refused to be satisfied that it would be a fair test, but a representative of the firm who made it stood up in the auditorium and assured the public that it was of the same strength as that of the chain made for Samson. The judges examined it, together with the paper which testified to the equality of strength, and decided that the test would be perfectly fair and that the performance was to continue. I placed the chain on my arm and broke it.
Samson was still dissatisfied, and I made the offer that if either he or his pupil, Cyclops, could repeat my performance with a dumb-bell which I had at hand, we would declare the result a draw, and he could keep his £1,000. The dumb-bell, which was then brought on to the stage, weighed 280lbs. With one hand I lifted it up, then laid down, and finally stood up with it. After that feat I fastened some chains round my arms, then took a dumb-bell weighing 220lbs., raised it to my chest and burst the chains before releasing it.
“I have had enough of this,” now exclaimed Samson. “It’s all humbug, I don’t call this fair play at all.”
The judges, however, were sufficiently satisfied, and Mr. Fleming asked for the £1,000. The reply was that it should be paid in the morning, but it remains to be added that I never received that £1,000. It was stated that Samson had taken his money away, and in the end I agreed to accept £350 from the management of the Aquarium in settlement of the challenge.
When we left the Aquarium after the contest the great crowd followed us cheering, and the four-wheeled cab into which we got, was lifted up by these enthusiasts. The crowd cheered us all the way to my rooms in Leicester-square; newspaper men poured in to interview me; and though I had then no intention of giving performances in public, I was induced to accept one of numerous offers, of £150 a week, made by a syndicate of the members of the Lyric Club, and I commenced an engagement at the Alhambra, giving Mr. Attila £30 a week to assist me.
I spent three months at the Alhambra, and three months in the provinces, and entered into engagements for some years to come.
The reader will probably ask if special means were adopted during this and succeeding engagements to maintain my strength. The answer is very simple: The performance itself provides the necessary amount of daily training. I eat, drink, smoke, and sleep quite in the ordinary way, taking care to observe in all things that guiding rule of moderation to which reference is made in the preceding chapter. I only practice, in order that grace and perfection may be attained, when some new feat is introduced. Personally it may be added, I find that the best time for a performance is about three hours after a meal.
DISCOVER
