Barney, by his conquests, had made way both in the opinions of the Christians and the Jews, and ranked high in the lists of pugilistic fame, as one of the best “light-weights.” Aaron was matched for £100 a-side against Arthur Matthewson, from Birmingham, a boxer of well-earned provincial celebrity, and no little London fame, from his victory over Israel Belasco. Matthewson had never been defeated.[56] The tourney came off on Monday, June 21st, 1824; Aaron being seconded by a well-known Israelitish sporting man, Mr. Nathan, and Aby Belasco, while Matthewson was seconded by the two Harrys, Holt and Harmer, the host of the “Plough,” in Smithfield. Although the battle was waged with varying success until the fifty-sixth round, and ten to one was several times offered on Aaron, in the fifty-seventh and last round a desperate straight hit in the throat floored poor Barney like a shot, and he was picked up deaf to the call of “time,” at the end of one hour and ten minutes from the first round. In a few minutes Aaron recovered, and could hardly be persuaded he had lost the fight. But, “who can control the uncertain chance of war?” beaten he was, but not disgraced. On his arrival in town he addressed a letter to the editor of Life in London, in which, after a quantity of Eganian balderdash, he challenged Arthur Matthewson to meet him “for two hundred sovereigns, to fight on a stage, as I am determined,” he said, “never to subject myself to a repetition of such treatment” (?), &c., &c. A business-sort of P.S. adds, “I shall be happy to meet the friends of Richard Curtis at my benefit on the 6th of July, to make an agreement to fight.”
Nothing came of this at that time, as has been seen already in the Life of Curtis. However, the gallant Dick Hares determined to try the mettle of Barney Aaron; £50 a-side was posted. On Tuesday, March 21st, 1826, No Man’s Land, near St. Albans, was the chosen battleground, whereon the Israelites mustered strongly in favour of the Star of the East. Hares too was not neglected by his patrons. Hares in all his battles had proved himself a brave man, but the youth of Barney made him the favourite at six and seven to four.
It was nearly two o’clock before the men entered the ropes, in consequence of a mistaken “tip” that the battle would take place on Colney Heath, where several persons had assembled to witness the contest. Barney first threw his hat into the ring, followed by the John Bull Fighter and his friend and patron, Mr. Nathan. Hares was seconded by Peter Crawley and Paddington Jones.
The fight was a one-sided affair. Youth, science, activity, were on the side of the Jew, and after forty-three rounds of lively fighting, in which poor Hares was receiver-general, a claim of a “foul blow” was raised on the part of Hares, who was taken from the ring, but the claim disallowed, and the referee accordingly awarded the stakes to Aaron.
A jeu d’esprit which appeared in the Morning Chronicle bears marks of being the production of a scholar. It is in the form of “An Epistle from Mynheer Van Haagen in London to Mynheer Van Kloppen in Amsterdam,” and shall here find a place:—
“Dear Cousin,—Agreeably to my promise to write to you whenever I met with anything worth recording, I proceed to give you a description of an English fight, or, as it is here termed, a ‘prize battle,’ I witnessed on Tuesday last; and in order that you may the better understand it, I present you with a few remarks on the system of pugilism as practised here, for which I am indebted to our mutual friend Mr. Boxer. The English are naturally a brave and courageous people, but less sanguinary in its fullest extent than their Continental neighbours; hence nothing is more common than fights between boys of from ten to twelve years of age, and similar exhibitions in the public streets by men of the lower orders. The boy or the man who, from the want of sufficient physical strength, or lacking the appetite for a good beating, is obliged to succumb, soon gets tired of the sport; but he who, possessing a strong, muscular frame, and the courage of a bull-dog, frequently beats his man, becomes vain of his powers, and probably for the want of better or more honourable employment, determines to exhibit himself at a sparring match. Here then we have him in the university pugilistic; and as in a National school boys are taught to mark in sand before they write with a pen, so here the neophytes thump each other with gloves well stuffed before they exercise with their naked fists. It is here where the Fancy (i.e., those who have a gusto for smashed faces and broken ribs) judge of their qualifications, and if found worthy some of the Fancy make a match—that is, subscribe a sum of money for the pugilists to contend for. This, Mr. Boxer assures me, is the origin of most of the pugilistic heroes. Having thus prepared you, I shall briefly state the manner of the last fight. The combatants were a Christian and a Jew—the Jew about twenty-six years of age, and the Christian some ten years older. I shall not here trouble you with the art of betting on fights, but bring you at once to the ring, which is a square space kept clear by stakes and ropes for the combatants to engage in. The men appear stripped to their waists, attended each by seconds or assistants, whose business is to encourage the men, and pick them up when they fall; for here, when a man falls in fighting, his adversary immediately leaves him till he rises and puts himself in an attitude of defence, the time allowed for which is half a minute, at the expiration of which, if the man be not ready, he loses the fight. The Jew from the commencement had the decided advantage; it was also evident he felt confident of success; he hit his man with amazing force, and absolutely spoilt (for the time) every feature of his countenance, while he himself escaped with scarce a mark. My greatest surprise is how it was possible for a man to receive so much beating and still be inclined to renew the combat. Such was, however, the case; and after fighting three-quarters of an hour, a cry was raised of ‘foul,’ meaning that the Jew had struck his man when he was on the ground. The ring was immediately broken into; the combatants moved from the arena, each party claiming the victory; an appeal was, however, made to the judges, who decided the Jew was entitled to the stakes—viz., fifty pounds. Having thus given you a narrative of the fight, I shall, at my earliest leisure, send you my reflections thereon, and whether, in a moral point of view as well as national, these contests ought to be tolerated or suppressed.
A match, at length arranged for £100 a-side, was made between Barney Aaron and Dick Curtis. This scientific battle was decided upon a stage, at Andover, on Tuesday, February 27th, 1827. Curtis was declared the winner in fifty minutes, Barney, by a blow in his throat, being again hit out of “time,” for the details of which we refer our readers to the Memoir of Curtis, ante, p. 492.
The friends of Barney after this defeat rallied round him, and his benefit, at the Coburg Theatre, on Saturday, March 18th, 1827, was a bumper. The set-to between Curtis and Barney was pronounced one of the finest things ever witnessed in the art of self-defence.
Frank Redmond was not satisfied as to his former defeat, and solicited another trial with Barney Aaron. This battle, for £50 a-side, was to have been decided on Tuesday, August 21st, 1827. It however turned out no fight. Chertsey, twenty miles from London, was named as the rallying point. At Moulsey Hurst the “beaks” were in sight, and prudence suggested it would be unwise to form a ring. The ring was made in a field near Fordwater Bridge, about a mile from Chertsey. About half-past twelve o’clock a violent storm of thunder and lightning, accompanied by sheets of water, compelled the people round the ring to seek shelter from the effects of the “pitiless pelting shower.” The storm having abated, and the time of peeling arrived, Barney, followed by Mr. Nathan and Josh Hudson as his seconds, threw his hat into the ring. After waiting about ten minutes, and Mr. Redmond having been called for several times, Barney claimed the blunt, and retired from the ropes. Dick Curtis now came galloping up out of breath, and informed the disappointed assemblage that Redmond had been stopped by an officer with a warrant. The lads who had got over twenty miles of ground, and many of them received a precious wetting into the bargain, felt themselves not a little vexed at such treatment, but there was no help for it. The lads however would not be disappointed.
Redmond’s friends refused to forfeit, on the plea that an officer, by the order of a magistrate, had prevented Redmond meeting Barney Aaron in the ring, which in the absence of evidence of collusion was a valid objection to forfeiture.
The stakes however were given up to Barney Aaron, which so displeased Redmond that he threw up his hat and offered Barney to fight upon the spot.
To put the question of mastery to rest, a third match for £50 a-side was made. This battle was decided on Tuesday, October 23rd, 1827, at No Man’s Land. Redmond entered the ring amidst loud applause. Barney was the favourite, at five to four; but Redmond was considered altogether a better man than at the period mentioned, and several of his friends not only took him for choice, but laid the odds upon him. Barney was attended by Josh Hudson and Nathan, and Redmond by Dick Curtis and Ned Neale.
Round 1.—Both combatants appeared in excellent condition, and determined not to give half a chance away. The attitudes of the men were interesting—the tout ensemble of Redmond capital, and his friends strongly anticipated victory. Redmond tried to draw the Jew to work, but the Star of the East was not to be had. Barney at length perceived an opening, and hit out, but Redmond stopped him cleverly. (“Bravo!”) The Jew went to work in right earnest, and planted some nobbers in excellent style. Redmond with the most determined courage fought his way into a rally; and give and take was the criterion, until they both went down, Barney undermost.
2.—Barney’s frontispiece showed punishment. (“First blood!” exclaimed Jack Randall.) The nob of Redmond looked flushed and peppered. Cautious, but both ready to administer mischief. Redmond with considerable science stopped the efforts of Barney, and also put in a tremendous nozzler. The Jew never flinched, but returned like a good one. Hit for hit for a short period. In struggling at the ropes, Barney endeavoured to fib his adversary. Both down.
3.—A long pause. Dangerous customers to each other, therefore a look-out necessary. (“You hold your arms too low,” said Josh to Barney.) Each made offers in turn, and then retreated. Redmond stopped a rum one in capital style. Barney crept in, as it were, and put in a noser. Barney took the lead, and bored Redmond to the ropes, and tried to fib, until his adversary went down on his knees.
4.—A pause. Barney went to work, but received a precious stopper on his dial. (“That’s the way to do it,” said Neale.) A short rally against the ropes, until both down.
5.—Redmond’s face was red, and he was rather on the piping system. Barney went in on the bustle; but Redmond jobbed and jobbed again with great success. (“Frank will win!” was the cry.) Barney, on his mettle, did not seem “to like it at the price,” and went resolutely in to his work; smashing on both sides, until the combatants were down.
6.—Redmond had now a little the best of it; at all events Jack was as good as his master. Redmond with his left hand planted a bodier. Barney careful; and Redmond put down his hands. (“To set the thing a-going,” said Josh, “I’ll bet £20 to £10.”) The fight had now become extremely interesting—the attitudes of the men pretty, and both confident of success. A long pause, counter-hits. Barney caught hold of Redmond and fibbed him down. Redmond, with great gaiety, jumped up again as if nothing was the matter, receiving great applause from Curtis and his friends.
7.—Two minutes nearly elapsed, and no blow, so great was the caution on both sides. Redmond’s left hand touched the body of Barney, but the latter returned it with interest on the left peeper of Redmond. Frank planted two heavy blows right and left on Barney’s face (immense applause by the boys from Bermondsey), and got away in style. Barney did not like this treatment, and went in to do mischief, but again napped it on the dial. In closing Barney was undermost. This round was decidedly in favour of Redmond, and six to four was betted on his winning.
8.—Frank was a little out of wind by his exertions in the last round. Barney made an excellent stop. Redmond, not to be denied, was as active as a dancing-master, hopping all over the ring, and putting his antagonist a little on the fret, until he planted a severe facer. The Jew rather severely felt for Redmond’s listener in return. Barney kept close to his work, and paid Redmond on his canister as he was going down. (The Sheenies began now to open their chaffing-boxes, and sing out, “Vat a peautiful hitter! Barney’s ash good ash gold!”)
9.—This was a short round, but peppery, both giving and receiving punishment. In struggling both were down.
10.—Frank was the hero of the round. He jobbed his opponent, and got away like a first-rate miller. (“The Jew’s napping it in style,” said the friends of Curtis.) Both went down.
11.—The Jew’s head showed the handiwork of Redmond, but in this round the Star of the East took the lead. Some sharp counter-hitting; Redmond napped it in his ear, and the round was finished by Franky finding himself on the grass.
12.—Good fighting on both sides. Redmond went down to avoid punishment.
13.—The Sheenies were now all alive, and began to sport their blunt. Barney took great liberties with the head of his opponent, and followed Redmond close to the ropes, the latter fighting at points like a clever little fellow, but nevertheless he had the worst of it, until he was thrown.
14.—Barney now showed himself to advantage, as Redmond was a little bit winded. The Jew planted his blows right and left, yet Frank was determined to be with him. At the finish of the round Redmond became weak, and went down.
15.—Cut away, hit for hit, give and take, as fast as any brave fellows could, on both sides. Barney at length got the turn, put in a teaser, and also hit Franky down.
16.—The Jew, gay as a lark, commenced offensive operations, and cut away. Redmond, equally gay, was not behindhand. Barney napped one on his canister, but he still kept to his work, until Redmond got down at the ropes.
17.—Frank endeavoured to get out of mischief, but the Star of the East would not be denied. Fighting like fun, until Redmond was sent on the grass.
18.—This was a fine fighting round; and if Barney showed pluck, the courage displayed by Redmond was equal to his adversary. Counter-hits. In closing Redmond broke away. Milling was soon afterwards resumed, and Frank was hit down.
19.—Barney kept the lead. He planted his blows successfully, and also bored Redmond to the ropes. Here Frank caught it severely, but the Jew did not get off without summat. Redmond down.
20.—Weakness on both sides; in fact, the pepper-box had been handed from one to the other without any mistake. Barney had been considerably punished, and Redmond had taken lots of milling. Barney appeared the stronger man of the two, and Redmond retreated before his opponent to the ropes. In a struggle both were down.
21–37.—Merry milling, with varying success. The hitting in favour of Aaron, the throws occasionally to Redmond, making the superiority doubtful. In the 31st round, and again in the 35th, Aaron fought Redmond down on to his knees. In the 36th Redmond sent down Aaron. In the 37th Redmond, exhausted by his exertions, went down weak.
38.—Aaron was deliberate and cautious, although Frank was evidently on the totter. Redmond was ultimately sent down.
39.—(Frank would not allow his seconds to give in for him. Mr. Nathan crossed the ring to Redmond, as the latter was sitting on Josh Hudson’s knee, and advised Redmond to leave off—a most improper proceeding. Frank rose indignantly to his feet and pushed him aside.) Exchanges, and Redmond down, amid great confusion.
40, 41.—Redmond game, but unable to stop his adversary or return with precision; was down.
42, and last.—Frank would not say “No!” There was a short bustle, and Redmond was pushed rather than hit down. Time, one hour and ten minutes.
Remarks.—This was not only a game, but in several rounds a scientific mill; and in the opinion of most of the admirers of boxing present, Redmond had profited much by his lessons from Curtis. His style of fighting was evidently improved, and for a long time the contest was considered doubtful; indeed, by several persons Redmond was chosen as the conqueror. Barney is a cool and determined boxer; and after Curtis we place him next on the list of light weights. Barney exhibited terrible marks of punishment about his head—much more than when he fought Curtis. Redmond received several heavy body blows, and was carried out of the ring; but Barney did not quit the ropes in a very lively state. Upon the whole, we never witnessed a more manly fight. Aaron’s forbearance when his man was helpless, and Redmond’s game, were alike conspicuous.
Aaron’s next subsequent battles were with Marsh Bateman, for £40, whom he beat on Landsdowne Racecourse, July 4th, 1828, and with Harry Jones, by whom he was beaten, November 21st, 1828, at the “Old Barge House,” Woolwich, in fifteen minutes, eighteen rounds, being much overmatched. He afterwards, May 26th, 1829, beat Jem Raines, at Navestock Green, Essex, in thirteen rounds, occupying twenty-eight minutes. His last battle was with Tom Smith, the East End Sailor Boy, by whom he was defeated, at Greenstreet Green, Kent, April 1st, 1834, in twenty rounds, twenty-six minutes—youth against age, Smith being twenty-seven, Aaron thirty-four.
From this period Aaron retired from the arena, but for many years was an attendant at the ring-side. He followed his trade of an East End dealer in fish, and was a frequent purveyor of edibles to the voyagers down the river on the then frequent pugilistic excursions. Barney died in Whitechapel, in 1850, being up to his last days an authority in all fistic matters among “the peoplesh” of Houndsditch.
HARRY JONES (“THE SAILOR BOY”). 1822–1834.
The claim of Harry Jones to a niche in our gallery of pugilistic celebrities is in a great degree of a negative character, from the eminence of some of the men whom he contended with and did not beat, rather than the number of second-raters whose pretensions he disposed of. Ned Stockman (three times), Young Dutch Sam, Barney Aaron, Frank Redmond, and Perkins (the last three of whom he beat), entitle him to a place; we shall not, however, occupy space by the reports of his minor battles.
Harry Jones was born on the 4th of April, 1804, in Meadow Street, Bristol, a city eminent in fistic annals for the boxers it has given birth to. At an early age Harry chose a sea life, and was apprenticed on board the “Staunton,” East-Indiaman, Captain Harris, with whom he made three voyages. The traditions of his birthplace, and the fame and profit which had been achieved by the Belchers, Pearce, and other champions, were among the Sailor Boy’s early memories, and he determined to try his fortune in the P.R. This was in his eighteenth year, and bidding adieu to the service of the Hon. E. I. C., he made his way to Moulsey Hurst, on the day when Oliver and Abbot settled their differences, November 6th, 1821. Jones had already shown his skill with the gloves at the Fives Court, and when a subscription purse had been made for a second fight, the Sailor Boy threw in his hat, and was opposed by Latham, also known as a sparrer in the schools. Belasco and Tom Jones picked up the Sailor Boy; Dolly Smith and Phil Sampson did the like for Latham. It was an interesting battle for twenty-six rounds, occupying thirty-three minutes, when Latham floored Jones by a hit in the short ribs. Jones tried three more rounds, but he was unable to recover his wind, and gave in.
Undeterred by this stumble on the threshold, the Sailor Boy went in for a purse against Ned Stockman, then called “Bill Eales’s Chicken.” The fight was at Rutledge Common, Edgeware Road, on 29th January, 1822. It was a remarkable battle on the part of Stockman, who, in thirty-eight rounds and forty minutes, compelled the Sailor Boy to haul down his colours.
Harry Jones could not consider that his defeat by Stockman was a real trial of his quality, and, on June 12th, 1822, after Jem Ward had defeated Acton at Moulsey, he entered the ring for a new trial. Peter Crawley and Ned Turner were counsel for Stockman, and Jones’s interests were looked after by Jack O’Donnel and Abbot. After a few minutes’ sparring Jones rushed in and endeavoured to fib his opponent, but in the struggle to obtain the throw Jones sprained his ankle so severely as to be unable to continue the fight.
After these unfortunate ring exhibitions Jones fought several by-battles with commoners. Watts (a butcher) and Riley (a Westminster boxer) were beaten by him, and Peter Brookery, the Fishmonger, beat him in three-quarters of an hour.
In consequence of some chaffing at Tom Cribb’s benefit at the Fives Court, on Tuesday, June 1st, 1824, a match was made between Jones and Brown (the Sprig of Myrtle). A patron of boxing having offered a purse for the winner, Jones proposed, and Brown snapped at the offer, to fight it out that day. Accordingly, with Jack Randall as time-keeper, Dick Acton and Gipsy Cooper as seconds for Harry, and Tom Oliver and Tisdale for the Sprig, the party started for Paddington Fields, where, in nineteen rounds, lasting thirty-three minutes, the Sailor Boy achieved his first ring victory. This raised the reputation of Jones considerably.
About this time an amusing anecdote of Jones appeared in the newspapers. One Jem Aldridge, known as “the fighting typo,” backed himself for £5 against Jones. The Sailor Boy at this time, as “most people fall in love some time or other,” was engaged to a Miss Evans, and not keeping an exact “note of time,” his diary was in such confusion that he had fixed June 28th, 1824, for both matches. Not seeing how he could honourably put off either his bride or his challenger, he met both; and soon after he had sworn eternal fidelity, and the etceteras connected with the ceremony of “taking this woman to be thy wedded wife,” Harry started off to fulfil the other engagement. It is said that so lightly did he value his opponent that he merely consigned the lady to the gent who had given her away, with the remark, “Take care of my wife, like a good fellow, till I come back,” and bolted off to the field of battle, in Copenhagen Fields, near Pentonville. Arriving on the ground somewhat flushed and out of breath, the Sailor Boy shook hands with the typo, and to work they went. In twelve minutes Mr. Aldridge declined any further favours at the hands of Harry, who, pocketing the fiver, returned to the wedding party, and spent the evening in fun and merriment until “the throwing of the stocking, O!”—thus bringing off the “double event.”
Dick Price, a well-known butcher at Oxford, weighing upwards of eleven stone, and five feet eight inches in height, had given so much offence among his brother kill-bulls by his boasting and quarrelsomeness that they determined to give him a turn. A Mr. Parker, of Oxford, brought down Jones in butcher’s garb, and Price insulting him in the market, “Mr. Parker’s plant,” as he was called, proposed a fight. To this Price, with an expression of pity and contempt for the “Lunnon boy,” consented. At six o’clock in the evening of Wednesday, July 28th, 1824, the ring was pitched in Picksey Meadow, near Oxford. The combatants met first in Port Meadow, but an authority of the University city showed his awful phiz, and the crowd was put to the rout. Jones, after “kidding” his man to come in, played his part so well that in the ninth round he had him down to his own weight, and ten to one was offered by the undergrads and others, but no takers. At the end of the fifteenth round poor Price was at no price, when lo! after turning to avoid, he slung himself round again, and with a chance backhander caught Jones such an almighty whack on the left ear that down he went, and was deaf to time! The affair lasted in all twenty-one minutes. Jones felt immensely mortified, and challenged Price to a second meeting, but the latter had discovered his customer, and refused any further dealings. “I insist upon your giving me another chance,” urged the Sailor Boy. “I will,” said Price, “before the beaks;” so he applied to the Bench for a summons for a threatened assault, and the Sailor Boy was held to bail to keep the peace towards the complainant for twelve calendar months. “It’s lucky,” said the Sailor Boy, “that the bond only extends to Dicky Price. I must bid farewell to Oxford and look elsewhere for a job.”
Tom Reidie, so well known as “the Colonel” for many years afterwards, among the frequenters of the Leicester Square and Coventry Street “hells,” as the gaming-houses were then entitled, was hastily matched with Jones. The men met in the fields at the back of the “Red House,” Battersea (now Battersea Park), on the 4th August, 1824. The affair was a tiresome exhibition. Reidie, nimble as a harlequin, retreated, whereon his man advanced, and would not be forced to a rally, getting down so provokingly that Harry was several times well-nigh irritated into a foul blow. The bystanders, too—many of them West End swells—pulled up the stakes, and the ropes were soon missing. Accordingly, as a reporter says, “the men were fighting out of one field into another, and Jones could not get a chance of planting a successful hit.” “Only stand still,” said the Sailor Boy, “and see what will be the matter.” “I’m not such a fool, although I may look one,” replied the Colonel, and then with his thumb to his nose he executed a backward double shuffle, nobbed Harry slightly, and slipped his heels from under his hams, dropping on his South Pole with a grin. After two hours and three-quarters, in which both men were but slightly punished, Reidie’s tactics triumphed, and Jones was so exhausted and baffled that he resigned the contest!
On September 21st, 1824, Jones, for the third time, entered the lists with Ned Stockman, at the “Old May Pole,” Epping Forest, for £25 a-side. After seventeen rounds, twenty-three minutes, Jones was again defeated.
A week only after this defeat, after the bull-baiting on Old Oak Common, on Tuesday, September 28th, 1824, Frederick Edwards, a coachman, of some pretensions to boxing, offered to meet Jones for a purse that had been subscribed. Stockman seconded Jones, Reuben Martin united upon Edwards. Jones’s skill, combined with caution, enabled him to get over the ground in style, and in an hour and a half the coachman gave in, confessing that even a good amateur must knock under to a professional.
Mike Curtain was matched against Jones for a trifling stake, and in October, 1824, Battersea Fields being again the scene of action, Jones defeated him in seventy-five minutes.
After the disappointment with Young Dutch Sam and Lenney, at the “Old Barge House,” March 25th, 1825, Harry Jones fought a horse-keeper, nicknamed Captain Corduroy. The battle, which is fully reported in “Boxiana,” lasted twenty minutes, when the Sailor Boy was hailed as victor.
The following report, from the pen of a distinguished littérateur, then on the staff of the Morning Chronicle, gives a lively picture of an extemporised fight of the period:—
“Old Oak Common, six miles from London, on the Harrow Road, and formerly the scene of many a sturdy battle between men of high pugilistic character, was, on Thursday, September 8th, 1825, honoured by the presence of a select assemblage of the mobocracy, to witness a subscription mill between Harry Jones, the Sailor Boy, and a Westminster champion, well known by the poetical appellation of ‘Tommy O’Lynn,’ but whose name in the parish books stands as Jemmy Wilson. Jemmy, it seems, had long been the drake of the walk in Duck Lane; and in the various rencontres in which he happened to be engaged with the heroic youths of that neighbourhood he invariably came off with éclat. This circumstance rendered him a great favourite among the ‘donkey dragoons,’ of which he is a member; and they determined, when an opportunity offered, to afford him the means of distinguishing himself in a way which might do honour to the school from which he sprang. This opportunity happily occurred at the ‘Coopers’ Arms,’ in Strutton Ground. A large party being assembled over their ‘pots of heavy’ in that place of social resort, some remarks were made on the want of diversion among the operative classes of society, while the nobs were pickling their carcasses on the seashore. Various proposals were made for a day’s fun. Some were for ‘grabbing a bull,’ and taking him out for an airing, a recreation not then obsolete; others were for a dog-fight, and more for a duck-hunt; but to all these there were objections; and Mr. Martin’s Act was mentioned as an ugly bar to such exhilarating amusements. At last a mill was suggested, as more congenial to all their feelings; and the Sailor Boy being present, it was resolved that he and Tommy O’Lynn should have a ‘shy’ for a subscription purse. Both men were agreeable, and Thursday was fixed for the outing. The hat went round at the moment, and about five pounds were collected, which, with what might be contributed on the ground, was considered a tolerably fair prize. At an early hour on Thursday morning the lads were on the move, and the avenues leading to the Harrow Road presented a lively succession of donkey equipages, while the banks of the Paddington Canal, and the fields from the Uxbridge Road, were covered with groups of motley characters, all directing their steps towards the appointed spot. At one o’clock the assemblage was very numerous. Among the throng we noticed many Westminster celebrities, particularly Bill Gibbons and Caleb Baldwin. The former was present merely as an amateur, while the latter, with a jar of ‘blue ruin’ (copiously diluted from the neighbouring canal), endeavoured to enliven the spirits of his patrons, and to furnish the pockets of his own inexpressibles. A long list of the Boxing School was likewise on the ground, Tom Oliver acting as master of the ceremonies, stakeholder, and otherwise dictator of the day.
“The Sailor Boy was early on the ground, having been brought in prime style by Tom Callas and a couple of his friends in a ‘one-horse shay.’ He looked well, and was confident of winning. Tommy O’Lynn was said to be at a public-house on the Harrow Road, under the care of a ‘gemman’ whose delicacy was such that he did not wish his name to be mentioned, and was therefore described as the ‘Great Unknown.’ At two o’clock notice was sent to the ‘Great Unknown’ to bring his man, and in a short time he arrived with his shay-cart, drawn by his celebrated trotter, and was received with as cordial a cheer as if he were Sir Walter Scott or the Right Honourable George Canning, of which honour he seemed deeply sensible, and ‘blushed like a bone-boiler’—which, we believe, is the profession to which he belongs.
“All being in readiness the ring was beaten out and a commodious area formed.” The men soon made their appearance on opposite sides of the ring, throwing in their ‘castors’ with mutual good humour. On stripping, the Sailor Boy was evidently the heavier and stronger of the two, and the odds were announced at seven to four in his favour. Tommy O’Lynn was regularly got up for the occasion. Unlike his great ancestor, Brian O’Lynn, who, as history informs us, ‘had no breeches to wear,’ he advanced in all the pride of a new pair of tape-bound flannel drawers, high-low shoes, and new cotton ‘calf-covers.’ On pulling down his knowledge-box by the forelock of its thatch, he was rapturously welcomed by the cry of ‘Tommy for ever!’ while the ‘Great Unknown’ whispered in his ear the words of the favourite Scotch song—
Tommy grinned a grin, and prepared for action. He was attended by Charlsy Brennan and Young Gas, while the Sailor Boy claimed the kind offices of Alec Reid, and that bright ornament to gymnastics and lyrics Frosty-faced Fogo.”
Round 1.—The positions of both men were good. Tommy especially threw himself into a studied attitude. The Sailor Boy tried to bring him out, and made two feints with his right. Tommy was steady, but at last Jones let fly with his right and caught him on the nob. Tommy was awake, and returned on the cheek, when after a short rally they closed, and went down together, Tommy undermost.
2.—Jones, anxious to begin, made a feint, and then hit out with his left, but was well stopped. Jones, still busy, rattled in, and caught Tommy on the ivories; a spirited rally followed, in which Jones caught his man round the neck, and pegged at his belly with great effect. He at last closed and threw him. (“Vait,” cried a costermonger, “only let Tommy give him a touch of his own, and you’ll see!” “Ve’ll vait,” cried another, “but I’m blowed if I don’t think ve’ll vait long enough!”)
3.—Tommy came up active, but received a jobber in the dexter ogle, and in getting away dropped. The Great Unknown began to look serious, and was seen to scratch his block in a most significant manner.
4.—Jones was now perfectly acquainted with his man, and resolved to finish him without delay. He went in boldly with his left, but was stopped by Tommy throwing up his right and pitching back his head. Jones, however, followed him with his right, and hit him severely over his left guard. A desperate rally followed, in which Jones administered severe punishment, and Tommy went down piping and bleeding. It was now a donkey to a tom-tit in Jones’s favour, but nobody would take the odds.
5, and last.—Tommy planted a body blow, but with little force. Jones returned on his smeller, and another desperate rally followed, in which Tommy had it in all directions, and was at last hit down senseless by a straight right-hander, Jones winning without a scratch in six minutes.
Remarks.—Tommy may shine among the street heroes in the back slums, but won’t do in the Ring. He was too light, and not sufficiently fed, for Jones. Gibbons recommended, from his greyhound condition, that he should go into training for what he called a “natommy vivante,” and travel the country as “own brother to the living skeleton.”
Jones, who had been gaining ground in the sparring world, and also in the estimation of his friends, was backed against Young Dutch Sam for £25 a-side. This battle was decided at Shere Mere, on the borders of Bedfordshire, on Tuesday, the 18th of October, 1825. Sam was seconded by Dick and George Curtis, and Jones by Alec Reid and Goodman. Jones was signally defeated in eighteen rounds, occupying fifty-three minutes. See Life of Young Dutch Sam, ante, p. 358.
At No Man’s Land, four miles beyond St. Albans, on Tuesday, March 14th, 1826, after Donovan had defeated Jennings, a subscription purse of five pounds was collected, when a man of the name of Knowlan, known as the Tumbler, entered the ring against Harry Jones. Knowlan, as a specimen of his professional agility, threw two summersaults before he began to peel. The Tumbler had also the advantage of Harry Holt for his second. In the course of fifteen minutes the activity of the Tumbler was reduced to a stand-still, Jones proclaimed the winner, and the five pounds in his pocket.
After Barney Aaron had defeated Dick Hares, at No Man’s Land, on Tuesday, March 21st, 1826, a subscription purse of five pounds was collected for Mike Curtain and Harry Jones; and although only seven days had elapsed since his fight with Knowlan, Harry was determined not to let a chance go by him. Curtain was anxious for another shy with the Sailor Boy, having been defeated by him, after a severe struggle of one hour and three-quarters, as stated in a preceding page. Jones, upon this occasion, was seconded by Fogo, and the battle was considered above mediocrity; but at the expiration of half an hour “the Curtain was let down” a second time, and Jones pronounced the conqueror.
After Young Dutch Sam had defeated Tom Cooper, the Gipsy, at Grays, in Essex, on Tuesday, April 25th, 1826, a subscription purse was collected for a second fight, when Jones and Tom Collins entered the ring. Collins was the man who defeated Barney Aaron when the latter boxer was a novice, and was considered a scientific, sharp boxer. He was soon reduced to a mere nobody in the hands of Harry Jones. In the short space of four rounds, occupying only six minutes, Collins was severely punished and defeated, while Jones left the ground with hardly a scratch.
On Tuesday, September 5th, 1826, after Bishop Sharpe had defeated Alec Reid, at No Man’s Land, in Hertfordshire, to make up a third battle, for a subscription purse, Jones, always ready to earn a pound or two, and Pick, a Bristol lad, equally anxious to obtain a small slice, stood up on the shortest notice. Dick Curtis and Young Dutch Sam seconded Harry Jones, and Bayley and Gipsy Cooper acted as seconds for Pick. Twenty-seven rounds were contested. In every round Jones took the lead, and ultimately he was declared the conqueror. Pick had not the slightest chance, and was severely punished. The Sailor Boy had scarcely a mark upon him. Jones won the battle in thirty minutes.
The Sailor Boy at this period was hardly ever out of “action.” At Fidgett Hall, one mile and a half from Newmarket, after Larkins had defeated Abbot, a second fight took place for a purse of five pounds, between Harry Jones and Reuben Howe, on Tuesday, November 28th, 1826—the former well known in the London circles, the latter a bustling, boasting yokel, weighing a stone and a half more than Jones. Howe was seconded by two of his own pals, and Jones by Oliver and Fogo. Thirty-one rounds were fought in thirty-four minutes, during the whole of which Jones took the lead both in hitting and throwing, and won the fight almost without a scratch. No man could have polished off a customer in a more workman-like manner. The defeat of Howe was much relished by the chawbacons, as he was a complete bully among his companions, and being thus “taken down a peg” probably tended to improve his manners.
After Peter Crawley had defeated Jem Ward, at Royston Heath, Cambridgeshire, on Tuesday, January 2nd, 1827, Harry Jones entered the ring with Gybletts for a subscription purse. In the course of ten minutes Jones was defeated. It was considered no match. The blunt was divided between them. Gipsy Cooper seconded Gybletts, and Ned Stockman and a pupil of Israel Belasco’s attended upon the Sailor Boy.
The second battle between Larkins and Abbot, for fifty pounds a-side, according to the articles, was to have been decided on Tuesday, March 13th, 1827, within sixty miles of London; but as many things happen between the “cup and the lip,” the “authorities” interfered, and Larkins and Abbot slept in whole skins that night. After some little murmurings by the disappointed crowd “that there is no certainty in this here life,” Peter Crawley arrived, and added to their discomfiture by avowing it was the intention of Larkins to forfeit on account of illness.
The little fight, as it was termed, now became the interesting topic of the day; and Jones and Raines started for a new piece of ground, followed by a string of vehicles of every description, hundreds of horsemen, and toddlers out of number. The road had a pleasing appearance, by the bustle, life, and activity, for several miles; the turnpikes napped lots of blunt by the change; and the pot-houses met with a variety of unexpected customers. But the principal part of the toddlers who were compelled to ride Shanks’s mare were beaten to a stand-still long before the grand halt took place at Chesterford. During the rapid motion of the “gay throng” several upsets occurred; but the Fancy were too game to complain of broken panels, or being canted over the necks of their horses, contenting themselves with the old saying that “worse accidents occur at sea.” At Chesterford a parley ensued about making the ring, and “Haydon Grange” was named as a place beyond the possibility of an interruption. But the crowd, who had already been over twenty miles of ground, were too much fatigued to undertake another of ten, and preferred chancing it; accordingly the stakes were knocked into the ground without delay, in the parish of Chesterford. An outer ring was immediately formed by the carriages, and the combatants called for. Raines appeared first, and threw up his nob-cover, waited upon by Stockman and a hackney dragsman nicknamed Whipaway, while Peter Crawley and the Poet Laureate officiated as seconds for the Sailor Boy. This time Fogo did not show himself habited as a collegian, although his toggery bespoke the outline of a “Fellow Commoner” who had not decidedly taken his terms, although he was upon “terms” with the ancient tribe of costermongers. He wore his “beaver up” when he was recognised by the M.A.’s, and received the nod from them as a student of Brasen-nose. The colours were tied to the stakes—the Sailor Boy the favourite.