Round 1.—The Pet, as he exhibited in buf_Pugilistica: The History of British Boxing, Volume 2 (of 3) Containing Lives of the Most Celebrated Pugilists; Full Reports of Their Battles from Contemporary Newspapers, With Authentic Portraits, Personal Anecdotes, and Sketches of the Principal Patrons of the Prize Ring, Forming a Complete History of the Ring from Fig and Broughton, 1719-1740, to the Last Championship Battle Between King and Heenan, in December 1863

satisfaction to his numerous friends. His condition was acknowledged

to be quite tip-top. He might have been compared to the finest

racehorse for blood, game, and bone; in fact, the _tout ensemble_ of

the Pet was the picture of a fine-framed man in miniature. His arms

were beautiful. The Star of the East was equally bright; he had done

everything to improve his strength during his preparation, and he

appeared at the scratch a robust, vigorous, athletic young man. In

elegance, ease, and grace, Angelo, O’Shaughnessy, or Roland, with

the foils, could not have exhibited more taste in the polite

accomplishment of fencing than did the attitudes and arms of Curtis

and Aaron exhibit in the art of self-defence. Both combatants were

armed _cap-à-pie_; it was an eye against an eye, toe for toe, arm

opposed to arm, caution matched with caution; if one was “down” the

other was “up”—it was, “I won’t have it!” on both sides; in short,

it was diamond cut diamond. Such were the boxers opposed to each

other in this great trial of skill. Barney, unlike the character of

his milling in his previous battles, preferred the “look-out” to the

rush; he being well aware of the great talent, judgment, and

finishing qualities of his opponent, and determined not to give the

slightest chance away. The Pet, like an accomplished general, soon

perceived that his adversary was nothing else but a difficult one,

and not to be gammoned upon old suits: indeed, that nothing but the

utmost skill was necessary to be with him upon any point. For

several minutes the spectators were delighted with the extreme

caution displayed on both sides, and at the same time the readiness

which Curtis and Aaron displayed should any opening offer for the

exercise of their fists. Curtis looked as it were into the “very

soul” of his adversary, and the richness of the “Jew’s eye” was of

an equally penetrating description. Barney waited for the Pet to

commence offensive operations, but Curtis, finding that nothing

could be done without great danger to himself, retreated slowly

towards the corner of the stage, the Star of the East following him

leisurely. The interest of the scene was intense, and every peeper

on the stretch to witness mischief. Barney, with great spirit and

tact, went in, and gave Dick pepper with his right and left hands on

his face. (“Beautiful!” from the Sheenies.) The Pet countered

slightly. Barney, in closing, endeavoured to fib his opponent, but

Dick bolted (“Hallo! what’s the matter?”) and cleverly got out of

trouble. The Pet turned quickly, and again met his man; an exchange

of blows followed, and in closing they tried each other’s strength

severely, when both went down, Curtis undermost. (Loud shouting for

Barney, and “Where’s your two to one?”) The claret was seen on

Dick’s mouth. “First blood” was declared in favour of Aaron.

2.—Curtis had always entertained a good opinion of the milling

qualities of his opponent, but he was now completely satisfied that

he was not only a troublesome customer, but a better man than any

who had previously stood before him. Slow and sure appeared the

order of the day on both sides. Aaron was not to be had by any

stratagem practised by Curtis. The latter, however, gradually

retired to the end of the stage, Barney in attendance upon him.

Counter-hits were given, and both told. The Jew went to work in the

most manly style, and the counter-hits were admirable. In closing

Barney endeavoured to fib his opponent, but the Pet returned hard

and fast, and it was difficult to say which had the best of it.

Barney was ultimately thrown, but Dick also went down. The Pet-ites

now began to let loose their red rags, and Curtis was hailed with

shouts of applause.

3.—This round was “as long as Paterson’s Road Book.” Each of their

mugs exhibited the handiwork of the other, and Barney’s peepers had

been measured for a “suit of mourning.” The Pet was cautious, and

his face bespoke that he had all his work to do to change the battle

in his favour. Barney was equally shy, and kept a good look-out.

Curtis, finding that he could not make an impression, tried once

more the retreating system, but Barney was after him, though his

blows were skilfully stopped by the Pet. Counter-hitting, and Jack

as good as his master. Curtis’s right eye received a sharp taste,

but the Jew had the favour returned with interest. A pause, and

nothing like mischief for a short period. Barney at length let fly

on the Pet’s chaffing-box, and the claret followed, which appeared

rather troublesome to Curtis. The admirers of scientific fighting

had a perfect treat, both men being prepared at every point. Curtis

seemed rather fatigued, put down his hands for an instant, and the

Jew followed his example. The truth is, the conduct of Barney in not

availing himself of his weight and length not only surprised all his

friends, but astonished the backers of Curtis. The disinterested

part of the audience viewed it as a doubtful thing. Barney at last

went to work, and planted two successful hits. Some sharp exchanges.

In closing, fibbing was the order of the day, and the pepper-box

changed hands in rapid succession. The men broke ground, and Dick

adopted his skilful mode of retreating. The Star of the East went

after him, and in the corner of the stage planted a severe blow on

his throat, which made Dick gulp again. In closing, after a severe

struggle, Curtis went down undermost, and Barney upon one knee.

(“Vell done, Barney!” from the Sheenies.) The backers of Curtis,

although not positively afraid, yet candidly acknowledged they had

hitherto thought too little of Aaron.

4.—The face of Dick did not exhibit his usual gaiety of expression.

His mind was at work to attack his opponent upon a new system. In

short, we never saw him so puzzled before in any of his contests.

The pause was long, and nothing done. Jem Ward, who had hitherto

been silent, now exclaimed, “It will be—‘who’d ha’ thought it?’ We

shall win!” Barney cleverly hit the Pet away, and some little

workmanship took place between them, when the left mauly of Dick

caught Barney’s nob, and he went down partly on his knees. It could

scarcely be considered a knock-down blow. The Pet-ites were again

liberal with their applause, and seven to four offered.

5.—Those persons who had witnessed the severity of execution done by

Dick in his fights with gloves expected that he would have nobbed

the Jew off-hand. But the science and caution of Barney astonished

the ring-goers. Sharp counter-hits. The fighting was good on both

sides, and both nobs were damaged. The right cheek of the Star of

the East napped a severe cut. In closing the struggle was great to

obtain the throw, when the Pet, by a sudden impulse, gave Barney a

hoist between the ropes. He would have fallen at least six feet to

the ground, but fortunately for the Star of the East a wagon had

been placed near the stage for the accommodation of the reporters,

umpires, and referee. Pierce Egan and another scribbler caught hold

of Barney by the arm and his leg, and rescued the Jew from his

perilous situation. Like one of the gamest of the game Barney jumped

up and exclaimed, “I am not hurt, it’s all right,” and reascended

the stage amidst thunders of applause.

6.—Of course the agitation and shock sustained by the above

accident, added to the shortness of the time, only half a minute, to

return to the scratch, were considerably against him. Yet he set to

in the most manly way, and gave Dick not a very light one on his

pimple. The latter countered as quick as lightning. Milling on both

sides for a short period, until they separated. Both careful, and

upon the look-out for an opening. A rally occurred, in which Dick

rather took the lead, and Barney’s head received severe punishment.

The Jew at length went down upon his hands. (“You have got him now,

Curtis, only go to work!” said the boys of the Borough. “He knows

better,” answered a Sheeny; “Curtis will be in trouble if he does!”)

7.—The countenance of Curtis now became cheerful, and he gave the

“office” to his friends that the fight was his own. Dick was

evidently improved, but Barney, game as a pebble, commenced

fighting. The Pet retreated with advantage, and as Barney followed

him he planted one, two, and a third facer in succession. The Jew,

good as gold, would not be denied, went in to work, caught hold of

Dick, and fibbed with all his strength; Curtis was not behindhand.

In struggling for the throw Curtis went down easy, but was

undermost. Two to one on Curtis, and lots of shouting.

8.—The Pet was decidedly getting the best of it, yet the strength of

Barney was by no means so reduced as to indicate that the fight

would soon be over. Barney went to work, and a sharp rally was the

result. Some hard hits passed between them, and Curtis received a

teaser on his jaw. In closing both went down. The Sheenies did not

desert their man, and cheered him with applause.

9, and last.—Dick, though quite satisfied in his own mind he was now

winning the fight, was as cautious as if he had yet all his work to

do. The head of Barney was rather out of shape, and the nob of

Curtis was a little changed. Sparring for a short time, when Dick

made himself up for mischief, and mischievous he certainly was. With

his left he put in a tremendous blow upon his opponent’s throat.

Barney went down like a shot—flat upon his back—his heels up, and

was utterly insensible when time was called. Curtis so well knew

that he had settled the business that he went up immediately to the

time-keepers to wait for their decision. The Pet jumped for joy, and

was proclaimed the victor, amidst the shouts of the surrounding

populace. Josh Hudson hoisted the Pet upon his shoulders and carried

him to his post-chaise, huzzaing all the way. The fight lasted fifty

minutes.

REMARKS.—Such a real, scientific battle on both sides has not been

seen for many a long day: indeed, no lover of the Fancy would have

thought two hundred miles any distance to have witnessed the

superior tactics displayed by Curtis and Aaron. The Pet, high as he

stood before on the roll of pugilists, raised himself to the top of

the tree by this victory. Curtis has now proved the conqueror in

eleven prize battles. As we have already said, we never saw Dick so

puzzled before, and until he had reduced the Jew to his weight the

first four rounds were of a doubtful character. Without exception

the Pet must be pronounced the most efficient boxer in the

pugilistic world. We cannot say more. At the same time it is equally

true that Barney Aaron, if not exactly at the top of the tree, is

very near to it. That is to say, if Curtis ranks as number one,

number two of the light weights belongs to the brave little Sheeny.

He is still the Star of the East, and instead of having fallen in

the estimation of his friends by this defeat, his fine fighting,

manly conduct, and fair play must raise him in the eyes of the

sporting world. Curtis did not weigh nine stone, and Barney just

drew ten. The severity of the blow which Aaron received on his

throat operated so strongly that he did not come to himself for

nearly an hour. To use Barney’s own words, he said, “I do not know

that I could have won the battle, but had I not received that blow

on my throat, which fairly hit me out of time, I am certain I could

have fought for half an hour longer.” Curtis, before he left

Andover, called upon his fallen and brave opponent and presented him

with a guinea, and acknowledged that he was the best man he had ever

fought with. A subscription of six pounds was also made on the

ground, collected by one of the backers of Curtis.

Curtis was next backed to fight Jack Tisdale for £120 to £100.

Staines, on the Windsor road, was the great rallying point, and

Shirley’s, the “New Inn,” the house of call upon the above occasion.

Every room was full of milling visitors. In the stables, although

extensive, the prads were riding over one another, the yard filled with

drags of all sorts, and lots of customers could not find the slightest

accommodation. Such were the attractions of the two heroes, the Pet of

the Fancy and Jack Tisdale.

Between nine and ten in the morning of Tuesday, October 9th, 1827, the

men met according to appointment to ascertain their weight, as required

by the articles. Curtis proved to be no more than eight stone nine

pounds and three-quarters, and Tisdale eight stone eight pounds. Curtis,

in the most confident style, betted two sovereigns to one with Tisdale,

after which the men retired to their inns, Curtis to Shirley’s and

Tisdale to the Swan Inn, near the bridge, at Staines.

Curtis was decidedly the favourite throughout the whole of the match, at

seven to four, two to one, and higher odds. Tisdale was always viewed as

a good little man, but it was considered he had entirely left the ring,

five years having elapsed since his last battle with Lenney. Tisdale was

highly respected by his numerous friends. He had made up his mind to win

and nothing else, and assured his backers that if he could but get at

Dick, and he thought he could, victory would crown his efforts.

The heavy rain did not damp the ardour of the visitors, and the ring was

surrounded by thousands of spectators. Within a mile and a half of the

town of Staines, in a meadow in the county of Bucks, almost opposite the

race-course at Egham, was the spot of ground selected for action.

At the appointed time Tisdale made his appearance, and threw his castor

into the ring, followed by two good ould ones, Jack Randall and Bill

Cropley, as his seconds. He was well received. In a few minutes

afterwards the Pet, in a military cloak, repeated the token of defiance,

waited upon by the John Bull Fighter and Young Dutch Sam. Lots of

applause for Curtis. Tisdale and Curtis shook hands together in the most

hearty style. The colours, yellow for Curtis and blue for Tisdale, had

been tied to the stakes by Hudson and Cropley. The hands were crossed

together by all parties and the battle commenced.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On peeling Curtis looked extremely thin, nevertheless he

was quite well. He had reduced himself during his training nearly

fourteen pounds, but he was lively, strong, and well to all intents

and purposes. It was a dangerous experiment for a light man like

Curtis, but to use his own words, he assured his friends he was

never better in the whole course of his life. Tisdale was as good as

he could be made by the wholesome effects of training, and also

inspired with the highest confidence that success would crown his

efforts. In point of youth the Pet had the best of it. The attitude

of Curtis was a picture, and he appeared to the spectators a master

of the art of boxing. The style of Tisdale was not so imposing as

his accomplished fistic rival, but it was firm, calculated to

receive the attack, and formed an excellent outline of a scientific

pugilist. Dick measured his opponent from head to foot, keeping a

good look-out for squalls, anxious to give, but not to receive.

Tisdale was also leary, but his guard was low. The Pet viewed his

rival as a dangerous customer, and like a skilful general was

determined not to give half a chance away; he not only worked hard

with his hands, but he was likewise perpetually on the move with his

feet. Plenty of caution was exhibited on both sides. “Do not be

gammoned,” was the advice of Randall and Cropley to Tisdale. The

interest was intense amongst the spectators to witness the lead

taken on either side. Tisdale attempted to plant a blow, but Dick

got away like a dancing-master. Tisdale repeated the attempt twice,

when ditto, ditto, on the part of the Pet was the time of day. A

sort of stand-still followed, both keeping prime lookouts, like

experienced pilots. Curtis made an offer, but Tisdale was awake. The

Pet, after manœuvring in his best style, at length let fly his right

and left, when Tisdale, with admirable skill, parried both hits,

amidst loud applause from the surrounding crowd. A short pause. “It

will be a long fight,” said the amateurs. Tisdale made another neat

parry. Dick, as if it appeared to his mind he had got his opponent,

hit out one, two, reached the canister of Tisdale, then rushed in to

his work and fibbed away. Tisdale endeavoured to return the

compliment, but without effect, was ultimately thrown, and

undermost. (It might be said not much was the matter, but the

Bermondsey boys let loose their red rags, and odds to any amount

were offered. This round occupied nearly nine minutes.)

2.—Tisdale wished to go to work, but Dick would not have it. Curtis

with great force put in a facer without return. (“Beautiful!” from

his friends.) Tisdale slightly touched the body of his adversary.

Both made themselves up for mischief, and two prime counter-hits

were the result. The Pet planted a ribber, which made Tisdale blow

for breath. Both on the look-out. Curtis hit out right and left with

effect, but in return he napped a rum one on his ear. Some exchanges

occurred, when Dick, with great impetuosity, planted two blows that

were heard all over the ring, and Tisdale went down. The effect was

so heavy that Tisdale for the instant scarcely knew where he was,

and he put up his hand to keep Dick off.

3.—The handiwork of the Pet was visible to all the ring—a lump on

Tisdale’s forehead, and his left eye damaged. Dick soon planted a

nobber. A pause. Dick got away from mischief. Tisdale endeavoured to

plant some hits, but Dick retreated in the most masterly style.

Tisdale again missed several hits, owing to the retreating jumps of

Curtis. Dick also made some beautiful stops. Tisdale satisfied his

friends that he was a brave little man, although he could not get

the lead. The skill evinced by Curtis was much admired. He gammoned

his opponent to come and fight, and then punished him for his

temerity. Dick again made his one, two, good, which produced some

severe in-fighting, decidedly in favour of the Pet. In closing, both

down, Tisdale undermost. (“Odds?” cried Josh; “why, you may bet

anything, and no mistake! It’s one hundred to a rump steak, and I’ll

lay the hundred pounds.”)

4.—The Bermondseys were all in high spirits. Tisdale made play

without effect, Dick being ready for his opponent at all points.

Tisdale, rather wild from the one, two, of his opponent, hit at

random. In closing Dick got the best of the fibbing, and Tisdale was

again thrown. (“Meat in Newgate Market must rise to-morrow,” said

the John Bull Fighter, “to cover the losses of the kill-bulls.”)

5.—Upwards of a minute elapsed before anything was attempted between

the combatants, so much caution was observed on both sides. Tisdale

was on the alert to effect a turn, but Dick was up to his movements.

The latter also neatly, and with great force, planted two hits

without return. Tisdale at length got into work, and some sharp

blows were exchanged. Tisdale showed “first blood,” from the mouth,

which was announced to the ring by Josh Hudson. In closing Tisdale

went down.

6.—The steadiness displayed by Tisdale was much admired. He came

cheerfully to the scratch, and tried to punish the Pet, but the

latter stopped him with ease. The right hand of Curtis made a

smashing hit on Tisdale’s left ogle, but the Newgate Market hero

quick as lightning countered, and produced the claret from Dick’s

ear. (“My eye,” said Cropley to Randall, “that was a teaser!”) Dick

tried all his skill to draw Tisdale again into his clutches, but

Jack was not to be had, and a long pause ensued. Curtis jobbed with

his left hand, nevertheless Tisdale returned the charge like nothing

but a good one. The men fought their way into a rally, and pepper on

both sides was the order of the day, until they broke away. This

round was decidedly the best that had taken place; and although it

was the general opinion that Dick would prove the conqueror, it was

admitted at the same time that he would have his work to do. Tisdale

could not plant his hits effectually, the Pet was so good upon his

legs. Curtis in great style stopped a rib-roaster, and patted his

arm, laughing at Tisdale. A rally was the tie-up of this round, to

the advantage of Curtis, and Tisdale fell with his back upon the

ropes. Several bets were now lost that Dick won the battle in half

an hour.

7.—This round was a touch of the polish. Dick had it all his own

way. He jobbed and jobbed again, without any return, and closed the

round by throwing the hero of Newgate Market.

8.—Dick, although so much in his favour, was still cautious,

determined to make his conquest complete. The left hand of the Pet

in numerous instances operated like the kick of a horse on the nob

of Tisdale. The latter retreated to the ropes, followed by Curtis,

when Dick took the lead in weaving, and a severe struggle for the

throw took place. During the time Tisdale was balancing upon the

ropes, and apprehensive of the punishment he was about to receive

from Curtis, he said, “Dick, don’t hit me now.” “I will not,”

replied Dick, and laying hold of Tisdale’s hand he pulled him up,

and led him into the middle of the ring, amidst tumultuous applause.

The battle was now severe indeed, and Tisdale hit wide and wild; the

Pet planted a facer, when they both went to work like

out-and-outers. Give and take, and summat the matter on both sides;

the nose of Curtis appeared as if it had been scraped with a knife.

The face of Tisdale had now assumed an altered aspect, and,

according to the phrase of the Ring, his uncles and aunts would have

doubted his relationship, his frontispiece was so completely

altered. To add to Tisdale’s already damaged head, Dick again

planted two jobbers, and Tisdale was floored. (Hats were thrown up,

the Bermondsey coves shouting and dancing, and odds as extravagant

as St. Paul’s to a cockle-shell offered.)

9.—Short. Tisdale suffering under the severity of punishment hit at

random. This sort of conduct suited Curtis; he took advantage of the

mistake, and by a hit on the domino box sent Tisdale to his mother

earth.

10.—A brave man will always claim admiration, and a braver or better

little man was never seen in the twenty-four foot than Jack Tisdale.

But his superior in tactics stood before him. The coolness which had

previously distinguished the conduct of Tisdale was gone by, and the

repeated irritating blows had excited his passion; at all events, he

threw several blows away. He would not be denied, and he bored Dick

nearly to the ropes. In stopping a sort of kill-bull blow Dick

slipped down on his latter end. This circumstance gave a little bit

of new life to his friends, and Tisdale was loudly cheered.

11.—A few persons seemed to think that Dick was weak, but he soon

convinced his partisans to the contrary. Dick got away from

mischief, but was exceedingly mischievous in the return, and the

nose of the hero of Newgate Market received a hit enough to have

satisfied any common glutton. Tisdale, undismayed, never flinched,

and returned sharply on Curtis’s chin. (“Hallo!” cried Cropley,

“Master Dick, you have napped it.”) Dick, waiting for a turn, tried

every move on the board to have the best of it; he planted a facer,

repeated the dose, then tried it a third time with success. (“Blow

my dickey!” said Josh; “why, I never saw a footman knock at a door

half so stylish as Dick is paying his respects to Mr. Tisdale!”) The

hero of Newgate Market stood up with the firmness of a brick,

counter-hitting, and exerting himself to win, until Dick punished

him in all directions at the ropes. In struggling for the throw Dick

had the best of it, and Tisdale was undermost. (Curtis, during the

time he was sitting upon the knee of his second, informed his backer

he could put on the polish and win it in a canter. “No,” was the

reply, “take your time; it is all your own; win at your leisure.”)

12.—This round had hardly commenced when a facer was planted by

Curtis. Tisdale, quite wild, followed Dick over the ring, but Curtis

put on another opera step, and nothing was the matter. Tisdale again

went to work, but the skipping back of Curtis made him all right.

The Pet put in a jobber, ditto, and ditto, repeated. The gluttony

displayed by Tisdale called forth not only admiration, but pity. The

Newgate Market hero made himself up for mischief, tremendous

counter-hits occurred, and the claret was seen from the nose of

Curtis. Yet nothing could take the fight out of the Pet. Tisdale

wildly following him received punishment at every step. In closing

Tisdale underwent fibbing, and was also thrown.

13.—This round had nearly proved a _finale_. Tisdale now became

desperate, and plunged headlong to work, regardless of consequences.

Dick stopped him, got away with ease, and punished his opponent

severely. A pause ensued, Dick as cautious as when he commenced the

battle. The appearance of Tisdale was really piteous, but he still

kept the game alive, and did his best for himself and friends to

obtain victory. The Pet soon got an opening, and hit poor Tisdale to

a perfect stand-still; his hands dropped, he staggered, and fell

down. (“Take him away,” said Josh; “it is a shame to let such a

brave fellow be punished without the shadow of a chance to win.”)

14.—When time was called Tisdale answered it, but he was as groggy

as a sailor three sheets in the wind—“yes, and worse than that

’ere,” as the John Bull Fighter observed, Tisdale scarcely knowing

what he was about—in fact, he was quite abroad, dealing his blows at

random. Dick hopped out of the way of mischief, then planted a

facer, which gave his opponent the staggers. Tisdale fell on his

hand and knee, but being too game to consider the round at end,

immediately got up to renew the fight, when the Pet ran up to him

and sent him down. “Foul!” and “Fair!” were the cries—the umpires

disagreed, but the referee considered it fair. The conduct of Curtis

might have been censured as not exactly polite or gentlemanly, as

Scroggins said, nevertheless it was perfectly fair, as Tisdale rose

upon his legs to renew the battle. In the first instance Tisdale was

about leaving the ring, but upon hearing the referee’s decision he

returned to renew the fight.

15.—The time gained by the wrangle was good for Tisdale. He put up

his hands at the scratch, then recollecting himself said it was

“foul conduct,” left Curtis, went up to the umpires, and asked “what

he was to do?” “Why, fight on,” replied the referee, “if you do not

mean to lose the fight.” It is worthy of remark that Curtis never

took any advantage of Tisdale’s movements, which he might have done.

Some of the spectators had now left their places in the outer ring,

and all was glorious confusion.

16.—This round was all upon the bustle, and whips and sticks were at

work to keep the ring clear. The battle was now reduced a horse to a

hen; Tisdale was of no use, and Curtis hit him down. (“Don’t leave

the ring, Dick, till you finish the fight properly,” observed his

friends.)

17, and last.—Tisdale again appeared at the scratch, but it was only

to receive additional punishment. Dick was at him without delay, and

Tisdale was again down at the ropes. On time being called Tisdale

did not appear at the scratch. Curtis went up to him, when Randall

said, “It is all over,” and Tisdale also added that “he would not

fight any more.” The John Bull Fighter, after putting the colours,

the fruits of victory, round the neck of the Pet, hoisted him on his

shoulders, and carried him in triumph to his drag, amidst loud

shouting. The fight was over in fifty-eight minutes.

REMARKS.—From the beginning to the end of the mill it never appeared

to us that Tisdale had a chance of winning. In observing thus much

it is not meant to convey an opinion to our readers that Tisdale is

not a good boxer—the contrary is the fact. He is one of the best

little men of his weight in the kingdom; he stands well upon his

legs; he can stop like a tactician, hits hard, and possesses a

capital knowledge of boxing. His courage is of the highest order,

and his game unquestionable. He is not disgraced in surrendering to

Curtis, the irresistible Champion of the Light Weights. Many

spectators felt disappointed that Curtis did not do more with

Tisdale at the beginning of the battle, as the friends of Curtis

declared that Tisdale would be polished off _sans cérémonie_. But

Curtis was not to be led away by the high praises of his backers,

and like a skilful general he treated his adversary as a dangerous

opponent. Curtis did not escape without some sharp punishment about

the head, but in comparison with Tisdale’s it was trifling in the

extreme.

Curtis, from his unbroken career of conquest in the Prize Ring, might

now be compared to the celebrated Eclipse, who, having won all the

King’s Plates he went for, was “cried down;” for the Pet was so

decidedly excellent in his tactics that he was left without an opponent.

Some injudicious persons at this period began an idle newspaper

controversy on the comparative merits of Curtis and Jack Randall, full

of vulgar personalities; and the latter boxer, in the month of October,

1827, allowed a letter to appear with his signature in _Pierce Egan’s

Life in London_, in which he offered to fight Curtis “in _four months_

from the time of making the match, for £300 to £1,000 (!) either on a

stage or the turf,” “money always ready at the Hole in the Wall,

Chancery Lane.” To which Curtis replied that “his weight was nine

stone,” but he would “give half a stone, and fight Mr. Randall, or any

other man, for £100 to £300.” This buncombe of course meant nothing.

Indeed, poor Jack was already doing battle with the universal conqueror,

who gave him the finishing blow within six months of this ridiculous

challenge.

Curtis took his leave of the Prize Ring at a benefit at the Fives Court,

in November, 1827, by an open challenge for a month to any man in

England, half a stone above his weight. No boxer had the temerity to

come forward and “pick up the glove;” and Curtis in consequence retired

from the scene of active pugilism. But although the Pet had given up

prize milling, he had not given up the use of his hands to protect

himself from insult. On Wednesday afternoon, January 2nd, 1828, as the

Pet and his pal, Young Dutch Sam, were walking along Blackfriars Road,

they passed a couple of sturdy coalheavers, one of whom, in swinging his

whip round, struck Dick. The latter asked Coaly what he meant by

striking him. The exact reply we must not mention—suffice it to say that

Dick threatened to kick the offender on that part of his person to which

he was referred for an explanation. Coaly, not knowing the Pet, threw a

brave defiance in his teeth, and a set-to commenced, Sam seconding the

Pet, and Coaly having his own companion to pick him up. Dick found

himself engaged with a very strong fellow, who knew a little about

fighting, and was moreover fully a stone and a half the heavier man.

Coaly rushed in to bring his strength to bear, and Dick, as his custom

was, broke ground—jobbing and retreating. One of the black diamond’s

eyes was soon in darkness, but he did not take without giving; almost at

the very commencement of the fight, he planted a nobber that severely

damaged the Pet’s neat countenance, besides sending him back against a

cart, with a force that raised a peal of bells in Dick’s cranium. The

spectators of all sorts were, of course, numerous, and some of them

expressed considerable disapprobation at Dick’s mode of getting away.

Encouraged by this, the second coalheaver went behind Curtis and stopped

him as he retreated; Young Dutch Sam instantly floored him, which at

once took all conceit of either fighting or interfering out of that

gentleman. A bystander soon after received a topper from Sam for placing

his carcass where it ought not to be; he soon after came up behind the

young Dutchman, returned the hit on the sly, and retreated among the

mob; but Sam quickly pulled him forth and gave him three or four facers,

whereupon he cried for quarter. During these proceedings the Pet was

still engaged with his first antagonist, who proved himself a game man,

and though told that he was fighting with the celebrated Dick Curtis, he

refused to give in, but declared that he knew he could beat his man,

saying, “let him be Dick or Devil, he’d sarve him out.” At length a

gentleman, not liking to see a good man cut up where he had little or no

chance, took Coaly by the arm, and after literally begging him to leave

off, strengthened his counsel by a _douceur_ of half-a-crown, upon sight

of which the brave, though saucy, coalheaver consented to say “enough.”

He was severely punished about the head—nor did Curtis escape scot-free;

his nob was visibly marked.

A long letter professing to come from the coalheaver and signed “George

Phillips” appeared the following week in the _Dispatch_, in which the

writer, denying his defeat, and offering to fight Curtis for £5 (!),

hoped that the Pet would meet him “for love, and the £5 as a sweetener.”

Mr. Whittaker, an oilman and ex-pugilist, its supposed writer, also went

about offering to back “his man” against “the Pet.”

Curtis now went on a sparring tour to Manchester and Liverpool; at the

latter place, at the Circus, he was enthusiastically received. Young

Sam, Jem Ward, and Ned Stockman were also of the party.

All doubts respecting the milling capabilities of Coaly were completely

put to rest at Joe Fishwick’s benefit at the Tennis Court, on Monday,

March 17th, 1828. The sturdy black diamond having declared, in

opposition to all the statements published of that affair, that he had

the “best of it,” Curtis chivalrously volunteered to put on the gloves

with him. He had not the slightest chance with Curtis, who nobbed him at

pleasure, drew blood from his razor-shaped nose, and knocked him down no

less than six times. All he could do was, when not hit off his legs, to

bore Dick against the rail by superior weight and strength; but in

everything that belongs to fighting it was “all the world to nothing” on

the Pet. The latter seemed at length ashamed to hit the man, and offered

to cut it, but Coaly was foolhardy enough to wish for more, saying “he

was not hurt.” Curtis therefore accommodated him with additional

punishment. On pulling off the gloves the coalheaver appeared quite

chapfallen. Dick was so completely armed at all points that the violent

attacks of Coaly were utterly frustrated, and it might almost be said

that Curtis left the stage without receiving a hit.

Though retired as a principal, Dick’s talents as a second were in

constant requisition, and his name will be found, in that capacity, in

many pages of our volumes. It would have been well indeed for Curtis had

he adhered to his resolution of retirement; but it was not to be. A ten

stone man, Perkins, of Oxford, who had received the title of “the Oxford

Pet,” had so raised his name by rapid victories over Wakelin, Jem

Raines, and Dick Price, in one year (1827), that a battle for £100 was

proposed and accepted. In this overmatched contest Curtis was defeated

on December 30th, 1828, at Hurley Bottom, Berks, as detailed under our

notice of Perkins in an after-page of this Appendix.

From the period of his first and only defeat Curtis did not enter the

Prize Ring again as a principal. As a second he was constantly called

upon to exercise his talents, as our pages will show. On these occasions

he displayed incomparable tact and judgment, often winning fights “out

of the fire,” where all hope of success had been abandoned. He was

second to Owen Swift in the unfortunate battle between that accomplished

master of the art and Brighton Bill, as is fully set forth in the memoir

of YOUNG DUTCH SAM. For this he was tried at the Hertford Assizes on

July 14th, 1838, and was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment. In the

later period of his life he was a martyr to the rheumatic gout, and was

frequently laid up for weeks together. The life of the Pet shows no

exception to that of other public favourites, theatrical or

otherwise—chequered by vicissitudes, at one time in “full feather and

fine song,” and at another penniless—a state of things to be ascribed to

his propensity to “a hand at crib,” and other gambling practices. For a

short period he was a publican, keeping the “Star,” in Blackman Street,

Borough; but he had not then “sown his wild oats,” and the eccentricity

of his disposition soon caused him to “retire from the business,” or

more correctly the business retired from him. Notwithstanding his

temporary acquaintance with the interior of Hertford Gaol, he continued

to be sought as a “trump card” at all fights, and those who succeeded in

securing his services had never any reason to regret their confidence. A

contemporary, the late Vincent George Dowling, Esq., thus bore testimony

to his worth in an editorial obituary notice in _Bell’s Life_, and the

writer, from personal knowledge, can well endorse that testimony: “Long

as we have known Curtis, we never heard of his having deceived a friend,

and he was one of the few of his class upon whom reliance in matters of

opinion could be implicitly placed. He was always grateful for

obligations conferred, and in the hour of need had never-failing sources

of relief, when his pride would permit him to confess his necessities.

His last and fatal illness is attributable to having burst a

blood-vessel, from which he never thoroughly rallied, and it has been

our lot to hear him speak in terms of deep gratitude for the kindnesses

he experienced whilst an inmate of Guy’s Hospital, as well from his

medical attendants as from those numerous old acquaintances who

sympathised in his sufferings, among whom we may rank his early pupil

and _protégé_, Owen Swift, who was enabled to raise and contribute to

his wants within the last six weeks upwards of eighteen pounds, while we

know from other sources that sum was doubled during the same period.

This is the best refutation of a tissue of gross falsehoods foisted upon

the editor of the _Morning Herald_, unfortunately but too ready to adopt

any statement, however absurd, which he deems calculated to throw

discredit on the manly art of boxing or its professors. Young Dutch Sam,

who was also introduced to the Ring by the deceased, contributed his

mite, and we can say, from the best authority, that the expiring ‘King

Richard,’ while he died in peace with all mankind, was surrounded with

every comfort his situation required, and in homely terms testified his

perfect satisfaction with all that had been done for him. ’Tis true he

left no ‘stock purse’ behind, but that circumstance did not restrain

those who knew and respected him in life from taking the necessary steps

to secure a becoming attention to the last sad ceremonies of the grave.”

To this spontaneous testimony of the “Nestor of the Ring,” we may add

that Curtis breathed his last at his own house in Dover Street,

Southwark, on Saturday, September 16th, 1843. We have been more precise

on this point because an eminent sporting writer, misled by the paper

once known as “My Grandmother,” has left it on record, “And the once

caressed Pet of the Fancy breathed his last unfriended and unattended,

save by the hireling servitors of a public hospital.” “King Dick,” as

his companions were wont to call him, was sensible to the last, and

perfectly conscious of the approaching close of his career.

His memory and his widow he bequeathed to his friends, feelingly

deploring the reduced state of his exchequer, and hoping that his old

“pals” would liberally come forward to contribute something towards

alleviating the sorrows and distresses of his widow, who had been to him

a careful and kindly nurse throughout a long and painful illness. For

some days previous to the final flicker of the vital spark, Dick had

been occasionally wandering, and the scenes of his former pursuits

seemed to pass before his mental vision. He talked of battles won and

lost, of the merits of his compeers, and of the qualifications requisite

for his profession. When visited by Owen Swift, and others his

“companions in arms,” he was cheerful, although he occasionally mistook

one for another, and on reference to coming events gave his opinion

pretty freely about those modern pretenders who stickled for half a

stone. Turning to a friend, he observed, “My last round is come!” and

sinking into a state of insensibility, shortly afterwards expired.

The remains of the departed pugilist were carried to their “narrow home”

in St. George’s Churchyard, Southwark, on the Thursday next after his

decease, in a manner suitable to the respect felt by his family and

friends. Among the mourners who followed were his brother, a well-known

veterinary surgeon, the Champion of England, Peter Crawley, Jem Burn,

Owen Swift, Alec Reid, Young Reed, Ned Turner, Johnny Hannan, Johnny

Walker, Reidie, Deaf Burke, _cum multis aliis_. His friend Young Dutch

Sam was absent from illness (he died in six weeks afterwards), and such

was the sympathy and public curiosity on the occasion that quite ten

thousand persons lined the route of the funeral procession. While upon

this subject, we may add that the proceeds of a sparring benefit at Jem

Burn’s, £25, were handed over to the widow by the editor of _Bell’s Life

in London_, with more than £50 of subscriptions from other sources, with

which she was placed in a humble but profitable business in Fetter Lane,

and where the factory was known as that of “Curtis’s Premier Blacking.”

We therefore consider the rhetorical flourish of “Nimrod” as completely

“polished off” as “King Richard” during his reign himself polished off

those who disputed his “fistic” supremacy.

MONODY ON THE DEATH OF DICK CURTIS.

FAREWELL! a long farewell! renowned King Dick!

Well may we mourn that thou hast cut thy stick;

Victorious still in many a sharp attack,

Stern Champion, Death, hath laid thee on thy back;

Exhausted all thy bottom and thy pluck,

Thine arm lies powerless, and thy colours struck;

Rigid thine elasticity of limb,

Deaf are thy listeners, and thine ogles dim;

Pale are those lips from which rich humour rush’d;

Spun are thy spicy yarns, thy tongue is hush’d;

Stripped are the laurels bright that girt thy brow

And dust to dust is all that waits thee now.

Yet long the Fancy’s tears thy grave shall wet,

Star of the Light Weights, all-accomplished Pet!

For thy bold spirit soared on eagle’s wing,

And shed a halo round the fighting Ring—

Acknowledged there the bravest and the best,

For craven fear ne’er harboured in thy breast;

Conquest, proud conquest, was thine only aim,

Unrivall’d still in gallantry and game.

As lightning quick to dart upon thy foe,

And in the dust to lay his glories low,

The palm of victory forcing him to yield,

And sing “Peccavi” on the battle-field;

Adieu, thou pride and wonder of the age,

The brightest star on Fistiana’s page,

Where records of your manly deeds are stor’d,

The pinks you’ve pepper’d, and the trumps you’ve floored!

Why should we mourn of Perkins the sad tale,

O’er which sad memory fain would draw a veil,

And while unfading thy brave deeds shall bloom,

Consign thine errors with thee to the tomb!

Well may we weep for these degenerate days,

As a sad trophy to thy fame we raise,

And mourn, since boxing hath become a trade,

Its honour tarnished and its flowers decay’d!

No hardy Cribb now throws the gauntlet down,

Nor brave Tom Spring, of unalloyed renown;

No brawny Belcher now for victory strives,

Nor tough Game Chicken flourishes his fives;

No Molyneux now rears his sable nob,

Nor rough-and-ready stout White-headed Bob.

Well may we grieve, as we thy fate deplore,

The golden days of milling are no more,

Exclaiming, as fresh candidates appear,

“Oh, what a woeful falling-off is here!”

But Curtis prov’d a trump, and no mistake, }

To every move upon the board awake, }

And staunch as e’er tied colours to a stake! }

When a mere boy, by two good men assail’d,

Beneath his prowess Brown and Watson quail’d;

And after combat resolute and tough,

Lenney and Cooper, sorrowing, cried, “Enough!”

Thrice Peter Warren tried to do the trick,

But found his master in triumphant Dick;

In a turn-up, from momentary heat,

Ned Savage was made savage by defeat;

And bouncing Barney Aaron, Hebrew stout,

Look’d all abroad when Richard sarv’d him out;

Tisdale our Monarch ventur’d to attack,

But all the shine was taken out of Jack;

And lastly Dick, urg’d on by insult’s goad,

Whack’d a coalheaver in the Surrey Road.

But his last fight is fought, and clos’d his reign,

And time is call’d to poor King Dick in vain;

For Death, that ruthless monarch, gaunt and grim, }

Hath cruelly hit out and finished him, }

Sent him to earth, and stiffened every limb. }

Flower of the Fancy, yet one more adieu!

Where shall we look to find a “Pet” like you?

Sound be thy sleep, receive my last good night,

And may the turf upon thy breast be light,

For though in manhood’s prime by fate unshipp’d,

Thou wert a boy as brave as ever stripp’d;

Time shall fly forward, years shall wax and wane,

Ere “we shall look upon thy like again.”

=M.=

BARNEY AARON (“THE STAR OF THE EAST”)—1819–1834.

The subject of this biography first opened his eyes on the bustling

world in the populous Goshen of Duke’s Place, Aldgate, on the 21st of

November, 1800.

At an early age, as we are told by “Boxiana,” Master Barney

distinguished himself by taking his own part, and milling with the

utmost impartiality either Jew or Christian boy who might forget the law

of _meum_ and _tuum_ in the matter of marbles, tops, kites, balls, or

such other personal property as to boyhood appertaineth.

In the year 1819 one Bill Connelly (whose nationality we may suspect to

be Hibernian), having assumed the title of the Rosemary Lane Champion,

we presume in virtue of his talent, promised the young Israelite a

thrashing. To the execution of this promise the juvenile Maccabeus put

in a demurrer, and to sustain it hurled defiance in the teeth of Paddy.

They met, and after sixteen rounds occupying thirty-three minutes the

Philistine was routed, and the children of Israel sang “See the

Conquering Hero Comes” in honour of the youthful Jewish warrior.

Aaron next laid hands very heavily on one of “the tribesh,” Manny Lyons,

a heavier man by two stone, and superior in length. It was a hard battle

for an hour and a quarter, when Barney, worn out by his own exertions

rather than the hitting of his adversary, lost the battle from

exhaustion, but not his character as a pugilist of high pretensions.

In a second battle with Lyons, Barney in half an hour got his opponent

“down to his own weight,” beat him in fifty minutes, and refreshed his

laurels, scarcely tarnished by his first defeat.

[Illustration:

BARNEY AARON (“THE STAR OF THE EAST”).

]

Ely Bendon, a good fighter and a game man, challenged Barney, and they

met on Bow Common. As the P.C. ropes and stakes were not there the fight

is not reported. Barney defeated Bendon in three-quarters of an hour.

Samuel Belasco, a brother of Aby and of Israel Belasco, and therefore of

the family of “the fighting Belascos,” tried the quality of young Barney

at the cost of defeat, as did Angel Hyams, a nephew of the celebrated

Dan Mendoza. But the latter affair being interrupted by a magistrate at

the seventh round was never brought to a conclusion.

Barney was now “somebody,” and anxious to earn a name, fame, and

“monish,” so he went down to see the fights between Arthur Matthewson,

of Birmingham, and Israel Belasco, and of Phil Sampson and Birmingham

Hall, which took place on Moulsey Hurst on Wednesday, March 19th, 1823.

A purse was announced for a third battle, when Tom Collins (a 10st.

7lbs. pugilist, who afterwards fought Harry Jones) offered himself.

There was a pause, when young Barney modestly stepped into the ropes as

a candidate. The fighting was all in favour of Barney, who took

astonishing liberties with the nob of Collins, so much so as to turn the

odds from six to four against him to five to four in his favour. After

half an hour’s sharp work Barney’s left hand was injured, and he was

reluctantly compelled to discontinue the fight.

The exhibition however gained him immediate friends, and he was at once

matched against Ned Stockman for £25 a-side. The battle was decided on

the 6th of May, 1823, at Blindlow Heath, Sussex, after Peter Crawley had

conquered Dick Acton. Stockman had for his seconds Eales and Dick

Curtis; Barney was attended by Jem Ward and Rogers. The battle was

gallantly contested for forty minutes and as many rounds, when Stockman

gave in severely punished. He could not resist the resolute and heavy

hitting of the Jew, and declared he had never met so good a man of his

weight. This victory at once stamped Barney as a boxer of talent.

He was now backed against Lenney, who had seen some service in the P.R.,

and was known as a good and game trial horse, for £50. Their difference

of opinion was decided on the 5th of August, 1823, on Harpenden Common,

near St. Albans. Barney threw his castor into the ring under the care of

Josh Hudson and Peter Crawley, for he had already gained the favour of

the big ’uns. Lenney was advised by the learned and eloquent Harry Holt,

while Davy Hudson followed on the same side.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The attitude of Lenney was interesting; and he displayed

himself to better advantage than usual. The Jew was in a great hurry

to feel for his opponent’s nob; but Lenney said, “Wait a bit!”

However, they soon went to work; Lenney had the worst of the

milling, and also went down. (Six to four on Barney.)

2.—Lenney put in two such severe blows on the Jew’s head that for an

instant he was quite abroad, and turned round; but he recovered

himself before the end of the round, and Lenney again went down.

3.—It was a horse to a hen, in this early stage of the fight. Lenney

received six distinct nobbers on the middle of his head, and went

down helpless.

4.—Lenney succeeded in drawing the Jew after him, by which means he

was enabled to give Aaron two or three sharp facers. Lenney at the

conclusion of the round was on the turf. Ten to one.

5.—The Jew slipped, and went down from a slight blow.

6.—Lenney put in a couple of facers; but nothing could stop the

Jew’s eagerness to be milling. (“Stand still,” said Josh; “do not

give your opponent an opportunity by drawing you off your ground.”)

Both down.

7.—The nob of Lenney was a complete drum for his adversary to beat.

Three successive facers were got in, and Lenney floored.

8.—Nothing could be more decisive; Lenney received three facers, and

was hit down.

9.—“Take him away; he has no chance.” The Jew boy had it all his own

way. Lenney, it is true, did not want for courage, and now and then

put in some good blows; but the stamina and courage of the Jew were

too good for him. The jobbing of Aaron spoiled Lenney till he went

down. Any odds.

10.—It was a pity to see Lenney continue the battle. He was punished

all over the ring, and ultimately measured his length on the turf.

(“Take him away; it is too bad to let him fight any longer.”)

11, and last.—It was ditto and ditto, repeated till poor Lenney was

again on the grass. His backer, we are informed, who betted fifty

pounds that he would not be defeated in half an hour, urged him to

continue the battle for a few more rounds, as the chance might turn

in his favour; but the answer of Lenney was, “I will not fight

longer for any man.” It was over in fifteen minutes.

Lenney was not exactly satisfied in his own mind as to his defeat,

therefore another match was made, for £20 a-side. This was decided on

Moulsey Hurst, on Tuesday, November 11th, 1823, after Josh Hudson had

defeated Jem Ward. Aaron, followed by Aby Belasco and Bill Gibbons,

threw his hat into the ring; but a quarter of an hour elapsed before

Lenney appeared, attended by Harry Holt and Peter Crawley as his

seconds. Aaron five and six to four the favourite.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Both the “little ones” appeared to have too much pride in

their composition to throw away any time in stopping, so went to

work like blacksmiths, till Lenney found himself hanging on the

ropes, where he was milled down. Seven to four on Aaron.

2.—Full of pluck, and both pelting away _sans cérémonie_. At this

instant, the outer ring was broken, and the confusion was so great

that the battle was stopped until order was restored. The Jew napped

a heavy hit on the head, but in return Lenney was punished down.

3–8.—Lenney was not deficient in pluck or science, but was evidently

overmatched. He was severely milled in all these rounds. (“Foul,

foul!” frequently occurred, during the time Lenney was balancing on

the ropes, but the latter kept fighting all the while he was in such

situations.)

9–11.—These were all fighting rounds, but Lenney had so much the

worst of it that ten pounds to one were offered on the Jew.

12–18.—Aaron was so full of gaiety that he bored his man down with

the utmost ease. Here some words occurred between Belasco and

Lenney. The latter kicked Belasco violently on his leg, and also

gave him a blow on his mouth, and said loud enough to be heard by

the spectators, “I will not fight any more.” Belasco, with much

propriety and forbearance, did not meddle with Lenney, which

otherwise might have produced a wrangle. Aaron left the ring

instantly, thinking he had won the battle. A great disturbance

arose, and the umpire considered the battle at an end; but in

consequence of Lenney’s asserting “that what he had said was from

passion, declaring that he would not fight any more if Belasco

remained in the ring, who acted foul towards him,” the umpire

consented the battle should go on again. Aaron observed he did not

wish to take advantage of a slip of the tongue made by his opponent,

and would most readily fight it out. Order being restored, the

boxers recommenced.

19.—It was all up with Lenney; after being milled all over the ring,

and his face covered with claret, he was ultimately floored. Any

odds.

20.—Aaron punished his adversary in all directions; and in closing

at the ropes Barney fibbed Lenney till he went down quite exhausted.

(“Take him away; he has no chance.”)

21, and last.—Lenney had scarcely put up his hands at the scratch

when Barney floored him like a shot. This was a finisher; and Lenney

found it was of no use to continue the contest any longer. Making

deductions for the loss of time, the battle occupied about twenty

minutes.

REMARKS.—The remarks we have to make on this fight are short, but we

are compelled to be severe. Great praise is due to the Jew for not

throwing his “own people” over, and likewise in firmly refusing to

sell those who had laid money upon him. Thirty pounds, he asserted,

were offered him at Hampton to lose the battle, on the morning of

fighting, and his backers were well assured of the fact.

Frank Redmond, a brave little man (see note on Redmond, Life of EVANS,

_ante_, page 392) under the patronage of Dick Curtis, was backed against

Barney Aaron for £25 a-side. The battle was decided on Moulsey Hurst, on

Tuesday, December 30th, 1823.

The amateurs were not so numerous as usual (in consequence of the fight

between Abraham Belasco and Neale being postponed till the 7th of

January); however, those out-and-outers who never miss anything in the

shape of a fight were present. At two o’clock Barney, attended by “one

of his own peoplesh” and Maurice Delay, threw his hat into the ring;

about five minutes afterwards Redmond, genteelly dressed, arm-in-arm

with Curtis and Harry Holt, threw his hat out of the ring. The president

of the Daffy Club was the stakeholder; and in order to make “all right,”

fresh articles were drawn up at Lawrence’s, the “Red Lion,” at Hampton,

to obviate the difficulty of fighting in the same ring with Belasco and

Neale, as expressed in the original agreement.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Redmond, a tight, well-made man, weighing ten stone, when

stripped and in attitude, looked as if he could “do something,” more

especially under the guidance of the Pet of the Fancy and the

eloquent and elegant _aide-de-camp_ of the Commissary-General, by

which he had the advantage of the combined knowledge of the West and

East Ends. He was the favourite, five to four. Mister Barney came

out of the scale nine stone twelve pounds, as lively as an eel and

as spirited as a young colt; with a face full of confidence, in rare

condition, with sparkling ogles (each “worth a Jew’s eye”), and with

a firm step, he was eager to commence the attack. Redmond faced him

smilingly, fresh as a daisy and gay as a lark. Barney surveyed his

opponent from head to foot with coolness, and Redmond likewise took

measure of Aaron. At length Mister Barney, by way of the compliments

of the season, a kind of late Christmas-box, sent his right fist

very near Redmond’s head, but Master Frank declined to accept it,

and got away. After a short pause, Barney rushed in, caught hold of

Redmond, and began the weaving system with some success. Frank

endeavoured to fib too, and in the struggle and hammering both went

down, Barney undermost. (“Go it, Redmond, never leave him!”)

2–6.—These rounds were full of fibbing, and no lies. Barney the hero

in all of them. In the latter round the claret appeared on Redmond’s

nose. (Six to four on the Jew.)

7–10.—Redmond proved himself nothing else but a good little man; but

he had little chance as yet to win; that is to say, he had not

changed the battle in his favour, and the odds had left him. In the

last round Barney planted two good nobbing hits, right and left.

11.—Redmond had a little turn here, and gave Mister Barney two

out-and-outers upon his Mosaic index. These made his eloquent second

exclaim, in Chesterfieldian style: “Elegant! beautiful! and so

handsomely done, too. Those were immense hits, ’pon honour. Be so

good as to repeat them, Mr. Redmond. About four more such elegant

blows will win you the battle. That circumstance accomplished, I

will take you under my wing, among the heavy ones, on Sunday next,

in Hyde Park.” (“Yes,” said Barney, “so you shall; but I must dress

him well before you take him out, Harry.”) The Jew tried the fibbing

system, but ultimately was undermost when down.

12.—This was a sharp round altogether; and the finish of it was,

Barney down. (“Reddy, my boy,” said the Pet, “he can’t hurt you now;

his hands are gone; and if you are only half as game as your dog,

you’ll win it in a canter. Why, it’s Bermondsey tan-pits to a

leather apron in your favour!”)

13–17.—Barney had decidedly the best of all these rounds. He fibbed

his opponent with the nimbleness of a drummer practising the

roll-call. The Jew behaved very manly in the last round; he let

Redmond down, holding up both his hands, when he might have dealt

out punishment. (“Bravo, Barney!” from Christians and Jews; and lots

of applause.)

18.—The fight was now drawing to the finish, from the execution done

by the Jew. He put in four desperate jobbers on Redmond’s nob, and

sent him down. (Seven to four and two to one.)

19–21.—Redmond’s nose was clareted, and his face and right eye

exhibited sharp punishment. Barney had it all his own way, driving

his man over the ring till down.

22–24.—Redmond fought like a man, but was getting groggy. Both down.

(“Vat a peautiful hitter!” said a Sheeny; “it’s as shafe as the

Bank. I shall vin my monish to-day. Look, Israel, look how he nicks

him, as the man shaid about the jackdaw. Moses, Levy, Benjamin,

Ikey, Sholomons, and David, only look at him—so help me, it’s Dutch

Sam come to life again!”)

25.—It was three to one against Redmond. Poor Frank had no chance,

and was sent down. (“Take him away.”)

26.—Redmond would not listen to surrender, and endeavoured to fight,

till he went down.

27.—Barney did as he liked, till Redmond measured his length on the

ground. (“Take him away!” was now vociferated from all parts of the

ring.)

28.—Redmond down in no time. (Twenty to one. It was now Fonthill

Abbey to a cowshed.)

29, and last.—The game of Redmond was so good that he came

staggering to the scratch to have another shy, but was floored in a

twinkling. It was over in thirty-two minutes.

REMARKS.—Barney did not win without napping it sharply. In the

twenty-second round, he exhibited the finishing traits of Randall.

Barney, when tired of administering punishment to Redmond with his

left hand, changed his adversary in his arms, and fibbed him down

with his right. We hope Barney will listen to advice which has been

often given to other pugilists who laughed at all cautions in

prosperity, but who have had to lament their neglect in the day of

trouble. Barney, remember to keep good company, take care of your

health, but above all things never show yourself a fighting man,

except in the P.R. Let not Mr. Lushington scrape acquaintance with

you. Bear the above things in your mind, and if you do not make your

fortune by following them you are sure to be respected, and never

want a friend.

Mister Barney returned to town in first-rate style, and showed with all

the honours of conquest at Howard’s Coffee House, St. James’s Place,

Houndsditch. It was crowded to excess, and many West End swells were

present. On the Thursday after the fight Frank Redmond, in true English

style, offered his hand to Barney as the best man at Howard’s, and they

drank to each other’s health, when Barney put his hand into his pocket

and presented his brave opponent with a sovereign for “expenses.”

Peter Warren having expressed his anxiety to try his luck with Aaron, a

match was made between them for £50 a-side. This trial of skill was

decided on Tuesday, April 6th, 1824, at Colnbrook, seventeen miles from

London.

The road was rather thin of company; but the Sheenies, who were numerous

and full of fun, gave a life to the scene which otherwise it would not

have possessed. Barney and his backers got over the ground in gay style,

under the patronage of the president of the Daffy Club. An open barouche

conveyed the “little Dutch Sam” to the scene of action. When time was

called Peter Warren, attended by his backers, showed, and followed by

Maurice Delay and Jem Ward as his seconds, in the most polite way

introduced his castor within the ropes. Barney in a minute afterwards

threw his beaver up, waited upon by Nathan and Aby Belasco. The

colours—yellow for Barney and green for Peter—were tied to the stakes.

“Let us have a quiet fight,” said Warren to the seconds of Barney.

“Certainly,” was the reply. “I shall be as good friends as ever with

you, Peter, after the fight is over,” remarked Aaron.

It would be waste of space to report _in extenso_ this and some other

battles of the clever light weight, whose claim to a page in the history

of pugilism is nevertheless undeniable. The battle was simply a struggle

of game, endurance, strength, and obstinacy against skill, straight—and

therefore swift—hitting, and a ready recourse to those changes of

tactics on the spur of the moment which mark the skilful boxer, and

almost reduce such contests to a question of time. On this occasion

twenty-three minutes and twenty-nine rounds sufficed to render poor

Peter Warren deaf to the call of “time.”

Barney was driven off the ground in style, and arrived at an early hour

in London. Warren was brought back to the “Magpies,” at Colnbrook, and

put to bed for a few hours. Peter exhibited much punishment about the

head. A naval officer, who had lost an arm in the defence of his

country, stepped forward, and in the most generous manner ordered a

post-chaise at his own expense from Cranford Bridge, in which he had

Peter conveyed to his residence in Whitechapel. The gallant tar also

visited Warren the next morning and administered a golden solatium to

his sores.

A “chant of victory,” indited by “A Singer of Israel,” deserves to be

rescued from oblivion:—

BARNEY AARON.

TUNE.—_Rose of Sharon, Rose of Sharon._

HOUNDSDITCH and the Lanes rejoice,

Where the mart for clothes is;

Hebrew science lifts its voice,

Aaron proves a Moses.

Barney Aaron! Barney Aaron!

Through the Sin-a-gog and streets,

Rabbis, with their oily air on,

Shout his name and praise his feats—

Milling—fibbing—

Muzzling—cribbing—

Blood-letting like a doctor’s lance—

Setting teeth chattering,

Christianity shattering,

And, Joshua-like, making the moon-eyes dance.

Cutler Street is like a fair;

Barney Aaron! Barney Aaron!

All the little Jews declare,

Rows his keel like Charon.

Old Mendoza—Young Mendoza—

Both are known and famed in fight;

But Aaron is a priest-like poser,

A sacrificing Israelite.

Science—defiance—

Attitude—latitude—

In the _sanctum sanctorum_ he marks the “points;”

In sackcloth and ashes,

The shewbread he slashes,

And to Pentecost sends their uncircumcised joints.

Shibboleth among the tribes

Is Barney Aaron! Barney Aaron!

Some to bet have taken bribes,

And even’d odds to share on:

Barney fights _against_ “the Cross,”

Like ancient unbelievers;

“Flats” are “naturals” by the loss;

“Sharps” are gainers and receivers:

And sweet Miss Sharon!

And nishe Miss Aaron!

Eat veal so white in the fistic cause,

And with Seager’s Daffy

Their tongues are chaffy,

For Aceldama’s victory brings monish and applause.

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:—

“London, March 22nd, 1826.

“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.

“Believe me to be, dear Cousin,

“Sincerely yours,

“JAN VAN HAAGEN.”

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.

THE FIGHT.

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—

‘Now’s the time and now’s the hour,

See the front of battle lour.’

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.”

THE FIGHT.

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.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The Sailor Boy was in prime twig; in fact, he never was, in

any of his preceding mills, anything like in such good condition.

His arms were peculiarly fine, and attracted the general notice of

the spectators. Raines did not appear so muscular a man as his

opponent, but nevertheless his frame was manly, and he exhibited

great strength. The Sailor Boy was in no hurry to commence the

attack, and some minutes elapsed before any attempt at hitting was

made. Jones made play, but Raines stopped well. A pause. The Sailor

Boy, rather furious, was going to work, but was again well parried

by Raines. It was observed by the London amateurs that Raines had

evidently improved in his knowledge of the science. In setting-to

with the gloves the Sailor Boy had always had the best of it.

Several minutes passed, and the stopping system was adopted by

Raines, until the Sailor Boy went in, and slashed away like a new

one. In closing fibbing was attempted on both sides. Jones broke

away cleverly, and milled his opponent down. “First blood!” from the

friends of Jones. Raines was piping a little, and the Sailor Boy

received shouts of applause from his “larned” friends belonging to

the “Univarsity.”

2.—The claret appeared slightly on Jones’s lips when he arrived at

the scratch. The Sailor Boy fought well—that is to say, cautiously.

Raines he looked upon as an ugly customer, although a tolerably

good-looking fellow in person. The latter made several good parries,

but did not try to plant any hits. Jones put in a heavy bodier with

his left hand. A pause, “Go to work,” was the cry, and “Why don’t

you, Mr. Poet Laureate (Fogo), put them together?” Jones planted a

facer. (“Bravo!”) Raines made a blow, but the Sailor Boy was on the

alert, and nothing was the matter. Exchange of blows passed between

them, and the fighting was rather sharp, until they closed. In

struggling for the throw Jones got his man down, but Raines threw

him over, and the Sailor Boy rolled out of the ring. The Sailor Boy

was decidedly the favourite with the Euclids, the Virgils, and the

Homers. But the “drag and tumbler” sort of folk rather fancied

Raines, and the odds were offered upon him by a few of them.

3.—The lads were just now upon their mettle, and the fight had

become interesting to the whole assembly of Greeks, Latins, and

yokels; in fact, all classes of society were in high glee. Raines

got away from mischief, but not out of trouble. At this instant a

gent stepped into the ring and made his way up to Peter, saying: “If

you are the director of this sort of thing, I must insist that you

desist. It is a breach of the peace!” Peter, mild as a lamb and

polite as a Chesterfield, observed, touching his tile to the man in

authority, “I hope, sir, you do not mean to stop the sport? You do

not intend to be so cruel? But if it is your wish, why, why, ——. The

second degree is now made out,” said Peter; “this interruption,

after the fight has commenced, is harder than the first baulk! Such

an occurrence has not happened for the last twenty years.” A noble

lord, upon a fine prad, in the shape of a beak, in an agitated tone

of voice, added: “Do not come into Essex; I will not permit it. You

will therefore do it at your peril!” In this dilemma the Greeks, the

Roman-y’s, the mathematical admirers of the angle hitting of Harry,

put forth all their lexicon of gammon to the unrelenting beaks, not

to make three or four thousand gentlemen look like fools; but it was

all U-P. “The Fancy,” exclaimed the hero of the _Brasen-nose_, “have

now acquired the third degree,” on hearing the member of the Upper

House say, “Beware of pitching your tents in Essex.” “It is the

hardest thing I ever heard, in my whole history of prose and poetry,

not to let the mill be finished anywhere to-day. I shall remember

him in my next epic.” Singing psalms to a dead neddy would have been

of the same service! The gents belonging to the Bench retired

outside of the crowd, and a ring court-martial was held for twelve

minutes, upon the propriety of “to mill or not to mill,” when it was

unanimously determined “that the fight between Harry Jones and

Raines was no go.” Thus, after the “bubble, bubble, toil and

trouble,” in the words of Shakespeare, it proved to be “Much Ado

about Nothing”—the spectators out of humour and ill-natured, the

nags tired, “Home, Sweet Home,” a long way off, and the rain coming

down nicely.

The ground was cleared in a few minutes. The stakes were drawn on the

part of Raines, but his backer offered to increase the sum to £25 a

side, so satisfied was he that Raines would have proved the conqueror.

On Saturday, the 14th of April, 1827, at Bulpham Fenn, Essex, about

twenty-two miles from London, in an angle on the right of Brentwood and

Romford, Harry Jones and Bob Simmonds, a well-known sporting “clergyman”

(_anglicè_, a sweep), entered a twenty-four foot roped ring at one

o’clock. Jones was attended by Peter Crawley and Fogo; Simmonds was

seconded by Dav Hudson and Gybletts. Crawley won the toss. On

setting-to, Simmonds, with great eagerness, attacked the Sailor Boy, but

the steadiness of the latter soon gave him the advantage. Jones, cool

and collected, waited for an opening, when he planted a rum one on the

right eye of Mr. Simmonds, which not only produced confusion of vision,

but floored the man of soot. Simmonds wished to appear cheerful on

commencing the second round, but the spectators found out that he was of

“no service” against a fine young man like Harry Jones. In the sixth

round, the poor fellow received so severe a cross-buttock that he puffed

like a pair of asthmatic bellows, after this shaking he fell down almost

without a blow in every succeeding round. At the expiration of

thirty-five minutes, and seventeen rounds, Simmonds acknowledged he was

“up the flue.” Jones, he said, was too good for him, and that he could

not get at the Sailor Boy. Jones won the battle without a scratch.

Crawley and Fogo were extremely attentive to Harry. It was so hollow a

thing on the side of Jones that not a sov. was sported upon the event.

Upwards of a thousand persons were present.

In consequence of the interruption of the battle between Raines and

Jones, a second match was made for £25 a-side, which was decided on

Monday, the 4th of June, 1827. Watford, the rallying point, was gained

without meeting with any particular objects worthy of note. At this

place the office was given for Chipperfield Common, a distance of

twenty-two miles from London; thither the disappointed Fancy repaired,

but not without “lots of grumbling” at the long trot. However, the ride

was delightful, and upon the whole it was pronounced a pleasant journey,

and a tidy day’s sport. At ten minutes to two o’clock the Sailor Boy,

habited as one of the true blue fraternity, threw his hat into the ring,

accompanied by the Poet Laureate Fogo and Jack Clarke; Raines was not

long behind him, attended by his seconds, Ned Stockman and a dragsman of

the name of Woolley.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The Sailor Boy could not have been better as to condition,

and Raines was also in good trim as to his training. It seemed as if

the combatants were aware they had a long day before them, as

neither Jones nor Raines were in a hurry to go to work. Ten minutes

had elapsed in looking and dodging each other about, when Jones let

fly with his left hand, whilst Raines cleverly put on the stopper.

The latter boxer never commenced offensive operations, but always

waited for the attack. Jones also well knew that great danger was to

be apprehended by the countering of Raines, and therefore he was

extremely cautious, and thus are we enabled to account for this

precious long round. The seconds were at the four corners of the

ring like hackney coachmen upon a stand waiting for a fare. Several

of the spectators proposed to them to accept a cigar, smoke a pipe,

take a hand of cards, &c. At length a slight rally, or rather

exchanges, occurred, when stopping, dodging, offering, again took

place. Jones let fly, but Raines would not have it at any price.

Good stopping on both sides. “Go to work,” from all parts of the

ring, had not the slightest effect. The Sailor Boy made a hit with

his left hand, which was sharply returned by Raines; a little

milling took place, and both of them cried out “First blood,” but it

was a dead heat in this respect, a slight tinge of the claret

appearing on both of their mugs at the same instant. It would be a

waste of time to repeat all the stops, &c. The Sailor Boy at length

went in like a jolly fellow, and the fibbing system was resorted to,

hard and fast, on both sides, until they both went down, Raines

undermost. Forty minutes had now passed in sparring.

2.—This round was altogether as short. Some little stopping

occurred, until Jones went in as before, and finished the round by

tipping it to Raines and placing him undermost.

3.—Little bumps were observed upon the foreheads of both combatants,

but nothing like mischief had passed between them. The ear of Raines

had napped a little pepper. The latter endeavoured to put in a

right-handed blow, and, if it had told, summat might have been the

matter. Raines stopped well; but he did not fight until he was

compelled to defend himself. In closing, smart hitting on both sides

was administered, and the Sailor Boy was thrown out of the ropes.

(“Well done, Jem!” and lots of applause.)

4.—The nose of Raines looked red. For why? Jones’s left had given it

a sharp tap; he was also a little on the piping suit. At the ropes

Raines was fibbed by his opponent, and ultimately thrown.

5.—This was a tidy round, but the wind of Raines was rather

troubled; and both cautious in the extreme. Jones planted cleverly a

conker without any return, and repeated the dose. Parrying on both

sides, until Raines received a slight hit in the body, when he

staggered backwards and fell out of the ropes. (Two to one on

Jones.)

6.—The Sailor Boy always commenced milling, although cautious. He

gave Raines another nose-ender which sent him rather backwards;

Jones then went in, and had the best of it until Raines was thrown.

Pugilistica: The History of British Boxing, Volume 2 (of 3) Containing Lives of the Most Celebrated Pugilists; Full Reports of Their Battles from Contemporary Newspapers, With Authentic Portraits, Personal Anecdotes, and Sketches of the Principal Patrons of the Prize Ring, Forming a Complete History of the Ring from Fig and Broughton, 1719-1740, to the Last Championship Battle Between King and Heenan, in December 1863 · 第 13 / 14 章

Round 1.—The Pet, as he exhibited in buff, gave great delight and