Chapter XLIV: Appendix: To Period VI (3)

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.