It was said of Marshal Clairfait that, like a drum, he was only heard of when he was beaten. Tom Gaynor, in somewhat like fashion, takes his place among the celebrities of the Ring from the high fame of the men against whom he had the ill luck to be opposed. Beginning rather late in the London Ring, Gaynor’s first antagonist was Ned Neale (who had just polished off in succession Deaf Davis, Bill Cribb, Miller, Hall, and David Hudson), while his last (and too late) appearance in the Ring was in combat with the Phenomenon, Young Dutch Sam, before whom he stood for two hours and five minutes, at Andover, in the year 1834. This was proof sufficient that Gaynor’s heart was in the right place, and that his fistic skill was far above the mere “give and take” of second-rate boxers.
The sobriquet of Gaynor assigns Bath for his birthplace, and there, on the 22nd of April, 1799, the young Tom opened his eyes, as the son of a respectable carpenter in that fashionable city. Tom used to tell his friends, over a pipe at the “Red Horse,” Bond Street, of a wonderful uncle of his, hight Tom Marshall, who was champion boxer of “Zummerzetzhire,” and was never defeated. This uncle, who stood six feet one and a half in his stockings, seems to have been the idol of his nephew’s hero-worship, as another Tom [Carlyle] would phrase it. With this uncle young Gaynor was placed at Taunton, and there, at thirteen years old, was apprenticed. Here Tom’s skill with his “fives” was acknowledged, and at about seventeen years of age he was what modern times would call a “certificated pupil-teacher” in an “academy” of which a local boxer was the chief professor of “the noble art.” One Turle, a fiddler, had the reputation of being a dangerous opponent, but in a turn-up with the young Carpenter he received such a taste of his quality that he declined any further favours, and tacitly resigned his assumed title of “champion of Taunton” to the “’prentice han’” of Gaynor.
TOM GAYNOR (“The Bath Carpenter”).
These were the times of election saturnalia, and though (testè Sir Henry James) Taunton, in these days of ballot and household suffrage, is no purer than it ought to be, in the times of borough-mongering it was much worse. A little episode in young Tom’s history may illustrate this. During a contested election for that riotous, thirsty, and by no means immaculate borough, the true blue champion, whose colours young Tom wore, had set abroach a hogshead of “raal Zummerzet soyder,” and to ensure the just distribution of the same had entrusted it to the care of a big rural rough, who churlishly denied young Gaynor a drop of the cheering home-made. This unfair treatment considerably riled our hero; but when the big bully threatened to add “a good hoidin’” to his refusal, “unless young Chips made hisself skeerce,” the joke was carried too far. The stripling stripped, and the countryman, consigning his charge to a friend, desired him to “zee to the zwill, whoiles oi polish off this yoong jackandapes.” But the battle was not to the strong, and in three sharp rounds, occupying about fifteen minutes, the “rush” of the yokel was so completely taken out of him by the cutting “props” and the straight “nobbers” of the young ’un that the countryman cried, “Enoo!” and went back to his tap, from which Tom and his friends drank success to themselves and their candidate without further hindrance or molestation.
Soon after Tom returned to his native city of Bath. Here he fought a pitched battle with a recruiting sergeant of some boxing fame in military circles. The soldier’s tactics, however, were of no avail against the superior strategics of young Gaynor.
Gaynor’s eyes, although he followed his calling industriously, were always cast towards the Metropolis with a longing gaze, and at the age of twenty-four he made his way to town, and having already met that professor in the provinces, he took up his quarters at the house of his “brother chip,” the scientific Harry Holt, the “Cicero of the Ring,” who then kept the “Golden Cross,” in Cross Lane, Long Acre. Here an accident brought him into notice.
Josh Hudson being at Holt’s at a jollification, the conversation, of course, was of “battles lost and won,” and in the course of “chaff” Tom Gaynor was introduced with an eulogistic flourish from his Ciceronian friend and brother-craftsman. This led to Josh, who was certainly not in his “coolest state of collectedness,” expressing his willingness to put on the mittens with the “young man from the country.” The result was unfortunate. Josh lost his temper, and for some twenty-five minutes it was very like a little glove-fight, in which “Tom was as good as his master.” Of course, Holt’s friends put a stop to this; but it raised Gaynor’s reputation.
Soon after, in a set-to with Ben Burn, Gaynor displayed such science and resolution that he was highly applauded by the amateurs at the Fives Court, and was hailed a clever “newcomer.”
Friends now came forward, and Tom was matched with Ned Neale, at whose hands he experienced an honourable defeat, on the 25th May, 1824, in one hour and six minutes. (See Neale, Chapter V., ante.)