I can barely watch boxing matches where people are trying to
punch the other skull with as much force as they can. At least they’re wearing
gloves. I doubt I could have watched the man entombed under this impressive headstone.
It’s the bare-knuckle prize-fighter of the late 18th century John Jackson who -
aged 27 - won the “Champion of England” title in a fight in April 1795 (the
fight lasted ten minutes.)
Most
bare-knuckler fighters were of working origins but John was from the middle
classes which led to his nickname of Gentleman Jackson. You cannot miss his
impressive grave in Brompton Cemetery in London. He held the title Heavy Weight
title for eight years until he retired and opened a boxing academy for
gentlemen (Lord Byron was a pupil.) His academy was well-known and is often referred to in the Georgette Heyer Regency romance novels. The nobility and gentry
sought out John socially and invited him to their homes.
He sounds too
refined for fighting. Out of the ring he conducted himself with dignity and
good manners and dressed impeccably. His
5 foot 7 inch toned frame was in demand out of the ring - artists and
sculptures wanted to catch his symmetry and perfect physique. He died at
his home in Mayfair in London aged 76 - a long life for the era.
The evening sun was falling splendidly over the grave. He must have
been well thought of to have such a beast of resting place - he lay in a simple grave until this stone
was paid for by public subscription. I was not sure what the lion means on
the top - perhaps a reference to the size of John's heart. He was known as a
kindly and charitable figure, passing round a cap to collect money for the man
he’d just knocked out. He also organised exhibitions by other boxers to raise
money for charity. In 1811 he raised hefty sums for the Portuguese (whose towns
had been burnt down by the French) and British prisoners in France.
What would he
think of today’s multi-millionaire boxers squared in by a trainer, publicist,
manager and promoter? Not much probably. The lion atop the headstone looks
crestfallen and not even the bright afternoon sunlight could lift its mood. I
did a salute and left.
The lion looks a little crestfallen
to me…
I loved wandering round the cemetery
in the evening sunlight…
Brompton
Cemetery...