george borrow had no sympathy with thurtell the gambler. i find no evidence in his career of any taste for games of hazard or indeed for games of any kind, although we recall that as a mere child he was able to barter a pack of cards for the irish language. but he had certainly very considerable sympathy with the notorious criminal as a friend and patron of prize-fighting. this now discredited pastime borrow ever counted a virtue. was not his god-fearing father a champion in his way, or, at least, had he not in open fight beaten the champion of the moment, big ben brain? moreover, who was there in those days with blood in his veins who did not count the cultivation of the fancy as the noblest and most manly of pursuits! why, william hazlitt, a prince among english essayists, whose writings are a beloved classic in our day, wrote in the new monthly magazine in these very years his own eloquent impression, and even introduces john thurtell more than once as “tom turtle,” little thinking then of the fate that was so soon to overtake him. what could be more lyrical than this:

reader, have you ever seen a fight? if not, you have a pleasure to come, at least if it is a fight like that between the gas-man and bill neate.

and then the best historian of prize-fighting, henry downes miles, the author of pugilistica, has his own statement of the case. you will find it in his monograph on john jackson, the pugilist who taught lord byron to box, and received the immortality of an eulogistic footnote in don juan. here is miles’s defence:

no small portion of the public has taken it for granted that pugilism and blackguardism are synonymous. it is as an antidote to these slanderers that we pen a candid history of the boxers; and taking the general habits of men of humble origin (elevated by their courage and bodily gifts to be the associates of those more fortunate in worldly position), we fearlessly maintain that p. 75the best of our boxers present as good samples of honesty, generosity of spirit, goodness of heart and humanity, as an equal number of men of any class of society.

from samuel johnson onwards literary england has had a kindness for the pugilist, although the magistrate has long, and rightly, ruled him out as impossible. borrow carried his enthusiasm further than any, and no account of him that concentrates attention upon his accomplishment as a distributor of bibles and ignores his delight in fisticuffs, has any grasp of the real george borrow. indeed it may be said, and will be shown in the course of our story, that borrow entered upon bible distribution in the spirit of a pugilist rather than that of an evangelist. but to return to borrow’s pugilistic experiences. he claims, as we have seen, occasionally to have put on the gloves with john thurtell. he describes vividly enough his own conflicts with the flaming tinman and with petulengro. his one heroine, isopel berners, had “fair play and long melford” as her ideal, “long melford” being the good right-handed blow with which lavengro conquered the tinman. isopel, we remember, had learned in long melford union to “fear god and take your own part!”

george borrow, indeed, was at home with the whole army of prize-fighters, who came down to us like the roman caesars or the kings of england in a noteworthy procession, their dynasty commencing with james fig of thame, who began to reign in 1719, and closing with tom king, who beat heenan in 1863, or with jem mace, who flourished in a measure until 1872. with what zest must borrow have followed the account of the greatest battle of all, that between heenan and tom sayers at farnborough in 1860, when it was said that parliament had been emptied to patronise a prize-fight; and this although heenan complained that he had been chased out of eight counties. for by this time, in spite of lordly patronage, pugilism was doomed, and the more harmless boxing had taken its place. “pity that corruption should have crept in amongst them,” sighed lavengro in a memorable passage, in which he also has his paean of praise for the bruisers of england:

let no one sneer at the bruisers of england—what were the gladiators of rome, or the bull-fighters of spain, in its palmiest days, compared to england’s bruisers?

p. 76yes: borrow was never hard on the bruisers of england, and followed their achievements, it may be said, from his cradle to his grave. his beloved father had brought him up, so to speak, upon memories of one who was champion before george was born—big ben brain of bristol. brain, although always called “big ben,” was only 5 feet 10 in. high. he was for years a coal porter at a wharf off the strand. it was in 1791 that ben brain won the championship which placed him upon a pinnacle in the minds of all robust people. the duke of hamilton once backed him against the then champion, tom johnson, for five hundred guineas. “public expectation,” says the oracle, a contemporary newspaper, “never was raised so high by any pugilistic contest; great bets were laid, and it is estimated £20,000 was wagered on this occasion.” ben brain was the undisputed conqueror, we are told, in eighteen rounds, occupying no more than twenty-one minutes. brain died in 1794, and all the biographers tell of the piety of his end, so that borrow’s father may have read the bible to him in his last moments, as borrow avers, but i very much doubt the accuracy of the following:

honour to brain, who four months after the event which i have now narrated was champion of england, having conquered the heroic johnson. honour to brain, who, at the end of other four months, worn out by the dreadful blows which he had received in his manly combats, expired in the arms of my father, who read the bible to him in his latter moments—big ben brain.

brain actually lived for four years after his fight with johnson, but perhaps the fight in hyde park between borrow’s father and ben, as narrated in lavengro, is all romancing. it makes good reading in any case, as does borrow’s eulogy of some of his own contemporaries of the prize-ring.

it is all very accurate history. we know that there really was this wonderful gathering of the bruisers of england assembled in the neighbourhood of norwich in july, 1820, that is to say, sixteen miles away at north walsham. more than 25,000 men, it is estimated, gathered to see edward painter of norwich fight tom oliver of london for a purse of a hundred guineas. there were three belchers, heroes of the prize-ring, but borrow here refers to tom, whose younger brother, jem, had died in 1811 at the age of thirty. tom p. 77belcher died in 1854 at the age of seventy-one. thomas cribb was champion of england from 1805 to 1820. one of cribb’s greatest fights was with jem belcher in 1807, when, in the forty-first and last round, as we are told by the chroniclers, “cribb proving the stronger man put in two weak blows, when belcher, quite exhausted, fell upon the ropes and gave up the combat.” cribb had a prolonged career of glory, but he died in poverty in 1848. happier was an earlier champion, john gully, who held the glorious honour for three years—from 1805 to 1808. gully turned tavern-keeper, and making a fortune out of sundry speculations, entered parliament as member for pontefract, and lived to be eighty years of age.

it is necessary to dwell upon borrow as the friend of prize-fighters, because no one understands borrow who does not realise that his real interests were not in literature but in action. he would have liked to join the army but could not obtain a commission. and so he had to be content with such fighting as was possible. he cared more for the men who could use their fists than for those who could but wield the pen. he would, we may be sure, have rejoiced to know that many more have visited the tomb of tom sayers in highgate cemetery than have visited the tomb of george eliot in the same burial-ground. a curious moral obliquity this, you may say. but to recognise it is to understand one side of borrow, and an interesting side withal.