Saturday, December 6, 2014

The Bully of Brocas Court (1921)

by Arthur Conan Doyle

One of the most interesting things about Arthur Conan Doyle’s story “The Bully of Brocas Court” is something that has nothing to do with fiction at all. Though this is one of the author’s ghost stories that I read in a collection of his supernatural fiction, it’s primarily a boxing tale and it was originally included in his collection on boxing, Tales of the Ring and the Camp. The first couple of pages are actually an engaging summary of boxing in England in the late eighteen-seventies. Bare-knuckle boxing had already been outlawed because of the gambling involved, but “the era of the reserved building and the legal glove-fight had not yet arisen, and the cult was in a strange intermediate condition. It was impossible to regulate it, and equally impossible to abolish it, since nothing appeals more directly and powerfully to the average Briton.” In watching the most recent film version of Sherlock Holmes with Robert Downey Jr., I always wondered about the ad hoc nature of the boxing match in the film, but Doyle’s story provides the answer: “Therefore there were scrambling contests in stableyards and barns, hurried visits to France, secret meetings at dawn in wild parts of the country, and all manner of evasions and experiments.”

In this story, however, the official sparring is to take place within the confines of the military. A farrier-sergeant by the name of Burton has bested everyone in the military and so an army captain, a baronet by the name of Frederick Milburn, nicknamed Mubles, is sent to London to procure the services of a professional boxer who can best Burton. But because of the nature of boxing at the time, this is not an easy task. Nevertheless, he finds a young man by the name of Stevens, an undefeated middleweight who gives up a few pounds and inches in reach but still looks quite confident. “He was a man who had never yet met his master and was still upheld by the deep sustaining confidence which is never quite the same after a single defeat. The Baronet chuckled as he realized what a surprise packet was being carried north for the Farrier-Sergeant.” As the two head north Milburn remembers a legend about a boxer along the road who had won a number of informal matches, the Bully of Brocas Court. “Some say they’ve seen him, and some say he’s a fairy­tale, but there’s good evidence that he is a real man with a pair of rare good fists that leave their marks behind him.” Thus, when they are stopped by a pair of men wearing old-fashioned clothing and speaking in an odd way, it seems strange that it takes Milburn so long to recognized that they’ve been stopped by the Bully. It only takes a few minutes of taunting, however, before Stevens is ready to tangle. “‘If you want a fight you’ve come to the right shop,’ said he; ‘it’s my trade, so don't say I took you unawares.’”

With the horses are clearly agitated, the Bully leads the men to a clearing of grass where they can do battle, but the atmosphere is something else again. “It was a sinister place, black and weird, with the crumbling pillars and the heavy arching trees. Neither the Baronet nor the pugilist liked the look of it.” As the battle begins, the Bully takes off his hat and Stevens is even more unnerved by his visage than he is by the surroundings. “Stevens gave an exclamation of surprise and horror. The removal of the beaver hat had disclosed a horrible mutilation of the head of his antagonist. The whole upper forehead had fallen in, and there seemed to be a broad red weal between his close-cropped hair and his heavy brows.” Once they begin brawling, however, it’s clear the Bully is an exceptional fighter. He seems to have an endless store of energy and no matter how long the rounds go, he never seems to tire.

          Young Stevens sprang forward and rushed at his man with all the strength that was left to him.
          By the fury of his onset he drove him back, and for a long minute had all the better of the
          exchanges. But this iron fighter seemed never to tire. His step was as quick and his blow as
          hard as ever when this long rally had ended. Stevens had eased up from pure exhaustion. But
          his opponent did not ease up. He came back on him with a shower of furious blows which beat
          down the weary guard of the pugilist.

But before Stevens can be defeated, the Bully becomes frightened of something and he and his partner run off into the woods. A few seconds later a white dog emerges from the brush and follows them. As with most ghost stories of the period, it is the denouement where the real import of the episode becomes clear. The two race for the cart and whip the horses to get away as fast as they can. At a pub a few miles away the innkeeper finally relates the story of the Bully, as well as the dog, who had been killed in a roadside accident over fifty years before.

In his introduction to The Best Supernatural Tales of Arthur Conan Doyle, fantasy editor E.F. Bleiler says that this is Doyle’s only traditional Victorian ghost story. It was written relatively late in the author’s life and published in The Strand Magazine in November of 1921. One of the nice things about the story is the way that the viewpoint character, the Baronet, is so intent on the boxing match between Stevens and the Bully that he doesn’t have much time to think about the supernatural implications of his presence there. In terms of the story itself, it isn’t the most compelling story ever written. Bleiler even says as much in his introduction. “Arthur Conan Doyle, it must be admitted, was not the towering figure in supernatural fiction that he was in the detective story or the historical novel . . . Not a new vision, his was merely respectable accomplishment.” But that is only an admission of fact rather than a judgment, and he continues by suggesting, “this is not to say that his supernatural stories are not worth reading.” In particular, he praises this story because Doyle’s love of boxing shines through and, “not surprisingly, since it strikes a sports note that Doyle delighted in, it is one of Doyle’s best stories.” Economical as it is, the story does have a surprising vigor.

One of the things that struck me while reading was thinking about the class system in England, something that is present in some way in all British fiction. The protagonist of the story is Sir Frederick Milburn, whom the reader is eventually told is a captain in the army. He is therafter referred to as the Baronet, by Doyle, which continually makes clear the difference in station between him and the young boxer, Alf Stevens. “Twilight was already falling and the light dim, but what the Baronet saw pleased him well. The man was a fighter every inch, clean-cut, deep-chested, with the long straight cheek and deep-set eye which goes with an obstinate courage.” It’s not an obvious distance between them, but there is still the implication in the description of the man that Milburn is in charge, not only in the obvious sense of anyone who hires men for sport, to entertain at the behest of their employer, but by rank and privilege as well. In the middle of the boxing match, however, loyalties quickly become established and the Baronet becomes less of an employer and more of a ringside coach. “‘He knows a lot,’ said the pugilist. ‘I don’t know where he learned it, but he’s had a deal of practice somewhere.’” to which the Baronet replies, “‘Keep him at out-fighting. I think you are his master there.’” It doesn't seem much here, but in the context of the story there is a real sense of camaraderie between the two in facing the Bully together.

Ultimately it’s an enjoyable story, and because of its brevity it reminds me more of Ambrose Bierce than anyone else. “The Bully of Brocas Court” is a very competent ghost story and as such I’m looking forward to reading more of Arthur Conan Doyle’s supernatural fiction.

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