The Hambledon Men/The Cricketers of My Time
THE CRICKETERS OF MY TIME
The game of cricket is thoroughly British. Its derivation is probably from the Saxon 'cpyce, a stick'. Strutt, however, in his Sports and Pastimes, states that he can find no record of the game, under its present appellation, 'beyond the commencement of the last century, where it occurs in one of the songs published by D'Urfey.'[1] The first four lines of 'Of a noble race was Shenkin', ran thus:—
Her was the prettiest fellow
At foot-ball or at cricket,
At hunting chase, or nimble race,
How featly her could prick it.
The same historian of our games doubts not that cricket derived its origin from the ancient game of club-ball, the patronymics of which being compounded of Welsh and Danish (clwppa and bol) do not warrant his conclusion, the Saxon being an elder occupant of our island. The circumstance, however, of there being no illustration extant—no missal, illuminated with a group engaged in this king of athletic games, as is the case with its plebeian brother, the club-ball; also, from its constitution, being of a more civil and complicated character—we may rationally infer that it is the offspring of a more polite, at all events, of a maturer age than its fellow. The game of club-ball appears to have been no other than the present well-known bat-and-ball, which, with similar laws and customs prescribed in the playing at it, was, doubtless, anterior to trap-ball. The trap, indeed, carries with it an air of refinement in the 'march of mechanism'.
They who are acquainted with some of the remote and unfrequented villages of England, where the primitive manners, customs, and games of our ancestors survive in the perfection of rude and unadulterated simplicity, must have remarked the lads playing at a game which is the same in its outline and principal features as the consummate piece of perfection that at this day is the glory of Lord's, and the pride of English athletae—I mean the one in which a single stick is appointed for a wicket, ditto for a bat, and the same repeated, of about three inches in length, for a ball. If this be not the original of the game of cricket, it is a plebeian imitation of it.
My purpose, however, is not to search into the antiquities of cricketing, but to record my recollections of some of the most eminent professors of my favourite pastime who have figured on the public arena since the year 1776, when I might be about twelve years of age. From that period till within a few seasons past, I have constantly been 'at the receipt of custom' when any rousing match has been toward; and being now a veteran, and laid up in ordinary, I may be allowed the vanity of the quotation,
Quorum magna pars fui.[2]
I was born at Hambledon, in Hampshire—the Attica of the scientific art I am celebrating. No eleven in England could compare with the Hambledon, which met on the first Tuesday in May on Broad-Halfpenny. So renowned a set were the men of Hambledon, that the whole country round would flock to see one of their trial matches. 'Great men,' indeed, 'have been among us—better, none'; and in the course of my recollections I shall have occasion to instance so many within the knowledge of persons now living, as will, I doubt not, warrant me in giving the palm to my native place.
The two principal bowlers in my early days were Thomas Brett and Richard Nyren, of Hambledon; the corps de reserve, or change-bowlers, were Barber and Hogsflesh. Brett was, beyond all comparison, the fastest as well as straightest bowler that was ever known: he was neither a thrower nor a jerker, but a legitimate downright bowler, delivering his ball fairly, high, and very quickly, quite as strongly as the jerkers, and with the force of a point blank shot. He was a well-grown, dark-looking man, remarkably strong, and with rather a short arm. As a batter, he was comparatively an inferior player—a slashing hitter, but he had little guard of his wicket, and his judgement of the game was held in no great estimation. Brett, whose occupation was that of a farmer, bore the universal character of a strictly honourable man in all his transactions, whether in business or in amusement.
Richard Nyren was left-handed. He had a high delivery, always to the length, and his balls were provokingly deceitful. He was the chosen General of all the matches, ordering and directing the whole. In such esteem did the brotherhood hold his experience and judgement, that he was uniformly consulted on all questions of law or precedent; ana I never knew an exception to be taken against his opinion, or his decision to be reversed. I never saw a finer specimen of the thoroughbred old English yeoman than Richard Nyren. He was a good face-to-face, unflinching, uncompromising, independent man. He placed a full and just value upon the station he held in society, and he maintained it without insolence or assumption. He could differ with a superior, without trenching upon his dignity, or losing his own. I have known him maintain an opinion with great firmness against the Duke of Dorset and Sir Horace Mann; and when, in consequence of his being proved to be in the right, the latter has afterwards crossed the ground and shaken him heartily by the hand. Nyren had immense advantage over Brett; for, independently of his general knowledge of the game, he was practically a better cricketer, being a safe batsman and an excellent hitter. Athough a very stout man (standing about five feet nine) he was uncommonly active. He owed all the skill and judgement he possessed to an old uncle, Richard Newland, of Slindon, in Sussex, under whom he was brought up—a man so famous in his time, that when a song was written in honour of the Sussex cricketers, Richard Newland was especially and honourably signalized. No one man ever dared to play him. When Richard Nyren left Hambledon, the club broke up, and never resumed from that day. The head and right arm were gone.
Barber and Hogsflesh were both good hands; they had a high delivery, and a generally good length; not very strong, however, at least for those days of playing, when the bowling was all fast. These four were our tip-top men, and I think such another stud was not to oe matched in the whole kingdom, either before or since. They were choice fellows, staunch and thoroughgoing. No thought of treachery ever seemed to have entered their heads. The modern politics of trickery and 'crossing' were (so far as my own experience and judgement of their actions extended) as yet 'a sealed book' to the Hambledonians; what they did, they did for the love of honour and victory; and when one (who shall be nameless) sold the birthright of his good name for a mess of pottage, he paid dearly for his bargain. It cost him the trouble of being a knave—(no trifle!); the esteem of his old friends, and, what was worst of all, the respect of him who could have been his best friend—himself.
Upon coming to the old batters of our club, the name of John Small, the elder, shines among them in all the lustre of a star of the first magnitude. His merits have already been recorded in a separate publication, which every zealous brother of the pastime has probably read. I need, therefore, only subscribe my testimony to his uncommon talent, shortly summing up his chief excellencies. He was the best short runner of his day, and indeed I believe him to have been the first who turned the short hits to account. His decision was as prompt as his eye was accurate in calculating a short run. Add to the value of his accomplishment as a batter, he was an admirable fieldsman, always playing middle wicket; and so correct was his judgement of the game, that old Nyren would appeal to him when a point of law was being debated. Small was a remarkably wellmade and well-knit man, of honest expression, and as active as a hare.
He was a good fiddler, and taught himself the double bass. The Duke of Dorset, having been informed of his musical talent, sent him as a present a handsome violin, and paid the carriage. Small, like a true and simple-hearted Englishman, returned the compliment, by sending his Grace two bats and balls, also paying the carriage. We may be sure that on both hands the presents were choice of their kind. Upon one occasion he turned his Orphean accomplishment to good account. Having to cross two or three fields on his way to a musical party, a vicious bull made at him; when our hero, with the characteristic coolness and presence of mind of a good cricketer, began playing upon his bass, to the admiration and perfect satisfaction of the mischievous beast.
About this time, 1778, I became a sort of farmer's pony to my native club of Hambledon, and I never had cause to repent the work I was put to; I gained by it that various knowledge of the game, which I leave in the hands of those who knew me in my 'high and palmy state' to speak to and appreciate. This trifling preliminary being settled, the name and figure of Tom Sueter first comes across me—a Hambledon man, and of the club. What a handful of steel-hearted soldiers are in an important pass, such was Tom in keeping the wicket. Nothing went by him; and for coolness and nerve in this trying and responsible post, I never saw his equal. As a proof of his quickness and skill, I have numberless times seen him stump a man out with Brett's tremendous bowling. Add to this valuable accomplishment, he was one of the manliest and most graceful of hitters. Few would cut a ball harder at the point of the bat, and he was, moreover, an excellent short runner. He had an eye like an eagle—rapid and comprehensive. He was the first who departed from the custom of the old players before him, who deemed it a heresy to leave the crease for the ball; he would get in at it, and hit it straight off and straight on; and, egad! it went as if it had been fired. As by the rules of our club, at the trial-matches no man was allowed to get more than thirty runs, he generally gained his number earlier than any of them. I have seldom seen a handsomer man than Tom Sueter, who measured about five feet ten. As if, too, Dame Nature wished to show at his birth a specimen of her prodigality, she gave him so amiable a disposition, that he was the pet of all the neighbourhood: so honourable a heart, that his word was never questioned by the gentlemen who associated with him: and a voice, which for sweetness, power, and purity of tone (a tenor) would, with proper cultivation, have made him a handsome fortune. With what rapture have I hung upon his notes when he has given us a hunting song in the club room after the day's practice was over!
George Lear, of Hambledon, who always answered to the title among us of 'Little George', was our best long-stop. So firm and steady was he, that I have known him stand through a whole match against Brett's bowling, and not lose more than two runs. The ball seemed to go into him, and he was as sure of it as if he had been a sand bank. His activity was so great, and, besides, he had so good a judgement in running to cover the ball, that he would stop many that were hit in the slip, and this, be it remembered, from the swiftest bowling ever known. The portion of ground that man would cover was quite extraordinary. He was a good batsman, and a tolerably sure guard of his wicket; he averaged from fifteen to twenty runs, but I never remember his having a long innings. What he did not bring to the stock by his bat, however, he amply made up with his perfect fielding. Lear was a short man, of a fair complexion, well-looking, and of a pleasing aspect. He had a sweet counter tenor voice. Many a treat have I had in hearing him and Sueter join in a glee at the 'Bat and Ball' on Broad Halfpenny:
I have been there, and still would go;
Twas like a little Heaven below!
Edward Aburrow, a native of Hambledon, was one of our best long fields. He always went by the name of Curry; why, I cannot remember, neither is it of the utmost importance to inquire. He was well calculated for the post he always occupied, being a sure and strong thrower, and able to cover a great space of the field. He was a steady and safe batter, averaging the same number of runs as Lear. We reckoned him a tolerably good change for bowling. Aburrow was a strong and well made man, standing about five feet nine; he had a plain, honest-looking face, and was beloved by all his acquaintance.
Buck, whose real name was Peter Steward, is the next Hambledon man that occurs to my recollection. He, too, played long field, and was a steady man at his post; his batting, too, reached the same pitch of excellence; he could cut the balls very hard at the point of the bat—nothing like Sueter, however—very few could have equalled him. Buck was a darklooking man, a shoemaker by trade, in height about five feet eight, rather slimly built, and very active. He had an ambition to be thought a humorist. The following anecdote may serve both as a specimen of his talent and of the unfastidious taste of the men of Hambledon. When a match was to be played at a distance, the whole eleven, with the umpire and scorer, were conveyed in one caravan, built for their accommodation. Upon one occasion, the vehicle having been overturned, and the whole cargo unshipped, Buck remained at his post, and refused to come out, desiring that they would right the vessel with him in it; for that 'one good turn deserved another'. This repartee was admired for a week.
The following old-fashioned song, and which was very popular fifty years ago, may bring back pleasant recollections to those of my countrymen who remember the Hambledon Club in the year 1778:[3]
CRICKET
BY THE REV. MR. COTTON, OF WINCHESTER
Assist, all ye Muses, and join to rehearse
An old English sport, never praised yet in verse;
'Tis Cricket I sing, of illustrious fame,
No nation e'er boasted so noble a game.
Derry down, &c.
Great Pindar has bragg'd of his heroes of old
Some were swift in the race, some in battles were bold;
The brows of the victor with olives were crown'd:
Hark! they shout, and Olympia returns the glad sound!
Derry down, &c.
What boasting of Castor and Pollux his brother
The one famed for riding, for boxing the other;
Compared with our heroes, they'll not shine at all
What were Castor and Pollux to Nyren and Small?
Derry down, &c.
Here's guarding and catching, and throwing and tossing,
And bowling and striking, and running and crossing;
Each mate must excel in some principal part
The Pentathlum of Greece could not show so much art.
Derry down, &c.
The parties are met, and array'd all in white
Famed Elis ne'er boasted so pleasing a sight;
Each nymph looks askew at her favourite swain,
And views him, half stript, both with pleasure and pain.
Derry down, &c.
The wickets are pitched now, and measured the ground;
Then they form a large ring, and stand gazing around
Since Ajax fought Hector, in sight of all Troy,
No contest was seen with such fear and such joy.
Derry down, &c.
Ye bowlers, take heed, to my precepts attend:
On you the whole fate of the game must depend;
Spare your vigour at first, now exert all your strength,
But measure each step, and be sure pitch a length.
Derry down, &c.
Ye fieldsmen, look sharp, lest your pains ye beguile;
Move close like an army, in rank and in file;
When the ball is returnee!, back it sure, for I trow
Whole states have been ruined by one overthrow
Derry down, &c.
Ye strikers, observe when the foe shall draw nigh;
Mark the bowler, advancing with vigilant eye;
Your skill all depends upon distance and sight,
Stand firm to your scratch, let your bat be upright.
Derry down, &c.
And now the game's o'er, IO victory! rings,
Echo doubles her chorus, and Fame spreads her wings;
Let's now hail our champions all steady and true,
Such as Homer ne'er sung of, nor Pindar e'er knew.
Derry down, &c.
Buck, Curry, and Hogsflesh, and Barber and Brett,
Whose swiftness in bowling was ne'er equalled yet;
I had almost forgot, they deserve a large bumper;
Little George, the long-stop, and Tom Sueter, the stumper.
Derry down, &c.
Then why should we fear either Sackville or Mann,
Or repine at the loss both of Boyton and Lann?—
With such troops as those we'll be lords of the game,
Spite of Minshull and Miller, and Lumpy and Frame.
Derry down, &c.
Then fill up your glass, he's the best that drinks most.
Here 's the Hambledon Club!—who refuses the toast?
Let's join in the praise of the bat and the wicket,
And sing in full chorus the patrons of cricket.
Derry down, &c.
And when the game's o'er, and our fate shall draw nigh
(For the heroes of cricket, like others, must die),
Our bats we'll resign, neither troubled nor vexed,
And give up our wickets to those that come next.
Derry down, &c.
The tenth knight of our round table (of which old Richard Nyren was the King Arthur) was a man we always called 'The Little Farmer'; his name was Lambert.[4] He was a bowler—right-handed, and he had the most extraordinary delivery I ever saw. The ball was delivered quite low, and with a twist; not like that of the generality of right-handed bowlers, but just the reverse way: that is, if bowling to a right-handed hitter, nis ball would twist from the off stump into the leg. He was the first I remember who introduced this deceitful and teazing style of delivering the ball. When All England played the Hambledon Club, the Little Farmer was appointed one of our bowlers; and, egad! this new trick of his so bothered the Kent and Surrey men, that they tumbled out one after another, as if they had been picked off by a rifle corps. For a long time they could not tell what to make of that cursed twist of his. This, however, was the only virtue he possessed, as a cricketer. He was no batter, and had no judgement of the game. The perfection he had attained in this one department, and his otherwise general deficiency, are at once accounted for by the circumstance that, when he was tending his father's sheep, he would set up a hurdle or two, and bowl away for hours together. Our General, old Nyren, after a great deal of trouble (for the Farmer's comprehension did not equal the speed of lightning), got him to pitch the ball a little to the off-side of the wicket, when it would twist full in upon the stumps. Before he had got into this knaclc, he was once bowling against the Duke of Dorset, and, delivering his ball straight to the wicket, it curled in, and missed the Duke's legstump by a hair's breadth. The plainspoken little bumpkin, in his eagerness and delight, and forgetting the style in which we were always accustomed to impress our aristocratical playmates with our acknowledgement of their rank and station, bawled out—'Ah! it was tedious near you, Sir!' The familiarity of his tone, and the genuine Hampshire dialect in which it was spoken, set the whole ground laughing. I have never seen but one bowler who delivered his balls in the same way as our Little Farmer; with the jerkers the practice is not uncommon. He was a very civil and inoffensive young fellow, and remained in the club perhaps two or three seasons.
With Tom Taylor the old eleven was completed. There were, of course, several changes of other players, but these were the established picked set the elite. Tom was an admirable field certainly one of the very finest I ever saw. His station was between the point of the bat and the middle wicket, to save the two runs; but Tom had a lucky knack of gathering in to the wicket, for Tom had a license from our old General; so that, if the ball was hit to him, he had so quick a way of meeting it, and with such a rapid return (for no sooner was it in his hand than with the quickness of thought it was returned to the top of the wicket), that I have seen many put out by this manreuvre in a single run, and when the hit might be safely calculated upon for a prosperous one. He had an excellent general knowledge of the game; but of fielding, in particular, he was perfect both in judgement and practice. Tom was also a most brilliant hitter, but his great fault lay in not sufficiently guarding his wicket: he was too fond of cutting, at the point of the bat, balls that were delivered straight; although, therefore, he would frequently get many runs, yet, from this habit, he could not be securely depended on; and, indeed, it was commonly the cause of his being out. I have known Lord Frederick Beauclerc (certainly the finest batter of his day) throw away the chance of a capital innings by the same incaution—that of cutting at straight balls—and he has been bowled out in consequence. Taylor was a short, well-made man, strong, and as watchful and active as a cat; but in no other instance will the comparison hold good, for he was without guile, and was an attached friend.
Having now described the best of my native players, I proceed to their opponents; and the foremost man of all must stand the well-known bowler, LUMPY, whose real name was Stevens. He was a Surrey man, and lived with Lord Tankerville. Beyond all the men within my recollection Lumpy would bowl the greatest number of length balls in succession. His pace was much faster than Lord Beauclercs, but he wanted his Lordship's general knowledge of the game. In those days it was the custom for the party going from home to pitch their own wickets; and here it was that Lumpy, whose duty it was to attend to this, always committed an error. He would invariably choose the ground where his balls would shoot, instead of selecting a rising spot to bowl against, which would have materially increased the difficulty to the hitter, seeing that so many more would be caught out by the mounting of the ball. As nothing, however, delighted the old man like bowling a wicket down with a shooting ball, he would sacrifice the other chances to the glory of that achievement. Many a time have I seen our General twig this prejudice in the old man when matched against us, and chuckle at it. But I believe it was almost the only mistake he ever made professional, or even moral, for he was a most simple and amiable creature. Yes—one other he committed, and many a day after was the joke remembered against him. One of our matches having been concluded early in the day, a long, rawboned devil of a countryman came up, and offered to play any one of the twenty-two at single wicket for five pounds. Old Nyren told Lumpy it would be five pounds easily earned, and persuaded him to accept the challenge. Lumpy, however, would not stake the whole sum himself, but offered a pound of the money, and the rest was subscribed. The confident old bowler made the countryman go in first, for he thought to settle his business in a twink; but the fellow, having an arm as long as a hop-pole, reached in at Lumpy's balls, bowl what length he might; and slashed and thrashed away in the most ludicrous style, hitting his balls all over the field, and always up in the air; and he made an uncommon number of runs from this prince of bowlers before he could get him out;—and, egad! he beat him!—or when Lumpy went in, not being a good batter, while the other was a very fast bowler, all along the ground, and straight to the wicket, he knocked him out presently: the whole ring roaring with laughter, and the astounded old bowler swearing he would never play another single match as long as he lived an oath, I am sure, he religiously observed, for he was confoundedly crestfallen. Lumpy was a short man, round-shouldered, and stout. He had no trick about him, but was as plain as a pike-staff in all his dealings.
Frame was the other principal with Lumpy; a fast bowler, and an unusually stout man for a cricketer. I recollect very little of him, and nothing worthy of a formal record.
Besides him there was Shock White, another bowler on the England side; a good change, and a very decent hitter; but, take him altogether, I never thought very highly of his playing. He was a short, and rather stoutly made man.
John Wood made the fourth and the other changebowler. He was tall, stout, and bony, and a very good general player; not, however, an extraordinary one, when compared with those that have been heretofore mentioned.
There was high feasting held on Broad-Halfpenny during the solemnity of one of our grand matches. Oh! it was a heart-stirring sight to witness the multitude forming a complete and dense circle round that noble green. Half the county would be present, and all their hearts with us. Little Hambledon pitted against All England was a proud thought for the Hampshire men. Defeat was glory in such a struggle—Victory, indeed, made us only 'a little lower than angels'. How those fine brawn-faced fellows of farmers would drink to our success! And then, what stuff they had to drink!—Punch!—not your new Ponche à la Romaine, or Ponche à la Groseille, or your modern cat-lap milk punch—punch be-deviled; but good, unsophisticated John Bull stuff—stark!—that would stand on end—punch that would make a cat speak! Sixpence a bottle! We had not sixty millions of interest to pay in those days. The ale too!—not the modern horror under the same name, that drives as many men melancholy-mad as the hypocrites do;—not the beastliness of these days, that will make a fellow's inside like a shaking bog— and as rotten; but barleycorn, such as would put the souls of three butchers into one weaver. Ale that would flare like turpentine—genuine Boniface!—This immortal viand (for it was more than liquor) was vended at twopence per pint. The immeasurable villany of our vintners would, with their march of intellect (if ever they could get such a brewing), drive a pint of it out into a gallon. Then the quantity the fellows would eat! Two or three of them would strike dismay into a round of beef. They could no more have pecked in that style than they could have flown, had the infernal black stream (that type of Acheron!) which soddens the carcass of a Londoner, been the fertilizer of their clay. There would this company, consisting most likely of some thousands, remain patiently and anxiously watching every turn of fate in the game, as if the event had been the meeting of two armies to decide their liberty. And whenever a Hambledon man made a good hit, worth four or five runs, you would hear the deep mouths of the whole multitude baying away in pure Hampshire—'Go hard! go hard!—Tich and turn!—tich and turn!' To the honour of my countrymen, let me bear testimony upon this occasion also, as I have already done upon others. Although their provinciality in general, and personal partialities individually, were naturally interested in behalf of the Hambledon men, I cannot call to recollection an instance of their wilfully stopping a ball that had been hit out among them by one of our opponents. Like true Englishmen, they would give an enemy fair play. How strongly are all those scenes, of fifty years bygone, painted in my memory!—and the smell of that ale comes upon me as freshly as the new May flowers.
Having premised that these grand matches were .jpg)
AN EARLY GAME
(See Introduction, p xxvii)
My last account having closed with the four principal bowlers who were usually opposed to us Lumpy and Frame, Shock White and Wood—the next name that presents itself to me is that of Minshull, who was a gardener to the Duke of Dorset. He was a batter, and a very fine one—probably their best; a capital hitter, and a sure guard of his wicket. Minshull, however, was not an elegant player; his position and general style were both awkward and uncouth; yet he was as conceited as a wagtail, and from his constantly aping what he had no pretensions to, was, on that account only, not estimated according to the price at which he had rated his own merits. He was a thick-set man, standing about five feet nine, and not very active.
Miller (gamekeeper either to Lord Tankerville or the Duke of Dorset, I forget which) was as amiable a hearted man as ever cut a ball at the point of the bat. He and Minshull were the only two batters the Hambledon men were afraid of. Miller was indeed a beautiful player, and always to be depended on; there was no flash—no cock-a-whoop about him—but firm he was, and steady as the Pyramids. Although fully as stout a man as Minshull, he was considerably more active. I remember when upon one occasion those two men, being in together, had gained an uncommon number of runs, the backers of the Hambledon men, Dehaney and Paulet, began to quake, and edged off all their money, laying it pretty thickly on the England side. Of the Hambledon men, Small went in first, and continued until there were about five out, for very few runs, when Nyren went in to him; and then they began to show fight. The mettle of our true blooa was roused into full action, and never did they exhibit to finer advantage. Nyren got 98, and Small 110 runs before they were parted. After the former was out (for Small, according to his custom, died a natural death) the backers came up to Nyren and said, 'You will win the match, and we shall lose our money.' The proud old yeoman turned short upon them, and, with that honest independence which gained him the esteem of all parties, told them to their heads that they were rightly served, and that he was glad of it. 'Another time (said he) don't bet your money against such men as we are!' I forget how many runs the Hambledon men got, but, after this turn in affairs, the others stood no chance, and were easily beaten.
May and Booker, and Quiddington, were players of the first rank, though not the first of that rank. They were excellent and steady batters, strong hitters, and sure fields. Quiddington was a long-stop, and an admirable one; not, however, so implicitly to be depended on as Lear, whose equal in that department of the game I never saw anywhere. My reason for assigning him this superiority has been already given. For the same cause, too, I must place our Sueter above Yalden, who was their best wicket-keeper, and he would have been highly prized anywhere; but neither he nor Quiddington ever had to stand against such steam-engine bowling as Brett's; and yet Lear and Sueter, in their several departments, were safer men than their opponents. Yalden, too, was in other respects an inferior man to Sueter. His word was not always to be depended on when he had put a man out—he would now and then shuffle, and resort to trick. In such estimation did the other stand with all parties, so high" an opinion had they of his honour—that I firmly believe they would have trusted to his decision had he ever chosen to question that of the umpire. Yalden was not a fine but a very useful and steady batter. He was a thin, dark-looking man.
The Duke of Dorset, or Lord Tankerville, sometimes both, would play, to complete the eleven. Neither of these noblemen were to be compared to Lord Frederick Beauclerc. Whether in batting, bowling, or indeed in any department of the game, he would have distanced them; yet they were pretty players. Each usually played in the slip when the other was not present. This station was the Duke's forte. He was in height about five feet nine, very well made, and had a peculiar habit, when unemployed, of standing with his head on one side.
About the period I have been describing, Noah Mann joined the Hambledon Club. He was from Sussex, and lived at North Chapel, not far from Petworth. He kept an inn there, and used to come a distance of at least twenty miles every Tuesday to practise. He was a fellow of extraordinary activity, and could perform clever feats of agility on horseback. For instance, when he has been seen in the distance coming up the ground, one or more of his companions would throw down handkerchiefs, and these he would collect, stooping from his horse while it was going at full speed. He was a fine batter, a fine field, and the swiftest runner I ever remember: indeed, such was his fame for speed, that whenever there was a match going forward, we were sure to hear of one being made for Mann to run against some noted competitor; and such would come from the whole country round. Upon these occasions he used to tell his friends, 'If, when we are half-way, you see me alongside of my man, you may always bet your money upon me, for I am sure to win.' And I never saw him beaten. He was a most valuable fellow in the field; for besides being very sure of the ball, his activity was so extraordinary that he would dart all over trie ground like lightning. In those days of fast bowling they would put a man behind the longstop, that he might cover both long-stop and slip: the man always selected for this post was Noah. Now and then little George Lear (whom I have already described as being so fine a long-stop), would give Noah the wink to be on his guard, who would gather close behind him: then George would make a slip on purpose, and let the ball go by, when, in an instant, Noah would have it up, and into the wicket-keeper's hands, and the man was put out. This I have seen done many times, and this nothing but the most accomplished skill in fielding could have achieved.
Mann would, upon occasion, be employed as a change-bowler, and in this department he was very extraordinary. He was left-handed, both as bowler and batter. In the former quality his merit consisted in giving a curve to the ball the whole way. In itself it was not the first-rate style of bowling, but so very deceptive that the chief end was frequently attained. They who remember the dexterous manner with which the Indian jugglers communicated the curve to the balls they spun round their heads, by a twist of the wrist or hand, mil at once comprehend Noah's curious feat in bowling. Sometimes when a batter had got into his hitting, and was scoring more runs than pleased our general, he would put Mann in to give him eight or twelve balls, and he almost always did so with good effect.
Noah was a good batsman, and a most severe hitter; by the way, I have observed this to be a common quality in left-handed men. The writer of this was in with him at a match on Windmilldown, when, by one stroke from a toss that he hit behind him, we got ten runs. At this time the playing-ground was changed from Broad-Halfpenny to the above-named spot, at the suggestion of the Duke of Dorset and the other gentlemen, who complained of the bleakness of the old place. The alteration was in this, as in every other respect, for the better, Windmill-down being one of the finest places for playing on I ever saw. The ground gradually declined every way from the centre: the fieldsmen therefore were compelled to look about them, and for this reason they became so renowned in that department of the game.
At a match of the Hambledon Club against All England, the club had to go in to get the runs, and there was a long number of them. It became quite apparent that the game would be closely fought. Mann kept on worrying old Nyren to let him go in, and although he became quite indignant at his constant refusal, our General knew what he was about in keeping him back. At length, when the last but one was out, he sent Mann in, and there were then ten runs to get. The sensation now all over the ground was greater than anything of the kind I ever witnessed before or since. All knew the state of the game, and many thousands were hanging upon this narrow point. There was Sir Horace Mann, walking about, outside the ground, cutting down the daisies with his stick a habit with him when he was agitated; the old farmers leaning forward upon their tall old staves, and the whole multitude perfectly still. After Noah had had one or two balls, Lumpy tossed one a little too far, when our fellow got in, and hit it out in his grand style. Six of the ten were gained. Never shall I forget the roar that followed this hit. Then there was a dead stand for some time, and no runs were made; ultimately, however, he gained them all, and won the game. After he was out, he upbraided Nyren for not putting him in earlier. 'If you had let me go in an hour ago,' said he, 'I would have served them in the same way.' But the old tactician was right, for he knew Noah to be a man of such nerve and self-possession, that the thought of so much depending upon him would not have the paralysing effect that it would upon many others. He was sure of him, and Noah afterwards felt the compliment. Mann was short in stature, and, when stripped, as swarthy as a gipsy. He was all muscle, with no incumbrance whatever of flesh; remarkably broad in the chest, with large hips and spider legs; he had not an ounce of flesh about him but it was where it ought to be. He always played without his hat (the sun could not affect his complexion), and he took a liking to me as a boy, because I did the same. Poor Noah! his death was a very deplorable one. Having been out shooting all day with some friends, they finished their evening with a free carouse, and he could not be persuaded to go to bed, but persisted in sleeping all night in his chair in the chimney-corner. It was, and still is, the custom in that part of the country, to heap together all the ashes on the hearth, for the purpose of keeping the fire in till next day. During the night my poor playmate fell upon the embers, and being unable to help himself, burned his side so severely that he did not survive twenty-four hours.
Richard Francis was a Surrey man. One day I met him in the street of Hambledon, and ran to tell our General that the famous Francis had come to live among us; he could scarcely believe me—perhaps for joy. This was the luckiest thing that could have happened for us, for Brett had just about the same time left off playing. Francis was a fast jerker; but though his delivery was allowed to be fair bowling, still it was a jerk. We enlisted him immediately, for we all knew what he could do, having seen him play on the Surrey side against us. At that time he was a young man, and he remained many years in the club. He was a gamekeeper; a closely made, firm little man, and active. His batting did not deserve any marked praise, still we always set him down for a few runs. He was both a better batter, however, and field too, than Brett; but as a bowler he ranked many degrees below that fine player.
About the same period Richard Purchase joined us. He was a slowish bowler—rather faster than Lord Beauclerc. His balls got up uncommonly well, and they were generally to a length. But he had no cunning about him; nor was he up to the tricks of the game. In playing, as in all other actions in life, he was the same straightforward honest fellow. Purchase was a fair hitter, and a tolerably good field. He was a slightly made man, and of a dark complexion.
At this great distance from the period at which my recollection of cricketing commenced, and having no data by which to regulate them, the reader will good-naturedly make allowance both for the desultory character of my records, their unfinished and hasty sketchiness, and also for my now and then retracing my steps, to include some circumstance which, at the time of writing, had escaped my memory. For instance, I should have chronicled the era when the old-fashioned wicket of two stumps was changed to three—a decided improvement, seeing that it multiplied the chances to the batter of being bowled out, consequently increased the difficulty of his position, and thereby exalted his maintaining it for any length of time into the greater merit; for, under the old system, if the ball passed between the stumps, the batter was not considered out; under the improved system, such an event cannot happen, for the three stumps are not pitched at so great a distance from each other as to allow of the transit of the ball without knocking off the bail. This explanation is, of course, addressed only to the young and inexperienced player. The important reform in the game here alluded to took place, according to the best of my recollection, about the year 1779 or 1780. Since that time other entrenchments have been made upon the old constitution, which was the pride of our ancestors and the admiration of the whole community; but which, so far from contributing to its stability, will, in my opinion, if not retrieved, not only essentially change, but even destroy its character; let the patrician legislators and guardians of cricket-law look to it.
Before I proceed with my catalogue of the Hambledon Pantheon, it may be worth while to mention a circumstance connected with poor Noah Mann, the player named a few pages back. As it will tend to show the amenity in which the men of lower grade in society lived in those good old times with their superiors, it may prove no worthless example to the more aristocratic, and certainly less beloved members of the same rank in society of the present day. Poor Noah was very ambitious that his new-born son should bear the Christian name, with the sanction, of his namesake Sir Horace Mann. Old Nyren, who, being the link between the patricians and plebeians in our community—the juste milieu—was always applied to in cases of similar emergency, undertook, upon the present occasion, to bear the petition of Noah to Sir Horace, who, with a winning condescension, acceded to the worthy fellow's request, and consented to become godfather to the child, giving it his own name; adding, I have no doubt, a present suited to the station of his little protege. How easy a thing it is to win the esteem of our inferiors; and how well worth the while, when the mutual pleasure only, resulting from the action, is considered! Sir Horace, by this simple act of graceful humanity, hooked for life the heart of poor Noah Mann; and in this world of hatred and contention, the love even of a dog is worth living for.
The next player I shall name is James Aylward. His father was a farmer. After he had played with the club for a few years, Sir Horace got him away from us, and made him his bailiff, I think, or some such officer; I remember, however, he was but ill qualified for his post. Aylward was a left-handed batter, and one of the safest hitters I ever knew in the club. He once stayed in two whole days, and upon that occasion got the highest number of runs that had ever been gained by any member—one hundred and sixty-seven! Jemmy was not a good fieldsman, neither was he remarkably active. After he had left us, to go down to live with Sir Horace, he played against us, but never, to my recollection, with any advantage to his new associates—the Hambledonians were almost always too strong for their opponents. He was introduced to the club by Tom Taylor, and Tom's anxiety upon the occasion, that his friend should do credit to his recommendation, was curiously conspicuous. Aylward was a stout, well-made man, standing about five feet nine inches; not very light about the limbs, indeed he was rather clumsy. He would sometimes affect a little grandeur of manner, and once got laughed at by the whole ground for calling for a lemon to be brought to him when he had been in but a little while. It was thought a piece of finnikiness by those simple and homely yeomen.
And now for those anointed clod-stumpers, the Walkers, Tom and Harry. Never sure came two such unadulterated rustics into a civilized community. How strongly are the figures of the men (of Tom's in particular) brought to my mind when they first presented themselves to the club upon Windmilldown. Tom's hard, ungain, scrag-of- mutton frame; wilted, apple-john face (he always looked twenty years older than he really was), his long spider legs, as thick at the ankles as at the hips, and perfectly straight all the way down—for the embellishment of a calf in Tom's leg Dame Nature had considered would be but a wanton superfluity. Tom was the driest and most rigid-limbed chap I ever knew; his skin was like the rind of an old oak, and as sapless. I have seen his knuckles handsomely knocked about from Harris's bowling; but never saw any blood upon his hands—you might just as well attempt to phlebotomize a mummy. This rigidity of muscle (or rather I should say of tendon, for muscle was another ingredient economised in the process of Tom's configuration)—this rigidity, I say, was carried into .jpg)
TOM WALKER
(Enlarged detail of the frontispiece)
About a couple of years after Walker had been with us, he began the system of throwing instead of bowling, now so much the fashion. At that time it was esteemed foul play, and so it was decided by a council of the Hambledon Club which was called for the purpose. The first I recollect seeing revive the custom was Wills, a Sussex man.[5] I am decidedly of opinion, that if it be not stopped altogether, the character of the game will become changed. I should hope that such powerful and efficient members of the Mary-le-bone Club as Mr. Ward, &c., will determine, not only to discountenance, but wholly and finally to suppress it; and instead, to foster and give every encouragement to genuine, bona fide bowlers—men with a fine delivery.
I never thought much of Tom's bowling; indeed the bowling of that time was so super-eminent that he was not looked upon as a bowler—even for a change. He afterwards, however, greatly improved; and what with his thorough knowledge of the game, his crafty manner (for he was one of the most foxheaded fellows I ever saw), and his quickness in seizing every advantage, he was of considerable service to his party, but he never was a first-rate bowler. He was a right- and Harry a left-handed batter, and both were valuable men. They came from Thursley, near Hindhead; they and their father were farmers, and their land lay near to the Devil's Punch-bowl.
The next in succession will be John Wells, the Beldhams, Harris, and Freemantle.
Shortly after the Walkers had joined us, John Wells became a member of the Hambledon Club. John lived at Farnham, in Surrey, and was, if I recollect, a baker by trade. He was a short, thick, well-set man; in make like a cob-horse, proportionately strong, active, and laborious. As a bowler he had a very good delivery; he was also a good general field, and a steady batter—in short, an excellent 'servant of all work'; and, like those misused Gibeonites ('hewers of wood and drawers of water'), he was never spared when a wear-and-tear post was to be occupied. In cricket, as in the graver pursuits in life, the willing workman is ever spurred; he may perform labours of supererogation, and his assiduity meets at best with 'mouth honour': let him, however, but relax his muscles—let him but shorten his career to the speed of his fellows, and he instantly sinks below them in the estimation of his employers. Whether in this case the feeling arise from envy or not, it is hard to decide; assuredly, however, in very many instances, the mill-horsegrinder in the track of duty is acknowledged with greeting, while extra merit 'goes out sighing'. John Wells possessed all the requisites for making a thoroughly useful cricketer; and, in his general deportment, he was endowed with those qualities which render man useful to society as well as happy in himself. He was a creature of a transparent and unflawed integrity—plain, simple, and candid; uncompromising, yet courteous; civil and deferential, yet no cringer. He always went by the title of 'Honest John Wells', and as long as I knew him he never forfeited the character he had gained. Little more need be added respecting his merits as a player, for he must be fresh in the memory of all who have been accustomed to see the best playing; suffice to say that, in addition to his level merits as a general cricketer, he was esteemed to possess an excellent judgement of the game, and in questions that were frequently mooted his opinion would be appealed to.
The Beldhams, George and William, come next in succession, brothers, and both farmers. They also, with Wells, came from Farnham. George was what would be called a fine player; a good batter, and generally competent to fill the different posts in the game; but, as he attended the club a few times only during my stay in it, I am unable to discriminate or speak pointedly to his merits. Upon turning, however, to his brother William, we come to the finest batter of his own, or perhaps of any age. William Beldham was a close-set, active man, standing about five feet eight inches and a half. He had lightcoloured hair, a fair complexion, and handsome as well as intelligent features. We used to call him 'Silver Billy'. No one within my recollection could stop a ball better, or make more brilliant hits all over the ground. Wherever the ball was bowled, there she was hit away, and in the most severe, venomous style. Besides this, he was so remarkably safe a player; he was safer than the Bank, for no mortal ever thought of doubting Beldham's stability. He received his instructions from a gingerbread baker at Farnham, of the name of Harry Hall. I once played against Hall, and found him a very fair hand, yet nothing remarkable; he knew the principles of the game, yet, like many of inferior merit in performance, he made nevertheless an excellent tutor. He was a slow bowler, and a pretty good one. He had a peculiar habit of bringing his hand from behind his back immediately previous to his delivering the ball—a trick no doubt perplexing enough to an inexperienced batter. In his peripatetic lectures to the young students, Hall perpetually enforced the principle of keeping the left elbow well up (this charge was of course delivered to the right-handed hitters), and excellent instruction it was; for if you do keep that elbow well up, and your bat also upright (in stopping a length ball), you will not fail to keep the balls down; and, vice versa, lower your elbow, and your balls will infallibly mount when you strike them.
Beldham was quite a young man when he joined the Hambledon Club; and even in that stage of his playing I hardly ever saw a man with a finer command of his bat; but, with the instruction and advice of the old heads superadded, he rapidly attained to the extraordinary accomplishment of being the finest player that has appeared within the latitude of more than half a century. There can be no exception against his batting, or the severity of his hitting. He would get in at the balls, and hit them away in a gallant style; yet, in this single feat, I think I have known him excelled; but when he could cut them at the point of the bat he was in his glory; and upon my life, their speed was as the speed of thought. One of the most beautiful sights that can be imagined, and which would have delighted an artist, was to see him make himself up to hit a ball. It was the beau ideal of grace, animation, and concentrated energy. In this peculiar exhibition of elegance with vigour, the nearest approach to him, I think, was Lord Frederick Beauclerc. Upon one occasion at Mary-le-bone, I remember these two admirable batters being in together, and though Beldham was then verging towards his climacteric, yet both were excited to a competition, and the display of talent that was exhibited between them that day was the most interesting sight of its kind I ever witnessed. I should not forget, among his other excellences, to mention that Beldham was one of the best judges of a short run I ever knew; add to which, that he possessed a generally good knowledge of the game.
Hitherto I have spoken only of his batting. In this department alone, he had talent enough to make a dozen ordinary cricketers, but as a general fieldsman there were few better; he could take any post in the field, and do himself credit in it: latterly he usually chose the place of slip. But Beldham was a good change bowler too; he delivered his balls high, and they got up well. His pace was a moderate one, yet bordering upon the quick. His principal fault in this department was that he would often give a toss; taking him, however, as a change bowler, he was one of the best. He would very quickly discover what a hitter could do, and what he could not do, and arrange his bowling accordingly. Finally, although his balls were commonly to the length, he was much better calculated for a change than to be continued a considerable length of time.
One of the finest treats in cricketing that I remember, was to see this admirable man in, with the beautiful bowling of Harris.
Having finished with the best batter of his own, or, perhaps, of any age—Beldham—we proceed to the very best bowler; a bowler who, between any one and himself, comparison must fail. David Harris was, I believe, born, at all events he lived, at Odiham, in Hampshire; he was by trade a potter. He was a muscular, bony man, standing about five feet nine and a half inches. His features were not regularly handsome, but a remarkably kind and gentle expression amply compensated the defect of mere linear beauty. The fair qualities of his heart shone through his honest face, and I can call to mind no worthier, or, in the active sense of the word, not a more 'good man' than David Harris. He was one of the rare species that link man to man in bonds of fellowship by good works; that inspire confidence, and prevent the structure of society from becoming disjointed, and, as it were, a bowing wall, or a tottering fence.' He was a man of so strict a principle, and such high honour, that I believe his moral character was never impeached. I never heard even a suspicion breathed against his integrity, and I knew him long and intimately. I do not mean that he was a canter.—Oh, no—no one thought of standing on guard and buttoning up his pockets in Harris's company. I never busied myself about his mode of faith, or the peculiarity of his creed; that was his own affair, not mine, or any other being's on earth; all I know is, that he was an 'honest man', and the poet has assigned the rank of such a one in creation.
It would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to convey in writing an accurate idea of the grand effect of Harris's bowling; they only who have played against him can fully appreciate it. His attitude when preparing for his run previously to delivering the ball would have made a beautiful study for the sculptor. Phidias would certainly have taken him for a model. First of all, he stood erect like a soldier at drill; then, with a graceful curve of the arm, he raised the ball to his forehead, and drawing back his right foot, started off with his left. The calm look and general air of the man were uncommonly striking, and from this series of preparations he never deviated. I am sure that from this simple account of his manner, all my countrymen who were acquainted with his play will recall him to their minds. His mode of delivering the ball was very singular. He would bring it from under the arm by a twist, and nearly as high as his arm-pit, and with this action push it, as it were, from him. How it was that the balls acquired the velocity they did by this mode of delivery I never could comprehend!
When first he joined the Hambledon Club, he was quite a raw countryman at cricket, and had very little to recommend him but his noble delivery. He was also very apt to give tosses. I have seen old Nyren scratch his head, and say—'Harris would make the best bowler in England if he did not toss'. By continual practice, however, and following the advice of the old Hambledon players, he became as steady as could be wished; and in the prime of his playing very rarely indeed gave a toss, although his balls were pitched the full length. In bowling, he never stooped in the least in his delivery, but kept himself upright all the time. His balls were very little beholden to the ground when pitched; it was but a touch, and up again; and woe be to the man who did not get in to block them, for they had such a peculiar curl, that they would grind his fingers against the bat: many a time have I seen the blood drawn in this way from a batter who was not up to the trick; old Tom Walker was the only exception—I have before classed him among the bloodless animals.
Harris's bowling was the finest of all tests for a hitter, and hence the great beauty, as I observed before, of seeing Beldham in, with this man against him; for unless a batter were of the very first class, and accustomed to the best style of stopping, he could do little or nothing with Harris. If the thing had been possible, I should have liked to have seen such a player as Budd (fine hitter as he was) standing against him. My own opinion is that he could not have stopped his balls, and this will be a criterion, by which those who have seen some of that gentleman's brilliant hits may judge of the extraordinary .jpg)
(Enlarged detail from the frontispiece)
To Harris's fine bowling I attribute the great improvement that was made in hitting, and above all in stopping; for it was utterly impossible to remain at the crease, when the ball was tossed to a fine length; you were obliged to get in, or it would be about your hands, or the handle of your bat; and every player knows where its next place would be.
Some years after Harris had played with the Hambledon Club, he became so well acquainted with the science of the game of cricket that he could take a very great advantage in pitching the wickets. And not only would he pitch a good wicket for himself, but he would also consider those who had to bowl with him. The writer of this has often walked with him up to Windmill-down at six o'clock in the morning of the day that a match was to be played, and has with pleasure noticed the pains he has taken in choosing the ground for his fellow-bowler as well as himself. The most eminent men in every walk of life have at all times been the most painstaking;—slabberdash work and indifference may accompany genius, and it does so too frequently; such geniuses, however, throw away more than half their chance. There are more brilliant talents in this world than people give the world credit for; and that their lustre does not exhibit to the best advantage, commonly depends upon the owners of them. Ill luck, and the preference that frequently attends industrious mediocrity, are the only anodynes that wounded self-love or indolence can administer to misapplied or unused ability. In his walk, Harris was a man of genius, and he let slip no opportunity to maintain his pre-eminence. Although unwilling to detract from the fame of old Lumpy, I must here observe upon the difference in these two men with regard to pitching their wickets. Lumpy would uniformly select a point where the ball was likely to shoot, that is, over the brow of a little hill; and when by this forethought and contrivance the old man would prove successful in bowling his men out, he would turn round to his party with a little grin of triumph; nothing gratified him like this reward of his knowingness. Lumpy, however, thought only of himself in choosing his ground; his fellow-bowler might take his chance; this was neither wise nor liberal. Harris, on the contrary, as I have already observed, considered his partner; and, in so doing, the main chance of the game. Unlike Lumpy, too, he would choose a rising ground to pitch the ball against, and he who is well acquainted with the game of cricket will at once perceive the advantage that must arise from a wicket pitched in this way to such a tremendous bowler as Harris was. If I were urged to draw a comparison between these two great players, the greatest certainly in their department I ever saw, I could do it in no other way than the following:—Lumpy's ball was always pitched to the length, but delivered lower than Harris's, and never got up so high; he was also slower than Harris, and lost his advantage by the way in which he persisted in pitching his wicket; yet I think he would bowl more wickets down than the other, for the latter never pitched his wicket with this end in view; almost all his balls, therefore, rose over the wicket; consequently, more players would be caught out from Harris than Lumpy, and not half the number of runs got from his bowling. I passed a very pleasant time with Harris when he came to my father's house at Hambledon, by invitation, after an illness, and for the benefit of the change of air. Being always his companion in his walks about the neighbourhood, I had full opportunity of observing the sweetness of his disposition; this, with his manly contempt of every action that bore the character of meanness, gained him the admiration of every cricketer in Hambledon.
In concluding my recollections of Harris, I had well nigh omitted to say something of his skill in the other departments of the game. The fact is, the extraordinary merit of his bowling would have thrown any other fair accomplishments he might possess into the shade; but, indeed, as a batter, I considered him rather an indifferent hand; I never recollect his getting more than ten runs, and those very rarely. Neither was his fielding remarkable. But he was game to the backbone, and never suffered a ball to pass him without putting his body in the way of it. If I recollect, he generally played slip.
The Freemantles. There were two of them, and, I believe, brothers. John and Andrew were their names. One was an acknowledged player long before the other began. I am now, however, speaking of Freemantle the bowler. He, with Andrew, came from some town between Winchester and Alresford. John was a stoutly-made man; his standard about five feet ten inches. He delivered his ball high and well, and tolerably fast, yet he could not be ranked among the fast bowlers. The best compliment I can pay him is that he was reckoned very successful, and, moreover, that his being a member of the Hambledon Club was sufficient guarantee for his general ability, as those sound and experienced judges would never admit as member any man who did not possess some qualifications above the common level.
As a batter, John Freemantle would have been reckoned a good hand in any club. He would now and then get many runs; yet, withal, he could by no means be pronounced a fine batter. As a man, he bore a high character for straightforward, manly integrity; in short, he was a hearty John Bull, and flinched no more from doing his duty than he did from a ball in the field, and this he never did, however hard it might hit him.
Andrew was a shortish, well-set man, and a lefthanded player. He was an uncommonly safe, as well as good hitter; and few wickets that I could name were more secure than Andrew's. He would often get long hands, and against the best bowling too; and when he had once warmed into his hitting, it was a deuced hard matter to get him out—an accident would frequently do the business. In his general style of batting he very much reminded me of Aylward, who has been spoken of some pages back. He usually played the long field, and was remarkably steady and safe in this department. But Andrew Freemantle could be depended upon, whatever he might undertake, whether in cricket or in his worldly dealings.
Upon one occasion when I had come up to London, I heard of a match being played in Lord's Ground, and of course made one of the spectators of my beloved amusement. Andrew Freemantle was in, and one of the new-fashioned bowlers, commonly called throwers, was bowling to him. His name was Wells,[6] and I believe he came out of Sussex. He was the first I had seen of the new school, after the Walkers had attempted to introduce the system in the Hambledon Club. Wells frequently pitched his balls to the off-side of the wicket to Freemantle's left-handed hitting, who got in before the wicket, and hit the thrower's bowling behind him. Now, had he missed the ball, and it had hit his leg, although before the wicket, he would not have been out, because it had been pitched at the outside of the off-stump. I mention this trifling circumstance to show the knowledge the latter had of the game.
Andrew Freemantle's fielding was very fair; his post was generally the long field. He, however, must be so well known to many of the Mary-le-bone men now living that I need enumerate no more of the peculiar characteristics of his playing.
Next comes that deservedly esteemed character John Small, son, and worthy successor, to the celebrated batter of the same name. He, as well as his father, was a native of Petersfield. Young Small was a very handsomely made man. For perfect symmetry of form, and well-knit, compact limbs and frame, his father was one of the finest models of a man I ever beheld; and the son was little inferior to him in any respect. Jack Small! my old club fellow! when the fresh and lusty May-tide of life sent the blood gamboling through our veins like a Spring runlet, we have had many a good bout together:
But now my head is bald, John,
And locks as white as snow,
and yours have, doubtless, bleached under the cold hand of mayhap three score winters and more; but the churl has not yet touched the citadel. My heart is as sound as ever, and beats regular and true time to the tune of old and grateful thoughts for long friendships. You, I am sure, can echo this sentiment. You are a musician as well as a friend, and know the value of steadiness in both characters. I think we could give some of the young whipsters a little trouble even now. Like the old Knight of the Boar's Head, we might need the legs of these Harry Monmouths; but it is my opinion we could bother them yet, at a good stand to our post. They would find some trouble to bowl down our stumps. They say, Jack, you were born with a bat in your hand. I can believe the tale, for I am sure you inherited the craft from both father and mother. She, I think, took as much delight and interest in the game as he. Many 's the time I have seen that worthy woman (every way deserving of so kind and excellent a husband) come galloping up the ground at a grand match, where he was to play (for, you know, she always accompanied him to those high solemnities); and no player even could show more interest in the progress of the game than she, and certainly no one, as was natural, felt so much pride in her husband's fine playing.
I do not remember, John, that you were much of a bowler; but I remember that you were everything else, and that your judgement of the game was equal to that of any man. Your style of hitting, to my mind, was of the very first quality; and I can name no one who possessed a more accurate judgement of a short run. By the by—is that account true which I have heard, that upon one occasion, at Mary-le-bone, you and Hammond went in first, when there were only forty runs to get to win the match; and that you made an agreement together to run whenever the ball passed the wicket-keeper: that you did this, and between you got the whole forty runs before you were out? I have been told this anecdote of you both, and, if true, it clearly shows, according to my opinion, that the judgement of the people who played against you must have been strangely at fault, or they might have prevented it; for had but the long-stop been well acquainted with the game, he would have put you out.
I always admired your fielding, Jack: I am not sure that your middle wicket (the post that your father occupied) was not as good as his—though, I dare say, you would not allow this. Certain am I that a better never was put at that post. And now, farewell, my old club-fellow.
Reader! in a few words (now he has left the room), I assure you that in every way he was as complete a chap as I ever knew—a genuine chip of the old block—an admirable player, and a highly honourable man. The legs at Mary-le-bone never produced the least change in him; but, on the contrary, he was thoroughly disgusted at some of the manoeuvres that took place there from time to time.
About the time that John Small had risen into the celebrity I have just been describing, his father and Nyren retired from the field. I cannot do better, in concluding these brief recollections, than enumerate the most eminent players in the Hambledon Club when it was in its glory.
| David Harris | Tom Walker, |
| John Wells | Robinson |
| Purchase | Noah Mann |
| Wiliam Beldham | Scott |
| John Small, Jun. | Taylor |
| Harry Walker | |
No eleven in England could have had any chance with these men; and I think they might have beaten any two-and-twenty.
A FEW MEMORANDA RESPECTING THE
PROGRESS OF CRICKET
Mr. Ward obligingly furnished me with a small MS., written some years since by an old cricketer, containing a few hasty recollections and rough hints to players, thrown together without regard to method or order. From the mass I have been able to select a few portions, thinking that they might possess some interest with those of my readers who take a pride in the game.
From the authority before me, it appears that about 150 years since, it was the custom, as at present, to pitch the wickets at the same distance asunder, viz. twenty-two yards. That the stumps (only one foot high, and two feet[7] wide) were surmounted with a bail. At that period, however, another peculiarity in the game was in practice, and which it is worth while to record. Between the stumps a hole was cut in the ground, large enough to contain the ball and the butt-end of the bat. In running a notch, the striker was required to put his bat into this hole, instead of the modern practice of touching over the popping-crease. The wicketkeeper, in putting out the striker when running, was .jpg)
WILLIAM WARD, ESQ.
(From an engraving reproduced by permission of the M.C.C.)
The following account of a match played in the year 1746 has been selected by the writer above mentioned, in order to show the state of play at that time. It arose from a challenge given by Lord John Sackville, on the part of the County of Kent, to play All England; and it proved to be a well-contested match, as will appear from the manner in which the players kept the field. The hitting, however, could neither have been of a high character nor indeed safe, as may be gathered from the figure of the bat at that time—which was similar to an old-fashioned dinner-knife—curved at the back, and sweeping in the form of a volute at the front and end. With such a bat, the system must have been all for hitting; it would be barely possible to block: and when the practice of bowling length- balls was introduced, and which gave the bowler so great an advantage in the game, it became absolutely necessary to change the form of the bat, in order that the striker might be able to keep pace with the improvement. It was therefore made straight in the pod; in consequence of which, a total revolution, it may be said a reformation too, ensued in the style of play.
The following is a record of the match alluded to. KENT AGAINST ALL ENGLAND.
Played in the Artillery Ground, London.
| England, 1st Innings. | 2nd Innings. | |||||
| Runs | Runs | |||||
| Harris | 0 | B by | Hadswell | 4 | B by | Mills |
| Dingate | 3 | B | ditto | 11 | B | Hadswell |
| Newland | 0 | B | Mills | 3 | B | ditto |
| Cuddy | 0 | B | Hadswell | 2 | C | Danes |
| Green | 9 | B | Mills | 5 | B | Mills |
| Waymark | 7 | B | ditto | 9 | B | Hadswell |
| Bryan | 12 | S | Kips | 7 | C | Kips |
| Newland | 18 | — | not out | 15 | C | Lord J. Sackville |
| Harris | 0 | B | Hadswell | 1 | B | Hadswell |
| Smith | 0 | C | Bartrum | 8 | B | Mills |
| Newland | 0 | B | Mills | 5 | — | not out |
| Byes | 0 | Byes | 2 | |||
| 40 | 70 | |||||
| England, 1st Innings. | 2nd Innings. | |||||
| Runs | Runs | |||||
| Lord J. Sackville | 5 | C by | Waymark | 3 | B by | Harris |
| Long Robin | 7 | B | Newland | 9 | B | Newland |
| Mills | 0 | B | Harris | 6 | C | ditto |
| Hadswell | 0 | B | ditto | 5 | — | not out |
| Cutbush | 3 | C | Green | 7 | — | not out |
| Bartrum | 2 | B | Newland | 0 | B | Newland |
| Danes | 6 | B | ditto | 0 | C | Smith |
| Sawer | 0 | C | Waymark | 5 | B | Newland |
| Kips | 12 | B | Harris | 10 | B | Harris |
| Mills | 7 | — | not out | 2 | B | Newland |
| Romney | 11 | B | Harris | 8 | C | Harris |
| Byes | 0 | Byes | 3 | |||
| 53 | 58 | |||||
Some years after this, the fashion of the bat having been changed to a straight form, the system of stopping, or blocking, was adopted; when John Small, Sen., of Petersfield, in Hampshire, became signalized as the most eminent batsman of his day, being a very safe player and a remarkably fine hitter; and Edward Stevens, or, as he was commonly called, Lumpy, was esteemed the best bowler.
About the years 1769 and 1770, the Hambledon Club, having had a run of ill success, was on the eve of being dissolved. It had been hitherto supported by the most respectable gentlemen in that part of the county. They determined, however, once more to try their fortune, and on the 23rd of September, 1771, having played the County of Surrey, at Laleham Burway, they beat them by one run. Out of fifty-one matches played by the same club against England, &c., during the ensuing ten years, they gained twenty-nine of the number.
Several years since (I do not recollect the precise date) a player, named White, of Ryegate, Drought a bat to a match, which being the width of the stumps, effectually defended his wicket from the bowler: and in consequence, a law was passed limiting the future width of the bat to 4¼ inches.[8] Another law also decreed that the ball should not weigh less than 5½ oz., or more than 5¾ oz.
On the 22nd of May, 1775, a match was played in the Artillery Ground, between five of the Hambledon Club and five of All England; when Small went in the last man for fourteen runs, and fetched them. Lumpy was bowler upon the occasion; and it having been remarked that his balls had three several times passed between Small's stumps, it was considered to be a hard thing upon the bowler that his straightest balls should be thus sacrificed; the number of the stumps was in consequence increased from two to three. Many amateurs were of opinion at the time that the alteration would tend to shorten the game; and subsequently the Hampshire gentlemen did me the honour of taking my opinion upon this point. I agreed with them that it was but doing justice to the bowler; but I differed upon the question that it would shorten the game; because the striker, knowing the danger of missing one straight ball with three instead of two stumps behind him, would materially redouble his care; while every loose hard hitter would learn to stop, and play as safe a game as possible. The following record of a match, played shortly afterwards between the Hambledon Club and All England, at Sevenoaks, will prove whether my opinion were well or ill founded.
It was upon this occasion that Aylward fetched the extraordinary number of 167 runs from his own bat—one of the greatest feats upon record in the annals of cricket; for it must be borne in mind that his success did not arise from any loose playing or incompetence on the part of his opponents—there would then have been no merit in the triumph; but he had to stand against the finest bowling of the day—that of Lumpy.
The reader will not fail likewise to remark the difference of amount in the score between the first and the second innings on the England side; the men were either disheartened at the towering pre-eminence of the adverse party; or, which is more probable, the latter, like good generals, would not throw away a single chance; but although the odds were so greatly in their favour, they, instead of relaxing, or showing any indifference, fielded with still greater care than in the first innings; and, in consequence, their opponents did not score half their previous number of runs. This is the genuine spirit of emulation.
HAMBLEDON CLUB AGAINST ALL ENGLAND.
Played 18th June 1777
| England, 1st Innings. | 2nd Innings. | |||||
| Runs | Runs | |||||
| Duke of Dorset | 0 | B by | Brett | 5 | C by | Lord Tankerville |
| Lumpy | 1 | B | ditto | 2 | — | not out |
| Wood | 1 | B | ditto | 1 | B | Nyren |
| White | 8 | C | Veck | 10 | — | not out[9] |
| Miller | 27 | C | Small | 23 | B | Brett |
| Michin | 60 | — | not out | 12 | B | Taylor |
| Bowra | 2 | B | Brett | 4 | B | ditto |
| Bullen | 13 | B | Lord Tankerville | 2 | B | Nyren |
| Booker | 8 | C | Brett | 2 | B | Brett |
| Yalden | 6 | C | Small | 8 | C | Nyren |
| Pattenden | 38 | B | Brett | 0 | C | Brett |
| Byes | 2 | Byes | 0 | |||
| 166 | 69 | |||||
| Hambledon | 1st Innings | ||
| Runs. | |||
| Lord Tankerville | 3 | B by | Wood |
| Lear | 7 | B | ditto |
| Veck | 16 | B | Lumpy |
| Small | 33 | C | White |
| Francis | 26 | C | Wood |
| Nyren | 37 | B | Lumpy |
| Sueter | 46 | B | Wood |
| Taylor | 32 | C | Bullen |
| Aburrow | 22 | C | Michin |
| Aylward | 167 | B | Bullen |
| Brett | 9 | — | not out |
| Byes | 5 | ||
| 403 | |||
Won by Hambledon, by 168 runs in one innings.
In the year 1778, Harris, the best bowler ever known, began playing in the first matches; and from the vast superiority of his style, the hitting increased both in safety and severity, particularly in Hampshire and Surrey, where the players had an opportunity of practising against the bowling of this remarkable man. He had a very high delivery of the balls, and was as steady to a length. This obliged the striker to play forward, otherwise, from the rapidity of the balls rising from the ground, he was sure to be caught out at the point of the bat. I consider cricket to have been at its zenith at the time that Harris was in prime play.
After his death a childish mode of bowling was adopted—very slow and high, and scarcely passing the wicket. By some the ball was delivered with a straight arm, nearly approaching to a gentle throw. That practice, however, (of throwing), was set aside by a resolution of the Mary-le-bone Club.[10]
[Here follow some general instructions to the bowler and striker; they are, however, brief, and at the same time bear so closely upon those already given in previous pages of this little work that the inserting of them would amount almost to a verbal repetition.
The following hints to the directors and managers of a match will amuse some readers, and not be wholly unworthy the attention of those who are ambitious of playing a keen and manoeuvring, rather than a plain and straightforward game.] MANAGEMENT OF A MATCH
In making a match, you should be careful to stand on higher terms than you have an absolute occasion for; that you may the more easily obtain such as are necessary—keeping in mind the old adage, 'A match well made is half won.'
In pitching the wickets[11] (when it falls to your lot to have the pitching of them), you must be careful to suit your bowling. If you nave one slow, and one fast bowler, pitch your wickets right up and down the wind. A slow bowler can never bowl well with the wind in his face. If your bowling is all fast, and your opponents have a slow bowler, pitch your wickets with a cross wind, that you may in some degree destroy the effect of the slow bowling. If either of your bowlers twist his balls, favour such twist as much as possible by taking care to choose the ground at that spot where the ball should pitch its proper length, a little sloping inwards.
If you go in first, let two of your most safe and steady players be put in, that you may stand a chance of 'milling' the bowling in the early part of the game. And whenever a man is put out, and if the bowling have become loose, put in a resolute hard hitter. Observe also, if two players are well in, and warm with getting runs fast, and one should happen to be put out, that you supply his place immediately, le'st the other become cold and stiff.
When your party takes the field, let your bowlers take full time between their balls; keeping a close field till your opponents begin to hit freely, when you must extend your men as occasion may require.
If the opposite party hold in, and are getting runs too fast, change your worst bowler, being careful at the same time to bring forward one as opposite to him as possible, both in speed and delivery. If you bring forward a fast bowler as a change, contrive, if fortune so favour you that he shall bowl his first ball when a cloud is passing over; because, as this trifling circumstance frequently affects the sight of the striker, you may thereby stand a good chance of getting him out.
When it is difficult to part two batsmen, and either of them has a favourite hit, I have often succeeded in getting him out by opening the field where his hit is placed, at the same time hinting to the bowler to give him a different style of ball. This, with the opening of the field, has tempted him to plant his favourite hit, and in his anxiety to do so has not unfrequently committed an error fatal to him.
Every manœuvre must be tried in a desperate state of the game; but, above all things, be slow and steady, being also especially careful that your field do not become confused. Endeavour by every means in your power—such as by changing the bowling, by little alterations in the field, or by any excuse you can invent—to delay the time, that the strikers may become cold and inactive. And when you get a turn in your favour, you may push on the game a little faster; but even then be not too flushed with success, but let your play be still cool, cautious, and steady.
If your party go in the last innings for a certain number of runs, always keep back two or three of your safest batsmen for the last wickets. Timid or hazardous hitters seldom do so well when the game is desperate as those who, from safe play, are more confident.
LIST OF THE MEMBERS
OF THE
MARY-LE-BONE CLUB
Acheson, Viscount
Adamson, Mr.
Aislabie, Mr. B.
Anderson, Mr.
Anderson, Mr. D.
Ashley, Hon. H.
Antrobus, Mr. J.
Baker, Mr.
Barclay, Mr. R.
Barham, Mr.
Barbara, Mr. W.
Barnard, Mr.
Barnett, Mr. James
Barnett, Mr. Charles
Bamett, Mr. G. H.
Bathurst, Sir F.
Bayley, Mr. J.
Beauclerk, Lord F.
Beauclerk, Mr.
Bearblock, Mr. W.
Belfast, Earl of
Bennett, Mr.
Berens, Mr. R.
Biddulph, Mr. R. M.
Bligh, Hon. Gen.
Brooke, Mr. F. C.
Brooks, Mr.
Budd, Mr.
Balfour, Captain
Blake, Mr. J. G.
Caldwell, Mr.
Caldwell, Mr. B.
Calmady, Mr.
Campbell, Mr.
Castlereagh, Lord
Cheslyn, Mr.
Chesterfield, Earl of
Chichester, Earl of
Clitheroe, Mr. J. C.
Codrington, Captain
Colcomb, Major
Cope, Sir John, Bart.
Cotton, Sir St. Vincent
Cox, Mr.
Clonbrock, Lord
Cox, Mr. C.
Curtis, Sir William
Curzon, Hon. F.
Clayton, Captain
Darnley, Earl of
Davidson, Mr. H.
Davidson, Mr. D.
Davidson, Mr. W.
Davidson, Captain
Deedes, Mr. W.
Deedes, Mr. James
Delme, Mr. C.
Denne, Mr. T.
Dunlo, Lord
Dyke, Mr. P. H.
Dillon, Hon. Mr.
Ellis, Mr. W.
Ellis, Mr. C.
Everett, Mr.
Exeter, Marquis of
Fairfield, Mr. G.
Fairlie, Mr.
Fairlie, Mr. W.
Fitzroy, Mr. H.
Forbes, Mr.
Franklyn, Mr.
Fryer, Mr.
Fuller, Mr.
Finch, Hon. D.
Flayer, Mr.
Gardiner, Colonel
Gaselee, Mr.
Gibbon, Sir John, Bart.
Glenorchy, Lord
Gordon, Hon. Fred.
Gordon, Hon. Francis
Greenwood, Captain (2nd Life Guards)
Greenwood, Captain (Grenadier Guards)
Greville, Captain
Greville, Hon. R. F.
Grey, Lord
Goring, Mr. F.
Grimstead, Mr.
Grimston, Lord
Grimston, Hon. E. H.
Gunning, Sir R. H., Bart.
Hale, Mr. C.
Harman, Mr. E. D.
Harrington, Mr.
Heathcote, Mr. J. M.
Hemming, Mr.
Hill, Mr. C.
Hill, Mr. P.
Hillsborough, Earl of
Hoare, Mr.
Howard, Mr.
Harbord, Hon. E. V.
Jenner, Mr. H.
Jones, Mr. D. H.
Johnson, Mr.
Keen, Mr.
Kingscote, Mr. H.
Knatchbull, Mr.
Knight, Mr. E.
Knight, Mr. G. T.
Kynaston, Mr.
Labalmondiere, Mr.
Ladbrook, Mr. F.
Lascelles, Hon. Col.
Lascelles, Hon. E.
Leathes, Mr.
Lloyd, Mr. H.
Lloyd, Mr. C.
Loftus, Captain
Long, Colonel
Lowther, Hon. Col.
Mackinnon, Mr. H.
M'Taggert, Mr. T.
Mann, Cplonel
Mallet, Sir Alexander
Martyn, Mr.
Mellish, Mr. T.
Meyrick, Mr. F.
Mills, Mr. E.
Mills, Mr. C.
Montague, Hon. S. D.
Moreton, Hon. H.
Morgan, Mr. C.
Morgan, Mr. W. H.
Musgrave, Captain
Michel, Captain
Nicole, Mr.
Northy, Captain
Oglander, Mr.
Onslow, Mr. G.
Ossory, Lord
Phillimore, Captain
Pack, Mr.
Parry, Mr. F.
Paul, Sir D. Bart.
Paul, Mr.
Payne, Mr. G.
Pickering, Mr.
Philipps, Mr.
Plunkett, Mr.
Plymouth, Earl of
Pocklington, Mr.
Ponsonby, Hon. G.
Powell, Mr. J. H. jun.
Purling, Mr.
Payne, Mr. A.
Pigott, Mr. W. P.
Quarme, Mr.
Reed, Mr.
Ricardo, Mr.
Robarts, Mr.
Romilly, Mr. E.
Romilly, Mr. C.
Romilly, Mr. F.
Rothschild, Mr.
Russell, Lord C.
St. Albans, Duke of
Scott, Mr. J. W.
Scott, Hon. W.
Sewell, Colonel
Shelley, Mr.
Sivewright, Mr. E.
Sivewright, Mr. C. K.
Stanley, Hon. Capt. Thomas
Stone, Mr. R.
Stonor, Mr.
Strahan, Mr.
Strathavon, Lord
Stubbs, Mr.
Sullivan, Mr.
Smith, Mr.
Talbot, Hon. Mr.
Tanner, Mr.
Thynne, Lord W.
Townsend, Mr.
Trevanion, Mr.
Turner, Mr.
Uxbridge, Earl of
Vigne, Mr.
Vigne, Mr. G. T.
Vifiiers, Hon. A.
Vivian, Mr.
Vincent, Sir F.
Walker, Mr. E.
Walpole, Mr. R.
Walton, Mr.
Ward, Mr. W.
Waterpark, Lord
Webster, Colonel
Wells, Mr. J.
Willan, Mr.
Wodehouse, Mr.
Wood, Mr.
Wright, Mr. J. D.
Walker, Mr. H.
Willoughby, Sir H.
THE END
- ↑ Pills to purge Melancholy, 4th edit. 1719, vol. ii. p. 172.
- ↑ I learned a little Latin when I was a boy of a worthy old Jesuit, but I was a better hand at the fiddle; and many a time have I taught the gipsys a tune during their annual visits to our village, thereby purchasing the security of our poultry-yard. When the hand of the destroyer was stretched forth over the neighbouring roosts, our little Goshen was always passed by.
- ↑ This song was really written to commemorate the victory by Kent over Hampshire on August 19, 1772. The Hambledon names were added later.—E. V. L.
- ↑ Not the great Lambert; really Lamborn. E. V. L
- ↑ Mr. J. Willes. E.V.L.
- ↑ See note on page 70. E. V. L.
- ↑ There must be a mistake in this account of the width of the wicket. J. N.
- ↑ I have a perfect recollection of this occurrence; also, that subsequently an iron frame, of the statute width, was constructed for and kept by the Hambledon Club; through which any bat of suspected dimensions was passed, and allowed or rejected accordingly. J. N.
- ↑ Should be 'run out', according to correction in Mr. Haygarth's own copy, now in Mr. Gaston's possession. E.V.L.
- ↑ Tom Walker was the first to introduce the system of throwing; and it was to provide against such an innovation that the law was passed, and which Taw is still in force, although it is daily infringed, and will, in all probability, become a dead letter. J. N.
- ↑ Now the province of the umpires: see copy of the Laws. J. N.