Cricket. Horace Gordon Hutchinson
I take it that virtually cricket, worthy to be called by any such great name, did not really begin before this. This game of trundling along the
Engraved by Benoist
After F. Hayman, R.A.
CRICKET, "AFTER THE PAINTING IN VAUXHALL GARDEN."
ground at a two-foot wide wicket, and a man with a hockey-stick defending it, is really rather a travesty of the great and glorious game. The origin of cricket it was, no doubt, and as such is to be most piously revered, but actual cricket—hardly. Consider that old print of a game in progress on the Artillery Fields, where the players are equipped with the curved bats, wear knee-breeches, and the wicket is low and wide, with two stumps upright and one across. There is not a fieldsman on the off side of the wicket—a significant fact in itself; but further, and far more significant, a spectator is reclining on the ground, entirely at his ease, precisely in the position that point would occupy to-day. There can be but one meaning to this picture—that such a thing as off hitting was absolutely unknown. Possibly it was difficult enough to hit to the off, even with the best intentions, off these bats like bandy-sticks; it is at all events certain that it was a style of stroke not contemplated by the gentleman reclining on the ground.
I have spoken above of the bat as an instrument of defence. So to style it when writing of this era is to commit an anachronism. The earlier cricketers, even of the straight-bat epoch, were guiltless of the very notion of defence. They were all for aggression, trying to score off every ball. The reason of this was, no doubt, in the first place that the idea of merely stopping the ball had not occurred to them—partly because the object of the game is to score, and because the bandy-stick style of bat must have been singularly ill designed for defence; but also there is this further reason, that chance was much more on the batsman's side in the old days than it is now. Nowadays, if a ball is straight and the batsman misses it, it is a simple matter of cause and effect that the bails are sent flying and he is out. But with the wicket 2 feet wide, and no middle stump, this was by no means so inevitable. On the contrary, it must have been a very frequent occurrence for the ball to pass through the wicket without any disturbance of the timber. Even when the wicket was narrowed to 6 inches, there was still room for the ball to pass between the stumps, of which the fortune of the before-mentioned Small was a celebrated and flagrant instance. The old-time batsman was therefore not so essentially concerned with seeing that no straight ball got past his bat. He did not bother himself about defence. He gallantly tried to score off every ball that came to him.
Yet, for all that, his slogging was not like the slogging of to-day. He had no idea of jumping in and taking the ball at the half-volley. His notions went no further than staying in his ground and making the best he could of the ball in such fashion as it was pleased to come to him.
"These men"—the "old players," so called in 1780—says Mr. Pycroft, quoting the authority of Beldham, backed by that of Fennex, "played puddling about their crease, and had no freedom. I like to see a player upright and well forward, to face the ball like a man"—at this time of day, the wicket had lately been raised from i foot to 2 feet high, but had for some while been only 6 inches wide, a small mark for the bowler.
Mr. Pycroft goes on, quoting Beldham again: "There was some good hitting in those days"—towards the close of the eighteenth century is the date alluded to, as far as I can make out—"though too little defence. Tom Taylor would cut away in fine style, almost after the manner of Mr. Budd. Old Small was among the first members of the Hambledon Club. He began to play about 1750, and Lumpy Stevens at the same time. I can give you some notion, sir, of what cricket was in those days, for Lumpy, a very bad bat, as he was well aware, once said to me, 'Beldham, what do you think cricket must have been in those days when I was thought a good batsman?'"
This is instructive comment, as to the style of batting previous to 1780—that is the date that it appears we must fix for the change of style that brought batting in touch with modern theories. But by the way we ought to notice that Beldham spoke of the fielding as being very good, even in the oldest days of his recollection, and Mr. Pycroft is careful to add a note saying that this praise from Beldham was high praise indeed, and eminently to be trusted, as Beldham's own hands were also eminently to be trusted, whether for fielding the ball on the ground or for a catch.
But with the year 1780 we come to a new era in the art of batting, associated more particularly with the name and art of a famous bowler, David Harris, the association being again an illustration of the truth, which has several times already been in evidence, that it is the bowling that is the efficient cause in educating the batsman—that it is the bowling that "makes the batting."
"Nowadays," said Beldham to Mr. Pycroft, "all the world knows that"—namely, that the upright bat and the left elbow up and forward is the right principle of batting—"but when I began there was very little length bowling, little straight play, and very little defence either."
Beldham was a boy in 1780, and even before this, Harry Hall, the gingerbread-baker of Farnham, of immortal memory, was going about the country preaching the great truths about batting. May be he was but little listened to. At all events it is certain that until men had the straight bat to play with and the length bowling to contend with there can have been little opportunity or demand for straight batting.
"The first lobbing slow bowler I ever saw was Tom Walker," Beldham says. "When, in 1792, England played Kent, I did feel so ashamed of such baby bowling, but after all he did more than even David Harris himself. Two years after, in 1794, at Dartford Brent, Tom Walker, with his slow bowling, headed a side against David Harris, and beat him easily."
And this Walker, by the way, was a wonderful fellow in more departments of the game than one.
AN EARLY TICKET.
From a Drawing by
Wm. Fecit.
WILLIAM AND THOMAS EARLE.
A terrible stick, but very hard to get out—very slow between wickets, so that one of the old jokers said to him, "Surely you are well named Walker, for you are not much of a runner"—a moderate jest, but showing the sort of man he was. Then he was "bloodless," they said. However he was hit about the shins or fingers, he never showed a mark. Only David Harris, that terrible bowler, made the ball jump up and grind Tom Walker's fingers against the handle of the bat; but all Tom Walker did then was to rub his finger in the dust to stanch the reluctant flow of blood. It is all very grim and Homeric. David Harris, rather maliciously, said he liked to "rind Tom," as if he were a tree stem withered and gnarled. And it is a marvellous fact that a man of this character, whom you would call conservative to the core of his hard-grained timber, should actually have invented something new. But he did. He first tried the "throwing-bowling," the round-arm, which was credited to Willes—probably an independent invention, and so meriting equal honour—many years after. Well may Nyren speak of the Walkers, Tom and Harry, as those "anointed clod-stumpers." Harry was a hitter, his "half-hour was as good as Tom's afternoon."
And meanwhile what has become of David Harris? David Harris, it is said, once bowled him 170 balls for one run. And what manner of balls were these? Let us consider a moment a description of David Harris's bowling culled from Nyren. Parts of it lend themselves to the gaiety of nations, and the whole description, if not very lucid, is full of terror. "It would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to convey in writing an accurate idea of the grand effect of Harris's bowling"—the effect, as a matter of fact, is conveyed a deal more clearly than the way in which it was produced. "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 model for the sculptor. Phidias would certainly have taken him as a model. First of all, he stood