CHAPTER XXXVII.
A Cockney’s account of the First of September—Pigeon shooting—Out-door games—Cricket—High stakes—Lord’s cricket ground—Trap and ball—Billiards—Life of Andrews the billiard player.
PASSING from recounting the feats of legitimate sportsmen, let us unbend, and indulge in a contemporary account of his cockney congener—Times, September 2, 1803:
“A Cockney’s Account of Yesterday,
being
The First of September.
“Having sat up all night to be ready and fresh in the morning, four of us met at the Obelisk, in St. George’s Fields, from whence we proceeded with our dogs, arms, and ammunition, to Lambeth Marsh, where we expected to have great sport, but found nothing except a cat, which we all fired at; but being only four in number, and a cat having nine lives, we missed killing her, though, as we believe, she was severely wounded. In this discharge we broke a bell glass in a gardener’s ground, so, fearing that we might, on that account, be taken up for poachers, we made the best of our way to Tothill Fields; here we reloaded our pieces, and gave our dogs a piece of bread each, but the fox dog would not eat his. We then proceeded to look about for sport, when two Westminster boys claimed the place as their manor, and drove us out of it. We now beat all about Jenny’s Whim, and seeing something swimming across the water, which a waterman’s boy told us was a dab-chick, we all fired, but without success, but the terrier caught it, as it ran up the bank and it proved to be the largest rat we had ever seen.
“As we passed through the five Fields, Chelsea, we saw several pigeons, but they flew so fast that none of us could take aim.
“On the other side of Battersea Bridge, met two men driving geese. Offered them eighteenpence, which they accepted, for a shot at the flock, at twenty yards. Drew lots who should fire first; it fell to Billy Candlewick’s chance, who, from his father belonging many years ago to one of the regiments of City Militia, knew something of taking aim.
“The goose driver stepped the ground, and Billy took aim for above ten minutes, when, shutting both his eyes lest the pan might flash in his sight, he snapped, and missed fire. He took aim a second time, snapped and missed again. Borrowed Bob Tape’s scissars, and hammered the flint—snapped, and missed fire a third time—thought the Devil had got hold of the gun, examined her, found she was neither loaded nor primed. The goose driver refused to let Billy try again, so we gave him another sixpence, and he sold us a lame gander, which we placed at about six yards, and, taking a shot apiece at him, killed him, and put him in Ned Thimble’s cabbage net.
“Passed over Clapham Common, where we saw several parties, but would not interfere with their sport.
“In our way to Stockwell, Ned Simple fired at a pigeon, which was perched on the top of a tree, and shot a man’s hat and wig off, who stood underneath it. As we thought he might be killed, we set off as hard as we could run, but were pursued and overtaken by two gardeners, who insisted upon being paid two shillings for destroying a scarecrow. We paid the money very readily, and kept our counsel.
“When we came in sight of the Swan, at Stockwell, we all ran as hard as we could to see who should get in first as we had settled to breakfast there. Unfortunately, our gun being cock’d, I made a stumble, and the trigger being touched by something, off went the piece, and lodged the contents in the body of a sucking pig that was crossing the road. The squeaking of the poor little animal roused the maternal affections of the sow, and set the fox dog, the terrier, the Newfoundland bitch, and the mastiff, a barking. The noise of the sow, the pig, and the dog, with the report of the gun, brought the people of the house, and, indeed, of the neighbourhood; and, being threatened by one, and laughed at by another, we thought it best to buy the pig at four shillings, which we did, and put it into Bob Tape’s game bag, which, by the bye, was nothing but half a bolster tick.
“We now beat every bush with the muzzle of our guns, set the dogs on the pigs, and found but one chaffinch, which was rather wild, not letting us come within eight yards, so that we could not make sure of our bird. We hunted him from spray to spray for above an hour, without being able to get in a parallel line, so as to take sure aim when, at last, he was killed by a little boy, who knocked him down with a stone. Bought him, and put him into the net with the goose.
“Hunted a weazle for above an hour, and lost him. The terrier was remarkably staunch.
“Crossing a field near Camberwell, we thought we saw a covey of partridges at the side of a ditch; so we all made up to them with our guns cock’d, tying the dogs to our legs, that they might not run in, and spring the game.
“What we thought to be a covey of partridges, proved to be a gang of gypsies, who were squatted under the hedge, peeling turnips and paring potatoes for dinner. It was the mercy of God we did not fire on them, as all our pieces were up to our shoulders, and we had but one eye open, apiece, when that, which we took to be the old cock, rose up, and said in a loud voice, ‘What the devil are ye about?’
“After much difficulties, and but little sport, got, by the direction of the gypsies, into the Greenwich road, where, being rather fatigued, we stopped at the Halfway house, until a coach came by, when, mounting the roof, and the box, we were conveyed near Blackheath, to our unspeakable joy.
“Never saw the Heath before—amazed at the number of furze bushes, and the wide extent there is for game. Had an excellent chase after a jackass, when the mastiff tore his leg. Kept close together for fear of losing each other.
“Got down near a large round house, shot at a flock of sparrows, and killed one, which we think is a cock, his head being rather black.
“Saw several brother sportsmen out, who had killed nothing but a hedge hog and a tame jack daw, which belonged to the public house at New Cross Turnpike.
“Got up to the main road, fired at a yellow hammer, and frightened the horses in the Dover stage. The guard threatened to shoot us, and we took to our heels.
“Saw some black game flying very high. They looked for all the world like crows.
“The terrier came to a point at a thick bunch of fern. We were now sure this must be a covey of partridges, and we prepared accordingly. The mastiff ran in, and brought out one of the young ones. It proved to be a nest of grass mice: took every one, and put them into the bolster. Grass mice were better than nothing.
“Much fatigued, and agreed to shoot all the way home, fired off our guns at the foot of Greenwich Hill, and were laughed at by the inhabitants—loaded them again, and fired at a sheet of paper for half an hour without putting a grain in it.
“We went into a cow-house, near Bermondsey Spa, to get some milk for the dogs, and, laying down upon a heap of straw, we all fell fast asleep. We were awakened by the entrance of a cow and her calf, when we found we had been robbed of our dogs and our guns.
“We went into a public house to console ourselves for our loss, where we stayed till it was dark, that we might not be seen returning in such an unsportsmanlike manner.
“Agreed on the way what stories we should tell about the day’s amusement and success: parted at the Monument, and went to our respective homes.”
There was evidently the same tender-hearted sentiment then, as now, with regard to the “tournament of doves”—see the Morning Post, November 19, 1810: “The expert marksmen in pidgeon killing matches are very properly denominated slaughtermen; four of these humane gentlemen shot no less than thirty-six, for mere amusement, the other day on Finchley Common.”
Perhaps the principal out-door game (for football, as a game, was not yet organized, and hockey and golf had but local fame and habitations) was Cricket; and even this friendly sport, and generous rivalry, as we know it, was then contaminated by being played for money. Two or three examples, in one year, will be sufficient to show the motive of the game.
Morning Herald, July 1, 1802: “Cricket. Tuesday was played a grand match of Cricket on Hampstead Heath, between eleven Gentlemen of the Mary le bone Club, and nine Gentlemen of Hampstead and Highgate, with two men given, for 500 guineas, which was won by the latter, by 112 runs.”
Ibid., July 15, 1802: “Cricket. Tuesday was played a grand match of Cricket, at Chigwell, Essex, between eleven Gentlemen of Chigwell and eleven Gentlemen of the Mile End Club, for 500 guineas, which was won by the latter by 23 runs. Even betting at starting.
“Yesterday a grand match of Cricket was played at Camberwell, between eleven Gentlemen of Camberwell and Peckham, and eleven Gentlemen of Clapham, for 500 guineas, which was won by the former by three wickets.”
Ibid., September 3, 1802: “Cricket. Monday last, and two following days, was played a grand match of Cricket, on Ripley Green, Surrey, between eleven Gentlemen of All England, and twenty-two Gentlemen of Surrey, for 1,000 guineas, which was won by the former in one in (? innings), and twenty-five runs.”
Lord, whose Cricket-ground was afterwards bought by the M.C.C., and which still goes by his name, then had the ground now covered by Harewood and Dorset Squares: the date of removal thence to the present ground is noted in an advertisement in the Morning Post, April 21, 1809: “Cricket Ground. Lord begs to inform the Noblemen and Gentlemen, lovers of Cricket, that he has enclosed and levelled a large piece of Ground, at the top of Lisson Grove, a short distance from his old Ground, which, for size and beauty of situation cannot be excelled, which will be ready for playing on by the beginning of May, to be known by the name of Lord’s Saint John’s Wood Cricket Ground.”
Then also was played a game, now practically defunct in this country, but vigorous enough in America, where it is known as Base-ball. Morning Herald, September 22, 1802: “On Monday last was finished, at Haverstock Hill, near Hampstead, a grand Match of Trap and Ball, between twenty-five Gentlemen of the Law, and five of the Gospel, which was won by the former.”
Billiards was an old indoor game, which had somewhat fallen into abeyance, but was reviving, for we read, in the Morning Post, September 28, 1809: “Billiards are becoming very fashionable; it is an amusement of a gentlemanly cast—giving at once activity to the limbs, and grace to the person. A match was played yesterday at Kidman’s.”
From this illustration, which is taken from a little book entitled, “New Instructions for Playing in all its Varieties, the Game of Billiards,” &c., 1801, there seems to have been but little difference either in the play, or in the furniture of the room, between the past and the present times. They must have played a somewhat heavy, and dead game, though, for neither india-rubber cushions, nor slate tables, were known. The rules for the game are similar to our own.
This little book gives a curious biography, which I am tempted, as it is short, to copy.
BILLIARDS—1801.
“Account of Mr. Andrews, the celebrated Billiard Player.
“Mr. Andrews was born to an easy independent fortune, but, commencing life at a time that he was incapable of judging of the world, or of himself, was led away by a single passion; for he was not actuated by any other. He devoted himself entirely to the blind goddess, and worshipped her incessantly, under the form of two ivory balls. He was remarkably thin, not very tall, though above the middle size: his face was a perfect vacuum with respect to every possible idea except Billiards. So infatuated was he in pursuing this game, to attain the summit of excellence at it, that he sacrificed days, nights, weeks, months, and years to it.
“At length he arrived at such a degree of perfection, as well in the theoretical, as in the practical part of the game, that there was no player in Europe could equal him, except one, who was the celebrated Abraham Carter, who kept the tables at the corner of the Piazzas, Russel Street, Covent Garden. Mr. Andrews was the most devoted adept of this game that ever nature produced; he seemed but to vegetate in a Billiard Room, and, indeed, he did little more in any other place. He was a perfect Billiard Valetudinarian, in the most rigid significance of the expression. He ate, drank, slept, walked, nay, talked but to promote the system of the balls. His regimen was tea, and toast and butter, for breakfast, for dinner, and for supper.
“It might reasonably be imagined, that so regular a professor would obtain all the advantages that could result from the science. He won considerable sums, but knew not the value of money; and when playing for only five or ten pounds, he took no pains, but seemed perfectly indifferent about winning or losing. There was a latent finesse in this, but it did not operate to his advantage: he was laying by for bets, but as they were seldom offered, the strength of his play being very well known, he often lost by repeated small sums, very considerable ones.
“It is generally believed, however, that he has played for more money at billiards than any other person ever did. The following is a remarkable circumstance: he, one night, won of Col. W—— e upwards of £1,000, and the Colonel appointed to meet him the next day to go with him to the City, to transfer Stock to him for the amount of the sum lost. Being in a hackney coach, they tossed up who should pay for it. Andrews lost, and upon this small beginning he was excited to continue, till he had lost the whole sum he had won the night before at billiards. When the coachman stopped to get down, he was ordered to get up again, and drive them back, as they had no occasion to get out.
“By these pursuits he lost very large sums which he had won at billiards; and, in a few years, hazard, and other games of chance, stripped him of every shilling he could command. He had still left a small annuity which he endeavoured to dispose of, but it was so securely settled upon himself that he could not sell it; otherwise it is probable that it would soon have been transferred at the gaming table. He very lately lived in a retired manner in Kent, where he declared to an intimate old acquaintance that he never knew contentment when he was rolling in money; but, since he was obliged to live upon a scanty pittance, he thought himself one of the happiest men in the universe.”
