There is a comfort and ease about country-house and minor cricket, which you do not get in the charmed circle of first-class matches. The good-humoured chaff is most healthy, and certainly tends to prevent mannerisms, into which many engaged in prominent cricket find they are apt to drop. Also the search-light of publicity is conspicuous by its absence.
Next, I would like to quote a story which my old friend Mr. C. W. Alcock relates, and which, I fancy, he personally overheard on a tram: “No, Bill didn’t get much out of his day’s cricket. He had to pay eight bob for his railway fare, and lost ‘is day’s screw, and was fined a shilling for being late next morning, and ‘e didn’t get no wickets, and ‘e missed four ketches, and ‘e got a couple of beautiful blobs. He did feel sold, he did.” If anybody observes that is what can be euphemistically described as a chestnut, my retort is, that it will be new to a great many people. Certainly we all thought the story of Mr. “Buns” Thornton making a mighty slog, and Mr. Bonnor subsequently observing that he had a sister who could hit as hard, was a hoary veteran. You will remember Mr. Thornton’s reply: “Why not bring her over and marry her to Louis Hall? You could then combine the two styles.” That was said at Scarborough, but this very story in the cricket week of 1901 in that very town was hailed as a diverting and fresh anecdote. Wherefore I take courage to proceed in my own garrulous fashion.
Among the pleasantest of all country matches are the military weeks. The play is brisk, hard hitting, keen fielding, usually a Tommy who sends down expresses which it is a treat to cut to the boundary, and, of course, the most unbounded hospitality and good-fellowship. Then there is always the regimental band in the afternoon, and one can do a little dance step to beguile the tedium of fielding, or should you be dismissed for one of those conspicuous oval blobs, it is at least consoling to retire to a tune from the last musical comedy. And of course, at soldier fixtures, all the ladies of the garrison muster in their brightest frocks, and I can truthfully say that a match where none of the fair sex are spectators loses one ray of sunshine for me. The follies of girls who do not understand the game may sound funny set down in printer’s ink, but spoken by merry lips, they only provoke laughter, while, as a matter of fact, lots of ladies understand cricket quite as well as most of men do; moreover, they are singularly quick at noticing idiosyncrasies in the players.
School tours are splendid things at the beginning of the holidays. Eton Ramblers, Harrow Wanderers, Marlborough Blues, Old Malvernians, Uppingham Rovers, Old Cliftonians, and last, but chief in my eyes, Old Wykehamists—the very names cause a glow at our hearts. There you get boys leaving school playing side by side with a schoolmaster or two as comrades, and no longer in statu pupillari. The former gain confidence, the latter rub off the corners which may have become rather sharp during the half, and both are leavened by a further batch of old boys who have names still respected at the school. The cricket is keen, and the talk over the pipes after dinner is clean, healthy, and tends to put them all on good terms with one another.
I purposed to have written quite a valuable treatise on clubs, but when I dipped into the books, I either found that the serious matters would be dry-as-dust at this stage of my article, or else that it was difficult to collect information. So I shall merely emphasise the cordiality of the sides which do battle each summer. I Zingari come first to my thoughts, for not only have I the honour to wear the red, yellow, and black, but my uncle, Mr. Chandos Leigh, is one of the presiding potentates—more power to him. No longer do these wanderers figure on the card of the Canterbury Week, but it is still their festival. Theirs is the big tent, theirs the admirable theatrical performances, and theirs the true traditions of the historic Week. It is the most delightful function in county cricket to-day, just as it was formerly the greatest boon in old-time cricket. I feel that some of the graceful irresponsible matches which were contested at Prince’s in the ‘seventies still cast a pleasant reflection on the Week at the old minster town. Also, I heartily wish I Zingari could revive that one-time match v. Gentlemen of England at Scarborough, but the difficulty of collecting competent sides seems insurmountable. But let no one think I Zingari do not keep up their pristine value. Have they ever had a finer record than in 1902? It reads: matches played, 29; matches lost, 1, Silwood Park winning a one-day game by 46 runs. So I think the spirit of I Zingari can look very beaming when she is pleasantly embodied for the epilogue of the Kent festival.
It is impossible to run over the list of clubs. Free Foresters, of course, recurs to memory—cheery, bright, with a military leaven, under the admirable guardianship of Mr. E. Rutter. Their annual volume yields an admirable statement of bustling, hard-fought cricket on many welcome swards where reporters do not scribble nor the public give heed. Amateur cricket owes a great debt to them, and also to the Incogniti, in which the present governor of Jamaica has taken such keen interest. With varying sides, but unvarying good-fellowship, these pilgrims of cricket show how many withstand the attractions of golf, and prefer to drive the leather rather than the Haskell.
Each University has one club noteworthy to the community at large. Cambridge boasts the Quidnuncs, the cap of which is so familiar in county matches, because hardly any old blue seems to wear his ‘Varsity colours. Against Yorkshire at Lord’s in August 1902, four of the Middlesex side wore those colours of dark blue with the narrow blue stripe, these being Messrs. Cyril Foley, C. M. Wells, R. N. and J. Douglas. Though it is limited to fifteen members in residence at Cambridge, practically everybody who is tried for the eleven appears to outsiders to be entitled to wear the caps, though no undergraduate in his first year is eligible.
Of the Harlequins I must write more briefly than I should like. They are very dear to me, and I had the honour in 1902 of being elected Vice-President in succession to Mr. A. J. Webbe, who became President in consequence of the death of Mr. C. J. B. Marsham, who had occupied the position since the foundation of the club in 1845. One annual meeting is held each year on the first day of the match with the Gentlemen of England, when the elections take place. Only seventeen members may be in residence, and no one can be put up as a candidate until his fourth term. There is always one pleasant function, the dinner given by that keenest supporter, Mr. T. B. Case. If the Harlequins do not play so many matches as of yore, it must not be ascribed to lack of enthusiasm, but to the more lengthy programme of the Authentics, who possess a wider range of selection. The Harlequin cap, in its bold contrast, has been seen on every ground, and at Lord’s, to the end of their keen careers in the field, it was invariably worn by two very fine Oxonian cricketers who never obtained their colours, Messrs. T. S. Pearson and J. Robertson-Walker. Of yore, half the Oxford eleven used to be seen arrayed in the coloured shirt of the Harlequins, which was gaudy when new and looked shabby when it had been for a short period the sport of the elements. I am not speaking by book, but my impression is that Mr. “Punch” Phillipson and Mr. J. H. Brain would be the two last who have donned the garment in first-class cricket. Long life and unabating good fellowship to Harlequins, present and future! There is every sign that the wish is destined to be fulfilled.
The Authentics Cricket Club was founded by Everard Britten-Holmes, in November 1883, who, from its birth in Brazenose College, Oxford, has acted as its Hon. Secretary to the present day (1903), G. R. Askwith of B.N.C. being its first Hon. Treasurer, then followed by H. Acland-Hood of Balliol (1884-89). During the summer of 1884, arrangements were made to tour during the summer vacation, and what was at first but a week’s cricket, has become one of several months, and a membership then of 19 has become one of nearly 800.