THE START OF THE OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE GOLF MATCHES
The institution of the Inter-University Golf Match was due to the genius
(which we will define in this instance as the zeal and enterprise) of
one of the very finest putters that ever put a ball into a hole, Mr.
W.T. Linskill. Linskill was the inspiration of the golf at Cambridge,
and he did a great deal more than any of us at Oxford to get the Oxford
and Cambridge Golf Match going. We only followed. And it "went," in a
very small fashion at first. I remember it all now--the start in an
early dawn from Oxford, a long journey to London, then a long drive from
Paddington to Waterloo, then train to Putney, then drive up to the
London Scottish Iron Hut--some luncheon there, and then a round of golf.
In that single round the golfing fortunes of Oxford v. Cambridge for the
year were decided. It was not altogether satisfactory; especially as we
had to do the journey all over again, the reverse way, and had to get
back to Oxford the same night. It may well seem a question to-day
whether it was worth going through so much for the sake of so little--as
Mr. Weller said in respect of marrying a widow--but still it was, at all
events, a start.
It cannot be said that so far as some of us of Oxford were concerned it
was a very good start. I think that "on paper," as is said, we had by
far the better of it. I forget all the team, but I know we started with
Andy Stuart and myself and I also think I know that neither of us had
any idea we were going to be beaten by anything that Cambridge would
bring against us. The others were all good fighting men, and should at
least hold their own. In the event, as for myself, I was not only
beaten--by Mr. Paterson, whom I regret that I have never met since--but
beaten rather disgracefully, for I was several holes up--I think
three--with only five to play and lost every one of the remaining five.
Then as to Andy Stuart: he had to play Linskill, and I suppose that at
St. Andrews, where both were practically at home, Andy would have given
him a half--certainly a third would not have brought them together--for
though Linskill was just about the best putter I ever saw, the rest of
his game was not very formidable. They arrived at the last hole just
before the Iron Hut--I can see the scene now in my mind--all even, and
Linskill had the better of the hole. He was dead and Andy had quite a
doubtful putt to halve the match, and I can remember a doubt arising in
my own mind as to whether I wished him to hole it or not. Of course I
did not want to see another match lost to Oxford, as well as my own; but
still, if the news should have to go to St. Andrews that Andy had been
beaten by Linskill, level, it would be such a fine joke that it was
almost worth the lost match. However he holed that putt with the courage
of a lion--he was always a good putter at the last putt of a match--and
so the match was halved. The fortunes of the rest of the team were
vastly better. On the whole, as I see by the record, Oxford won by
twenty-four holes on balance, on that first encounter, so our evil deeds
did no great harm. This was in the autumn of 1878.
Next year the match was played again at Wimbledon. Indeed, it is not
very evident where else it should have been played, unless perhaps at
Blackheath. There was in existence that course at Crookham, near
Newbury, which would have been convenient to us, from Oxford; but it
would not at all so well have suited the Cambridge men. Besides there
was little play on it except at the meeting times, and the course was
not permanently kept in any order. It is worth mentioning that for one
of the holes, a short hole, the play was over an avenue of tall trees.
In the years since, while inland courses have been multiplying, so too
have the tree hazards; but they are generally brought in as flanking
hazards, at the sides. Here we had them in a line right across the
course, and you had to be over. It was not a "blind" hole, for you could
just get a glimpse of the flag between the stems. Some of our course
constructors might make a note of this hole; and might do worse than
copy it. At the same time, I should say that one of its kind, in a
round, would be enough. I see that this Crookham is given rank in
Nisbet's _Golf Year Book_ as the "third oldest course" in England, but I
do not know whether we can allow it such a venerable claim as that,
remembering Blackheath, Westward Ho! Wimbledon and Hoylake, to say
nothing of the old Manchester Golf Club which carries its history back
to 1818. But I am not sure but what the history of this last has its
breaks in continuity, its silent places.
The Oxford and Cambridge match continued to be played at Wimbledon right
up to 1896. I have some recollection of the second match of the series,
in 1879. We started it, I think, from the Wimbledon end, not the Putney
end of the common. For my own part I did better than in the first year,
beating Mr. Welch, who afterwards was a mathematical don at Cambridge
and used to keep the record and the medals at Macrihanish in his pocket
for many years. I much regret that I never encountered him again, any
more than my opponent of the first year of the match. On the whole
transaction in 1879, Cambridge beat us by ten holes, and yet we had some
good men. There was Archie Paterson, who was President of the Boat Club
afterwards, A.O. Mackenzie, who was also in the 'Varsity boat, and, I
think, Sir Ludovic Grant, now a professor at Edinburgh University and
Captain in 1912 of the Royal and Ancient Club. Ernest Lehmann, who
writes so well and pleasantly about the game, was a member of the
Cambridge team that year.
I have no recollection whatever of the 1880 match, nor even whether I
took part. I may have been ill or in the Schools or doing something
equally foolish, but I see that Oxford won that year by eight holes. In
1881, for no reason that I can remember, no match was played--and that
was the end of me as an Oxford undergraduate golfer. I had passed the
last bunker and taken my degree before the next year's match.
All this while the only golfing playground at Oxford was still the
cricket grounds on Cowley Marsh, and still there was no play at all in
the summer term, when the cricketers occupied the ground. But a few
years later some of us were asked to go up and take part in an informal
kind of Past _v._ Present match, more or less to celebrate the fact of
the Club taking occupation of new ground in Mr. Murrell's park, on
Headington Hill. Andy Stuart and I went up, among others. We found the
course rather pleasant, in its inland way, with hedges for the chief
hazards and undulating gradients that formed rather a blessed change
from the sheer flatness of Cowley Marsh. And what the match was that we
played, or its result, I do not in the least remember, but one remark of
a distinguished lady in the gallery I very well recollect--for it was
retailed with great joy to Andy and me by one who overheard it--"Those
men," she said, indicating him and me, "are very nicely dressed--for
professionals."
That is the kind of compliment one really does appreciate, because it is
of the sort that is so rarely paid. I speak for myself, only, in this:
Andy Stuart was always most careful in his attire, so as to merit such
appreciation frequently, and doubtless may have received it often. Of
course it would be impossible even for a lady of the kindest heart and
most flattering tongue to pay such an encomium now. The professionals
are by far the most smartly clad of all golfers. It was not so much so
then.
I do not know whether I have given the impression that the golf was very
good at Oxford. It is rather a mistaken impression, if I have conveyed
it. On the other hand, Oxford University was not a bad place for the
golfer. It had the large merit that its vacations were long. Then I
would go home to Wellesbourne and play golf from there, at Westward Ho!
all day and every day, and it was during my time at Oxford that there
came to Wellesbourne as "odd boy"--that is to say, to do certain odd
jobs in the morning--a little, singularly white-flaxen-haired boy from
Northam village. It may seem surprising that the coming of such a little
boy to Wellesbourne should be worthy of a place in this grave page of
golfing history, and I do not know exactly what the duties of an "odd
boy" are, but you may be very certain that he performed them very
efficiently when I tell you that his name was John Henry Taylor. He used
to do these odd jobs, whatever they were, like a champion, I am very
sure, and then he used to go down to the links and carry my clubs for me
whenever I was at home. The pay of a caddie at Westward Ho! in those
days was not exorbitant--sixpence a round, and a hard walking and sandy
round too, of eighteen holes; and they had to walk down a mile and a
half from Northam village to begin to earn it. But all wages were low
and all living was cheap in North Devon at that date and the boys were
glad to earn it, particularly with a bottle of ginger beer generally
thrown in of the royal bounty of the employer. On occasions, and for
valid consideration, they would develop a spirit of independence which
made money seem no object, as in the instance, which has become
historic, of the small boy throwing down, in the middle of the round,
the clubs of his master, a gallant general officer, and making his way
without a word across the Burrows. "Where are you going, boy?" the irate
man of war shouted after him. "I be goin' 'ome," came the firm reply.
"There be goose for dinner."