The lovers of cricket may congratulate themselves that matches, at the
present day, are made at cricket, as at chess, rather for love and the
honour of victory than for money.
It is now many years since Lord’s was frequented by men with book and
pencil, betting as openly and professionally as in the ring at Epsom,
and ready to deal in the odds with any and every person of speculative
propensities. Far less satisfactory was the state of things with which
Lord F. Beauclerk and Mr. Ward had to contend, to say nothing of the
earlier days of the Earl of Winchelsea and Sir Horace Mann. As to the
latter period, “Old Nyren” bewails its evil doings. He speaks of one
who had “the trouble of proving himself a rogue,” and also of “the
legs of Marylebone,” who tried, for once in vain, to corrupt some
primitive specimens of Hambledon innocence. He says, also, that the
grand matches of his day were always made for 500_l._ a side. Add to
this the fact that bets were in proportion; and that Jim and Joe
Bland, of turf notoriety, with Dick Whitlom of Covent Garden, Simpson,
a gaming-house keeper, and Toll of Esher, as regularly attended at a
match as Crockford and Gully at Epsom and Ascot; and the idea that
all the Surrey and Hampshire rustics should either want or resist
strong temptations to sell, is not to be entertained for a moment.
The constant habit of betting will take the honesty out of any man. A
half-crown sweepstakes, or betting such odds as lady’s long kids to
gentleman’s short ditto, is all very fair sport; but, if a man, after
years of high betting, can still preserve the fine edge and tone of
honest feeling he is indeed a wonder. To bet on a certainty all admit
is swindling. If so, to bet where you feel it is a certainty, must be
very bad moral practice.
“If gentlemen wanted to bet,” said Beldham, “just under the pavilion
sat men ready, with money down, to give and take the current odds:
these were by far the best men to bet with; because, if they lost,
it was all in the way of business: they paid their money and did not
grumble.” Still, they had all sorts of tricks to make their betting
safe. “One artifice,” said Mr. Ward, “was to keep a player out of the
way by a false report that his wife was dead.” Then these men would
come down to the Green Man and Still, and drink with us, and always
said, that those who backed us, or “the nobs,” as they called them,
sold the matches; and so, sir, as you are going the round beating up
the quarters of the old players, you will find some to persuade you
this is true. But don’t believe it. That any gentleman in my day ever
put himself into the power of these blacklegs, by selling matches,
I can’t credit. Still, one day, I thought I would try how far these
tales were true. So, going down into Kent, with “one of high degree,”
he said to me, “Will, if this match is won, I lose a hundred pounds!”
“Well,” said I, “my Lord, you and I _could_ order that.” He smiled as
if nothing were meant, and talked of something else; and, as luck would
have it, he and I were in together, and brought up the score between
us, though every run seemed to me like “a guinea out of his Lordship’s
pocket.”
In those days, foot races were very common. Lord Frederick and Mr. Budd
were first-rate runners, and bets were freely laid. So, one day, old
Fennex laid a trap for the gentlemen: he brought up, to act the part
of some silly conceited youngster with his pockets full of money, a
first-rate runner out of Hertfordshire. This soft young gentleman ran
a match or two with some known third-rate men, and seemed to win by a
neck, and no pace to spare. Then he calls out, “I’ll run any man on the
ground for 25_l._, money down.” A match was quickly made, and money
laid on pretty thick on Fennex’s account. Some said, “Too bad to win
of such a green young fellow!” others said, “He’s old enough--serve him
right.” So the laugh was finely against those who were taken in; “the
green one” ran away like a hare!
“You see, sir,” said one fine old man, with brilliant eye and quickness
of movement, that showed his right hand had not yet forgot its
cunning, “matches were bought, and matches were sold, and gentlemen
who meant honestly lost large sums of money, till the rogues beat
themselves at last. They overdid it; they spoilt their own trade; and,
as I said to one of them, ‘a knave and a fool makes a bad partnership;
so, you and yourself will never prosper.’ Well, surely there was
robbery enough: and, not a few of the great players earned money to
their own disgrace; but, if you’ll believe me, there was not half the
selling there was said to be. Yes, I can guess, sir, much as you have
been talking to all the old players over this good stuff (pointing to
the brandy and water I had provided), no doubt you have heard that
B---- sold as bad as the rest. I’ll tell the truth: one match up the
country I did sell,--a match made by Mr. Osbaldeston at Nottingham.
I had been sold out of a match just before, and lost 10_l._, and
happening to hear it I joined two others of our eleven to sell, and get
back my money. I won 10_l._ exactly, and of this roguery no one ever
suspected me; but many was the time I have been blamed for selling when
as innocent as a babe. In those days, when so much money was on the
matches, every man who lost his money would blame some one. Then, if A
missed a catch, or B made no runs,--and where’s the player whose hand
is always in?--that man was called a rogue directly. So, when a man was
doomed to lose his character and to bear all the smart, there was the
more temptation to do like others, and after ‘the kicks’ to come in for
‘the halfpence.’ But I am an old man now, and heartily sorry I have
been ever since: because, but for that Nottingham match, I could have
said with a clear conscience to a gentleman like you, that all that was
said was false, and I never sold a match in my life; but now I can’t.
But, if I had fifty sons, I would never put one of them, for all the
games in the world, in the way of the roguery that I have witnessed.
The temptation really was very great,--too great by far for any poor
man to be exposed to,--no richer than ten shillings a week, let alone
harvest time.--I never told you, sir, the way I first was brought to
London. I was a lad of eighteen at this Hampshire village, and Lord
Winchelsea had seen us play among ourselves, and watched the match
with the Hambledon Club on Broadhalfpenny, when I scored forty-three
against David Harris, and ever so many of the runs against David’s
bowling, and no one ever could manage David before. So, next year, in
the month of March, I was down in the meadows, when a gentleman came
across the field with Farmer Hilton: and, thought I, all in a minute,
now this is something about cricket. Well, at last it was settled I was
to play Hampshire against England, at London, in White-Conduit-Fields
ground, in the month of June. For three months I did nothing but think
about that match. Tom Walker was to travel up from this country, and I
agreed to go with him, and found myself at last with a merry company of
cricketers--all the men, whose names I had ever heard as foremost in
the game--met together, drinking, card-playing, betting, and singing
at the Green Man (that was the great cricketer’s house), in Oxford
Street,--no man without his wine, I assure you, and such suppers as
three guineas a game to lose, and five to win (that was then the sum
for players) could never pay for long. To go to London by the waggon,
earn five guineas three or four times told, and come back with half the
money in your pocket to the plough again, was all very well talking.
You know what young folk are, sir, when they get together: mischief
brews stronger in large quantities: so, many spent all their earnings,
and were soon glad to make more money some other way. Hundreds of
pounds were bet upon all the great matches, and other wagers laid on
the scores of the finest players, and that too by men who had a book
for every race and every match in the sporting world; men who lived
by gambling; and, as to honesty, gambling and honesty don’t often go
together. What was easier, then, than for such sharp gentlemen to
mix with the players, take advantage of their difficulties, and say,
‘your backers, my Lord this, and the Duke of that, sell matches and
overrule all your good play, so why shouldn’t you have a share of the
plunder?’--That was their constant argument. ‘Serve them as they serve
you.’--You have heard of Jim Bland, the turfsman, and his brother
Joe--two nice boys. When Jemmy Dawson was hanged for poisoning the
horse, the Blands never felt safe till the rope was round Dawson’s
neck: to keep him quiet, they persuaded him to the last hour that
no one dared hang him; and a certain nobleman had a reprieve in his
pocket. Well, one day in April, Joe Bland traced me out in this parish,
and tried his game on with me. ‘You may make a fortune,’ he said, ‘if
you will listen to me: so much for the match with Surrey, and so much
more for the Kent match--’ ‘Stop,’ said I: ‘Mr. Bland, you talk too
fast; I am rather too old for this trick; you never buy the same man
but once: if their lordships ever sold at all, you would peach upon
them if ever after they dared to win. You’ll try me once, and then
you’ll have me in a line like him of the mill last year.’ No, sir, a
man was a slave when once he sold to these folk: ‘fool and knave aye
go together.’ Still, they found fools enough for their purpose; but
rogues can never trust each other. One day, a sad quarrel arose between
two of them, which opened the gentlemen’s eyes too wide to close again
to those practices. Two very big rogues at Lord’s fell a quarrelling,
and blows were given; a crowd drew round, and the gentlemen ordered
them both into the pavilion. When the one began, ‘You had 20_l._ to
lose the Kent match, bowling leg long hops and missing catches.’ ‘And
you were paid to lose at Swaffham.’--‘Why did that game with Surrey
turn about--three runs to get, and you didn’t make them?’ Angry words
come out fast; and, when they are circumstantial and square with
previous suspicions, they are proofs as strong as holy writ. In one
single-wicket match,” he continued,--“and those were always great
matches for the sporting men, because usually you had first-rate men on
each side, and their merits known,--dishonesty was as plain as this:
just as a player was coming in, (John B. will confess this if you talk
of the match,) he said to me, ‘You’ll let me score five or six, for
appearances, won’t you, for I am not going to make many if I can?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you rogue, you shall if I can _not_ help it.’--But,
when a game was all but won, and the odds heavy, and all one way, it
was cruel to see how the fortune of the day then would change about. In
that Kent match,--you can turn to it in your book (Bentley’s scores),
played 28th July, 1807, on Penenden Heath,--I and Lord Frederick had
scored sixty-one, and thirty remained to win, and six of the best men
in England went out for eleven runs. Well, sir, I lost some money by
that match, and as seven of us were walking homewards to meet a coach,
a gentleman who had backed the match drove by and said, ‘Jump up, my
boys, we have all lost together. I need not mind if I hire a pair of
horses extra next town, for I have lost money enough to pay for twenty
pair or more.’ Well, thought I, as I rode along, you have rogues enough
in your carriage now, sir, if the truth were told, I’ll answer for it;
and, one of them let out the secret, some ten years after. But, sir, I
can’t help laughing when I tell you: once, there was a single-wicket
match played at Lord’s, and a man on each side was paid to lose. One
was bowler, and the other batsman, when the game came to a near point.
I knew their politics, the rascals, and saw in a minute how things
stood; and how I did laugh to be sure. For seven balls together, one
would not bowl straight, and the other would not hit; but at last a
straight ball must come, and down went the wicket.”
From other information received, I could tell this veteran that, even
in his much-repented Nottingham match, his was not the only side that
had men resolved to lose. The match was sold for Nottingham too, and
that with less success, for Nottingham won: an event the less difficult
to accomplish, as Lord Frederick Beauclerk broke a finger in an attempt
to stop an angry and furious throw from Shearman, whom he had scolded
for slack play. His Lordship batted with one hand. Afterwards lock-jaw
threatened; and Lord Frederick was, well nigh, a victim to Cricket!
It is true, Clarke, who played in the match, thought all was fair:
still, he admits, he heard one Nottingham man accused, on the field,
by his own side of foul play. This confirms the evidence of the Rev.
C. W., no slight authority in Nottingham matches, who said he was
cautioned before the match that all would not be fair.
“This practice of selling matches,” said Beldham, “produced strange
things sometimes. Once, I remember, England was playing Surrey, and,
in my judgment, Surrey had the best side; still I found the Legs were
betting seven to four against Surrey! This time, they were done; for
they betted on the belief that some Surrey men had sold the match: but,
Surrey then played to win.”
“Crockford used to be seen about Lord’s, and Mr. Gully also
occasionally; but, only for the society of sporting men: they did not
understand the game, and I never saw them bet. Mr. Gully was often
talking to me about the game for one season; but,” said the old man, as
he smoothed down his smockfrock, with all the confidence in the world,
“I could never put any sense into him! He knew plenty about fighting,
and afterwards of horse-racing; but a man cannot learn the odds of
cricket unless he is something of a player.”