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.
[Illustration: 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.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]