More Than A Game: The Story of Cricket's Early Years

Cricket had entered the bloodstream of the aristocracy, and a relative handful of patrons, enthusiasts for cricket and betting, did much to popularise the peasant’s game. Until 1750 most teams were known by the name of their home town or parish, or by the identity of their patrons. There are references to a few cricket clubs: in 1718–19 the Rochester Punch Club Society in Kent had been formed, and was playing a London side. A Clapham Club appeared in 1731, and by 1735 there were at least two clubs in London – a Westminster Club that played its home games at Tothill Fields, and an Artillery Ground side, which also played under the loose nomenclature of the ‘London Club’. Another London club was playing home games at Lamb’s Conduit Fields by 1736, and in 1745 and 1747 advertisements in the Norwich Mercury invited ‘lovers of cricket’ to ‘subscribe their names for the ensuing season’. The enthusiasts of Norwich clearly took the game very seriously: spectators were warned ‘not to bring dogs along with them’, for ‘if there was any interruption … by them in the game … all such dogs will certainly be killed on the spot’. The poor animals found chasing the ball irresistible, thus hindering play.

It was a fierce threat from enthusiasts of a game growing in fame. In 1755 cricket would even earn a mention in Dr Johnson’s new dictionary. ‘Cricket’, defined Johnson, is ‘a sport of which the contenders drive a ball with sticks in opposition to each other’ – accurate insofar as it went, but inadequate. Soon the game would be far better-known.

* (#ulink_c9df17dd-41ab-504e-a0d7-e84c69b19699) Jonas Hanway (1712–86) is credited with inventing the umbrella, but this is doubtful: in 1710, two years before Hanway was born, Swift wrote: ‘The tuck’d up seamstress walks with hasty strides/While streams run down her oil’d umbrella’s sides’ (‘City Show’).

* (#ulink_2b8ae0f0-d724-5673-8bcf-af8a7f394198) Walpole (1717–91) was the fourth Earl of Orford and third son of Prime Minister Robert Walpole. A sometime MP for Callington, Castle Rising and King’s Lynn, he is most remembered for his letters and memoirs.

* (#ulink_5680d1a7-a961-5e10-b18f-bbd681b75127) The earlier matches had been played at Westerham on 28 May and at Kew Green on 4 June.

* (#ulink_53bbf939-0f7c-5760-a8f6-e6797caf90bc) Kent (Sackville) vs London and Middlesex (Prince of Wales) on 12 and 30 July 1735.

* (#ulink_75e821c3-4c55-5c10-8fe0-8060ad05d760) The Earl of Wilmington, who succeeded Sir Robert Walpole as Prime Minister in 1742.

* (#ulink_1e1a8bba-4ab6-5739-bbeb-cd191018b8c6) Henry Peckham, nicknamed ‘Lisbon’ because of his interest in the wine trade, notably port, was a merchant and three-time Mayor of Chichester. He was the grandfather of Harry Peckham, who was to help revise the Laws of Cricket thirty-three years later.

** (#ulink_1e1a8bba-4ab6-5739-bbeb-cd191018b8c6) The Earl of Tankerville, whose grandson was also to be on the committee revising laws with Harry Peckham.

* (#ulink_807e7111-3e26-5c5a-bb04-bb24307d810f) At the Artillery Ground, London, and Moulsey Hurst in August, and at Bury Hill on 9 September.

* (#ulink_61426a8b-2db9-50d6-9858-8acfc3a32730) The injured man was Wood of Woodcote, a member of an avid cricketing family who formed nearly all of the Surrey team that beat Kent at Duppas Hill, near Croydon, in 1731.

* (#ulink_382c88fb-c8a1-57ea-b671-84163f57eff4) For example, the Prince and Serene Highness of Hesse in June 1746.

* (#ulink_84f72e13-1cf8-50e0-bed2-26838e2bf1fb) Quoted in Eric Parker, The History of Cricket (1950).

3 (#u0843e381-a358-5c6d-8f3e-f8b7be1731e8)

The Later Patrons (#u0843e381-a358-5c6d-8f3e-f8b7be1731e8)

By the middle of the eighteenth century, cricket was poised for changes that would make it the game we know today. It was emerging from its infancy in a small world of contrast and paradox. The fortunate few lived pampered lives. A lady of means would dine in mid-afternoon before going out to the theatre, following which she would play card games at a friend’s house, at which dancing might begin at a late hour with the arrival of the male guests. Her male counterpart could be expected to breakfast late, possibly with friends, and then visit one of London’s two thousand or so coffee houses to gamble, read or discuss business and politics. He might shop before dining in the late afternoon and visit the theatre at around 6 p.m. Wife, mistresses or friends might occupy his evening. From such a society came the patrons of cricket.

But life was very different for most people. Incomes were dreadfully low. Half of all families in England lived on less than £25 per annum. The ‘nearly poor’ families of tradesmen and builders might have £40 a year with which to keep a large family, but £50 a year turned a family into consumers. Many families bought only secondhand clothing, thus enabling them to dress above their income. Clothes might make up half of a man’s net worth, for few owned houses or possessed material wealth. The limit of ambition for most was sufficient clothes and food, and a rented roof. Twenty people died each week of starvation in London. Life expectancy was under thirty-seven years for the population as a whole, but even less for Londoners, with their unhealthy diet and insanitary and overcrowded homes.

Against this background of such social inequality, the second wave of cricket patrons carried the game to a wholly new dimension. When their work was done, the great Hambledon teams had earned immortality and the MCC had begun its long domination of the game. These patrons were few in number, but their influence was lasting. Another Sackville, the third Duke of Dorset, and Sir Horace Mann were the fount from which Kentish cricket flourished, while the Earl of Tankerville was a prominent sponsor for Surrey.

Sir Horace, a Kentish landowner and lifelong devotee of the game, was the most amiable of all the early benefactors. In 1765, at the age of twenty-one, he inherited around £100,000 (about £10 million today) from his father, a clothier who had amassed his fortune from army contracts. Ten years later his wealth was supplemented when his uncle Horace Mann Senior – the long-time recipient of the acid- infused letters of Horace Walpole – made over his estates in return for an annuity. This act of generosity made the young Horace one of the richest landowners in Kent. He married Lucy Noel, a daughter of the Earl of Gainsborough, in April 1765, and rented Bourne Place, a delightful mansion midway between Canterbury and Dover. Among the first summer visitors welcomed by Horace and Lucy were the Mozart family from Austria, including their talented nine-year-old son Wolfgang Amadeus. Young Wolfgang, probably the greatest child prodigy in history, had already toured Europe, met Marie Antoinette, played at the royal Courts in London and Vienna, and composed minuets and symphonies. Upon hearing a pig squeal, his musical ear absorbed the noise and his infant tongue proclaimed, ‘G sharp.’

The Mozarts must have talked of music and their plans, and Horace, in imparting his own views, may have been lyrical about his preparations to build a cricket pitch in his grounds. At the age of twenty-two Horace founded the Bourne Club, and set the team up to play in Bourne Paddock, in front of his mansion. He laid out an attractive ground, described by John Burnby in 1773 as having ‘smooth grass … laid compleat … a sweet lawn, with shady trees encompass [ed] round’. It was a beautiful setting. Bourne Paddock was to host many famous cricket encounters and inspire great nostalgia among those who knew it. Almost seventy years later, in 1840, the Kentish Telegraph recalled whimsically that ‘In our hot days … this manly game met with great patronage at Bourne Place, and there are yet a few of our contemporaries left, who would give a little to throw away their cares and crutches, and renew those old recollections of Sir Horace and his merry friends.’

And merry they were, for the open-handed Horace and Lucy Mann entertained with style. Every match day was a great event. A game between teams styled ‘Hampshire’ and ‘All-England’ in August 1772 gives some flavour of the scene. A large ring was formed beyond the boundary, where booths offered food and drink. Seats and benches were set out to enable spectators to enjoy the game in comfort, and grandstands were erected for the elite, who included many prominent figures of the county. It must have been a magical occasion, with fifteen to twenty thousand spectators on the first day. The match lasted two days, each of seven hours’ duration, with ‘England’ winning a hard-fought game by one wicket. One attraction for the crowd was that cricket was developing ‘stars’, and in this game two of the greatest, whom we shall meet later, were in the opposing teams: ‘Lumpy’ Stevens caused astonishment by clean-bowling John Small, which according to the Kentish Gazette ‘had not been done for some years’.

Not all games were on such a grand scale. Between the opening of the new ground and 1771 the Bourne Club played all over Kent, as far afield as Cranbrook, Wrotham, Leigh, Dartford and Tenterden; that they endured the difficulties of travelling such distances by horse and cart is a tribute to the enthusiasm of the players and the growing popularity of the game. In May 1768 Mann took his team to London for a five-aside game at the Artillery Ground, where they were beaten by Lord John Sackville after a two-day contest. One month later, on 10 June, the Bourne Club travelled to Westerham and lost to a combined Westerham and Caterham team by 14 runs: this game is memorable insofar as it was the first time that the full score of an eleven-a-side game was published in a newspaper, the Kentish Post of 11 June.

The interest of the press reflected the rising interest of the public. Bourne Paddock was becoming famous. A ‘numerous and genteel company of spectators’ was there on 28 and 29 August 1771 for a game against Middlesex and Surrey. The popular enthusiasm for cricket was so great that a competing event, a benefit for the actress Mrs Dyer, had to be postponed – which, no doubt, caused her intense frustration.

Apart from Mann’s liberality, a further reason for the popularity of games at Bourne Paddock was that, year upon year, he engaged the most eminent cricketers to play in his team. An early acquisition was Richard Miller,* (#ulink_9fb88a8c-4a4f-599e-aa25-e1dca402d790) who made his first known appearance against ‘22 of Dover’ in 1771. John Burnby regarded Miller as ‘of England’s cricketers, the best’. He was a batsman, famous for scoring 95 for Kent against Hampshire in 1774, which remained Kent’s record score for nearly fifty years. John Nyren, the most celebrated chronicler of cricket’s early days, remembered him as ‘a beautiful player, and always to be depended upon; there was no flash – no cock-a-whoop about him, but firm he was, and steady as the pyramids’.

A later arrival was James Aylward, son of a Hampshire farmer, who played for his own county until 1779, and in 1777 batted from 5 p.m. on Wednesday to 3 p.m. on Friday to score 167 against England – at the time the highest score ever made. He is shown on the scorecard as batting at number ten, but in fact he opened the innings: the scorecard is a tribute to social class – gentlemen first, professionals next and rustics last. Aylward was a rustic. He played for Mann for four years from 1780, until he became landlord of the nearby White Horse inn and was awarded catering rights at Bourne Paddock; he continued thereafter as both player and caterer. He also served Mann as bailiff, a post for which he was, Nyren observed, ‘but ill qualified’.

A few years after Aylward’s arrival, John Ring, one of the best batsmen of the day, was added to Mann’s team’s strength. Ring was short – no more than five feet five inches – thickset, and played in Bourne Paddock for many years before an accident at cricket practice cost him his life. Apparently his brother George was bowling to him when a ball reared and broke his nose. While recuperating he caught a fever and died. Other lesser-known figures such as the May brothers – Dick the bowler and Thomas the batsman – also spent time in Mann’s employ: spectators were rarely without famous figures to attract them to Bourne Paddock.

The genial Horace Mann had other preoccupations in the early summer of 1772. His uncle, Horace Mann Senior, was installed as a Knight of the Bath, and his nephew acted as his proxy while he was overwhelmed with ceremonies. Young Horace organised a magnificent ball in his uncle’s honour and, extraordinary though it may seem today, was awarded a knighthood for his work as deputy to his uncle. His wealth and social position no doubt aided his preferment. The contemporary diarist John Baker notes Horace’s knighthood with no surprise at its cause, and then goes on to paint a vivid picture of the general atmosphere at a game of cricket on 23 July 1772:

to cricket match at Guildford between the Hamilton [he means Hambledon] Club … and Sir Horace … Buller of ‘White Hart’ had a very good stand with benches above one another over his booth … the booth below had so many ladies and gentlemen we could not get seats … but I found a small booth where we had a good dinner and good cider and ale.

Baker returned the next morning, but the second day was less satisfactory:

Rode to cricket match before ten, began at half past ten … Dined today at Butlers [possibly a misprint for Buller, or some other proprietor] booth; no ladies but one only – who was in Stand in brown riding habit. Much worse dinner than in little booth yesterday and ordinary half crown and pay for liquors (with waiters and all it came to a crown) and the whole with better dinner and better liquors [was] but half crown yesterday.

As Baker’s postscript shows, he was not alone in his irritation at having to pay more money for a less satisfactory meal:

Yesterday, Mrs Cayley complained, the ladies – though invited – were all called on for a crown for their ordinary and one shilling for tea. At which, they were surprised and offended, thinking they were all at free cost from the invitation.

Bourne Paddock raised no such hackles. In July 1773 a grandstand was erected for a Kent vs Surrey match, won comfortably by Surrey, and Sir Horace’s popularity inspired two poems in his honour. In ‘Surry Triumphant’, John Duncombe described his performance at the wicket:

At last, Sir Horace took the field,

A batter of great might,

Mov’d like a lion, he awhile

Put Surrey in a fright.

He swung,’ till both his arms did ache,

His bat of season’d wood,

’Till down his azure sleeves the sweat

Ran trickling like a flood.

As Sir Horace scored only 3 and 22, and Surrey won by 153 runs, the poem is a little over the top – but perhaps Sir Horace’s hospitality flowed through the poet’s veins, and much may be forgiven for that. If so, it flowed through other veins too. John Burnby wrote in ‘The Kentish Cricketers’ (1773):

Sir Horace Mann, with justice may

Be term’d the hero of the play

His gen’rous temper will support

The game of cricket’s pleasing sport.

And few there are that play the game

Which merit a superior name

He hits with judgment, throws to please

And stops the speedy ball with ease.