CRICKET IN PROSE AND POETRY.

Otago Witness, Issue 3775, 20 July 1926, Page 74

CRICKET IN PROSE AND POETRY.

It is indeed singular that only one Df our great poets —Francis Thompson—has chosen to sing the praises of cricket (says a writer in John o’ London’s Weekly). Wordsworth, who had two nephews, captains of Harrow and Winchester, dedicated not a single line to the game, and Tennyson, although destined to be the grandfather of the famous player who bears his name, knew so little about it that he merely wrote, “A herd of boys with clamour bowled and stumpt the wicket.” Neither do we find mention of the game in any of Shakespeare’s writings, and Byron but briefly refers to “Cricket’s manly toil.” * * * It is to the novelists and minor poets, therefore, that we have to turn if we wish to find the bat and ball in literature. No one who has read that delightful book, “Th~ Hill,” by Horace Annesley Vachell, is likely to forget the exciting match between Harrow and Eton at Lord’s, to the description of which a whole chapter of this book is devoted Was it not in this match that Scaife broke all records by hitting two balls over ropes in succession? But compare the description of the fielding in this book with that of the memorable All-Muggleton v. Dingley Dell match in the “Pickwick Papers.” From “The Bill” we have:— Bat meets ball with a smack which echoes from the tennis courts to the stands across the ground. Now watch Scaife! He dashes at top speed for the only -point where his hands may intercept that hard hit ball, and, by heaven! he stops it and flicks it up to the wicket keeper, who clips off the bails. And Dickens writes:— The scouts were hot and tired: the bowlers were changed, and bowled till their arms ached; but Dumkins and Podder remained unconquered. Did an elderly gentleman essay to stop the progress of the ball, it rolled between his legs or slipped between his fingers. Did a slim ‘gentleman try to catch it, it struck him on the nose and bounded pleasantly off with redoubled violence, while the slim gentleman’s eyes filled with water and his form writhed with anguish. Was it thrown straight up to the wftkot, Dumkins had reached it before the ball. In short, when Dumkins was caught out and Podder stumped out, All Muggleton had notched some fifty-four, while the score of the Dingley Dellers was as blank as their faces.

But the narrative provides very amusing reading, and that, after all, was what Dickens intended. Students of the Victorian era will call to mind Miss Mitford’s description of the* match in “OUr Village” where “our” village managed to knock together a score of 107 runs, to which the visitors could only reply with a paltry 22. This match can hardly be compared with the one narrated in Anthony Trollope’s romance, '“The Fixed Period.” Brittanular, set to get 1500 to win, are 600 runs behind, with only three wickets In hand. The end of the game becomes very exciting, and the last run is scored is the clock strikes six. A second after the ball falls into the hands of Stumps, the wicket-keeper, Jack Ncverbend had

managed to compile a useful 1275. The match took place (!) in 1980 and batsmen and wicket-keepers wore helmets and breast-plates. The men of the English Eleven (which was really 15) bowled with catapults, but the Brittanular men had sported a “steam” bowler! Neither must we omit to mention the match in “Tom Brown’s Schooldays” between Rugby and M.C.C., or the game between Fallowfield and Bechley Clubs, which Meredith describes in “Evan Harrington.” It is to Meredith, too, that we are indebted for the excellent summing-up of the game by the coachman in “Harry Richmond”:— Lots of running, and that’s good; just enough of taking it easy, that’s good; an appetite for your dinner, and your ale or your port, as the case may be. good number three; and in a tired pipe after dark, and a sound sleep to follow, and you say good morning to the doctor and the parson: for you’re in health body and soul, and ne ? er a parson’ll make a better Christian of ye, that I’ll swear! * * • To turn to the poets, it was Mr Norman Gale who gave us this tribute to the game:— My boy, the game that’s big and bright, The game that stands all games above And towers to such a glorious height, Deserves the summit of your love! _ Is this a time for dapper spats, When foes arrive to test your worth? Beg pardon of your gloves and batß. And play the kingliest game on earth. This is how G. F. Wilson describes a hit for six, the hit we all delight to see:— An instant poised in air, A rosy light delayed; Dropt, and a willow blade Flashed like a golden share, Flashed—and a throbbing star Waned to a spark, afar. In imitation of Swinburne, it was Andrew Lang who penned the verse The burden of hard hitting, slog away! Hero tliou shalt make a “five” and there a “four,” And then upon thy bat shalt lean and say That thou art in for an uncommon score .... When lo! the umpire gives thee Teg before”— This is the end of every man’s desire. * * * It is not to be wondered at that W. G. Grace has probably been the subject of more poems than all other cricketers put together. Philip Trevor in “The Lighter Side of Cricket?’ refers to him as:— Pride of the Oval, Lord of Lord’s! But W. G. could not always be relied upon, as described in the following lines fiom Punch:— The Australians came down like a wolf on the fold, The Marylebone cracks for a trifle were bowled. Our Grace before dinner was very snodone, And Grace, after dinner, did not get a run. abwmßl hs, Which goes to show that even cricket idols sometimes have feet of clay.