Part 11 (2/2)
[Sidenote: NOAH MANN]
In a book which takes account of Suss.e.x men and women of the past, it is hard to keep long from cricket. To the north of Petworth, whither we now turn, is Northchapel, where was born and died one of the great men of the Hambledon Club, Noah Mann, who once made ten runs from one hit, and whose son was named Horace, after the cricketing baronet of the same name, by special permission. ”Sir Horace, by this simple act of graceful humanity, hooked for life the heart of poor Noah Mann,” says Nyren; ”and in this world of hatred and contention, the love even of a dog is worth living for.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: _Petworth Churchyard._]
[Sidenote: GEORGE LEAR'S STRATEGY]
This is Nyren's account of Noah Mann:
”He was from Suss.e.x, and lived at Northchapel, not far from Petworth. He kept an inn there, and used to come a distance of at least twenty miles every Tuesday to practise. He was a fellow of extraordinary activity, and could perform clever feats of agility on horseback. For instance, when he has been seen in the distance coming up the ground, one or more of his companions would throw down handkerchiefs, and these he would collect, stooping from his horse while it was going at full speed. He was a fine batter, a fine field, and the swiftest runner I ever remember: indeed, such was his fame for speed, that whenever there was a match going forward, we were sure to hear of one being made for Mann to run against some noted compet.i.tor; and such would come from the whole country round. Upon these occasions he used to tell his friends, 'If, when we are half-way, you see me alongside of my man, you may always bet your money upon me, for I am sure to win.' And I never saw him beaten.
He was a most valuable fellow in the field; for besides being very sure of the ball, his activity was so extraordinary that he would dart all over the ground like lightning. In those days of fast bowling, they would put a man behind the long-stop, that he might cover both long-stop and slip; the man always selected for this post was Noah. Now and then little George Lear (whom I have already described as being so fine a long-stop), would give Noah the wink to be on his guard, who would gather close behind him: then George would make a slip on purpose, and let the ball go by, when, in an instant, Noah would have it up, and into the wicket-keeper's hands, and the man was put out. This I have seen done many times, and this nothing but the most accomplished skill in fielding could have achieved....
”At a match of the Hambledon Club against All England, the club had to go in to get the runs, and there was a long number of them. It became quite apparent that the game would be closely fought. Mann kept on worrying old Nyren to let him go in, and although he became quite indignant at his constant refusal, our General knew what he was about in keeping him back. At length, when the last but one was out, he sent Mann in, and there were then ten runs to get. The sensation now all over the ground was greater than anything of the kind I ever witnessed before or since. All knew the state of the game, and many thousands were hanging upon this narrow point. There was Sir Horace Mann, walking about outside the ground, cutting down the daisies with his stick--a habit with him when he was agitated; the old farmers leaning forward upon their tall old staves, and the whole mult.i.tude perfectly still. After Noah had had one or two b.a.l.l.s, Lumpy tossed one a little too far, when our fellow got in, and hit it out in his grand style. Six of the ten were gained.
Never shall I forget the roar that followed this. .h.i.t. Then there was a dead stand for some time, and no runs were made; ultimately, however, he gained them all, and won the game. After he was out, he upbraided Nyren for not putting him in earlier. 'If you had let me go in an hour ago'
(said he), 'I would have served them in the same way.' But the old tactician was right, for he knew Noah to be a man of such nerve and self-possession, that the thought of so much depending upon him would not have the paralysing effect that it would upon many others. He was sure of him, and Noah afterwards felt the compliment. Mann was short in stature, and, when stripped, as swarthy as a gipsy. He was all muscle, with no inc.u.mbrance whatever of flesh; remarkably broad in the chest, with large hips and spider legs; he had not an ounce of flesh about him, but it was where it ought to be. He always played without his hat (the sun could not affect _his_ complexion), and he took a liking to me as a boy, because I did the same.”
[Sidenote: A LURGASHALL SATIRIST]
Lurgashall, on the road to Northchapel, is a pleasant village, with a green, and a church unique among Suss.e.x churches by virtue of a curious wooden gallery or cloister, said to have been built as a shelter for paris.h.i.+oners from a distance, who would eat their nuncheon there. The church, which has distinct Saxon remains, once had for rector the satirical James Bramston, author of ”The Art of Politics” and ”The Man of Taste,” two admirable poems in the manner of Pope. This is his unimpeachable advice to public speakers:--
Those who would captivate the well-bred throng, Should not too often speak, nor speak too long: Church, nor Church Matters ever turn to Sport, Nor make _St. Stephen's Chappell, Dover-Court_.
CHAPTER XI
BIGNOR
Burton and the sparrowhawk--James Broadbridge--The quaintest of grocer's shops--A transformation scene--The Roman pavement--Charlotte Smith the sonneteer--Parson Dorset's advice--Humility at West Burton--Bury's Amazons.
Two miles due south from Petworth is Burton Park, a modest sandy pleasaunce, with some beautiful deer, an ugly house, and a church for the waistcoat pocket, which some American relic hunter will a.s.suredly carry off unless it is properly chained.
Mr. Knox has an interesting anecdote of a sparrowhawk at Burton. ”In May, 1844,” he writes, ”I received from Burton Park an adult male sparrowhawk in full breeding plumage, which had killed itself, or rather met its death, in a singular manner. The gardener was watering plants in the greenhouse, the door being open, when a blackbird dashed in suddenly, taking refuge between his legs, and at the same moment the gla.s.s roof above his head was broken with a loud crash, and a hawk fell dead at his feet. The force of the swoop was so great that for a moment he imagined a stone hurled from a distance to have been the cause of the fracture.”
At Duncton, the neighbouring village, under the hill, James Broadbridge was born in 1796--James Broadbridge, who was considered the best all-round cricketer in England in his day. He had a curious. .h.i.t to square-leg between the wicket and himself, and he was the first of whom it was said that he could do anything with the ball except make it speak. In order to get practice with worthy players he would walk from Duncton to Brighton, just as Lambert would walk from Reigate to London, or Noah Mann ride to Hambledon from Petworth. Jim Broadbridge's first great match was in 1815, for Suss.e.x against the Epsom Club, including Lambert and Lord Frederick Beauclerk, for a Thousand Guineas.
Broadbridge, after his wont, walked from Duncton to Brighton in the morning, and he looked so much like a farmer and so little like a cricketer that there was some opposition to his playing. But he bowled out three and caught one and Suss.e.x won the money.
Above Duncton rises Duncton Down, which is eight hundred and thirty-seven feet high, one of our mountains. But we are not to climb it just now, having business in the weald some four miles away to the east, past Barlavington and Sutton, at Bignor.
[Sidenote: THE OLDEST GROCER'S SHOP]
Admirers of yew trees should make a point of visiting Bignor churchyard.
The village has also what is probably the quaintest grocer's shop in England; certainly the completest contrast that imagination could devise to the modern grocer's shop of the town, plate-gla.s.sed, illumined and stored to repletion. It is close to the yew-shadowed church, and is gained by a flight of steps. I should not have noticed it as a shop at all, but rather as a very curious survival of a kindly and attractive form of architecture, had not a boy, when asked the way to the Roman pavement, which is Bignor's glory, mentioned ”the grocer's” as one of the landmarks. One's connotation of ”grocer” excluding diamond panes, oak timbers, difficult steps, and reverend antiquity, I was like to lose the way in earnest, had not a customer emerged opportunely from the crazy doorway with a basket of goods. It was natural for the boy, whose pennies had gone in oranges and sweets, to lay the emphasis on the grocery; but the house externally is the only one of its kind within miles.
[Sidenote: A ROMAN VILLA]
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