One of the great development of Eighteenth Century cricket was the emergence of the spectator as an important part of the game. This development went hand-in-hand with the growth in the game fueled by the interest of the upper classes and association of the game with high-stakes gambling. This led to the game acquiring an enhanced profile – no longer was the game a pastime foe country folk and schoolboys, games became now significant events, often advertised in the press before the game with the outcome reported afterwards. The better players became professionals, often more or less freelance, able and willing to offer themselves to the highest bidder.
David Underwood in Start of Play discusses in some depth the range of public entertainments available on London at the time.1 He mentions prizefighting, hurling, something called prison bars, horseracing and football. Not quite on the same category were executions – b these attracted crowds of up to 30,000. It this atmosphere cricket was still the most popular sport, more widely played in London than any of the others. From the start of the Eighteenth Century, several Commons were being put to use to stage matches. Controversy often reigned due to the sums at stake. White Conduit Fields staged a match between A London XI and and Kent (represented by the ‘Punch Club’ which resulted in a law suit to determine how to deal with the unfinished match. Underwood quotes many examples of disorder or disreputable conduct.
And so public interest grew. The Artillery Ground emerged as the major ground for commercial cricket. The first lessor and manager of the ground we know of was Christopher Jones, who was landlord of the nearby Pied Horse Inn and took over around 1730. Jones successor, both as ground lessor and pub landlord was George Smith, noted for his entrepreneurship and successful promotion of the ground. The ground was fenced off so he was able to charge for admission, generally 2d, even for big matches, the entrance being through the yard of the Pied Horse Inn. The ground it seems was often full for matches, (attendances of up to 8,000 were reported) generally with working class spectators rather than wealthy patrons, who nevertheless did attend and were accommodated in special seating areas.
The ground was often crowded and uncomfortable. In a match between England and Kent in 1744, Smith took a whip to spectators who were invading the pitch, resulting on the HAC cancelling the next fixture. More stewards were used and the price of admissions went up, but this didn’t work as expected – Smith went bankrupt. The crowds though were not simply interested in watching the contests – gambling was a big lure and newspapers reports at the time focused on this aspect of the match, much as horse racing papers do today. Bookmakers on site would move their odds around as the match progressed. Eventually though, the appeal of cricket in London seemed to flounder. Perhaps it was the lack of engagement between the spectators and the teams which were often put together for initial matches. Perhaps the Artillery ground was just too unruly. At all events, the shift of the focus of the game was to move back to the countryside, but now with the addition of spectator appeal.
And so, as is the case with many subjects, it is to Broadhalfpenny Down and the writings of John Nyren than we turn to find the most evocative accounts of spectators. It was in the 1770s that the crowds would reputedly number up 20,000 and it was then that had regular matches against the rest of England. Let’s consider John Nyren’s famous description of the atmosphere of the games:
There was high feasting held on Broad-Halfpenny during the solemnity of one of our grand matches. Oh! it was a heart-stirring sight to witness the multitude forming a complete and dense circle round that noble green. Half the county would be present, and all their hearts with us. Little Hambledon pitted against All England was a proud thought for the Hampshire men. Defeat was glory in such a struggle—Victory, indeed, made us only ‘a little lower than angels’. How those fine brawn-faced fellows of farmers would drink to our success! And then, what stuff they had to drink!—Punch!—not your new Ponche à la Romaine, or Ponche à la Groseille, or your modern cat-lap milk punch—punch be-deviled; but good, unsophisticated John Bull stuff—stark!—that would stand on end—punch that would make a cat speak! Sixpence a bottle! We had not sixty millions of interest to pay in those days. The ale too!—not the modern horror under the same name, that drives as many men melancholy-mad as the hypocrites do;—not the beastliness of these days, that will make a fellow’s inside like a shaking bog— and as rotten; but barleycorn, such as would put the souls of three butchers into one weaver. Ale that would flare like turpentine—genuine Boniface!—This immortal viand (for it was more than liquor) was vended at twopence per pint. The immeasurable villany of our vintners would, with their march of intellect (if ever they could get such a brewing), drive a pint of it out into a gallon. Then the quantity the fellows would eat! Two or three of them would strike dismay into a round of beef. They could no more have pecked in that style than they could have flown, had the infernal black stream (that type of Acheron!) which soddens the carcass of a Londoner, been the fertilizer of their clay. There would this company, consisting most likely of some thousands, remain patiently and anxiously watching every turn of fate in the game, as if the event had been the meeting of two armies to decide their liberty. And whenever a Hambledon man made a good hit, worth four or five runs, you would hear the deep mouths of the whole multitude baying away in pure Hampshire—’Go hard! go hard!—Tich and turn!—tich and turn!’
This account emphasises not merely gambling but also partisanship and consumption of robust refreshments. There would have been marquees for the upper echelons but I doubt if there was much seating for the lower orders. The enthusiasm of the crowd seems to have been beyond question. Some, perhaps most would have had a financial stake in the outcome. Others would have been there in the hope of witnessing a local victory or to enjoy the contest. The scoring rate would have been slow and the scores rather low by todays standards. By contrast wickets would have fallen fairly regularly, so the game would move forward fairly quickly. There were no boundaries at this stage in history, so if the ball went among them, they would presumably have to get out of the way, much as golf spectators have to do today of the ball goes off the fairways. Incidentally, I have not come across any record of scoreboards being used, so we cannot be certain how they kept up with the score. Perhaps some spectators maintained a note themselves.
In Hambledon – The Men and the Myths, John Goulstone considers the true extent of crowd disruption in the later part Eighteenth Century and in particular, The Hambledon era2. There are certainly instances of disorder, but only one, for instance at a match involving Hampshire players and that was during a single wicket game at The Artillery Ground in 1772. He makes the fair point that of several thousand matches recorded in the Eighteenth Century, only a tiny proportion of those seem to have experienced any disruption and almost all of those were in the capital, and very often at the confined location of The Artillery Ground.
When the Hambledon era came to an end and cricket reestablished itself in London in the 1780s, the Lord’s Ground at Dorset Square became the leading venue. Like the Artillery Ground it had the advantage, from a commercial point of view, that it was fenced off so admission fees could be charged.
Entrance was via a Public House owned by Thomas Lord, here is a drawing of it. The captions says:
'Lords' The original Pay office to Thomas Lord's Cricket Ground (now Dorset Square) being rear premises of the Allsop Arons corner of Marylebone Road and Upper Gloucester Place in 1810. Known as Allsop Arons Allsop Place.
Thomas Lord rated occupier.
In a sense, the balance between rural and urban cricket was now becoming set. The commercial element of the game would always ben in the big cities – not just London, but Birmingham, Manchester, Nottingham and Leeds as well. Then Melbourne and Sydney, and more recently Delhi, Kolkata and Mumbai.