by A. W. Pullin
"While on this matter I ought to say that I cannot speak too warmly of the great interest shown and encouragement given by Earl and Lady Londesborough, not only in the Scarborough Festival, but in cricket generally. They entertained us all in a most princely fashion. Yorkshire cricket owes a lot to Lord Londesborough. Why, I recollect in old days it was no uncommon thing for him to have the entire Yorkshire Eleven down to his country seat and pay all their expenses, and in addition get up the team to play against them; and I am sure no one enjoyed the match more than he and Lady Londesborough."
THE writer seriously doub'.s if there is a man living so thoroughly devoted to cricket as R. G. Barlow. Cricket is not merely Barlow's profession, it is his one object in life. He lives, as it were, in an atmosphere of cricket. All his surroundings are reminiscent of bat and ball. You immediately identify his residence, Glen Maye, Raikes Parade, Blackpool, by the cricketer's armorial bearings above the doorway—bat In the vestibule door you see
a coloured-glass representation of Mr A. N. Hornby and the owner of the house at the wickets, and of the late Richard Pilling in the act of keeping wicket. The hall lamp reflects the names of A. G. Steel and other famous cricketers. In the front sitting-room a new and practical version of 'Cricket on the Hearth ' is given by a representation of Lord Sheffield's ground in coloured tiles, with portraits, also in tiles, of Mr Hornby and Barlow on the one side, and Pilling on the other. Throughout the house is a profusion of cricket portraits and sketches, for when on cricketing tours abroad Barlow made it his practice to obtain photographs of nearly all the principal places he visited and players he became acquainted with. Cricket trophies and presents innumerable, mementoes of great performances on the field, are tastefully displayed. But what Barlow probably most values is the array of bats which hang on the bathroom wall. With one of these, now broken-faced and splintered, he scored 4000 runs. In 1882 he played seven times through an innings with it. He has taken it with him round the world, and when in its present battered condition he scored 44 runs with it at Melbourne against Victoria. No wonder, therefore, that Barlow thinks it a "record bat."
It is not possible to do justice to Barlow's career, or to produce more than a tithe of his voluminous reminiscences, within the compass of this "Talk." The famous Lancashire cricketer has gone through the world with his wits about .him. He has during his career collected material from which a most interesting book could be written. At present he is half inclined to put this material to its legitimate use. The other half of the inclination will probably soon be forthcoming.
Richard Gorton Barlow was born at Bolton on May 28, 1850. His second Christian name is sufficiently rare to justify an explanation. He claims to be the last of the Gortons, an old family whose estate it has been found impossible to recover from the capacious maw of the Court of Chancery. Up to the age of fourteen Barlow's parents resided at Bolton. Then they removed to Staveley, his father having been appointed manager of the painters and decorators of the Staveley Works Company. A foretaste of the boy's abilities as a cricketer was given before then. Barlow was only eleven years of age when he first carried his bat through an innings! This was clearly a case in which the child was father of the man.
At Staveley young Barlow was put to the moulding trade. It was not a natural mould. This may be judged when it is stated that he used to get up at 4.30 A.M. to get through his "piece-work" in order to have extra time for cricket practice. His early ambition was to be a wicket-keeper, but he was soon cured of this. "I kept wicket at a match at Tinsley, near Sheffield. One of the batsmen, named Burrows, in trying to hit a leg-ball, missed the object and caught my head a terrific whack. I was knocked down and rendered insensible. When I recovered my wits I came to the conclusion that wicketkeeping was not my forte. A week or two afterwards a gentleman named Riley saw me bowl at Staveley. He was kind enough to say he liked my delivery, and he advised me to stick to bowling. That was really how I came to take up bowling seriously. To perfect myself in practice, I used to mark out with pieces of paper the proper pitches for a fast and a slow bowler, and thus obtained accuracy in length.
"My first professional engagement was at Spinkhill College, near Eckington. It was there, too, that I was fortunate enough to make a name for myself. The Sheffield Wednesday Club played at Spinkhill, and I scored 26 and 101 not out, besides taking 6 wickets for about 18 runs. This performance attracted the notice of Mr Gillett, a member of the Yorkshire County Cricket Club, and he asked me what county I was born in. He seemed a trifle sorry—though it may have been my imagination—that I was not born in Yorkshire, but he generously told me that if I wanted a regular engagement anywhere he would be glad to give me a testimonial. Both he and Richard Daft afterwards did so, the latter having seen me play against the All-England Eleven. It was through their testimonials that I secured a professional engagement, out of forty applicants, at Farsley, near Leeds, where in the first year I took over 100 wickets at a cost of just over 5 runs a-wicket, and had a batting average of 29. Subsequently I served for five years as professional to the Saltaire Club."
Barlow's first match with Lancashire was in the year 1871 against Yorkshire at Sheffield. He was not required to pass through a Colts' trial before entering the county team. The Lancashire Committee had heard of his abilities, and invited him to take his cricket things and have a little practice on the Old Tratford ground on a Friday afternoon. He complied, and was put through his paces by critical experts. In three days' time he had a letter requesting him to play against Yorkshire. Of this, his first county match, Barlow says—
"We won the toss, and Mr Hornby with Mr E. B. Rowley came to me and asked me when I generally went in. I replied innocently enough, 'I generally go in first, sir.' Then he said, 'Perhaps you would like to go in first here?' Again I replied innocently, 'I don't mind, sir.' The gentlemen smiled and went away. But they did not put me in first. I went in fourth wicket down, and scored 28 not out. When I had made 6 I had to retire with a fractured finger, the result of a blow from a ball by Bob Clayton. The next day I was allowed to continue my innings. I played with the limb bandaged, and made my score into 28 not out. It is singular that practically the only serious injury I met with in my career was in this my first match.
"Another reminiscence of this match may be worth mentioning. Before I had my first chance of bowling for my county, C. Coward told Mr Hornby about my bowling at him in practice that morning; and when Iddison and West were well set Mr Hornby handed me the ball, and with the first delivery I took West's middle stump. Thus the first ball I bowled for Lancashire got a wicket."
What Barlow did in first-class cricket from his initiation down to his retirement in 1891, a period of twenty-one years, it is not the writer's province to narrate in detail. To do so would involve the publication of a vast array of figures; and statistics are not Talks. It must be sufficient to state that he had 388 innings for Lancashire, scored 8092 runs, with an average of 20-6 per innings. In bowling he took 754 wickets for 9986 runs, an average cost of 13-2 per wicket. If all the counties he played against were classified first-class as now, he would have the record of over 12,000 runs and more than 1000 wickets.
One other statement should certainly not be omitted. In the year 1882 he headed both the batting and bowling averages for his county. His average with the bat was 3091. for 36 innings (eight times not out), and with the ball he took 73 wickets at a cost of 972 runs a-wicket. This "double first," Barlow says, has not been achieved by any other Lancashire cricketer.
Richard Barlow on the ethics of "stone-walling" might form a chapter to itself, but what the famous "stone waller" has to say on the matter may appropriately come in here. Asked first to explain how he received the title of "stonewaller," Barlow replies—
"I think it may be traced to the late W. Barnes, of Nottingham. It was in the match with Notts in 1882, when I kept at the wicket two hours and a half for 5 runs. This innings was played on a very sticky wicket. After our innings was over Barnes came up and remarke
d that bowling at me was like bowling at a stone wall. From that time I was always named the stone-waller.
"But,-you ask, what was the reason of that extraordinary cricket 1 Simply this. The wicket was in the bowlers' favour, and Mr Hornby told me to 'stick.' So I stuck. I tried to keep Alf. Shaw from mischief, while our other fellows got the runs. This ability to 'stick' has, I may venture to say, been repeatedly beneficial to our side. Louis Hall, Scotton, and I were often run down by press and public for 'stone-walling.' But those who criticised did not seem to understand that we were playing for our side, and that the 'stone-walling' they did not like helped to win our sides many matches. Further, they did not know that—in my case at least—I was acting strictly on my captain's orders.
"There is one match I remember very well in which this remark applied. It was Murdoch's Australian team v. Lancashire, played at Old Trafford on June 1, 2, 3, 1882. We had to follow on 141 runs behind, and Mr Hornby, on going in a second time, said to me, 'Barlow, I should like to make this a good match. You play the "old man's " game.' I replied, 'All right, sir; I'll bat Spofforth as much as I possibly can, you get the runs at the other end.' Well, unfortunately, Mr Hornby was a victim to Mr Spofforth at 6, but by the aid of the ' old man's' game I batted through the innings and carried out my bat for a score of 66 in a total of 269. For that performance ^15 was collected and presented to me, and I also had a bat given to me by an admirer of the innings. We lost the game by 4 wickets, but Mr Hornby had his wish in that we made it into a good match.
"Then take another match. On September 1, 1884, the North of England played the Australians at Nottingham, and the North were out for 91 in the first innings, and the Australians scored 100. When I went in a second time the 'old man's' game enabled me to score 101, and Flowers (who made 90) and I put on 158 for the sixth wicket. Result, the North won by 170 runs. So much for the utility of the 'old man's' game. I always consider that match contained the best performance of my career. Not only did I get the century on a sticky wicket, but I captured 10 wickets for 48 runs. The score was presented to me on satin, £16 was collected and given to me, and I had several other presents. Among these was a diamond breast-pin from a stranger who had come a hundred miles to see the match, and who was so delighted with it that he insisted upon me accompanying him to a jeweller's shop that he might make me a present.
"Singular to state, two years afterwards, June 21, 22, 23, 1886, playing again at Trent Bridge for the Players of England against the Australians, Flowers and I added 172 for the ninth wicket, I making 113 and Flowers this time missing the century by 7. In each instance I had worn the bowling down with the 'old man's' game, and Flowers reaped the benefit as well as myself. It will be seen, therefore, that stone-walling has its uses.
"I will give two more instances of the value of the socalled stone-wall tactics. I think they also show that stonewalling and nerve are not unassociated. In the England v. Australia match at Lord's in 1884 Lord Harris came to the players' tent and said to me, 'Barlow, play the "old man's" game; keep your end up—I should like to win this match.' 'All right, my lord,' was my rejoinder. I went in when A. G. Steel, who was playing brilliant cricket (he made 148), needed a steady partner. Before I left the score had been increased by over 100 runs, the greater proportion of which was from the brilliant Lancashire amateur's bat.
"The other occasion was England v. Australia, at Old Trafford, on July 7, 1886. The wicket was difficult in the last innings, and England needed 106 to win, and lost W. G. Grace, Shrewsbury, and W. W. Read for 24 runs. Mr Steel, our captain, came to me and wanted me to go in earlier than he had arranged, saying, 'For God's sake, Barlow, stop this rot; go in next.' I went in, made 30, and Mr Steel coming in afterwards, finished off the work, and we won by 4 wickets. These cases show that the 'old man's ' game pays your side, that it requires some nerve, and that the public are not generous when they growl at the so-called slow play.
"But I was not such a dreadfully slow scorer after all, even if I did make something like a record in scoring 5 runs in two and a half hours at Nottingham. I can produce many instances in which I scored as fast as the recognised hitters of the day, but a few will suffice. Take Lancashire v. Surrey in 1873, 40 out of 95 from the bat; 56 out of 114 against Kent in 1877; 35 out of 99, and through the innings against Shaw, Morley, My croft, G. G. Hearne in 1878; 52 not out of 105 at Old Trafford in 1886—do these figures show slow play? Then the first time I met Shaw and Morley, at Nottingham, in May 1876, I played through the innings for 34. That is a feat that required some doing against those bowlers, and they, at least, would not call it either slow play or stone-walling."
From all of which the reader will be justified in opining that Barlow is anxious it should be made known the devil is not as black as he is painted.
When not called upon to play the " old man's " game, Barlow could hit. Strange though it may seem, there is a record of his once having hit three 4's in one over at Lord's. That was in the course of an innings of 117 in 1884, which he made in three hours—a rate of scoring that no one could cavil at. In the same year against Cheshire, at Stockport, he hit the ball out of the cricket enclosure and into a potato-field, where it was lost! Even fieldsmen have found he could hit so hard that they were compelled to retire to a respectful distance for safety. Here is an illustration in point:—
"In 1878, in the Lancashire v. Yorkshire match at Huddersfield, Bates was bowling to me, and he would have Hall to field close in at 'silly mid-on.' He told the Batley man to 'Get in—Barlow won't hurt you.' Before long Bates gave me one that I let go at, and the ball hit Hall full on the head. Louis spun round like a top, and dropped; I thought I had killed him. Fortunately, the injury was not so serious as it looked, but Hall said he would not field at 'silly mid-on' again either to me or any one else.
"As a set-off to this I may say that in 1888 poor George Ulyett caught me close in off Peel at point. He seemed to take the ball almost off the edge of the bat. In the second innings 'Happy Jack' again came close in, so I remarked, 'Now, George, I should not like to kill you. I shall be hitting one very hard to the off if one comes that way.' 'Well, Dick,' was the reply, 'if you do I shall be the first that you have killed by hard hitting.' However, in the next over, Ulyett brought off another catch almost off the bat, and I retired with the remark, 'You are my master this match, George.'
"Against Leicestershire I once went through an innings for 29, compiled in over three hours. There was a dinner and a jollification at night, and being called upon to sing, I gave them 'You'll remember me,' quite unconscious of any humour in the selection. A few minutes afterwards one of the speakers said he did not know whether I had sung that song with a special meaning, but after the innings of that day he could give an assurance that they were not likely to forget me!"
W. G. Grace has never captured "a pair" in first-class cricket: Bichard Barlow can make the same boast. But he admits he has been "very near it," and adds that "W. G. ought to have had the specs. once in a match England v. Australia at the Oval. He got a cipher in the first innings, and was missed easily at point before scoring in the second."
Cricketers well know that Mr Hornby and Barlow had a weakness for running each other out. As bearing on these little escapades, Barlow is fond of telling the following stories:—
"I remember walking round the ground in one of the matches against Middlesex at Old Trafford, and overhearing a conversation between two Lancashire men. Said one of them, 'Tom, who dost loike to see bat?' 'Oh, I loike to see 'Ornby and Barla.' 'Ah, I can do wi' Mester 'Ornby— ony he's too keen, an' roons Barla out. I'm all on the fidgets when he's there.' People used to bet pretty freely, too, on the probability that one of us would run the other out.
"There was one curious instance at Old Trafford. Two Oldham men were talking together, and one of them said, 'Jim, dost know who's won toss 1' 'Ai, Bill, Lancashire 'as done it.' 'All right, then; I'll see t'owd Boss bat, and when he gets eowt I'll go in teown till lunch-toime. I'll tak two bob to on
e as Barla's in when I coom back.' The bet was taken, and at lunch-time I was not out A friend of mine who had heard the previous conversation saw the man return, and went up to hear what he had to say. After considering the matter over in his mind for a few minutes the Oldham man said, 'Coom neow, lads, I'll tak another bet of five bob to one that they woan get Barla eowt to-day.' He again won his rash bet, for at 6.30 I was not out 103."
Barlow has made three trips with English cricket teams to Australia. The first was with Shaw, Shrewsbury, and Lillywhite's team in 1881-82; the second with the Hon. Ivo Bligh's team in 1882-83; an
T
collision at sea, which, as by a stroke of Providence, just escaped adding a ghastly contribution to the great wrecks that mark the pathways of British maritime commerce, and form the "price of Admiralty" of which Rudyard Kipling so stirringly sings.
The journey out on the Peshawur was interesting and pleasant enough up to a certain point. It enabled the team to see the effects of the bombardment of Alexandria. Their ship was the first to call there after the war, and Bates, Barlow, and others found the opportunity to go on shore and see the havoc wrought four months earlier by the Alexandra, the Monarch, the Invincible, the Penelope, the Condor, and other mighty engines of naval warfare. "It was a grand sight," says Barlow, when he now recalls it; from which the reader will assume that the ruin was great. On shipboard Barlow showed his athletic versatility by carrying off the first prizes for the 100 yards' scratch race, the hurdle race, and the egg and spoon, besides being second in the high jump. The trip, in short, was pleasantness itself, until one night, on the open sea, a big black hull, with sails full set to the breeze, shot suddenly out of the gloom and crashed amidships into the Peshawur. Then eame terror, confusion, despair—and after all a great thankfulness. But Barlow must tell this thrilling experience himself.