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

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.

The clue to this sycophancy may lie in the poet’s tribute to ‘gen’rous temper’, since Sir Horace’s highest known score was 23, and his five innings that season yielded a mere 44 runs. We may surmise that the two poets were not dog-lovers, for they make no mention of the fact that at Bourne Paddock, people ‘were desired to keep their dogs at home, otherwise they will be shot’.*

      In 1774, fate cast a shadow over the idyllic life of the Manns. The year started well for Sir Horace: his growing prestige earned him membership of the famous committee that revised the laws of cricket at the Star and Garter (see page 104), and at the age of thirty he was elected the Member of Parliament for Maidstone. But any hopes of combining sport and politics were soon cast aside: Lucy was taken ill, and Sir Horace moved his family to the warmer climate of the Continent, at the home of his uncle in sunny Florence. But Lucy’s health did not improve, and after three years’ absence from his new constituency Sir Horace offered his resignation. It was not accepted. Lucy’s condition worsened, and she died in February 1778. The grief-stricken Sir Horace did not return home until November of that year. Lucy had been the love of his life, and he would never remarry.

      On his return to England he sought solace in his other great love, cricket, but no longer as a player. Sir Horace played in only one more game, scoring 0 and 1 for Six of Kent against Six of Hants at Moulsey Hurst in August 1782. He did however resume his role as patron and benefactor, sponsoring a five-aside game against the Duke of Dorset and hosting a Kent–Surrey game at Bourne Paddock, both in June 1779, before returning to Italy. For the next eight years this lost and restless soul was a constant traveller, and as Horace Walpole noted in 1783, ‘he makes no more of a journey to Florence than of going to York races’.

      During Sir Horace’s spells in England, Bourne Paddock was a lively place due to cricket and his continued largesse. When ‘Hampshire’ with Lumpy Stevens played ‘All-England’ for a thousand guineas in July 1782, one spectator, Lady Hales – a near neighbour – wrote to her friend Susan Burney:

Tomorrow Sir Horace Mann begins his fetes by a great cricket match between His Grace of Dorset and himself, to which all this part of the world will be assembled … many out of compliment to Sir Horace, who is never so happy as when he has all the world about him, and as he gives a very magnificent Ball and Supper on Friday, it would not be polite to attend that – without paying a compliment to his favourite amusement.*

      This letter speaks well of Lady Hales’s sensitivity, and paints a vivid picture of the occasion. ‘All this part of the world will be assembled’, and Sir Horace ‘is never so happy as when he has all the world about him’, whether it be for the game itself or his post-match entertainment. But Lady Hales was wrong in one respect: Sir Horace and the Duke of Dorset were backing ‘All-England’, leaving Hampshire gentlemen to back their own county.

      It seems that Sir Horace attempted to offset his loneliness following the loss of Lucy with these great events: certainly his reputation for hospitality grew in the 1780s, and his good nature and open-handed way of life earned him many admirers. After a Kent against All-England game in August 1786, the Kentish Gazette reported not only that a multitude had attended the game, enlivened by ‘the very splendid appearance of ladies’, but that

      the very generous and liberal hospitality so conspicuous at Bourne House, does infinite honour to the very respectable and benevolent owner who, whilst he is patronising in the field the manly sport of cricket, is endeavouring to entertain his numerous guests with the most splendid entertainment in his house.

      The Kent–All-England game was an annual event and a social highlight. It was repeated in August 1787, with the usual post-match ball (on this occasion in a new room built for the purpose) to which all the principal families of the county were invited. Among the guests was the Marquess of Lansdowne, who as Lord Shelburne had been Prime Minister a few years earlier.

      When his uncle died in 1786 Sir Horace inherited a baronetcy, together with the family seat at Linton Park. Four years later he left his beloved Bourne, the house and the cricket ground that had provided him with so much happiness over the years, and moved to Linton. But Linton failed to capture his heart as Bourne had done, and Sir Horace lived there only briefly before offering it to his daughter and son-in-law. Thereafter, he divided his time between far smaller homes at Egerton and Margate.

      Politics re-entered his life. Sir Horace had retired from the Commons in 1784, but in 1790 he