Chapter I: History of Billiards (2)

For the last five or six years the champion has made no very long
break nor any great number of successive ‘spots,’ whilst his son,
Joseph Bennett, and Cook, especially the last-named, have frequently
put together a very big score off the balls. People at last began to
realise the idea that the title of ‘second-best player in England’
would not long satisfy one or two of the colts, and were not
altogether surprised when Cook challenged his old master for 500_l._
a-side. Roberts took a long time to reply to this cartel, and it was
believed that another walk-over would take place—for as yet there had
never been a match for the championship; but at length he made up his
mind for one effort to retain his place, and they agreed to play on
February 11. Prior to that day a meeting of the leading professionals
was held. Rules were drawn up for future contests ... and some
important alterations were made in the construction of the tables to
be used in matches for the championship, with what results we shall
presently see.

The match was played in the large concert room at St. James’s Hall.

Just before eight o’clock the spectators settled down into their
places, and the scene was a truly remarkable one. The table, which
looked very small in such a huge hall, was of course placed in the
centre, and, about three yards from it, a cordon was formed by a
scarlet rope, so that a ‘clear course’ was secured for the combatants,
even if ‘no favour’ could not be guaranteed. Outside this rope the
tiers of benches began, and sloped up to the galleries. Every seat was
occupied, and the galleries themselves accommodated a very large
number of spectators, many of whom had provided themselves with opera
glasses, anew concomitant to a billiard match, but a very necessary
one on this occasion. Shortly after eight o’clock the calls of ‘time’
became very loud and impatient, and, with a view of creating a
diversion, someone who appeared to have the chief management of the
affair began to weigh the balls. He spun out this operation in very
clever fashion, and kept the people quiet for nearly ten minutes; but
at last they grew tired of seeing him hold up the scales, and remain
immovable, apparently wrapped in astonishment that the balls should
exactly balance each other, and the noise became worse than ever. At
length the two men appeared, without their coats, and apparently
‘eager for the fray.’ They were received with uproarious applause,
which seemed to delight Roberts immensely.

At the beginning of the game caution prevailed, and the tight pockets puzzled both men.

At 127 Cook made six ‘spots,’ the longest run of the evening; but the
new-fashioned table seemed to have quite destroyed his pet stroke. The
red ball required to be played with the greatest care, or it did not
go in, and, owing, we imagine, to the change in the locality of the
spot, it seemed almost impossible to secure position for the second
stroke, even if the first came off. Both men had several tries at it;
but they could make nothing of their old friend, and the last half of
the match was practically played ‘spot hazard barred.’ The contrast in
the style of the two was very noticeable, Roberts’s being as clumsy
and awkward as Cook’s was pretty and elegant, the latter playing, as
someone near us observed, ‘a very genteel stroke.’ The men were very
level at about 450, and then the champion got in, with Cook’s ball and
the red almost touching each other, and quietly dribbled them down the
table, making six or seven very pretty cannons in succession. He
followed this up with a regular ‘gallery’ stroke, potting the red at
railroad pace, and making a cannon off two or three cushions, which
brought down the house. A break of 22 by Roberts made his score 494
against 495. The announcement of ‘517 all’ produced great cheering;
however, 44 and 49 by Cook soon placed him in front again, and, as
soon as he passed 600, there was a short interval.

The men soon came back, Roberts decorated with a cross, ‘wearing it
for the last time,’ as one of Cook’s backers grimly remarked. A
magnificent ‘all round’ 80 took the young one to 785. The knowledge of
strength shown in this break was truly wonderful, and there was a thin
‘loser’ in it which even Roberts felt compelled to applaud. There was
soon a gap of a couple of hundred points between them, and the
champion kept looking up mournfully at the figures at the end of the
hall. He never lost heart, however, and, laying himself down to his
work, began to creep up again. Cook’s score stood still for some
little time, and the old man’s backers got very excited. Roberts now
made 62, his longest break during the game, and two or three other
good runs brought him close to Cook, whom he passed, the score being
called 1,041 to 1,037 in favour of Roberts: but a 31, finished with a
double baulk, placed Cook well in front again, and, when his score
stood at 1,133, he made a horribly fluky cannon, and ran right out,
with a succession of the easiest and prettiest strokes we ever saw, a
winner by 117 points.

Here I prefer to take leave of John Roberts, sen.; for, although he occasionally played in public for several years after, he never again exhibited anything approaching his best form. It almost seemed as though he had wound himself up for one great effort to retain his supremacy, and that he never recovered from the consequent reaction: added to which he was then fifty-five years of age, and had consequently seen his best day. In his prime he was a man of extraordinary strength of constitution, and performed several feats of endurance which probably no professional player of the present day could approach. Perhaps the most remarkable of these was accomplished in 1846, when he had rooms in Glasgow, and an amateur, who was in the habit of frequenting them, made a match to play him on the following conditions: Roberts was to concede sixty points in each hundred, mark the game, hand the rest, spot the red, take the balls out of the pockets, &c., and in fact do the work of both player and marker. They were to continue playing until one of them stopped voluntarily or through exhaustion; but I have been unable to ascertain whether or not they were allowed to eat and drink during the progress of the match, though the probability is that there were no restrictions in this respect. The stakes were ten shillings per game: whoever gave in first was to forfeit 25_l._ and all claim to anything he might have won. Roberts was at that time in full play, and doing strong work round the table for several hours in each day; but his opponent could not have been far behind him in this respect, and must have been a remarkably game man into the bargain, for he struggled on for forty-three consecutive hours before Nature gave way, and he fainted from exhaustion. In that time no fewer than 125 games were played, and Roberts won a good stake, every penny of which he had certainly earned. Differing entirely from Kentfield in this respect, he possessed extraordinary power of cue and a wonderfully strong wrist, which enabled him to perform all sorts of curious feats, such as knocking both balls off the table and making them reach the end of a long room before touching the floor. His worst fault was a too flashy style of play, and I shall always believe that he would just have beaten Cook in the great match for the championship if he had kept himself a little quieter during the game; but he could not resist incessantly chaffing his friends, chalking bets on the floor, &c. Comparison between Roberts’s form and that of the leading players of the present day would be most unfair to the old man. Had he lived fifty years later than he did, and enjoyed all the advantages of the improvements that have been made in the accessories of the game, as well as the opportunities that leading players enjoy of constant practice, it is certain that he would have been found right in the front rank. He had a real genius for the game, and was a great player.

Immediately after winning the championship Cook had a very busy time of it. He played John Roberts, jun., the best of twenty-one games of pyramids, the result being that, after they had won nine games each, Roberts secured the next two and won the match, which virtually decided the championship at pyramids. Then Cook toured for a few weeks, and, in the course of an exhibition game with S. W. Stanley at Totnes, made the hitherto unparalleled break of 512. On April 14, 1870, just two months after he had wrested the championship from the elder Roberts, Cook lost it to Roberts, jun. The length of the game was wisely reduced from 1,200 points to 1,000, and Cook was beaten by very nearly half the game. This is one of the few contests for the championship that I did not witness, and I have never been able to understand the result; for, although Roberts won by 478 points, and scored his thousand in three hours and four minutes, which was the fastest time recorded for a three-inch-pocket table until the last match ever played for the championship fifteen years later, a 47 was the best break he made during the whole evening! Of course, it must be remembered that the winner had the table virtually to himself, for Cook must have been utterly and hopelessly out of form. Six weeks later, Alfred Bowles, of Brighton, a contemporary of Roberts, sen., challenged the winner. It is probable that Bowles, though I believe he is still alive, had then passed his best day, for the result of his plucky challenge was disastrous. He played a good, sound old-fashioned sort of game, devoting himself chiefly to runs of losing hazards in the middle pockets, but had not the smallest pretensions to meet a man of the class of Cook or Roberts on even terms, and never possessed the least chance all through the game. The next challenger, however, was of very different calibre, and the battle between Roberts—as I have now taken leave of the father, it is needless to constantly repeat the distinguishing ‘junior’—and Joseph Bennett was about the most obstinately contested of the entire series. It lasted for four hours and three-quarters, and Bennett, with repeated safety misses and double baulks, at last fairly wore down his formidable opponent, and won by 95 points. Thus ended 1870, a truly remarkable year, which not only witnessed the first match ever played for the championship, but in which the title was actually held by four different men.

To trace the progress of the game minutely from this point to the present time, and to attempt even to mention the principal matches that have been played, would occupy too much space, and I must, therefore, content myself with giving slight sketches of the chief players from 1870 to 1895, alluding to a few of the most remarkable matches. At the earliest possible moment—the two months which were allowed when the conditions governing contests for the championship were drawn up—Roberts played a second match with Bennett, and had no difficulty in regaining his title, as he won by 363 points in the very fast time of three hours twenty-two minutes. Cook was the next challenger, and, although he only got home by 15 points—a really nominal victory—this was the beginning of his marked superiority to any other player, and for exactly four years all efforts to wrest the championship from him proved futile. On November 29, 1872, during an exhibition match at his rooms in Regent Street, he made the previously unheard-of break of 936, which included no fewer than 262 consecutive spot hazards. This break was, of course, made on an ordinary table. From 1871 to 1875 was undoubtedly the very zenith of Cook’s career. During those four years he stood right out by himself, and could defeat all comers on any class of table. The strongest point of his game was unquestionably his wonderful delicacy of touch. Brilliant forcing hazards, and winning hazards made at railroad speed, so irresistibly fascinating to the gallery, possessed little attraction for him, and he was the first man who seemed fully to realise what might be done by delicately nursing the balls and bringing them together, time after time, with perfect strength. Even when at his best, however, he was never too consistent a player; there were occasions when he was completely ‘off,’ and, if he happened to be caught on one of these days, quite a second-rate performer could beat him easily. His personal popularity was simply unbounded, and it would have taken a remarkably strong nature to have resisted all the temptations to which he was exposed. No man ever lost a finer chance of an exceptionally brilliant and successful career. He must have made much money, but when the end came, it found him penniless. I have no wish, however, to dwell on his weaknesses, amiable as most of them were; rather let me record to his credit that no professional billiard-player has ever possessed a higher character for unimpeachable honesty, and that, in his prosperous times, he was never known to turn a deaf ear to appeals for assistance.

It is quite time, however, to introduce the third and only other man that ever held the championship cup presented by the leading billiard-table makers in 1870. I refer, of course, to Joseph Bennett, who is three or four years older than Roberts, and was playing in public before either Cook or his great rival. He rapidly acquired a wonderful knowledge of the game, for he was barely eighteen when he was engaged at Leeds to play and teach. During his stay there he played his first important match. It was with W. Moss; the game was 1,000 up for 100_l._ a-side, and Bennett won by upwards of 500 points. Possibly this success induced him to turn his thoughts Londonwards again; at any rate, he shortly afterwards returned there. His first metropolitan match was with Dufton; then he played a couple with Herst, winning one and losing the other: but it was the great four-handed match in which he and Charles Hughes so decisively beat old Roberts and Dufton that first brought him into prominent notice.

Whether Bennett, as a player, was ever quite the equal of Cook or Roberts it is unnecessary to discuss here. He beat each of them in turn for the championship, and can well afford to rest contented with that record. In early life Bennett’s health was indifferent, and his nervous and highly strung temperament was by no means in his favour. One of his peculiarities was that, when in training for a championship or other important match, he would never play with anyone, but invariably shut himself up in a room alone, and played one ball against the other, or simply practised one or two special strokes by the hour together. His contention was that a man required all his nervous energy for the match itself, and ought not to waste any of it in practice. There was, doubtless, something in his theory, for few men have ever shown to more advantage ‘in the pit;’ and it was sheer pluck and determination that enabled him to defeat Cook for the championship, as his opponent held a long lead when within a couple of hundred of home. A very severe accident in the summer of 1881 caused Bennett to resign the championship, and, though he completely recovered from its effects, he wisely gave up playing in public. He will be better remembered as a teacher than as a player, for he has virtually devoted his whole life to instruction, and with remarkable success.

In December 1873 Messrs. Burroughes & Watts promoted the first of a series of handicaps, with which they afterwards became so much identified. The important effect that these handicaps had upon the game is scarcely calculable, and, thanks to the liberality of the promoters, several players who afterwards took prominent positions, but might otherwise never have been heard of, were first introduced to public notice. These handicaps gave such men exactly the chance they needed. The following sixteen players took part in this handicap:—W. Cook, J. Roberts, jun., Joseph Bennett, T. Taylor, F. Bennett, S. W. Stanley, Harry Evans, W. Dufton, J. Roberts, sen., T. Morris, A. Hughes, John Bennett, L. Kilkenny, Alfred Bennett, G. Collins, and Stammers. It was won from scratch by Cook, who beat Kilkenny (130 points start)—the heats were 500 up, all in—in the final, winding up with a splendid break of 428; and this appears to be a favourable opportunity for giving brief sketches of some of the players who took part in it, six or seven of whom are no longer living.

‘Master’ Stanley, as he was always designated in print for the first year or two after he began to play in public, was certainly one of the most precocious youths that ever handled a cue, and could not have been more than sixteen when he began to take his own part in good company. The spot hazard was the strongest point of his game, and I shall never forget the style in which he used to dash round the top of the table, getting ready to play the next stroke long before the red ball had reached the pocket. When it failed to drop in, even if it was a couple of inches wide of the pocket, his invariable look of blank astonishment was intensely comic.

Tom Taylor came forward about 1872, just at the time that Stanley was becoming well known, and many were the hotly contested battles between them. Never were two lads more evenly matched. Stanley was a shade the better of the pair at the spot stroke, but Taylor was a little superior all round the table. Tom, like most billiard-players, had a pet stroke. When he had opened a game with a miss in baulk, and his opponent had followed with the answering miss under one of the side cushions, he would invariably play at the red ball for the cannon off two cushions, and bring it off three times out of four. This is a stroke that is never played nowadays, and yet, when unsuccessful, it rarely leaves anything on, which is more than can be said of the cannon off the white ball, the customary game at present. A gamer player than Tom Taylor was never seen. No matter what the state of the score might be, he never ceased struggling; to be apparently hopelessly in rear only seemed to improve his play, and from time to time he would pull a game out of the fire in really marvellous fashion. With the exception of Roberts and Collins, Taylor is the only one of the sixteen players in the great handicap at the Guildhall Tavern in December 1873 who is playing regularly in 1896.

Fred, Alfred, and John were all younger brothers of Joseph Bennett. John, although he occasionally took part in handicaps, was a player of no class, and died in November 1886; but Fred and Alfred worthily upheld the family reputation as billiard-players some twenty years ago, though they seldom now play in public.[3] It is difficult to say which was the better of the two when they were in their prime, for both played the spot well and were good all round; but perhaps Fred was the more brilliant, and might have taken a high position if he had been fonder of the game, and devoted himself more assiduously to it.

L. Kilkenny was another remarkably sound exponent of the game as it was played twenty years ago. He, too, was good on the ‘spot,’ and when this stroke went out of fashion it practically killed his game; for Roberts and Richards, neither of whom ever liked the stroke, are the only two of the old school who are playing better now than they did in the ‘seventies. Kilkenny was about the last man that would have been taken for a professional billiard-player; indeed, clad in correct clerical costume, he would have made a model country vicar. He was always exceptionally quiet, unassuming, and well-behaved, and ought to have done well; but for some reason or another he missed his chances and died in poverty.

George Collins always played quite a game of his own. I have seen him make numerous long runs of spot strokes, but they were invariably put together in the most unorthodox style. His own ball was rarely within eighteen inches of the red, and he would incessantly leave himself the most difficult hazards, which he brought off again and again in the most marvellous fashion. In a spot break of 300 he would have to play more awkward shots than Taylor or Stanley would leave for themselves in ten breaks of the same number, and very much the same thing was noticeable in his all-round play. He would constantly succeed in ‘gallery’ shots, but never seemed to trouble himself as to where the balls would be placed after the stroke; and his apparent lack of any knowledge of playing for position was a fatally weak point in his game. It was magnificent, but it was not billiards, and in his best day Collins always played the game of an exceptionally good amateur rather than that of a professional. Of late years he has had comparatively little practice, and has naturally fallen off in consequence.

As long as he remained in England, Harry Evans was always recognised as a sound third-rate all-round player, who was practically of no use on the ‘spot,’ and it was a great surprise to all who had known him over here when, soon after he had settled down in Australia, he gained great fame as a spot stroke player, made some really remarkable breaks, and held the championship there for many years; indeed, it is only comparatively recently that he was deprived of it by Charles Memmott.

With the exception of Roberts, sen., Tom Morris was many years older than any other player who took part in the first great handicap. His game was indifferent, as was that of A. Hughes and Stammers.

Early in 1874 the first agitation against the spot stroke took place, though it was not until twelve or thirteen years later that the stroke was virtually abandoned. It occasioned a good deal of surprise when the final heat of the first spot-barred handicap lay between Taylor and Stanley, two players whose game was popularly supposed to depend almost entirely upon their proficiency in the spot stroke. Yet there was really nothing remarkable about this result, for there is a great deal of truth and good sense contained in a letter from Stanley, which was published in ‘Land and Water’ about a couple of months before the handicap was played. In it he wrote: ‘I believe, as a rule, it will be found that the best player at the spot stroke is the best player, after a time, at the all-round game. To play the spot stroke well requires great patience, a great deal of practice, and a great amount of nerve. Now, anyone who can combine all these is sure to be a good all-round player.’ Cook paid a visit to America in 1874, where he was ill advised enough to tackle Rudolph at the cannon game, with the inevitable result; still, it was impossible to regret that he had taken the trip, for he brought back with him the American system of handicaps, which at once became so popular in this country that scarcely a dozen really important handicaps on the old ‘knock-out’ principle have been played in the last twenty years. It seems hardly necessary to explain that, in an American handicap, each player has to meet every one of the others, and the winner of the largest number of games takes the first prize. The immense advantage of this system is that the element of luck is as nearly as possible eliminated, and that, presuming the play to be fair and straightforward all through, the best man on the handicap terms will win. Messrs. Burroughes & Watts took up the experiment warmly, and presented 100_l._ in prizes. I formed one of the committee appointed to frame the handicap and to arrange the order of play, and I well remember the difficulty we had over the latter task, which will be fully appreciated by anyone who has attempted a similar one. It must be remembered that, as this was the first affair of the kind which had taken place in England, we had no precedents to guide us, and though it may seem very simple to arrange a list of eight men, so that each shall play against a different opponent on every one of seven days, let anyone who has had no experience in the matter sit down with a pencil and paper and try it. The handicap was as follows: Cook, Roberts, and J. Bennett, scratch; Taylor, 100 points start; Stanley, 120; Timbrell, 140; Kilkenny and A. Bennett, 160. William Timbrell has not previously figured in these pages, and may be dismissed in a very few lines. He was a Liverpool player, who had already been credited with, and to the best of my belief actually did make, a break of 893, which included a sequence of 296 ‘spots.’ On his own table in Liverpool he may occasionally have done great things, which, however, he failed to repeat in London. The moment he began to play in public every atom of nerve seemed to leave him, and on the numerous occasions on which I saw him play he never showed even third-rate form. Roberts and A. Bennett tied for first prize with five games each, and in playing off the former secured a very easy victory.

On May 24, 1875, Cook lost the championship, which he had held for exactly four years, to Roberts, and the match was a very noteworthy one, as it marks the turning-point in the careers of the two men. Up to that period Cook had been generally considered rather the better of the pair, but from the date of this match Roberts asserted his superiority, which became more and more marked in each succeeding year. In 1876 D. Richards, an elder brother of S. W. Stanley, ran second to Cook in an American Tournament. Richards is the _doyen_ of all the professional players before the public in 1896, and is a fine player. As in the case of Roberts, increasing age only appears to improve his game, and there is not the smallest doubt that when he had reached his ‘jubilee’ he was playing infinitely better than he had ever done in his life. Nursery cannons form the strong point of his game, and he certainly plays them beautifully and with remarkable delicacy of touch, though it must be admitted that no one makes more use of the push stroke than he does. About the most noteworthy events of 1877 were two matches on a championship table between Joseph Bennett and Tom Taylor, both of which the latter won, though only by twenty-seven and twenty-one points respectively. Bennett had gone very much off in his play just about that time, or Taylor would not have been matched with him on even terms, and in the following year the two were both handicapped to receive a start of 150 in 500 from Cook in an American Tournament that was played at the Gaiety Restaurant. One of the eight men engaged in it was Fred Shorter, who had a start of 200, and had done very little previously. Never did a young player so suddenly make a reputation, and some of his performances during the tournament were most extraordinary. In his heat with Joseph Bennett, the latter gave a miss in baulk, Shorter followed by placing his ball under one of the side cushions, and Bennett went out for a cannon, which he missed by the merest hair’s breadth. This left a nice game on for Shorter, who speedily worked his way to the top of the table, and went clean out with the spot stroke, thus winning a love game. There is a little story relating to this heat which must be fairly well known, but is good enough to bear repetition. Of course, the game only lasted about a quarter of an hour, and, as we were going out of the room an old gentleman, desiring, I suppose, to make what he considered a soothing remark to the beaten man, said: ‘How do you do, Mr. Bennett? You did not seem quite in your usual form to-day.’ This to a man who had only been allowed two strokes—with one of which he gave a miss in baulk, and with the other as nearly as possible brought off a most difficult cannon—was almost too much. I shall never forget the expression of Bennett’s face, but language failed him to make a suitable reply. Shorter did not treat Cook quite as unkindly as this; still, the latter only scored twelve when he played his heat with the new man on the following day, and most of the other players in the tournament were served in somewhat similar fashion.

A consequence of his beating Taylor was a match which I arranged between them, Shorter to receive 200 in 1,000. An incident that occurred early in this game gives an excellent idea of Shorter’s coolness and self-possession. One of his friends was seated next to me at the spot-end of the table, and thoughtlessly struck a match to light a cigar without watching for a favourable opportunity to do so. Shorter had just worked his way to the spot, and the sudden flash catching his eye caused him to miss the pocket by about six inches. He came round to us and said quietly, ‘Please don’t do that again; I can get on the “spot” whenever I like, and stay there as long as I like, still it isn’t worth while to throw away a chance.’ This was no idle boast, for when the game stood at 444 to 152 in his favour he put his opponent’s ball into one of the top pockets with a brilliant stab shot from baulk, and, his own remaining in perfect position behind the red, he ran right out, winning the match by 848 points. His break of 556 was for many years the largest made in a match for money. On being asked to continue it, he ran it up to 636, including 207 consecutive spot hazards. Just at that time I firmly believe that Shorter had no equal on an ordinary table; indeed, I offered to match him to play Cook 1,000 up, level, if the latter would stake 500_l._ to 200_l._, but the proposal was politely declined. Unfortunately, Shorter’s prospects of ever attaining a position at the head of his profession were marred by the fact that he had no liking for the game. It was the most difficult thing in the world to get him to do any practice. When he afterwards took part in tournaments, his first two or three games were generally devoted to playing himself into form, so that his big breaks towards the end of the week came too late to give him any chance of success. His constitution was never a strong one, and, as he could not be persuaded to take any reasonable care of himself, symptoms of consumption showed themselves in 1884. A voyage to Australia was recommended as the best chance of saving his life, but the remedy came too late, and he died at Deniliquin in August 1885. On a match between Roberts and Timbrell at the Gaiety Restaurant, Timbrell receiving 300 in 1,000 and winning by 449 points, it is not necessary to dwell. It was played on an ordinary table, spot stroke in, but Roberts never made more than 35 off the balls, whilst Timbrell’s best break was 73.

The year 1879 was remarkable for the first appearance in London of William Mitchell. The ‘Sheffielder,’ as he has always been called, though, as a matter of fact, he was born in Derbyshire, had long been known in the provinces as a player of exceptional ability; but few were prepared for the form he showed on the occasion of his London _début_ in an American Tournament at the Royal Aquarium, Westminster, when he won six consecutive games and took the first prize. This he followed up by securing another tournament at the Baynard Castle, and then he was taken on a provincial tour by Joseph Bennett, in the course of which he made many very remarkable breaks. Four years later, in a match of 3,000 up with Cook for a stake of 1,000_l._, Mitchell at last cut Shorter’s record in a money game with a brilliant 739 (55 and 189 ‘spots’). Prior to this, however, when practising at Brighton, he had made a break of 1,839, composed almost entirely of 612 consecutive spot strokes. This was generally discredited at the time, but subsequent events showed Mitchell to be well capable of such a performance. When at his best, Mitchell never played a long game without making two or three four-figure breaks, and it was probably his own fault that Peall eventually became his master at the ‘all-in’ game. He played the ‘spot’ at a tremendous pace, and has never had an equal in one particular stroke—that of going all round the table and regaining position. A somewhat delicate constitution has always been against him, but his gameness is quite on a par with that of Roberts and Taylor. There has never been a more brilliant hazard striker; and, strange as it appears, considering that for many years the spot stroke was the backbone of his game, he was always seen to great advantage on a three-inch pocket championship table. When at his best, his all-round game is always a singularly free and attractive one to watch, and few players could surpass him in a push-barred game.

It was in 1880, the year after Mitchell had taken London by storm, that his great spot stroke rival, W. J. Peall, made his first appearance as a professional. Rumours had long been flying about as to the big breaks he was in the constant habit of making when playing as an amateur, and his appearance at the Royal Aquarium in an all-in American Tournament was watched with great interest. He and R. Wilson received the limit of 175 points start in 500 from Joseph Bennett and W. Mitchell, who were at scratch. Peall, however, disappointed expectation at first, though playing sometimes brilliantly in exhibition games. He did not show to advantage when a stake was at issue, but in time he acquired confidence. In May 1884 he won an exhibition game with Mitchell at the Aquarium in four breaks exclusive of his initial miss, scoring 1,000 points in forty-four minutes, which still remains the fastest time on record. Later in the same month the same pair were giving an exhibition game at Cambridge, and Peall made a wonderful break of 1,989, which included 548 consecutive spot strokes, though as all of this break, with the exception of the first 411, was made after the game was over, it is questionable whether it should be counted as a record. Fortunately for Peall, he can well afford to dispense with this 1,989; for at the Royal Aquarium, on November 5 and 6, 1890, he completely eclipsed it with a phenomenal break of 3,304, all made inside the game, and comprising runs of 93, 3, 150, 123, 172, 120, and 400 spot strokes. I have no hesitation in giving these records of breaks made almost entirely on the ‘spot,’ for though the tables on which most of them were made may have been comparatively easy, there is no sort of doubt that the breaks were genuine in other respects. With spot-barred breaks, however, the case is very different, and I prefer to write very little about them. In matches where no money has really been at stake, although each party to them had solemnly deposited his 50_l._, or 100_l._, or 200_l._, as the case might be, it was clearly to the interest of each man to have as many big breaks made as possible, for the reports of these were likely to improve the ‘gate.’ Most of these big spot-barred breaks are composed largely of nursery cannons, and some of these long runs of nursery cannons which are credited to different players were never really made at all. Either a cannon was scored which was not made, a very difficult thing for a marker to detect, considering the express speed at which some professional players rattle up these ‘nurseries,’ or the player, when his ball was in contact with one of the others, calmly proceeded with his run of close cannons, instead of having the red and his opponent’s ball spotted and playing from baulk. This is something of a digression, but it seemed necessary to explain why I have written so little about ‘records.’ They are easily to be ascertained by anyone who is interested in them, and can be taken for what they are worth. From these great performances of Peall’s it may be easily gathered that his nervousness had entirely left him, and, after he had once acquired confidence, there never was a more consistent and trustworthy performer. Whatever any of us may fancy Mitchell _might_ have done, there is no getting away from what the latter has actually accomplished, and, as a spot stroke player, he has never had an equal. For a long time past he has been ready and willing to meet anyone at the ‘all-in’ game, and is entitled to call himself champion of English billiards. It might have been imagined that the virtual disappearance of the spot stroke would have completely disposed of his pretensions to a place in the front rank, but, so far from this being the case, he was for a considerable period second only to Roberts as a spot-barred player. Short stature has always precluded the possibility of his being a very stylish player, but the extreme deliberation which rather detracted from his play years ago has to a great extent disappeared. His name has always been associated with all that is honourable and straightforward, and no member of his profession is more universally and deservedly respected.

No match for the championship had taken place for nearly three years and a half when Joseph Bennett challenged either Roberts or Cook to play for it. The former waived his claim and left Cook to meet Bennett on November 8, 1880. This match was one of the most interesting and exciting I ever witnessed. Bennett, who was favoured with a good deal of luck in the early part of the game, did not fail to take the fullest advantage of his opportunities, and, at the interval, held a lead of 122 points, a very big advantage indeed on a small-pocket table. The interval, however—like luncheon time in an important cricket match—often used to produce a marked change in the aspect of affairs, and soon after resuming play Cook put in a fine break of 107, passed his opponent at 795, and entered the last hundred with a substantial lead. The contest then seemed all over, but Bennett, playing up with any amount of coolness and resolution, won by 51 points. This was about the first time that I noticed unmistakable signs of Cook’s nerve failing him; he missed two or three easy strokes just when points were most wanted, and I doubt if he was ever quite the same player again.

Cook and Roberts sailed for India immediately after this match, and Taylor at once challenged Bennett for the championship. The match came off on January 12 and 13, 1881, at St. James’s Hall, and though, soon after starting, Bennett made a break of 125, the highest that had then been recorded in a match for the championship, Taylor stuck to him in his usual dogged fashion, and was only beaten by 90 points. Shorter was the next aspirant, but failed to make good his final deposit, so Bennett received forfeit. An off-hand match, however, for 25_l._ a-side took place between the two on the table on which they ought to have played for the championship. Bennett, who conceded a start of 100 in 1,000, was defeated by 193, and as he soon afterwards met with the unfortunate gig accident to which I have previously alluded, this was about his last appearance as a player, all his energies being subsequently devoted to teaching. I must not omit to mention that in September of this year, during an exhibition game with Alfred Bennett, Cook made a spot-barred break of 309, the longest then on record. It was without the semblance of a fluke, and was a far finer performance than it looks to be on paper, for the ‘top of the table game’ was then unknown, and it was put together by open play all round the table.

In January 1882, Cook, for the first time, took points from Roberts, who gave him 500 in 5,000, all in, for 500_l._ a-side, and won by no fewer than 1,658 points; the winner’s best break was 430 (5, 11, and 107 ‘spots’). A return match was played for a similar stake at Newmarket during the July week, and was witnessed by the Prince of Wales and a large and aristocratic company. This time Cook’s start was increased to 750, and he won by 918. His highest break was one of 412; Roberts had two consecutive runs of 653 and 395.

Very early in 1883 John North, who possessed a high reputation in Wales and the western counties, made his first appearance in London. This was in a spot-barred American Tournament at the Albert Club, and a more trying ordeal for a comparative novice cannot well be imagined, for, as is very truly stated in ‘Billiards, by W. Cook,’ in allusion to North’s _début_:

It is comparatively easy to perform in an ordinary tournament or
match, where the least noise or interruption to the player is
instantly checked; ... but billiards at the Albert Club is a different
thing altogether. Betting on the game, and often on individual
strokes, is carried on without let or hindrance, and that a stranger
to London should have displayed consistently good form under such
trying circumstances was conclusive evidence that he had plenty of
nerve and self-possession.

North won this tournament, but it cannot be said that he has ever fulfilled his early promise. Fit and well, and at his best, he is an undoubtedly fine player; but his style, never a pretty one, becomes terribly ugly and jerky when he is out of form. Towards the close of the year 1883 Roberts offered to give any man in the world 500 in 5,000, all-in, or 200 in 3,000 spot barred. There was no response, and I only mention the fact to show how the status of certain players has altered in the last ten years. Few people would now care to pit Roberts against Peall on even terms at the all-in game; whereas his supremacy at the spot-barred game, to which he has entirely devoted himself, is so complete, that his offer of such a start as 200 in 3000 reads almost ludicrously.

CHOOSING A CUE.
]

At the end of the year J. G. Sala, a Scotch player of considerable repute, appeared in London for the first time in an American Tournament. On his day he was a fine spot stroke player; indeed, his feat of making 186 consecutive screw back red hazards into the same pocket remained a record for years, when it was completely wiped out by Charles Memmott, who made 413 similar strokes in succession in a match in Australia. Sala was, however, by no means strong at the all-round game. In 1884 Roberts took a company consisting of Mitchell, Taylor, Shorter, North, Collins, White, Coles, and Sala for a provincial tour, and organised tournaments in Birmingham, Sheffield, Leeds, Liverpool, and Manchester, where some really magnificent play took place. Writing the names of these players reminds me that I have said nothing of Harry Coles and Fred White. The former originally came from Birmingham, and made no particular mark for some years after arriving in London, though he was always regarded as a sound and consistent player. Perhaps his form was never rated quite as highly as it deserved to be, for there was nothing in the least ‘flash’ about his style, and he never appeared to be playing nearly as well as he really was, in this respect being the exact opposite of Richards. The virtual abolition of the spot stroke, however, gave him his opportunity, and he improved very rapidly indeed, until about 1892, when I saw him make upwards of 500 off the balls, twice within a few days at the Aquarium, he was playing a really fine game, and only wanted a short start from players of the class of Peall and Dawson. Nearly twenty years ago White was regarded by some few people as a promising youngster, but for a long time his health was very indifferent, and never gave him a real chance of doing himself justice. When he became stronger he played brilliantly for a brief period, making spot stroke breaks of upwards of a thousand on two or three occasions in matches; but as he depended almost entirely on the spot stroke, and was very weak as an all-round player, little or nothing has been seen of him of recent years, though it is gratifying to know that he has done exceedingly well in pursuits unconnected with billiards.

It may be interesting to record that the first game of 10,000 up ever played was begun at the Aquarium on May 24, 1884. It was between Roberts and Peall, ‘all in,’ and the latter, who received a start of 2,000, won by 589 points. Once started these long games became very popular. They were soon extended to as many as 24,000 up, which took no less than a fortnight to play, and the spot stroke was invariably barred. I am not sure that the change was a judicious one, for it is by no means so interesting to witness a couple of hours’ play in the middle of a long match, with one of the players possibly hopelessly in the rear, as it is to see a game begun and finished at a single sitting. The last matches ever played for the championship took place in 1885, when Roberts defeated Cook and Joseph Bennett in turn, each game being 3,000 up. The champion at this time was suffering from an attack of rheumatic gout, which prevented him from touching a cue for a week prior to the match with Cook, and made it very difficult for him to hobble round the table; but he won by 92 points. Bennett suffered defeat by more than half the game. It is only fair to state that Bennett was so unwell that he could scarcely hit a ball on the first and second days, but the one-sided nature of the contest was in a great measure atoned for by the splendid exhibition given by Roberts. He made breaks of 155 and 147, the largest ever put together in a match for the championship; and also scored sixteen successive spot strokes, the largest consecutive number ever made in a championship match. A notable ‘all-in’ match of 15,000 up on even terms between Roberts and Mitchell was played in February 1886; Roberts, who certainly had the better of the luck, winning by 1,741 points. His longest breaks were 693 (230 spot strokes), 544 (179), 616 (88 and 104), 722 (230), and 716 (47 and 184). Mitchell’s highest efforts were 745 (244), 601 (197), 969 (321), and 532 (175). The result was particularly instructive, as it showed that, though Mitchell was at his very best just then, and in full practice at the spot, whereas Roberts had not played the stroke in public for months previously, the champion was still able to assert his supremacy at the all-in game. In the following week Roberts and Peall began a six days’ spot stroke match. The conditions were that they should play four hours per day, each man to place his ball where he chose at the beginning of a break, and the highest aggregate scorer at the end of the week to be the winner. Peall had matters all his own way from the outset, and eventually totalled 16,734 against Roberts’s 11,925; it was a terribly wearisome affair and attracted very few spectators. Later in the year Peall challenged Roberts to play 15,000 up, all in, on even terms, and as Roberts declined the offer then, and whenever it has been renewed, Peall, as already remarked, has certainly been entitled to claim the championship at English billiards ever since that date.

Since 1886 genuine matches for money have gone greatly out of fashion, and we have had to content ourselves with battles for more or less fictitious ‘purses,’ varied by an occasional tournament. The great feature of the past few years has been the wonderful play of Roberts, who, although he was born on August 15, 1847, has made greater improvement during the past few seasons than any of the younger players, and was never better than he is at present. Everyone who is interested in the game must have seen him play, and one visit to the Egyptian Hall will give a better idea of his inimitable skill than pages of description.

The young players who have come most prominently to the front since about 1888 are Hugh MʻNeil, Charles Dawson, Edward Diggle, H. W. Stevenson, and William Spiller. At one time MʻNeil, who is a left-handed player, was generally regarded as the ‘coming champion.’ He was the first to grasp something of the champion’s style, and certainly played the ‘top of the table game’ better than any of his contemporaries. Roberts had a very high opinion of him, and long ago said that he ‘would be a splendid player if he would only keep steady.’ A very severe illness unfortunately obliged the young Scotchman to give up playing for a long period. Dawson’s improvement was rapid, and well maintained for several seasons. His form is generally very consistent, and would be even more so if he were less sensitive when luck seems to be against him. Diggle is now generally regarded as one of the most promising of the younger men. He is by no means a pretty player, and does not appear to have the least idea of making a bridge, sometimes playing through his forefinger, sometimes between his first and second finger, and in various other extraordinary fashions; but, bridge or no bridge, he keeps on scoring. Stevenson is by far the youngest of the professional players, being still under age at the time of writing, and there are great possibilities before him, for he has a beautiful delicate touch, strongly resembling William Cook in that respect. It has been amply proved during the season of 1895–6 that Spiller only needed the requisite public practice to make him a fine player, and, though he performs in somewhat loose and haphazard style, he continually runs up long breaks. Nor must I forget Charles Memmott, a remarkably game and capable performer, and equally good at the all-in or spot-barred game. J. P. Mannock is a player who would have come into prominent notice long ago had he appeared more in public.

The game is just now in a somewhat curious state. It was never so popular in clubs, and where there was one house possessing a private table a dozen years ago, there are now twenty; but the public support of billiards is fitful. There is no doubt that exhibition matches have been terribly overdone during the last few seasons, and some genuine battles are sadly needed to revive the fading interest in the doings of professional players. It may, I think, be taken for granted that the push stroke—which has been abused to such an extent that a big cannon break is only put together by means of a number of glaring fouls—is doomed. Probably, indeed, the table of the near future will have smaller pockets with the spot a little nearer to the top of the table than it is at present. There will then be no occasion to bar any fair stroke, for such gigantic breaks from the spot stroke as have been made by Peall and Mitchell would be a sheer impossibility. The barring of any fair stroke makes the game a bastard one, and I feel certain that an alteration in the tables, such as I have indicated, would make billiards far more interesting to watch than it is at present, and would, therefore, prove of the greatest benefit to professional players.

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