Part 49

Hunted and coursed till far too late in the season, shot and snared all the year round, without a hole or burrow wherein to hide her inconveniently large body, how long will she survive these methods save in the sacred precincts of the large game preserves whose owners—good luck to them!—drive a motor-car through the Ground Game Act? The Hare Preservation Act, the only legislation in her favour at present existant, is not worth the parchment the precious document is written on; for it only prohibits the sale of English hares during March, April, May, June and July. Of foreign hares it says nothing, and many foreign hares differ so little from the English ones that no one can tell the difference! And poor puss does not ask for much, she would like, as would all her friends, the abolition of the Ground Game Act; but, failing this, she only wants one little Act to give her immunity from death or danger from February 28th—or a little earlier if possible—to September 1st; and does she not deserve it?

ALAN R. HAIG BROWN.

Pelota.

To the ball-playing English, the introduction to their notice of the ball-game of some other nation appears but in the light of a fulfilment of its natural destiny. Sooner or later all games come to England, on approval, as it were. In this way the vigorous Italian game of pallone was many years since exhibited in London, without any expectation of its being adopted by the English; whilst in 1875 lacrosse, the rough-and-tumble game of the Red Indian, put into playable shape by the Canadian, made its appearance to take up a permanent residence. It was inevitable that Pelota, the game of the Basques, should some day be brought to England, and the event duly took place in January last. I should have regarded it as little short of a calamity had I been deprived of a sight of the spectacle, but, although at the very time that the imported players were exhibiting their skill at Olympia I was travelling out of England, I was, strange to say, on my way to the Basque country and Northern Spain, where the game is assiduously played, though not more so than in those countries of the American continent which have been peopled by the Spaniards.

The derivation of the name of the game is the simplest. “Pelota” merely means “ball,” and the ball game of the Basques became “pelota,” just as the Canadian Indians, in the language of one of their tribes, designated what we now call lacrosse, “bagattaway,” _i.e._, the ball-game. The French Basques call the ball pelote, and the game pelota. Goya, in one of his many delightful pictures to be seen in Madrid, depicts a game of pelota in which the players, in the open, are using battledores. Goya (1746–1828) depicted the scenes of his own day. If he lived at the present time he would have to be satisfied with a couple of errand boys snatching a furtive game at hand-ball against a back wall or gateway. That is called “pelota” nowadays, just as was Goya’s picnic game, and on the walls of public buildings in Spain we read that the playing of pelota against them is forbidden. It is as well to insist upon the universality of the meaning of the word “pelota,” for quite recent visitors to Spain have recorded it as evidence of the avidity with which the game, meaning the scientific one of the courts, is played throughout Spain, that even the walls of churches would not be sacred to players but for these prohibitory notices. The error reminds one of the man who, seeing on the front at Hove, Brighton, a notice prohibiting hawking, took it to refer to some bygone practice of illegal falconry. If he was a foreigner, then he would be in precisely the same position as the flitting Englishman taking “pelota” to mean the court game, not being aware of its wide application.

The statement has been made more than once that pelota is the national game of Spain, numbers of Spaniards themselves being of this opinion. Pelota is the national game of the Basques, and it appears in Castilian and Catalonian towns, through their paid agency, as a spectacle, much after the manner of bull-fighting, although, in places where courts are established, the amateur is to be met with. Better informed Spaniards call the game the “Sport Vasco,”[13] giving a Spanish rendering of the word “Basque,” but “_El juego de pelota_” (the game of pelota) is of universal application. The game is played in three ways—with the bare hand, with the pala (battledore) and with the chistera, the long, curved, wicker implement, strapped to the hand, wherein the ball is caught, and wherewith it is propelled against the wall. The tactics bear the usual family likeness belonging to all ball games that include the use of a wall or walls. With certain restrictions, the wall struck, the ball must be taken and returned on or before the first bound; failure to do so, or to keep it within the limits of the court, losing a stroke. The scoring at present adopted is the simple one of points, so many up, and everything that goes wrong scores against the wrong-doer. It was not always played thus, for a quarter of a century since tennis scoring was in vogue in places, the game itself being also more intricate than that at present adopted. The pace at which the game is played is sufficient to preclude all else beyond mere service and return. The extreme resilience of the ball, whose solid rubber core supplies about three-fourths of the weight of the whole, is probably largely responsible for the pace, without which the game would not count for much. No definite dimensions are laid down for the court, and it is tolerably safe to say that no two will be found exactly alike. The Basque game of the Pyrenees is played in the open air against a single wall, and this was the original game, bearing much the same resemblance to the indoor game with three walls that the old-fashioned single wall racket-court, common enough around London a generation since, does to the indoor court with four walls. The Basques are fond of declaring that the old single wall game is the best, but in this I venture to join issue. Physically, outdoor play at any game is superior to indoor, but the addition of a side-wall, or walls, entirely changes a game by reason of the variety introduced. The front wall, called _frontis_, has, or should have, a face of smooth stone, cement being sometimes substituted. The height will vary, from the Pyrenean village court with seven or eight metres, to the indoor court with eleven metres or more. The floor will vary also, some open-air courts sufficing with cement in front for a few metres, the rest being gravel. But whatever the characteristic of the court may be, one feature belongs to all, and that is the pace at which the ball travels. In the case of the open court it will be understood that the ball is kept going until one player fails to secure it in his chistera on its return, or returns it out of court, which may be below the line, in pelota taking the form of a metal strip that rings on being struck.

The large enclosed courts, such as one sees at Madrid and Barcelona, are commercial affairs and admirably arranged for spectators. The best is probably at Barcelona. The length of the cement floor there is sixty-eight metres, with a width of eleven metres. The front wall is the same width as the court and eleven and a half metres high. On the left, extending the whole length of the court, is a wall of the same height, and there is an end wall the full width of the court, nine metres high. Statements to the effect that the front wall should be sixty feet high, must be made on a misconception. The wall of the building may approach that height, but the playing wall is as stated; and surely about thirty-six feet is high enough for anything. Let any one look at a wall sixty feet high and wonder what a ball could be doing at the top of it. The end wall is called the _rebote_ (hence _jeu de rebote_), and it is probably this feature to which the Basques refer as being inferior, since it does away with fine length strokes played to keep an opponent on the back line; with the end wall he can take his time, waiting for the ball to come back. Such is the power put into the stroke that the ball frequently bounds from front to back wall, without touching the floor, and rebounds half way back again, although the end wall is not a quick one like the _frontis_. The ball for the game with the chistera must weigh between 118 and 122 grammes, and of this the rubber core must weigh between 90 and 94 grammes. The pace at which this missile can be propelled out of the chistera is terrific, it being greater than the hardest “force” ever seen at tennis, which is only reasonable, the one being the result of percussion, the other of a centrifugal motion, so to speak. The side wall introduces difficulties into the catching and also some very attractive corner play, necessarily absent from the single wall game. Appreciation of this fact is shown in the case of some open air courts to the front wall of which a short side wall has been added. Balls secured at short range, and fired into the corner just over the line (at Barcelona one metre twenty centimetres from the floor) are nearly always fatal, so sharp is the angle at which they come off, but if the ball be gathered—and to see this done on the rise at the pace the ball is travelling is a fine thing—then the boot is on the other leg. It is by the corner shot that most “won” points are secured, many more points being “lost” by failure to catch, or by returning out of court. In this direction rackets makes a far superior game; and although not cheap in the matter of balls, pelota would not have any advantage here. A split ball is useless, and a considerable number are required in each match. Balls are divided into “extra fina,” “fina,” and “renovado,” _i.e._, renovated, and a player must name which he is using and also the maker before commencing. The ball is bounced behind the service line decided upon and the server, dashing forward, “swishes” it, with one movement, against the _frontis_. It must rebound so as to touch the floor, if it is allowed to do so by the striker-out, between the fourth and sixth chase lines, called _cuadros_, of which there are seventeen at Barcelona, each four metres apart from the other. The indoor game is nearly always four-handed—a game at singles being a poor affair—two playing back and two forward. The back play is really very fine, for the ball has to be kept out of the reach of the forwards ready to pounce upon a short one.

In the extreme unlikelihood of pelota being introduced into England, seeing that the much more economical open air rackets has been allowed to die, it may hardly be worth while to consider its suitability. But the suggestion has been put forward, so it may be mentioned that all with whom I came into contact who had knowledge of the game spoke of its extreme severity. A game of fifty or sixty points can last along while, and a ball is commonly returned twenty or thirty times in deciding a single point. The keynote to the game is severity, and from this there is no rest from start to finish, the opportunity for finessing with a slow one coming perhaps only once in a game, or not even once. The effect of the stroke with the chistera is very different from that effected with the racket, and exceedingly trying to the player.

As a spectacular game pelota is a great success, one side of the huge building being available for spectators, and the galleries at Barcelona will hold some thousands. The ground floors are occupied by the bettors, who are catered for by regular bookmakers and the pari-mutuel. Such an arrangement would no doubt answer well in England, but we need not think about that.

E. T. SACHS.

Jack Shepherd.

AN OLD HUNT SERVANT.

The accompanying portrait of Jack Shepherd, who for fifty-three years was so familiar a figure with the Fife Hounds, is reproduced from a photograph of a picture recently painted by Mr. A. F. Lucas Lucas as a companion to that of old Tom Carr, a former huntsman of the Bentley Harriers, also the work of Mr. Lucas Lucas. Jack Shepherd has a great record as a hunt servant. Born in 1835, he was very early entered to the work of the kennel, for at the age of 8 years he went to assist his father, who for thirty-five years held the office of feeder to the Fife Hounds. During the fifty-three years that Jack Shepherd was with the Fife there were naturally many changes in the Mastership of the pack; and as kennel huntsman he served under the late Colonel Anstruther Thompson and Colonel Cheape, Colonel Babington, Sir Arthur Halkett, Mr. R. Wemyss, and Major Middleton. In commemoration of his fifty years’ service with the Fife Hounds, Jack Shepherd was presented with a silver horn and a purse of gold subscribed by nearly two hundred of his admirers in Fifeshire. Last year he went as kennel huntsman to the Bentley Harriers, of which Mrs. Cheape is “Master.” It will be remembered that Mrs. Cheape, well known as “The Squire,” hunted the Bentley herself for many years; in fact, until she met with an accident last season. The picture, which was painted for Mrs. Cheape, represents Jack on his favourite mare, Whitethorn, with three and a half couple of the Bentley Harriers—Willing, Racket, Wanderer, Butterfly, Demon, Druid, and Lancelot by name.

The Preparatory School.

The last half century has seen a very great increase in the number of preparatory schools. As demand and supply always depend on each other, it is not difficult to see from this that the practice of sending boys to preparatory schools is becoming yearly more customary, and it must be admitted that this is of the greatest value in laying the foundations of a sound education and healthy constitution.

It is impossible to overrate the important effect which the preparatory school may have upon a boy’s life. It is the gradual substitution of school discipline for the unfettered liberty of home-life, and a gradual hardening process whereby the weakling gathers strength. At the age of eight and a half or nine the bitterness of leaving home is very great, and those who have the misfortune to be sent to a big school at that tender age find the plunge very cold indeed. The preparatory is a sort of half-way house between home and the public school, and not only in the matter of work but in every department of school life it has the greatest influence. The intellect of the average boy, when first he goes to school, is frequently quite frozen, and it sometimes requires several weeks of untold patience and individual attention before the thaw sets in. But not only is the mind of the small boy often in the most primary stages of development, but his physical strength is sadly deficient: and to plunge him suddenly into the midst of a number of boys far bigger and stronger than himself may very likely cause him to overtax his forces and to do himself real physical injury. Further, neither in the class-room nor in the playing field can he hope to have the same individual care and attention which is part and parcel of the preparatory curriculum. It is obvious, for instance, that the ordinary day at a public school is too long for most boys under fourteen years of age, and it is interesting to note that the headmaster of Eton is advocating more sleep for growing boys. Neither is the average boy under fourteen physically strong enough to rough it in the same way as older boys; he has no idea of taking care of himself, and would no more think of voluntarily changing his stockings because they were wet than of voluntarily going to bed because he was tired. When first a boy goes to school he cannot, as a rule, think for himself, and the first service which a preparatory school does for him is to teach him how to think, and the necessity of so doing. It may be argued that a boy will learn to think and act for himself far quicker if he is sent at once to a big school, but this is akin to the argument that throwing a man overboard is the best way to teach him to swim. It must be admitted, however, that there is a tendency nowadays to do too much for the boy, and that feeling of responsibility—which always has such a steadying and beneficial effect upon a boy’s character—is not sufficiently stimulated, owing to the overanxiety of parents and masters.

Perhaps the most charming and fascinating of God’s creations is the manly little boy of three or four years of age, and when first a boy goes to a preparatory school he retains much of this innocent charm. He is, as a rule, simplicity itself, and credulous to a degree, whilst probably at no time in his career is he so impressionable. It is, therefore, not difficult to see that, at no time in his life, is the influence which is brought to bear on him of more vital importance. After four or five years at a preparatory a boy has, or should have, a certain feeling of self-reliance, and a strong feeling of self-respect—two very essential attributes to his character when he enters the larger field of the public school. An excellent feature in the education of the modern boy is that he is continually rising to the top, and having to begin at the bottom again; when he is just beginning to feel a bit big for his boots at the preparatory, he goes on to the public school, where he is nobody, and has to start climbing up again. Arrived at the top he goes, or may go, to the ’Varsity, where again—for a time, at any rate,—he is nobody. Many a man’s character has been spoilt through the rise and fall not being sufficiently pronounced, and it is no uncommon thing to hear it said of a man that he was not kicked enough at school. Whilst a boy’s self-reliance is trained and stimulated, he learns continually that he is not the only person in the world, and that self-assertion is not the golden road to success. It is, however, in the nature of things that the home estimate of a boy should be somewhat different to that which is formed of him at school, and thus a boy frequently fails to realise the expectation of his fond parents. The state of mental ignorance in which some boys come to school is quite phenomenal, and it is no uncommon thing to find a new boy who actually cannot spell his own name or add three and four together. His very ignorance has led him to make droll remarks at home, which have, of course, been regarded as the soul of wit, and by mistaking instinct for intelligence, an entirely false estimate of his capabilities is frequently arrived at. So many small boys dislike reading, but are quite content to be read to—one of the primary causes of backwardness—the result being that when they come to school they have the greatest difficulty in keeping up with the others. It is most unfair, both to the master and to the boy, to send a child to school in this lamentable state of ignorance, and a great deal of valuable time has to be devoted to teaching a boy the most elementary things which are so easily learnt at home. A boy of this description could have little or no chance at a big school with forms of twenty or thirty boys in them, as it would be quite impossible for the master to give him the necessary amount of individual attention, whilst even at the preparatory, his progress is sadly hampered. The effect of this is that he fails to reach the higher forms of the preparatory school, and some of that essential grounding has to be hurried over or skipped altogether.

If, on the other hand, he has learnt to read and write well, and knows his arithmetic tables thoroughly—quite an unusual accomplishment—and has also a slight idea of what is meant by a substantive or an adjective, he has a fair chance of being in the swim, and at the end of his four or five years at the preparatory he will have passed through the different forms, each with their fixed standards, and will have received a thorough grounding which is of the most vital importance to his subsequent work. The usual number of boys in a form being nine or ten, it is easy to see that a master will be able to give each boy a considerable amount of individual attention, and will insist upon his work being very thorough. It is a mistake for boys to be kept at home too long, nine years of age being quite the limit, for unless a boy is exceptionally quick he will not get through the work necessary to enable him to take a good form at his public school, the advantage of which cannot be overrated, as he may otherwise vegetate in the lower forms, and lose all chance of getting to the top of the school.

Next in importance to his mental training, comes the physical development of the boy. That more attention is being paid nowadays to the health and strength of small boys is generally admitted. To quote from a paragraph in the _Field_ of February 10th: “The modern preparatory schoolmaster has for more than a generation introduced greater comforts and more liberal diet for small boys, and the physical effect of it is visible to the eye that can recall and compare the average size of the twelve-year-old school-boy half a century ago with his modern representative.”

The old Spartan idea of hardening boys by a system of roughing it can be carried too far and may have the most detrimental effects. Montesquieu was not far from the mark when he advocated a liberal diet and moderate exercise till the age of twenty-one, by which time a man is fully formed and more fitted to undergo a stricter diet and more violent physical exertion. Till recent years, however, the reverse has been the case; school fare was synonymous with the bare necessities of life, plus the unwholesome concoctions which were eaten at all times of the day at the tuck-shop, whilst most violent exercise was taken immediately after dinner, the one square meal of the day. It is a popular fallacy that a boy has a digestion like an ostrich, but there are many men whose health has been permanently impaired by the trials to which their digestions were subjected when they were boys at school. One has memories of what, in school-boy parlance, were called “stodgers” (being square slabs of warm dough made palatable by a covering of burnt sugar), to say nothing of ices and sweetmeats and such like unwholesome things. Needless to say, the tuck-shop is a thing unknown at the preparatory school.