PREFACE.
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.Our
neighbours on the other side of the English Channel have been accused
of calling us a “nation of shopkeepers.” No doubt the definition
is not bad; and, so long as the goods supplied bear the hall-mark of
British integrity, there is nothing to be ashamed of in the
appellation; still, with all due deference, I think we might more
appropriately be called a nation of sportsmen.There
is not an English boy breathing at this moment who does not long to
be at some sport or game, and who has not his pet idea of the channel
into which he will guide his sporting proclivities when he is a man.
There are not many grown Englishmen who don’t think they know
something about a horse, would not like to attend a good
assault-at-arms, or who are not pleased when they hear of their sons’
prowess with the oar, the bat, or the gloves.I
may be quite mistaken, but it always seems to me that the
well-brought-up little foreign boy is too unwholesomely good and
gentle to fight the battle of life. Still, such little boys
do grow up brave
and clever men, and they
do, taken
collectively, make splendid soldiers.Then,
as to sports, foreigners seem to put too much pomp and circumstance
into their efforts in pursuit of game; the impedimenta and general
accoutrements are overdone; but here again I may be wrong.Of
one thing we may be quite sure, and that is that the majority of
Englishmen are devoted to sport of
some kind. One of
the prettiest little compliments you can pay a man is to call him “a
good old sportsman.”When,
in addition to the advantages of a national sport or collection of
national sports, such as boxing, sword exercises, wrestling, etc.,
you recognize the possibility that the games you have been indulging
in with your friends in playful contests may at almost any moment be
utilized for defeating your enemies and possibly saving your life,
you are forced to the conclusion that there are some sports at least
which can be turned to practical account.Unfortunately
there are individuals, possibly in the small minority, who regard
anything like fighting as brutal or ungentlemanly. In a sense—a
very limited sense—they may be right, for, though our environment
is such that we can never rest in perfect security, it does seem hard
that we should have to be constantly on the alert to protect that
which we think is ours by right, and ours alone.However
this may be, let us be men
first, and
aristocrats, gentlemen, or anything else you please,
afterwards. If we
are not men, in the larger and better sense of the word, let there be
no talk of gentle blood or lengthy pedigree. The nation is what it is
through the pluck and energy of individuals who have put their
shoulders to the wheel in bygone days—men who have laid the
foundation of a glorious empire by sturdy personal efforts—efforts,
unaided by the state, emanating from those higher qualities of the
character, relying on itself, and on itself alone, for success or
failure.From
the earliest times, and in the most primitive forms of animal life,
physical efforts to obtain the mastery have been incessant.Whether
it is in the brute creation or the human race, this struggle for
existence has always required the exercise of offensive and defensive
powers. The individual has striven to gain his living, and to protect
that living when gained; nations have paid armies to increase their
territories, and retain those territories when acquired.The
exact form of weapon which first came into use will always be
doubtful, but one would think that stones, being hard and handy, as
well as plentiful, might have presented irresistible attractions to,
say, some antediluvian monster, who wished to intimate to a mammoth
or icthyosaurus, a few hundred yards distant, his readiness to engage
in mortal combat.Are
there not stories, too, of clever little apes in tropical forests who
have pelted unwary travellers with nuts, stones, and any missiles
which came handy?Then,
coming nearer home, there is the lady at an Irish fair who hangs on
the outskirts of a faction-fight, ready to do execution with a stone
in her stocking—a terrible gog-magog sort of brain-scatterer.When
man was developed, no doubt one of his first ideas was to get hold of
a really good serviceable stick—not a little modern masher’s
crutch—a strong weapon, capable of assisting him in jumping,
protecting him from wild beasts, and knocking down his fellow-man.To
obtain such a stick the primitive man probably had to do a good deal
of hacking at the bough of a hard oak or tough ash, with no better
knife than a bit of sharp flint. Having secured his stick, the next
thing was to keep it, and he doubtless had to defend himself against
the assaults of envious fellow-creatures possessed of inferior
sticks.Thus
we can imagine that the birth of quarter-staff play—not much
play about it in
those days—was a very simple affair; and we recognize in it the
origin and foundation of all the sword exercises, and all the games
in which single-stick, lance, and bayonet play a prominent part.As
the question of who picked up the first stone and threw it at his
fellow-man, or when the first branch of a tree was brought down on
the unsuspecting head of another fellow-man, are questions for
learned men to decide, and are of no real importance, I shall not
allow myself to go on with any vague speculations, but shall turn at
once to an old English sport which, though sometimes practised at
assaults-at-arms in the present day, takes us back to Friar Tuck,
Robin Hood, and
“Maid
Marian, fair as ivory bone,Scarlet
and Much and Little John.”