Victorian Cup-Ties
By E. L. WOODWARI) ON March 24th, 1900, the semi-finals in the competition for the English Cup were played between Southamp- ton and MilIwall, Bury and Notts Forest. I looked yesterday in the pages of The Times of Monday. March 26th, 1900, to see the results of the games. There is nothing more interesting as a measure of social changes, major and minor, than the back files of The Times. In The Times of March 24th, 1900, for example, one finds no advertisements of cinemas ; only " biotableaux " and " animated photographs." The main theatrical attrac- tions were "the dance idylls of Isadora Duncan" and the new London Hippodrome, which was " likely to rank with Westminster Abbey as one of the sights of London." There were one or two plays which are still remembered : San Toy, Florodora, Rupert of Ilentzau, A Message from Mars. At the Tivoli the Countess Russell " had an enormous reception, earned as much by her talent as her name "—a Countess at a music-hall and the Victorian Age with some months still to run !
Oddly enough, The Times on March 26th, 1900, had no agony column with hidden messages from burglars or lovers—so one likes to think—only an appeal to " the lady who left a parcel at Waterloo Station." There were no advertisements of motor-cars, though there was nearly a column of horses and carriages for sale—including a cob " Norman " who attracted me ; " a handsome brown gelding, with good action, quiet to ride."
I looked for the Sporting columns. No doubt the reader of 1900 found his way easily about the pages ; thirty-five years later one has almost to burrow for one's news. I lighted upon the main news page, and recovered queer memories of childhood. War news—and casualty lists— from South Africa ; favourable news from Baden-Powell in Mafeking, and a good report from Lord Roberts. There was nearly a page of this news, including bitter resent- ment (which had political consequences, and gave a clue to Mr. Housman's lines written fourteen years later) against scurrilous German attacks upon our " mercenary army." Nearly a column was given to an account of an Irish meeting in Liverpool, with Mr. Redmond, Mr. Healy, old Uncle Torn Cobley and all, and the usual in- terruption asking for "three cheers for Kruger." It was interesting to notice that diplomacy could still take a high line about Turkey—Abdul Hamid II was shuddering in his palace, with eight years more in which to accom- plish his own damnation (though this damnation was already sealed in earth and heaven). " The Diplomatic Corps considers (the last Note of the Porte) puerile, inso- lent and impertinent."
There were yet further pages before I reached the sportsmen. I passed advertisements of bicycles—ten to twenty guineas each. (The price soon, fell. I was given one of these shining wonders four years later, and it only cost eight guineas. I remember it now. To me the wheels gleamed like the brightest stars in the firmament.) If bicycles were dear, journeys at sea were cheap.• The ships look small enough thirty-fOur years later. The largest P. & 0. liner was only 8,000 tons ; a ship of 18,800 tons gross was described as the third largest steamer yet built. In those days of cut-throat Atlantic competition you could buy a third-class ticket on a Cunarder from Liverpool to the United States for £5 10s., and receive a free railway ticket to Baltimore or Phila- delphia. A first-class saloon ticket only cost £12, a second-class ticket £8 10s. Even the schoolmaster who was " wanted to teach higher mathematics at £100 a year, resident," could go to Baltimore and back for his holiday. The weather had its due place: There was a map— slightly larger than the map in today's Times, and splashed with even more incomprehensible arrows and signs. The forecasts were framed in those bold and rather general terms to which we were accustomed a decade or so ago, when we could still plan picnics on the strength of the forecast, and come home drenched after tea. There were odd statistics which have dropped out now ; the tension of vapour and drying power of the air per 10 cubic feet. On March 25th the weather had been cold and cheerless ; the north winds of March which toss the daffodils. Even so I noticed in the " Court News " (which, incidentally, celebrated the 81st birthday of the Duke of Cambridge) that the indomitable Queen Victoria had driven in Windsor Park on Sunday afternoon.
Yet more pages, a little brown already at the edges. There were Saturday's financial quotations. Prudent men could feel secure of the future of their families if they had bought South-Western Ordinary at 202, and Deferred at 78-79, or North-Eastern Consolidated at 1741. In any case you could not easily gamble in rubber shares, for no rubber shares were shown, and of the familiar commercial firms of today, J. Lyons was one of the few names outside the textiles, the heavy industries, the banks (not yet amalgamated) and insurance companies.
At last I reached the sporting columns. One might well miss them. They were tucked away in a corner. Racing had pride of place, with two columns, and large print. French racing news from Auteuil and elsewhere had as much space as golf, and golf not much more than yacht-racing in the Mediterranean. Chess had more than half a column—more than Rugby football, golf and cycling put together ; though it is only fair to say that there was an international chess tournament in America. Still, there were also the Cup semi-finals. These had less space than the chess match. They were crowded into half a column—the University crews had the same amount of attention. The other League matches were merely recorded—results, et praeterea nihil—in small print.
The Times disliked Association football of a professional kind. Mr. Kipling was soon to write a poem about " muddied oafs " at the goal, though he included " flan- nelled fools at the wicket." In any case the readers of The Times could not be expected to feel any excitement about Cup Ties. " Two Southern professional clubs (this was the Southampton-Millwall match) have reached the penultimate stage for the Association Cup competition." There was a good deal of "false sentiment about this com- petition." The talent of the two clubs was "largely alien." "This is one of the factors which destroys the interest of the genuine footballer, for professionalism and finance are so closely allied that it is a case of the biggest purse." And the play. A few scornful sentences sum that up. " It was cup-tie football of the worst description. The un- fairness of the play drove almost every vestige of skill from the game and the referee was throughout the after- noon generally busily engaged in checking the men and detecting ' fouls,' although many of these were so flagrant as to need little detection."
Whatever the upper middle class might think, there were 40,000 of the Commons of England present at this match. Read, in The Times of Monday next, the account of the semi-finals ; perhaps you will not hold it entirely irrelevant to the present situation—even to the present discontent—to notice that, as the years have gone by, the Commons of England have made their game, even their professional football, " respectable."
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