The Spirit of the Links Part 11

Shall the golfers' House of Lords be mended or ended? There are three parties in the great state of golf--the old Tories, who want things to remain as they are, and who regard the St. Andrews House of Lords as the finest form of government imaginable, chiefly because it does not govern; the reformers, who want St. Andrews to become more active and to seek the co-operation of some of the leading clubs in the country; and the democratic revolutionaries, who want a new governing body elected by the people and the clubs. The first party is in a hopeless minority, and will always remain so. The present state of affairs may go on for some time yet; but the golf world is too big and important, and the questions pressing upon it are too weighty, for it to be regarded as permanent.

The Royal and Ancient Club of St. Andrews is a most worthy, distinguished, and conscientious inst.i.tution, full of all the most blue-blooded traditions. One may disagree with the idea that the Club entertains of the duty and responsibility towards the great world of golf which time and circ.u.mstances have cast upon it; but no golfer of understanding would speak disrespectfully of this Club, which in many respects is the finest inst.i.tution of its kind in existence, and is ent.i.tled to the very utmost veneration. Chiefly by its efforts there has been given a dignity to the game of golf which has had much to do with its established greatness. Every golfer everywhere owes a debt to the Royal and Ancient Club.

Yet as an authority n.o.body ever sanctioned it; like Topsy, it simply grew. Of course, it was wanted; somebody had to make laws. It is almost equally certain that the club never aspired to an active command over such an extensive golf world as there is at present, and that its present disposition is that it "cannot be bothered," that the British golfers must take it as they find it, or--do as they please.

To some extent allied with St. Andrews in the government of the game are the clubs who regulate the championship. To some minds the Royal and Ancient and these other clubs that rule the championships, have sometimes seemed to be in league with each other against the new spirit and new tendencies in golf, and it is not surprising that the worm is turning. The "common people" of the golfing world say that they have had enough of this sort of thing, and all these airs and graces, that they are in the majority--which is perfectly true--and that they will act.

Now what shall be done? Shall the golfers' House of Lords be mended or ended? In course of time some change is inevitable, democracy will have its way, and all those who have the interests of the game most at heart must, on reflection, come to the conclusion that for the time being, at any rate, it will be for good if the House of Lords is reconst.i.tuted on slightly more popular lines. Therefore it would seem to be desirable that the Royal and Ancient and its a.s.sociates, the golfing House of Lords, should recognise the feeling that is undoubtedly abroad in the country, and should take the initiative now, when it would lose nothing in dignity and gain everything in influence, in establishing the government of golf on a firmer and more satisfactory basis than that on which it at present exists. The rules need remodelling, the system of the championships needs rearranging, the question of county tournaments, standardisation of handicaps, and so forth, call for some consideration, and the interference of the commercial side of the game needs to be looked into. St. Andrews alone and without a mandate has neither the will nor the power to grapple with all these difficulties.

On the other hand, a democratically elected governing body would almost certainly be given far too much to something in the nature of vandalism, and for a certainty golf under its authority would lose much of the dignity that is at present one of its very greatest charms. What one has seen of the ways of even some big provincial clubs, such as might have loud voices in a new democratic government, and the tone that animates their game, gives one no confidence that they would preserve its best traditions intact. There would be a tendency towards unnecessary innovations and vulgarism. n.o.body who has any adequate knowledge of the manner and system of golf as practised by the good old-fashioned clubs would care to risk placing the future of the game entirely in the hands of the revolutionaries.

The world of golf is not ready for a great revolution. The fact is that we want as little legislation as possible, but what there is should be good and adequate, and the tendencies and needs of the times should be systematically considered. The best solution to the difficulty, perhaps, would be for St. Andrews to relax a little from its aloofness, recognise that circ.u.mstances impose a moral duty upon it, and seek the a.s.sistance of a few of the chief clubs, seaside and inland, throughout the country, who among them would form a kind of joint board to which all other clubs would declare their allegiance. We should expect to find such inland clubs in the south as Sunningdale, Woking, Mid-Surrey, and Walton Heath represented on this board, and it would approach all the questions of the time in a progressive spirit and do its best to remove existing grievances. If the Royal and Ancient took the initiative in this matter, it would gain in dignity and respect, and would have the knowledge that it had done its duty. If no such step is taken, if matters are allowed to drift on as at present, then a revolution of some kind is likely. A point too frequently overlooked in these discussions is, that the Royal and Ancient club is in its membership and const.i.tution very fairly representative of golf throughout the country, as is no other club. The rights of its position at the head of the game are, of course, indisputable.

WINTER

I

When the winds blow and the rains pour down, we discover the true worth of the golfer. The game has no season; it allows no right of control to any weather. It is for all places and for all times, and in the law of the links it is clearly set down that he who is playing by strokes for a prize shall on no account whatsoever delay in the course of his round, nor take any shelter, though Pluvius should pour out upon him from the heavens their entire holding of the most drenching rain. If, in defiance of the stern law of St. Andrews, he does so take shelter, though it be but for a minute under the scanty protection of leafless boughs, he is to be visited with the extreme penalty. Whatever his score, whatever the perfection of his golf, he shall take no prize, his card must be tossed aside as worthless, and he is branded among his fellows as he who was afraid, and as more fitted to putt on the hearthrug by the fireside at home in rivalry with his baby boy or girl, than to take part in this now fierce game of men. What is the law for medal compet.i.tions is, in scarcely less measure, the custom and tradition in matches. Once he has begun, the golfer with the great heart must finish his game, and generally he does so. Scotland sometimes turns up its nose at the English golf of the towns; but round about London, among all its "effete civilisation," there is seen in golf, as in perhaps no other game, that some fine British sporting hearts beat beneath starched linen and silken waistcoats; and it is a thing to think about, that the city man who on 'Change at eleven o'clock in the morning was arrayed most spotlessly and was dealing in his thousands, at three o'clock was driving his little golf ball through wind and blinding rain, drenched to the skin, cold, miserable, despondent with his 8's and 9's, but still doing his duty as a golfer to his game.

So the authorities of St. Andrews will in no case countenance the mere fairweather golfer. He must "face the music." But they do say--they said it when appealed to on one occasion--that the brave player is, after all, ent.i.tled to have a hole to putt at, and if the green is under water it is better that there should be no compet.i.tion. It was the club of St. Duthus that made the appeal, and the experiences of the members of that club on the day concerned were varied and curious. One golfer played his ball on to a "floating green," and after vainly trying to dodge the sphere along the waters into the neighbourhood of the place where the hole was, he picked it out and claimed the right to play again some other day. But when that same day was far spent and the flood had to some extent subsided, another player came along with his card to that green, and, having worked his ball to within three feet of the place where the hole was, he deftly pitched it up into the air with his mashie and down it came on the water immediately covering the hole, sank for a moment, and came up again floating. Had he holed out? St. Andrews declined to say. They took shelter from this trying problem by observing that that green should not have been played on.

In very similar circ.u.mstances a player coaxed his ball to the place where the hole was, and then debated within himself as to how he should hole out. No club that he had would sink the ball, but the law does not prescribe that golf must be played with standard clubs. This resourceful fellow, after due consideration, took his bag from his caddie, held it for a moment above the ball, and then dumped it, end on, down on the floating sphere, sinking it for a second. But was not that a push? And, again, when another man had played on to a floating green he discovered that the wind made a current, and that it--O generous current!--was slowly taking his ball towards the hole. So he waited until it should do so, but it was a slow process, and somebody protested. He claimed that his last stroke was still in progress all the time, and that neither he nor anyone else had any more right to interfere with it than with a ball in flight. However, he was utterly cried down, and his point was not settled.

Thus some curious shots have been played on water; and, have a mind, some great ones too. One of the most cla.s.sic shots of golf, perhaps the most cla.s.sic of them all, was that which Fred Tait played in the championship from the water-logged bunker on the far side of the Alps, guarding the seventeenth green at Prestwick. At a moment of crisis he waded in with a forlorn hope, and with a shot that will still be spoken of in a hundred years he saved a point that had seemed gone for ever.

The brave golfer is placed in a difficult position, when his partner is smitten with craven fears of pneumonia and inflammation of the lungs supervening on the soaking that he is getting on the links. What is he to do if in medal compet.i.tion this fearing one says that he will go no farther, but will hasten back to the clubhouse, with its drying-room and its fire and warm refreshment? The law says that no man shall delay in his round; but how shall the card be marked if the marker goes off for his dry clothes and hot drinks? Ever generous to the brave, St. Andrews has said that he whose heart is thus willing shall not be disqualified, but shall be permitted to scour the links and the clubhouse in search of a new marker, and if haply in the meantime the storm shall have ceased, good luck to him, and may his be the winning card.

But no false excuses. Did you hear of the historic case of the Bury golfers who appealed to St. Andrews for a ruling after one fateful medal day on their rain-swept course? The storm raged, the winds blew, and the rain drove through the players' garments to the most vulnerable parts of their body. And then one man lost his ball. The other espied a friendly hut and sought shelter there until his unhappy friend should find that which was lost. When it was discovered its owner likewise went to the hut and stayed there for a little while. Why did that golfer seek that hut so? He told St. Andrews that he went there because he had dirtied his face, and his partner had a cloth wherewith it might be wiped! They pleaded for qualification in their compet.i.tion. "Out upon you for golfers!" said St. Andrews angrily, and so it was decreed.

II

On a frosty day one is apt to damage clubs. The clubmaker does not mind his patrons playing on steely courses. The chances are that one man in a few will need something doing to his shafts or his wooden heads as the result of a day's play. The list of casualties at sunset is considerable, and somewhat reminds one of the early days when a golf club was a much less lasting thing than it is at present. Old golfers are agreed that the breakage of a club by any kind of player is a thing of infinitely rare happening in comparison with what it used to be only a very few years ago. How is this? It cannot be that beginners are any better or more careful than they used to be, and one is very doubtful as to whether the clubs are made any better (although, perhaps, a trifle more elegant), or are endowed with any more strength than they were in the olden days when there were fewer of them to be made, and when so much time was spent upon their individual perfection. Some people think that the socketed shafts that have become firmly established are less reliable than others, and are more likely to give way under severe strain from misuse, and yet how seldom do we really see a wooden club give way at the socket? On the whole there can be no doubt that our modern clubs are thoroughly well made, but that the real cause why we so seldom see breakages is the lighter work that the clubs have to do with the rubber ball than they were set to in the old days of the gutta. In those old days the jar of impact was harder, severer, harsher, and it sent a shiver through the wrapping of the club that, often repeated, made for an eventual snap. Certainly the decrease in the breakages seems to date exactly from the beginning of the use of the rubber ball.

I have just said that it cannot be that beginners are any better or more careful than they used to be, but this is a statement that needs a trifle of qualification. Your modern beginner has heard from many and diverse authorities of the enormous difficulty of this game, and of the necessity of treating it from the outset with the utmost possible respect; but the neophyte of the olden days was often more of a slapdash, full-blooded fellow, who needed to have two or three strenuous rounds before the spirit in him was fairly broken and he became amenable to the reason of the links. A wonderful story of a wild opening to a golfing career is that of Lord Stormont, when he was initiated at Blackheath some fifty years ago. His lordship had taken too much weight to himself, and Sir William Ferguson, his doctor, being consulted, suggested that he ought to have more exercise, and thought that this might best be administered in the form of golf. Sir William played golf himself, and, like all good doctors, he recommended the game to lazy pale-faced people whenever he thought the occasion opportune. He said to Lord Stormont, "Go down to Blackheath and put yourself in Willie Dunn's hands," Dunn then being professional at this historic course.

Lord Stormont had never seen a golf ball driven in his life, but he took kindly to the idea and repaired to Blackheath. Unfortunately he went there for the first time on a club day, and on this day it was impossible for Dunn to give him his services. But he did as well as he could in the circ.u.mstances, and selected his very best caddie, one Weever, quite a capable teacher, and intrusted him with the onerous duty of teaching the game of golf to Lord Stormont. Dunn sold his lordship a full set of good clubs by way of outfit, and away the two went. When the first round had been played, the round at Blackheath then, as now, consisting of only seven holes, Weever returned alone to the professional's shop, with his pockets full of heads and his arms full of broken shafts. My Lord Stormont had broken every one of his clubs, and had sent his mentor back for a new complete set.

In the second round nearly all of these were broken also; and when, after so many trials and tribulations, Dunn espied the n.o.ble beginner returning from the seventh green, he was in some anxious doubt as to how he should best make reference to the events of the day. It was at least encouraging that Lord Stormont was smiling, and so Dunn ventured to observe, "I am very sorry, my lord, that such disasters have befallen you to-day in breaking so many clubs." For answer the new golfer tapped Dunn on the shoulder, and said, "My dear fellow, don't mention it. I feel this game has done me already a great deal of good, and it is going to do me still more. Have another set of clubs ready for me by Thursday.

I shall be down then." How many sets of clubs went to the making of the game of Lord Stormont no man knows.

III

Sometimes, in the long and dark evenings, golfers like to play their games in thought by the fireside, and one may suggest to them a new kind of reflection and study which may prove at the same time interesting and not without educational profit, particularly if such reflections are uttered in company and comparisons of views are made. A golfer has no sooner come by some sort of a working knowledge of the different strokes of the game than he longs for adventures on strange courses, to play at holes that are new and strange to him, and--if it must be--to niblick his way out of bunkers that are more fearful than anything he ever encountered on his mother links. This spirit is in every way commendable, and the experience that results from it is one of the best means of gaining skill and steadiness at the game. Thus it happens that every player of two or three years' practice is acquainted more or less with several different courses in various parts of the country, and it will generally happen that he has the kindest memories of certain holes on each, and that, in fact, there are some of these holes which are his special favourites for their particular length and character. Now if by some impossible grant of nature it were to be ordained that a special course should be made up, consisting of eighteen of his favourite holes, due regard being paid to the proper requirements of a golf course as to variety of length, which eighteen would he select for the purpose, and why? Thoughts on these lines will help him towards an understanding of the points of a good course; for the average player, while he knows a good course when he sees it--or thinks he does--rarely troubles to dissect his general appreciation. Even those players whose game has been almost restricted to play on a few courses in the London or some other district, may entertain themselves by piecing up a new and better course than any they know from the materials with which they are supplied in all the holes they have ever played over.

With the idea thus presented, you may go on to making your own ideal course, and that some basis of necessary requirements may be afforded, it may be added that in the opinion of Mr. Harold Hilton such a course should include three short holes, eleven holes requiring two shots to reach the green under ordinary conditions, and four holes which require three shots to reach the green. Mr. Hilton adds that the short holes ought not to be more than 200 yards long, and that in the case of the four very extended holes the minimum of length should be 470 yards. The other holes he thinks should vary from 380 yards to 430 yards. In this connection it is noteworthy that Mr. Hilton's selections are the Redan at North Berwick and the Himalayas at Prestwick for short holes; the Alps and the eighth at Prestwick, the sixth at Hoylake, the second at St. Anne's, and the sixth at Sunningdale for two-shot holes; and the fourteenth at Sandwich, the seventeenth at St. Andrews, and the Cardinal at Prestwick for long holes.

In another part of the world there is something now happening that gives a special point to these fancies. It is nothing less than the attempt, backed up by enormous energy and practically unlimited capital, to make "an ideal course," combining all the best features of the particular holes that it is resolved to copy. A club called the National Golf Club, including among its members many of the best players and many of the richest men in the United States, has been established, and they have taken a big piece of territory on Long Island for the prosecution of their most ambitious scheme. One of the moving spirits, Mr. Charles B.

Macdonald, well known to St. Andrews golfers, and the first American amateur champion, spent a long time in this country about a year or two back, making a most exhaustive study of the best holes on our best courses, and he went home to America with large parcels of most minute plans and photographs. The land chosen on Long Island is a fine piece of country for golf, and this is going to be--is being--so pulled about, built up, and given the general appearance of having been acted upon by several earthquakes, to the end that the best possible copies of these holes shall be made. Although anything in the nature of an exact copy is manifestly impossible in a large proportion of cases, despite all the powers of money and energy, it is declared that at least the underlying principles which account for the superlative excellence of the holes chosen as models shall be faithfully and accurately represented. It is prophesied that on these two hundred acres of land which have been bought at Peconic Bay, there will be combined in one eighteen-hole round the best features of the most celebrated courses in the world; in other words, "a course that shall be the best in the world." This is a vast ambition, and one which only Americans would find it easy to entertain.

Let me mention what conditions Mr. Macdonald made for the selection of these eighteen holes. He decreed that there should be two short holes for iron shots, between 130 and 160 yards in length; two 500-yard holes; two of the "drive and pitch" order, 300 to 320 yards; eight good two-shot holes, 350 to 470 yards; and four long one-shot holes varying from 190 to 250 yards, according to the contour of the ground, the longer holes having the fair green falling towards the putting green.

These together would make up a course of about 6000 yards in length.

IV

Once a year there is a great foursome played between a Colonel and a Parson on the one side and an Author and an M.P. on the other, and they always look forward to it with great keenness. It is a compact among them that the match shall be played every year that all four are alive and within the United Kingdom. This is one of the most delightful kinds of matches, and no pleasure of reminiscence is so rich as that of golfers such as these in looking back over ten or twenty years of matches and comparing their recollections of them. All earnest golfers should have some arrangement of the kind with their best friends.

It happened the other morning when this match was to be played, that a great disappointment was in store for the little party, as they took train from Charing Cross bound for that fine inland course some twenty miles away to which they were all most devoted. Heavy clouds of ominous complexion were above at nine o'clock, and there was a suspicious look and feel about the atmosphere; but, like all good golfers, these men were optimists all, and would not mention to one another the fear that was in their hearts.

"I daresay we shall have a very nice day after all," murmured the Parson, and the Colonel stated that he was nearly certain that the gla.s.s was rising when he last looked at it. A fine fellow is your golfing optimist. But when London had been left some ten miles behind, the hideous truth was exposed beyond any denial. It was snowing, and the chill of it went to the hearts of the golfers.

"Oh, this won't be much," said the M.P., "and it is certain to melt quickly, anyhow; see how watery are the flakes."

But when they arrived at the course it was snowing more than ever, and big dry flakes were whirling in eddies all about, while the course already lay an inch beneath a white covering. It was a bad case. Unless there was a great change in an hour or so there could be no golf that day, and indeed the idea of it was already almost given up. The four sat in the smoke-room looking exceeding glum. Attempts to make congenial conversation failed. The Parson felt that it was inc.u.mbent on him to cheer up his friends, and after other kind efforts he bethought himself of what he considered to be an excellent story.

"Upon my word, you fellows," he said, "I nearly forgot to tell you of the most extraordinary occurrence that I have ever heard of, and one in which a strange point of golfing law is involved. The case must be sent to St. Andrews."

Everybody was alert at this announcement. It is an excellent thing to know that a poser of sorts is going to be put to that autocratic a.s.sembly in Fifeshire.

"Splendid!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Colonel, "we must hear this story of yours, Septimus; but I hope you are not going to pitch us that yarn you once told me about your wife's brother having once played a low push shot across a river, and a salmon leaping at the ball as it skimmed across and being carried with it on to the bank! We have heard that, you know."

"As I told you at the time," responded the Parson, "I only repeated what my wife's brother told me, and I certainly did not say that I had seen the fish dragged on to the bank in that manner. But this story was told me by my son Richard, when he was down from Oxford last time, and he declares the incident happened on the course at Radley. One of the men was engaged in a match, and going to the tenth he played a beautiful run up from forty yards off the putting green, that actually made the ball hit the pin and then it rolled into the hole; but it had no sooner got into the hole than out it flew again, and after it came a large frog! It was clear that the ball had rolled on the back of the frog in the hole, and that this frog, startled, no doubt, jumped up and out of the hole, ejecting the ball at the same time. The ball came to rest on the green, and my son's friend thereupon claimed that he had holed out."

For a few seconds there was a stony silence, and then the Colonel burst out with a loud guffaw.

"My dear old boy," he exclaimed, "I am sure that you will find that story, or one very like it, in the Old Testament somewhere if you look sufficiently. It is as old as the hills! You really should not tell us these things. You know what the American did when he was told that story? He put a recommendation in the suggestion book that the club should urge upon the St. Andrews authorities that they should make an addition to the rules to something like this effect:

"'If any frog, toad, snake, or other reptile, or a mouse, rat, weasel, mole, gopher, or other vermin (or in the case of casual water, a pike, pickerel, perch, pompano, or other fish) be in or near the hole, its presence being established to the satisfaction of two independent witnesses, such reptile, vermin, or fish must be removed before the next stroke is played, under penalty of the loss of the hole. Should a player unwittingly play at the hole when such reptile, vermin, or fish is in it, its presence being subsequently attested by the aforesaid independent witnesses, and such reptile, vermin, or fish either hinder the ball from entering the hole or eject it therefrom, the ball shall nevertheless be considered to have been duly holed, and no penalty shall be incurred.'

"Still," went on the Colonel, after this little pleasantry, "you have given us a most excellent idea, Septimus. Now let each one of us think awhile, and let us see who can present to our little company the stiffest poser in golf law. Each of us, I suggest, shall be allowed to look at the rules for the s.p.a.ce of ten minutes, no more and no less, and shall then have ten more minutes for consideration of his problem. What do you say, boys?"

All agreed that the idea was a most excellent one for the purpose of killing time and gathering knowledge about the rules. It was decided that the company should vote, if necessary, on the answers, and that while the Parson should be at liberty to choose his own position in the recital in virtue of what he had done already, the others should draw lots. The reverend gentleman decided that he would go last, and, on lots being drawn, the Colonel was settled to present the first problem, the Author the second, and the M.P. the third. When the twenty minutes had expired the four a.s.sembled at the table, and the Colonel was called upon to present his queer case. It was suggested to him that he should make it look as real as possible.

He submitted it as follows:

"Here is a nice point, which I think an Imperial Conference might be called upon to determine. General Botha, let us say, has a little dog, which takes some intelligent interest in the game of golf, as do many other dogs. He goes out to play a match with Dr. Jameson, and despite all rule and custom, 'Bobs,' as the little dog is called, is permitted to accompany them. When approaching the fourth hole the Doctor plays a lovely wrist shot with his iron which sends the ball on to the green, trickling close up to the pin. In one of his frisky moments that wretched dog scampers after it, picks it up in his mouth before it (the ball) had stopped running, and then begins playing about with it. The dog drops the ball on to the green two or three times, paws at it and plays with it, and then, seemingly struck by an inspiration, rolls it into the hole. 'By Jove! That's my hole, then, Botha!' exclaims the Doctor, although the General has laid his ball dead with his mashie with the like. 'How do you make that out? Let us be fair, now that we are such good friends,' says Botha. 'Most certainly,' replies the Doctor, 'but you must see that as the ball went into the hole from that last shot of mine I holed from that shot. Of course it was a pity that your dog got up to his tricks, but he is an outside agency, and I don't see that it makes any difference to the result.' Botha thinks awhile. Then he asks, 'Did you watch "Bobs" closely while he had the ball?'

Dr. Jameson a.s.sented. 'Then,' Botha says, 'there may be one circ.u.mstance in which you do not win that hole, my friend, and when we go to England we will discuss it with the authorities.' Now what was pa.s.sing through Botha's mind, and is his point a good one anyway?"

"Excellent for you, Colonel," said the M.P. after a moment's pause.

"Now, gentlemen, what must we do with Botha, for it is clear that we are the authority to whom he refers. But then we have a right to know what it was that Botha had in his mind at the finish of his little argument with Dr. Jim. You will tell us that, Colonel?"

"Botha urges that he saw 'Bobs' let the ball come to rest when pawing it about."