From 'History of Cricket' by Edward Jesse*
"... I like a village green, with its well-cropped turf, and surrounded with furze bushes, stunted broom and hare bells in blossom, with here and there patches of fern and brambles. There is the little white tent in which the elders may be seen seated with their pipes in their mouths, and a pitcher of ale before them, discussing the merits of the player, and boasting of their own former exploits. I like to see all this, and the fine manly countrymen, with their open countenances, muscular arms and broad shoulders, such as few other countries can produce.
Buckinghamshire used to be a celebrated county for good cricketers, and can boast of Beddam, the two Walkers, Robinson and Harris, with many others. Nottinghamshire, where I have lately been staying, is now, perhaps, what Buckinghamshire formerly was, the nursery of good players. Clark, who is, I believe, still living, had few equals in his day, and he had besides many contemporaries nearly equal to him. Kent and Suffolk can also boast of many good players. The mention of this latter county reminds me of a circumstance which occurred in it a few years ago. A match was being played between the men of two villages, neither of which could boast of a Fuller, Pilch, or Wenman, or such bowlers as Lillywhite, or Redgate. Still there were some good players amongst them, one of whom was the worthy clergyman of one of the villages, and whose tithes were supposed to be more regularly paid than those of any of the neighbouring clergy, in consequence of his encouraging this manly game, and joining with his parishioners in the innocent amusement it offered. We therefore confidently recommend his receipt to those clergymen whose tithes are in arrear.
It was on a fine summer's afternoon that the match referred to was being played. The reader may imagine to himself the centre of a large common, which had been cleared of furze or grass for a considerable space round, the turf being soft, fine, and elastic, cropped so closely by sheep, that it might be compared to a beautiful velvet carpet. The scenery was beautiful, and an old picturesque windmill, such as Rembrant would have etched, added to its interest.
It was during one of the pauses of the game, that an old man was perceived walking slowly towards the ground. He was grey, round-shouldered, weather-beaten, and shabbily dressed, with his hands behind his back. At length he stopped, and remained silently looking at the game, keeping his eye on it with a grave undeviating attention. It was however easy to see that he was a cricketer, and he was soon recognised by one of the players to be old Fennex, once a very celebrated one. On being accosted, he said that he was going round the country to teach any clubs that might want his assistance, and hearing of the present match, he had stopped to see the play. When it was over he was asked to give a few balls. Now, for the first time, the club perceived how ignorant they were of the art of bowling. Wicket after wicket went down, and it was evident that the players had not only to learn but to unlearn. They were in fact mere Tyros in the art. Fennex was taken home to supper by three kind-hearted brothers among the players. The carousal was prolonged till midnight; the subject of cricket was discussed, and at length it was agreed that the old man should be taken into the house of the brothers and remain the season with them. The effect of this judicious measure was soon visible, but acquired only at the expense of lacerated fingers and bruised legs. The whole style of the play was altered - no more slashing play, no more long swipes over the common - no hitting across wicket. All was now steady, scientific, and secure; a reason, and a good one was assigned for every movement, and by the end of the season the members of the club, if not all good players, were at least put in the right method, and secure of improvement. Old Fennex is now no more. He was nearly blind before he died, and incapable of muscular exertion, but he loved to wander about the beautiful common, the scene of his former glory. It is a pleasure to be able to mention that he was housed under the hospitable and charitable roof of the elder of the three brothers I have mentioned, who protected him from want during his declining years.
Fennex was born and brought up at Gerard's Cross near Uxbridge, and at the age of nineteen had become the first cricketer in Buckinghamshire. He was contemporary with Beddam, Harris, the two Walkers, Robinson and others, and Sir Horace Mann was at that time the enthusiastic patron of the art. Having mentioned Harris, it may be remarked that such was his skill in bowling, that while crippled with the gout, he was allowed a chair. Among the great performances of Fennex, was his having, when alone and unassisted, beat on Mitcham Common, at single wicket, the three greatest cricketers of their day. As a proof also of the strength and self-denial of this veteran, it may be mentioned, that at the age of seventy-five, he walked ninety miles in three days, carrying an umbrella, a bundle of clothes, and three cricket bats; and spent in that time but three shillings. How few men in their prime could perform such a journey, in such a manner? When he arrived at the end of his journey, all he complained of was that the bats had bruised his side. When he died his hands should have been preserved, like Galileo's at Florence, as trophies of his sufferings and glories. Broken, distorted, mutilated, half-nailless, they resembled the hoof of a rhinoceros, almost as much as a human hand; but what feats have they not performed? It ought to be mentioned that Fennex raised himself to such eminence by his skill, that he was enabled once to keep his three hunters - that he was the bosom friend of Oldacre, the illustrious huntsman of the Berkeley pack [see 1 below] - that he lived with Lord Winchelsea and the Tuftons, but that he found in the house of a friendly village apothecary that hospitable shelter and security for his old age, which none of his former noble and titled patrons would deign to bestow. ..."
William Fennex, said to have devised the forward defensive stroke, is credited with these comments:
“Matches were bought and matches were sold and gentlemen who meant honestly lost large sums of money.”
"One match up the country I did sell – a match made by Mr. Osbaldeston at Nottingham."
"From information received, I could tell this veteran that ... his was not the only side that had resolved to lose. The match was sold for Nottingham too ...."
"Pace, pitch and rapid rise,"
['length' bowling, by the cricketer David Harris, as opposed to along-the-ground] engendered William Fennex's technique:
"... making the best of his reach forward ... to prevent a mistake from the height and rapidity from which the ball cut up from the ground".
From "cricinfo Worcestershire"
Full name: William Fennex
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