Before we deal with the sporting period of the Restoration, however, we must not omit to mention the account given of the common sports of the earlier part of the sixteenth century by Burton, the author of the 'Anatomy of Melancholy.' Burton's book was not published until 1660; but he had then been dead twenty years, and had spent the twenty years or so previous to his death in compiling the work. If report be true, during the composition of the celebrated work he became so melancholy himself that nothing could extort a smile from him but listening to the ribaldry of the bargemen at Folly Lock, at Oxford; this specific never failed, it is said, to clear away his sadness for some time. His disposition, however, did not prevent his being a very keen observer of the country sports. He points out clearly the pastimes both of the gentry and of the people: 'Ringing, bowling, shooting, playing with keel-pins, tronks, coits, pitching of bars, hurling, wrestling, leaping, running, fencing, mustering, swimming, playing with wasters, foils, footballs, balowns, running at the quintain, and the like, are common recreations of the country folks; riding of great horses, running at rings, tilts and tournaments, horse-races and wild-goose chases, are disports of greater men, and good in themselves, though many gentlemen by such means gallop quite out of their fortunes.' He goes on to say that the country recreations take place at May-games, feasts, fairs, and wakes.

This extract, backed by those we have already given, shows conclusively the universal prevalence of athletic sports in the early part of the seventeenth century.

That athletic feats were performed even under the Puritan government would seem to be the case if any reliance can be placed on the following piece of information, which is stated, in the 'Gentleman's Magazine' of 1797, to be taken from a contemporary record. The whole account, however, is so obviously absurd, that were it not amusing it could hardly deserve for any other reason to find a place in an historical chapter. 'A butcher of Croydon' (says No. 147 of the 'Weekly Intelligencer'), 'on December 1, 1653, ran twenty miles, from St. Albans to London, in less than an hour and a half, and the last four miles so gently that he seemed to meditate, and not to ensult on the conquest, but did make it rather a recreation than a race.' At the present the best known record for twenty miles on a cinder path is 1 hour 52 min. 51 1/5 sec.

With the Restoration, and the revulsion against Puritanism which led to the Restoration, came a great burst of athletic enthusiasm. Not only were the May-poles set up again, as every schoolboy knows, but the footballs were brought out once more into the streets and fields; the decision of pedestrian contests also became frequent, and attracted much popular favour. Indeed, one may almost say that from the reign of Charles II. to the present time a complete and continuous history of pedestrianism could be obtained. So great was the relief in being able to resume the popular sports that even cripples took to foot-races. In the second series of the 'Loyal Protestant' we hear of a foot-race between two lame men, on Newmarket Heath, in the presence of the king himself. 'At 3 of the clock in the afternoon there was a foot-race between 2 cripples, each having a wooden leg. They started fair' (a fact which even then seems to have deserved chronicling amongst pedestrians) 'and hobbled a good pace, which caused great admiration and laughter among the beholders; but the tallest of the two won by 2 or 3 yards.' However, there were plenty of contests more interesting than this, and Pepys makes frequent reference to them.

On August 10, 1660, the diarist makes an entry: 'With Mr. Moore and Creed to Hide Park by coach, and saw a fine foot-race three times round the Park between an Irishman and Crew, that was once my Lord Claypoole's footman.' On July 30, 1663, there is another entry which is even more significant of the popularity of foot-racing: ' The towne talk this day is of nothing but the great foot-race run this day on Banstead Downes, between Lee, the Duke of Richmond's footman, and a tyler, a famous runner. And Lee hath beat him; though the king and Duke of York, and all men almost, did bet three to four to one upon the tyler's head.' One cannot suppress the thought when hearing of such an 'upsetting of a pot,' and knowing of the wiles of professional sportsmen, that the 'tyler' upon this occasion found it more lucrative to lose than to win. Not only, however, were the 'professionals' busy with running at this time, but the amateurs were also to the fore. Two noblemen, my lords of Castlehaven and Arran (a son of my lord of Ormond's), rivalled the exploit of Henry V., and 'they two alone did run down and kill a stoute bucke in St. James's Parke.' This was for a wager, and came off in the presence of the king. These two, however, were not the only athletic noblemen.

Pepys says of the Duke of Monmouth that 'he is the most skittish leaping gallant that ever I saw; always in action, vaulting or leaping or clambering.' Macaulay, in the second chapter of his 'History,' has given the same picture of him: 'He mingled in, every rustic sport, wrestled, played at quarter-staff, and won foot-races in his boots against fleet runners in shoes.' Again one is tempted to make the reflection that in those days it was not 'good form' to beat a royal duke; for it is hardly credible that a man in jack-boots should be able to beat a 'crack' suitably attired. We know from Pepys that the courtiers played in this way at tennis with their monarch; and the old diarist, who says Charles was but a moderate player, calls their conduct 'beastlie.' This rough-and-ready way of handicapping by the weight of the boots seems long to have been popular. Most readers will recollect the foot-race in 'Humphry Clinker' between the lean author and the fat publisher for a bowl of punch. The former, as a handicap, borrows a great pair of riding-boots from his antagonist, and after a close race, when the publisher (running in his stockings) is getting 'blown,' the impecunious author runs off with the boots on his feet, leaving only a pair of ragged shoes behind, and is seen no more.

Monmouth, at any rate, never risked such a catastrophe.

Cripples' race.

A bootless effort.