The Billiard Monthly is giving from month to month a series of diagrams illustrating what was considered "the game" at billiards in the time of Mr. E. R. Mardon, one of the earliest writers on the subject, and to this old book "B. D." referred in a recent issue of Country Life.
Carr was (writes "B. D.") the best player in England before the advent of the great Edwin Kentfield, better known as Jonathan, who was "the god of Mr. Mardon's idolatry." Kentfield was a great player, more especially on the old tables with list cushions and big pockets, and for a long while was without a peer; but at length a new star appeared in the North, and some under-bred persons who dwelt in Manchester, far from the genteel repose of the subscription rooms at Brighton, began to say that a greater than Kentfield was there. This was John Roberts, the elder. Mr. Mardon had never seen Roberts play, but this made no difference to him, since he argued the question on a priori grounds. The powers of his favourite, he declared, "had gone beyond what even the imagination could embrace," and "although luminaries may shine forth in other spheres, Mr. Kentfield, the electric light of mine, must, I think, dim their lustre and keep them in the shade."
It is pathetic to find after this spirited outburst that Mr. Mardon, in a later edition, had to change his mind. The tactless Roberts refused to be kept down by the powers of imagination; he came to Brighton and openly demanded a match. "A nobleness of conduct similar to this was not unfortunately in unison with the feelings of Mr. Kentfield."
He took Roberts into a private room, locked the door and began a game for love. It seems doubtful whether either party revealed his real game, but at the end Roberts declared that he could give Kentfield 20 in 100, and reiterated his challenge. The elder man wisely realized that the younger would be too strong for him, and preferred to rest on his laurels. Mr. Mardon has to admit that Roberts is the stronger, and he does so with a sorrowful generosity.
Possibly he was the less unwilling because Roberts was stated to have declared that his game had " benefited and improved by the perusal of Mr. Mardon's treatise." What amateur could survive so sweet a piece of flattery from a professional champion?
The feats of other great players are to be found in Mr. Mardon's pages, but the reader searches in vain for any further mention of the defeated Porker. He may have been finally extinguished by that great break, or possibly the conqueror wisely guided his conduct by the doggerel rhyme adorning the wall of Hughes' billiard-rooms: William Hughes hopes him you'll excuse For making this observation.
When you've the best of the game, keep the same; To mention more there can be no occasion.
B. D.