A. N. Hornby

A. N. Hornby

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A. N. Hornby

Tombstone of A.N. Hornby

Albert Neilson Hornby (Blackburn, Lancashire, 10 February 1847 – 17 December 1925 in Nantwich, Cheshire) was the England cricket captain who lost the Test match which gave rise to the Ashes, at home against the Australians in 1882.

His father was William Henry Hornby, who was Member of Parliament for Blackburn from 1857 to 1865. His brothers, Edward and William, were also M.P.s for Blackburn from 1869 to 1874, and from 1886 to 1910 respectively. Edward and another brother Cecil also played first class cricket.

The Test match in 1882 was a one-off game played at The Oval in London, England, and the English cricket team lost it to Australia. In response, the Sporting Times printed the following "obituary" to English cricket:

In Affectionate Remembrance of ENGLISH CRICKET, which died at the Oval on 29th AUGUST, 1882, Deeply lamented by a large circle of sorrowing friends and acquaintances R.I.P.

N.B. - The body will be cremated and the ashes taken to Australia.

A. N. Hornby captained England in only one more Test (his last), standing in for Lord Harris (who had stood out in protest) in the first Test of 1884. In 1882, Hornby also captained England at rugby, making him one of only two men to have captained England at both these sports, the other being Andrew Stoddart.

His lack of stature and excess of energy earned him the nickname "Monkey", while his players called him "The Boss", for his martinet approach to captaincy. In all cricket sources, however, he is referred to by his initials, and never by a nickname.

Hornby and his fellow Lancashire and England batsman Dick Barlow were immortalised in one of the best known of all cricket poems, At Lord's by Francis Thompson which contains the following celebrated lines:

It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,

Though my own red roses there may blow;

It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,

Though the red roses crest the caps, I know.

For the field is full of shades as I near a shadowy coast,

And a ghostly batsman plays to the bowling of a ghost,

And I look through my tears on a soundless-clapping host

As the run stealers flicker to and fro,

To and fro:

O my Hornby and my Barlow long ago !