The fetich of the left is, amongst golfers, only second, if indeed it is second in its injurious nature, to the idea that the weight should be put on the right foot at the top of the swing. It is very hard indeed to trace the origin of the idea that the left hand and arm is of more importance in the golf stroke than the right, but that it is a very rooted idea there can be no doubt whatever.

To those who are not acquainted with the literature of golf and the remarkable ideas which many golfers have of the nature of their game, it would seem almost superfluous to go very fully into this matter, for one would think that it is sufficiently obvious that the right hand and arm are the dominant factors in producing the golf stroke. It is, however, useless to deny that there is a large body of opinion, backed by most influential authority, in favour of the left hand and arm being more important than the right.

Let us see, before we go any further in the matter, what the leading professionals have to say about it.

Harry Vardon, it is true, does not explicitly state that the right hand is the more important, but by implication he does assert so right throughout The Complete Golfer. Let me quote a few of his remarks with regard to the left hand. On page 61 Vardon says:

The grip with the first finger and thumb of my right hand is exceedingly firm, and the pressure of the little finger on the knuckle of the left hand is very decided. In the same way it is the thumb and first finger of the left hand that have most of the gripping work to do. Again, the palm of the right hand presses hard against the thumb of the left. In the upward swing this pressure is gradually decreased, until when the club reaches the turning point there is no longer any such pressure; indeed, at this point the palm and the thumb are barely in contact.

We see here clearly that, as indeed Vardon has stated elsewhere, at the top of the swing the grip of the right has opened up until it may almost in a measure be said to have ceased to direct operations.

Vardon continues:

This release is a natural one, and will or should come naturally to the player for the purpose of allowing the head of the club to swing well and freely back. But the grip of the thumb and first finger of the right hand, as well as that of the little finger upon the knuckle of the first finger of the left hand, is still as firm as at the beginning.

From this it will be seen that the grip at each side of the hand is apparently as firm as it was at the beginning of the stroke, but in some mysterious manner it has eased up in between the forefinger and the little finger. We need not, however, go any further into that matter at the present time, but we may continue the consideration of Vardon's statement here. He goes on to say: "As the club head is swung back again towards the ball, the palm of the right hand and the thumb of the left gradually come together again. Both the relaxing and the retightening are done with the most perfect graduation, so that there shall be no jerk to take the club off the straight line. The easing begins when the hands are about shoulder high and the club shaft is perpendicular, because it is at this time that the club begins to pull, and if it were not let out in the manner explained, the result would certainly be a half shot or very little more than that, for a full and perfect swing would be an impossibility. This relaxation of the palm also serves to give more freedom to the wrist at the top of the swing just when that freedom is desirable."

We might, for a moment, leave this statement, and turn to page 126. Speaking here of the approach shot with the mashie Vardon says: "This is one of the few shots in golf in which the right hand is called upon to do most of the work, and that it may be encouraged to do so the hold with the left hand should be slightly relaxed"; and again at page 147 in dealing with putting Vardon says: "But in this part of the game it is quite clear that the right hand has more work to do than the left."

In these statements it is quite evident that Vardon wishes to express the idea that, generally speaking, the left hand is in command of the stroke.

Reverting for a moment, and before I proceed to consider what the other authorities have to say on this subject, to Vardon's remark that "This is one of the few shots in golf in which the right hand is called upon to do most of the work," I may say that Vardon does not, in the whole of The Complete Golfer, explicitly describe any one stroke wherein he shows that the left hand "is called upon to do most of the work," nor, for the matter of that, does any other professional golfer or author, although the statement is common to nearly all books on the game.

James Braid, on page 55 of How to Play Golf, says:

A word about the varying pressure of the grip with each hand. In the address the left hand should just be squeezing the handle of the club, but not so tightly as if one were afraid of losing it. The right hand should hold the club a little more loosely. The left hand should hold firmly all the way through. The right will open a little at the top of the swing to allow the club to move easily, but it should automatically tighten itself in the downward swing.

Here again we see the idea that the left is in charge, because although we are told that in the address the left hand should "just be squeezing" the club, yet we are told clearly and definitely that "the left hand should hold firmly all the way through." It is somewhat difficult to reconcile these directions, and it is obvious that if the right is going to "open a little at the top of the swing" the club will certainly move easily—in fact it will move so easily that the accuracy of the stroke will be very considerably interfered with.

Let us for a moment turn to Advanced Golf. There, James Braid, speaking of the top of the swing, says: "Now for the return journey. Here at the top, arms, wrists, body—all are in their highest state of tension." Let me pause here for a moment to ask how it is possible for "arms, wrists, body" all to be "in their highest state of tension," if the right hand is to "open a little at the top of the swing to allow the club to move easily"; and how is it possible for the right hand to "automatically tighten itself in the downward swing" if it was already in its "highest state of tension" when it was at the top of the swing?

It will be apparent that it is utterly impossible for the arms and wrists to be tighter than they are when they are "in their highest state of tension." Therefore, we must take it that James Braid's advice at page 55 of How to Play Golf is over-ridden by his advice at page 57 of Advanced Golf, for I think that we are entitled to consider that Advanced Golf represents Braid's last word with regard to the science of golf.

Quoting still from the same passage, page 57 of Advanced Golf, Braid says: "Every muscle and joint in the human golfing machinery is wound up to the highest point." It is impossible to get away from that. We are told that at the beginning of the downward swing "every muscle and joint in the human golfing machinery is wound up to the highest point."

Now the student of golf who desires to start his swing on a firm and sure foundation must mark this statement well. I repeat it for the third time: "Every muscle and joint in the human golfing machinery is wound up to the highest point," and let it be remembered that Braid is now speaking of the start of the downward swing.

We will now turn to Taylor on Golf. At page 193 Taylor says:

My contention is simply this: that the grasp of the right hand upon the club must be sufficiently firm in itself to hold it steady and true, but it must not be allowed on any account to over-power the left. The idea is that the latter arm must exercise a predominant influence in every stroke that may be played. As regards my own position in the matter, my grip with either hand is very firm, yet I should hesitate before I told every golfer to go and do likewise.

Here we see that Taylor distinctly says that "the idea is that the latter arm (i.e. the left) must exercise the predominant influence in every stroke that may be played," and although he says explicitly that his own grip with both hands is very firm, he puts the utterly false idea of the predominance of the left into the minds of those who are influenced by his teaching.

Taylor, at page 107 of Great Golfers, says in dealing with the "Downward Swing":

The club is brought down principally by the left wrist, the right doing very little until the hands are opposite the right leg, when it begins to assert itself, bringing the full face of the club to the ball.

It is almost unnecessary to say, especially in view of Taylor's statement that he holds very firmly with both hands, that he does not carry out this dangerous teaching. Harry Vardon says to attempt it is fatal, and I am pleased to add my corroboration.

This amazing fallacy is wonderfully deeply rooted. A friend of mine some time ago was in trouble about his iron shots. He consulted a professional, who endeavoured to cure him by telling him when playing his stroke to hold so lightly with his right hand that at any time during the stroke he could slide it up and down the shaft.

Oh no! He is not a duffer, nor is he mentally unbalanced. He is merely a professional golfer who plays for England and suffers from the hallucination handed on to him by more famous players than he.

What could be stronger than this? Let me quote Taylor again. At page 90 of Taylor on Golf he says:

The right hand is naturally the stronger of the two—much more powerful in the average man than the left—and the learner is just as naturally prone to use it. But in the game of golf he must keep in front of him at all times the fact that the left hand should fill the position of guide, and it must have the predominating influence over the stroke.

That this is rather unnatural I am perfectly willing to admit. Its being unnatural is the basis of its great difficulty, but it is a difficulty that must needs be grappled with and overcome by any man who desires to play the game as it should be played.

But Taylor will not give in to this idea himself! Is not this wonderful?

Harry Vardon says of the grip that one should "remember that the grip with both hands should be firm. That with the right hand should not be slack as one is so often told." This is valuable corroboration, for it must be remembered that Vardon only subscribes to the fetich of the left by implication. Nowhere, I think, can we convict him of actually preaching it.

Now let us turn to the volume on Golf in the Badminton Library contributed by Mr. Horace G. Hutchinson. At page 85 Mr. Hutchinson says:

Since, as will be shown later on, the club has to turn in the right hand at a certain point in the swing, it should be held lightly in the fingers, rather than in the palm, with that hand. In the left hand it should be held well home in the palm, and it is not to stir from this position throughout the swing. It is the left hand, mainly, that communicates the power of the swing; the chief function of the right hand is as a guide in direction.

At page 87 Mr. Hutchinson continues:

So much, then, for the grip. Now, when the club, in the course of its swing away from the ball, is beginning to rise from the ground, and is reaching the horizontal with its head pointing to the player's left, it should be allowed to turn naturally in the right hand until it is resting upon the web between the forefinger and the thumb.

We see here that this distinguished amateur is an out and out adherent of the fallacy of the left. He tells us distinctly that it is the "left hand, mainly, that communicates the power of the swing, and that the chief function of the right hand is as a guide in direction," but notwithstanding the fact that "the chief function of the right hand is as a guide in direction," we see that at the top of the stroke it turns loosely in the hand until it is "resting upon the web between the forefinger and the thumb."

PLATE VII.

Of course, in the circumstances, it will be very hard indeed for us to follow out James Braid's idea of everything at this point being in supreme tension, but it is interesting to see what Mr. Hutchinson thinks about the matter.

We have here the opinions of the three most distinguished professionals in the world, backed by that of one of the distinguished amateurs in the game, a man who has distinguished himself both by his play and his writing. In the face of this weight of authority it may seem rash to venture to state plainly and explicitly that as a matter of practical golf the right hand and arm is the dominant partner, and that it is the duty of every normal golfer to have this idea firmly implanted in his mind when he settles down to his address.

As the right is the dominant partner in the golf drive, so must the predominance of the right be the dominant idea in one's mind, but the domination of the right must not be abused, as we shall show later on.

It is, of course, proper for a golfer to have clearly fixed in his mind the fact that the right is the more important member of the two, but when he has once got that fact carefully and well stowed away in his mind, it will be no more trouble to him than it is at present to every normal person to use his knife in his right hand with which to cut his meat, for it is an absolutely natural proceeding. The trouble with the fetich of the left is that not only is it a perfectly unnatural proceeding, but it is also, on that account, something extra for the golfer to cumber his mind with during his swing. If he plays his stroke naturally and without any thought of the mismade maxims of unpractical persons, he will inevitably let the right hand and arm take charge of the stroke, but the right will not at any time endeavour to do more than its proper share, and therefore the left will be given every chance to do a fair amount of the work. It is the interference with Nature by putting the left forward into a place which it has no right to occupy, which ruins so many golf strokes.

Let us now turn to The Complete Golfer. Here, at page 60, Harry Vardon says:

We must now consider the degree of tightness of the grip by either hand, for this is an important matter. Some teachers of golf, and various books of instruction, inform us that we should grasp the club firmly with the left hand and only lightly with the right, leaving the former to do the bulk of the work and the other merely to guide the operations.

It is astonishing with what persistency this error has been repeated, for error I truly believe it is. Ask any really first-class player with what comparative tightness he holds the club in his right and left hands, and I am confident that in nearly every case he will declare that he holds it, nearly, if not quite, as tightly with the right hand as with the left. Personally, I grip quite as firmly with the right hand as with the other one. When the other way is adopted—the left hand being tight and the right hand simply watching it, as it were—there is an irresistible tendency for the latter to tighten up suddenly at some part of the upward or downward swing, and, as surely as there is a ball on the tee, when it does so there will be mischief.

If we sum up the advice of Vardon and Taylor, and of Braid as shown in his latest work Advanced Golf, we see clearly that although they subscribe to the idea of the predominance of the power of the left hand and arm, they do not themselves carry it out in practice. Taylor says that his grip with both hands is very firm, yet he should hesitate before recommending other people to follow his methods. I think we may take it for granted that a method which has resulted in four open championships may be considered good enough to follow.

Vardon, as we have seen, only subscribes to this notion inferentially, and nobody could be more emphatic than he is with regard to the distribution of force in the grip. His words "Ask any really first-class player with what comparative tightness he holds the club in his right and left hands, and I am confident that in nearly every case he will declare that he holds it, nearly, if not quite, as tightly with the right hand as with the left," present the case exactly. Any man who plays golf properly will find it impossible to tell you how he distributes the force of his grip on his club, and what proportion of power the grip of the left bears to the right. As a matter of fact, the man who plays golf properly has no time to think of such nonsense as this. This is a matter which is regulated for him by common sense and nature.

The trouble steps in when he is advised to interfere with the ordinary course of Nature, and to put the left hand in a position of authority which it has no right whatever to try to exercise. I say advisedly "try" to exercise, because it never can exercise the power which it is supposed to have. It stands to reason, therefore, that any attempt whatever to make it exercise a power superior to the more powerful arm must result in interfering with the proper functions of the hand and arm which should be naturally in command of the stroke.

We have seen that James Braid in Advanced Golf has quite altered the opinions which he expresses in How to Play Golf, and he also agrees that at the top of the swing, and until the stroke is played, it is right to grip the club as hard as one can with both hands—in fact, he says as plainly as it is possible for anyone to say anything, that during the whole of the downward swing the muscles are in a state of supreme tension, and fortunately he does not repeat the common error, the error which he himself makes in How to Play Golf, of advising the player to encumber his mind with any idea of regulating the increase of speed of the club head.

Vardon puts the matter splendidly when he says:

Personally, I grip quite as firmly with the right hand as with the other one. When the other way is adopted—the left hand being tight and the right hand simply watching it, as it were—there is an irresistible tendency for the latter to tighten up suddenly at some part of the upward or downward swing, and, as surely as there is a ball on the tee, when it does so there will be mischief.

This is such an important statement that I must, in passing, emphasise it, although I hope to deal with it again later on, for Vardon here strikes a deadly blow to the absurd nonsense which most books lay down about regulating the grip during the upward and downward swing. As Vardon truly says, any attempt to apportion the respective power of the grip of the left and right during the golf swing must inevitably result in disaster, for there will unquestionably be, as he well remarks, a pronounced tendency to tighten up at some part of the swing in a jerky manner. The only way to guard against this is to be, as James Braid says in Advanced Golf, in a state of supreme tension from the moment the downward swing starts.

It must be remembered that Vardon himself advocates easing up with the grip of the right at the top of the swing, although he says that he grips as firmly with the right as the left. It stands to reason that if Vardon does ease up with his right at the top of the swing, he must during his downward stroke restore the balance of power. It seems perfectly clear that in doing this there is a very great danger of what he describes as an "irresistible tendency for the latter," that is the right hand, "to tighten up suddenly."

I cannot see that, because Vardon starts with his grip equally firm with each hand, and then relaxes the firmness of his grip with his right hand at the top of the stroke, trusting to regain his firmness by the time he has reached the ball again, he removes from his swing the danger of the sudden tightening-up which he shows will threaten the swing of anyone who attempts to let the left hand have the predominant grip. It seems to me perfectly clear that this danger must be even in Vardon's downward swing, but we know quite well that Vardon, as a stroke player, is a genius, and that even if it is not a danger for him, it would be for ninety-five of every hundred golfers.

The truth is, with regard to the golf grip, although none of the leading professionals or authors are courageous enough to state it, that for the ordinary golfer—aye, and even for the extraordinary golfer—there is only one way to apportion the force of the left and right in the grip, and that is not to think about it at all when one is doing it, but to grip very firmly with both hands, and leave any apportionment of force which may be necessary to Nature, and the golfer who follows this advice and instruction will find that Nature can attend to it infinitely better than he can.

In golf we frequently find that one fallacy is built up on another, and it is quite an open question if the fallacy of the power of the left hand and arm is not founded on another fallacy, namely, the fallacy of the present overlapping grip. Now this sounds like rank heresy, and I may as well say at once that I am not prepared to assert that the present overlapping grip is a fallacy, but it is at least open to argument if it is the best grip which can be taken of a golf club.

There is no such thing as standing still in golf or any other game—either we are progressing or we are going backwards. In golf, notwithstanding the vast amount of false teaching which is published, we are unquestionably advancing. It must not be thought from this that it is of no importance that most of the matter which is published about golf is entirely misleading, for that is not so. This misleading matter is followed by an enormous army of golfers who are not able to think out the matter for themselves, but there are a very great number of golfers who absolutely disregard the published tuition of the greatest experts in the world and play golf as it should be played, and in no case is this more pronounced than in the persons of leading professional golfers, for they write one thing, but do absolutely the other themselves.

In the old days, when Vardon and all the other champions used the two-handed grip, it would have been rank folly for any person other than Vardon to have asserted that it was better to get the grip of the right hand off the club, as the overlapping grip does to a very great extent, but this grip was tried by Vardon, and it very soon became almost universal. However, I think we are justified in asking if this grip is undoubtedly the best that it is possible for us to get. Before the overlapping grip became fashionable both hands had their full grip on the shaft of the club, and in those days men played great golf, and there are many of them who still play great golf with the same hold, which they have refused to alter.

At page 194 of Taylor on Golf, speaking of the grip, Taylor says:

To sum up the matter, I should describe the orthodox manner of gripping with the right in the following words: The fingers must close around the club in such a way that provision is made for the thumb to cover and cross the shaft, the first joints of the fingers, providing this is done, being just in sight. Nothing more or nothing less. This is the grip generally accepted as being orthodox, and the one generally favoured by the majority of those who decide to follow up the game properly. But, as is the case with everything which is favoured by any considerable number of enthusiasts, there are those who, untrammelled by tradition, break away and hold the club differently, with one hand at least.

Take, as for instance, the case of Mr. John Ball, jun. This gentleman—one of the leading golfers of the day—holds the club firmly, not to say tightly, in the palm of his right hand. Well, he has discovered that this does not detrimentally affect his play, so I presume that may be taken as a satisfactory proof that the orthodox way may sometimes be departed from. Then, after Mr. Ball, I might mention the name of Mr. Edward Blackwell. He is almost certainly the most consistently good long driver we possess now, and his unorthodox method of grip with the right hand has not affected his play.

Taylor, of course, uses the overlapping grip, which is to-day the orthodox grip.

Taylor speaks here of "those who, untrammelled by tradition, break away and hold the club differently, with one hand at least," but it seems to me that the two golfers quoted are not those who are breaking away from the traditional hold. Rather does it seem to me that it is we of the orthodox grip of to-day who have broken away from the best traditions of golf, and taking best and best of those who have adopted the modern grip and those who have maintained the old grip, there is practically "nothing in it." Looking at the grip of men like Mr. H. H. Hilton, Mr. John Ball, and Mr. Edward Blackwell, it would, I think, to-day, require a person almost bereft of intelligence to imagine for one moment that the power of the stroke in the play of these golfers is obtained from their left arms and hands, and I do not suppose for a single moment that any one of these players would dream of asserting that he gets his length or direction from the left arm.

We are now confronted with the fact that one at least of these players with the two-handed grip is at practically no disadvantage against the best golfers in the world, and we must take it for granted in the face of what we have said, that his power of stroke and his command thereof is obtained from his right hand and arm. Now that being so, let us say for the sake of argument that he desires to improve his play by bringing the action of his wrists into greater harmony by adopting the overlapping grip. Surely one is confronted with this question—should one overlap the left hand with the right, or should one overlap the right with the left. In the present overlap the left hand takes the first grip of the club, and the right hand overlaps it, and in so doing is taken, to a very great extent, off the shaft of the club.

The question now arises, Should not one first take one's grip with the right hand, the dominant hand, the guiding hand, and the hand which is operated by the stronger arm, and having got this grip, proceed to overlap with the left, always allowing, of course, for the necessary insertion of the thumb of the left between the shaft and the palm of the right hand?

This may sound revolutionary, but I assure my readers that it is not one half so revolutionary as the change from the old two-handed grip to the present overlapping grip, for in that change the right hand was, to a very great extent, deprived of its pride of place. I think there is very little doubt that a player who became accustomed to the right-handed grip with the left overlap, would find that he produced a better game than he was able to do with the present overlapping grip. The fact is that we are inclined to take a much too complimentary and optimistic view of our exploits. Golf has now come to such a pass that it is played almost perfectly by a few of the best players, so that we have come to consider a five by a leading player as a serious lapse; but we must not judge the great body of golfers by the perfect players. These men would probably play very well under any conditions which could exist in the game. We have to consider the greatest good of the greatest number—in other words, the object of our search is to ascertain and understand perfectly what is the best way, and although I am stating this proposition with regard to the golf grip quite tentatively, and am laying it down as a subject for argument, I have very little doubt indeed that it will be found in the future that the right-handed grip is the best grip for playing golf.

I think there is very little doubt that the most important change in the next decade will be in the right hand and arm coming into their kingdom. It need not be thought that this will happen in a day, or a month, or a year. For very many years the great game of golf was played, and was well and truly played by men who never dreamed of putting part of one hand beneath the other—who would have scouted the overlapping grip and the levering of the right hand off the shaft as sacrilege—but some one introduced the idea, because it brought the wrists closer together so that they worked more in harmony than with the old grip. Harry Vardon tried it and found it good, and it went into the game of golf and the history thereof.

And to see Vardon use it, one might well say, "What more can you want?"; but that is not argument. Probably the one who asked that question would have asked the same question had he seen Vardon playing when he was using the old grip, when one wrist was fighting the other; so we must not be deterred from our speculation, from peering into the future. Of course, the essence of the overlapping grip is that it reduces the conflict of the wrists, and so conduces to greater accuracy and to less interference with the rhythm of the swing. It stands to reason that in the old days of the two-handed grip this conflict was worse than it would be now, for then the fetich of the left had not been weakened, and it was a distressful thing to have a hefty left in possession of the end of one's shaft and interfering with the proper functions of the right in an unwarrantable manner.

Scientific golfers have, however, now come to the conclusion that the right hand and arm are the dominant partners in the production of the golf stroke, although there are many of the old school who still pathetically retain and exhibit their allegiance to the old tradition of the left being the master.

If we have established the fact that the right is the dominant factor in the production of the drive, it seems to me that it follows quite naturally that the place of honour on the shaft should be allotted to it, and that it should be allowed the full grip, and not as it is at present, pushed off the shaft so that the grip of the dominant hand is practically reduced to that of the thumb and the first and second fingers. If this point is conceded the right hand obtains the full benefit of its undoubtedly superior power, for it obtains a firm and natural grip, whereas the present overlapping grip is a most unnatural hold and a difficult one for beginners to acquire, although very few players who have once used it return to the old grip.

Not only is the proposed grip more solid and natural, and productive of greater power and accuracy than the present overlapping grip, but it unquestionably carries the main idea of the overlapping grip to its logical conclusion, as it reduces the stroke much more to a one-wrist shot than does the present grip.

There will always be found many people who are prepared to condemn utterly anything which they do not understand. Some of these are sure to exercise themselves on this subject, so I shall give them some additional food for thought. Some time ago, a golfer who was capable of removing Mr. John Ball from the Amateur Championship Competition, lost his left thumb at the second joint. After his misfortune he took to driving a much longer ball than he had been in the habit of doing before his accident.

Now there must have been some reason for this. The only one which I can suggest is that his accident put the right hand more into its proper and natural place on the shaft than it had been before. Curiosity led me to try to reproduce this grip as much as possible. I used the ordinary overlapping grip, with the exception that I allowed my thumb to remain out and to rest on the back of my right hand in a line with the knuckle of the little finger. I was astonished to find how closely it seemed to bring the wrists together. The injured golfer would probably have the ideal golf grip if he overlapped his right with his left forefinger instead of using the ordinary overlap, for he would have a perfectly free and full right-hand grip, no interference by the thumb of the left hand, and a natural overlap with the left forefinger on the little finger of the right hand.

There is surely food for thought in these considerations, and I am sure that many who take to golf late in life could do much better with this grip and the short swing than they do with the grip which is most in vogue, and with much striving after an exaggerated swing. It is not wise for us to think that there is nothing to discover or to improve on in the grip. There is in this suggestion much room for experiment and argument, and unless I am very much mistaken we shall, in the future, see the relative position of the hands on the shaft altered.

I may here refer again to the remarks made on the power of the left by Mr. Horace Hutchinson. It will be remembered that he said:

Since, as will be shown later on, the club has to turn in the right hand at a certain point in the swing, it should be held lightly in the fingers, rather than in the palm, with that hand. In the left hand it should be held well home in the palm, and it is not to stir from this position throughout the swing. It is the left hand, mainly, that communicates the power of the swing; the chief function of the right hand is as a guide in direction.

Notwithstanding Mr. Horace Hutchinson's statement with regard to the function of the right hand, there is given on page 86 of the Badminton Golf an illustration entitled "At the top of the swing (as it should be)." Here we see a player in about as ineffective a position for producing a drive as one could possibly imagine, for the right elbow is considerably above the player's head and is pointing skyward. It would be an impossibility from such a position to obtain either adequate guidance or power from the right hand, and it is a matter of astonishment to find the name of such a fine player and good judge of the game as Mr. Horace Hutchinson attached to an illustration which must always be a classical illustration of "The top of the swing (as it should not be)."

We may here for the time being disregard the fundamentally unsound position of the right arm, for Mr. Horace Hutchinson has apparently altered his mind since, as we find him in Great Golfers photographed at the top of his swing with the right elbow in an entirely different position. We see there clearly that he had come to realise the importance of keeping his elbow well down and as much as possible in the plane of force indicated by the swing and the shaft of the golf club. These photographs are very interesting. Mr. Horace Hutchinson says that the golf club "should be held well home in the [left] palm, and it is not to stir from this position throughout the swing," yet at the top of Mr. Horace Hutchinson's swing illustrated on page 296 of Great Golfers we see clearly that at the top of his swing the club is barely held in the fingers of the left hand—as a matter of fact the forefinger of the left hand is raised and the club is merely resting in the three other fingers, which appear to be curved on to the club and hardly exerting any pressure whatever.

It is abundantly clear from this photograph that Mr. Hutchinson, who is the most pronounced adherent to the fetich of the left, is driving his ball with a grip which is, to all intents and purposes, a right-handed stroke. This photograph was taken in action and at the rate of about one twelve-hundred-and-fiftieth of a second, so that there cannot be much doubt as to the fact that Mr. Horace Hutchinson is merely another exemplification of the fact that the golfers who write for the public tell them one thing, while they themselves practise another.

Before concluding this chapter on the power of the left, I may mention that Mr. H. H. Hilton in Mr. John L. Low's book Concerning Golf, subscribes to the idea of attempting to regulate the force of the grips taken by the hands. He says on page 78 of that book:

When the main object of a shot is to obtain length, hold tight with the left hand. The left hand will then do most of the work in taking up the club. The right hand comes in on the down swing to add force to the shot, and all parts of the player's anatomy cohering together, the impetus will carry his shoulders round, and unless he arbitrarily checks the motion, he will finish his shot with his arms and club thrown forcibly away from him; in short, he will have followed through.

It will be seen that this fine player distinctly advises a stronger grip with the left than with the right hand when one's object is distance. In the drive the object, of course, generally is distance, and we are distinctly advised by Mr. Hilton to play our stroke in a manner which Harry Vardon has clearly laid down as almost certain to lead to irretrievable disaster, for starting with a firm grip with our left, which we are to put practically in command of the club on the upward swing, we are then to bring the right into play "on the down swing to add force to the shot."

It will be clearly seen here that Mr. Hilton is under the impression that the left is performing the more important portion of the work, for he speaks of the right hand as coming in to add force to the shot, whereas, in fact, the main portion of the force is provided by the right, and if there is any question of either hand and arm adding force to the shot, that will be done by the left hand and arm, and not by the right.

I do not think it is necessary for me to go any further in order to show how deeply rooted and how widespread is this delusion about the power of the left. It is another one of those pernicious fallacies which absolutely strike at the root of the game of the great body of golfers, and it is impossible for one to take too much trouble in discrediting it to such an extent that it will soon be recognised as not being practical golf.

I can hardly close this chapter better than by a quotation from a letter received by me from the professional of an American club as far afield as San Antonio, Texas. He writes:

It has taken me years of persistent effort to bury the many prejudices against the proper use of the right arm, but they must go, and I am glad to see you voiced sentiments strong enough to make men stop and think over the situation. Let us hope they will act.