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THE LIFE

OF A

REAT SPORTSMAN

(JOHN MAUNSELL RICHARDSON)

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By MARY E. RICHARDSON

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TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES

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Webster Family Library of Veterinary Medicine

Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at

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200 Westboro Road

North Grafton, MA 01536

THE LIFE OF A GREAT
SPORTSMAN

Presented to
JOHN MAUNSELL RICHARDSON, Esq., J. P., D.L.,

BY HIS POLITICAL SUPPORTERS AND FRIENDS
IN THE BRIGG DIVISION OF LINCOLNSHIRE

in recollection of his victory at the bye-election of Dec. 1894

and his three other contests for the Unionist Party in

1886 1892 1895.

(Painting by W. W. Ouless, R.A.)

THE LIFE OF A GREAT

SPORTSMAN

(JOHN MAUNSELL RICHARDSON)

BY HIS SISTER

MARY E. RICHARDSON

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
VICTORIA, COUNTESS OF YARBOROUGH

" Racing Career," and " As an Owner
By the Late Finch Mason

OVER zoo FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS

INCLUDING SIX ORIGINAL SKETCHES BY FINCH MASON

LONDON

VINTON & COMPANY, Ltd.,

8, Bream's Buildings, Chancery Lane, E.C.4.

1919

VICTORIA

COUNTESS OF YARBOROUGH

AFFECTIONATE REMEMBRANCE

HER HUSBAND

AND MY BROTHER

PREFACE

How many people, I wonder — or shall I say, how few — take the
trouble to read the preface of a book ?

Personally I am one of those few, and have always studied
my preface ever since I was able to read any work to which the
author had written such introduction.

But in my case there is a special, perhaps some would call it
a sentimental, reason for this practice.

I was only two years old when my father died, my brother
Maunsell, the subject of the following life-story, one year older,
and our eldest brother four years old. We never had, therefore,
the benefit of his fatherly advice during our childhood, which,
from all accounts, and from the respected and beloved name
he left behind him, would undoubtedly have been to our immense
advantage. Our mother and grandmother, however, with whom
we lived, and who superintended our upbringing, had been
devoted to him during his lifetime, and after his untimely death
at thirty-eight, cherishing his memory, as they did, above all
things, were never tired of impressing us with any special
admonition in regard to our conduct or studies to which my
father had given expression.

As I was a voracious reader from a very early age, any
literary direction from that source was regarded by me as
equivalent to a command from above. Thus, on being told that
my father never dreamt of reading a book without first studying
its preface, I then and there adopted this principle for my own,

vii

Preface

and have been absolutely faithful in that respect from my
earliest childhood up to the present day. My two brothers I
believe also followed this excellent advice.

It is rather singular in this connection that the preface
written for " Gentlemen Riders" by my brother Maunsell, and
embodied amongst his own particular writings later on in this
volume, is always read — in fact is never missed — by any one who
takes up the book in question. I have lent it to scores of people,
and one and all unite in saying: "We liked the preface so
much." Even non-sporting men and women when they return
me the book say, " What a delightful preface by your brother,
and how well it is written ! "

And yet, if one really gives the matter a thought, it is but fair
to your authors, and might influence their reviewers to more
kindly criticism, to read their apology for taking upon themselves
the task of trying to interest their readers, however absorbing
the theme in hand might have been to themselves, whether a
novel, a play, or the life of a notable man.

And in the latter case, especially if the life one tries to
depict is that of a near relation, it is so extremely difficult to
draw the line at too much praise on the one hand, or again too
little on the other, just because of that relationship — that the
very delicate manipulation necessary in this case will, I hope,
appeal to a kindly public, on my behalf.

The story of why a book was written has always interested
me, and perhaps it will interest my readers to know how this
volume came to be published. Strange as it may seem, the
publishers are the real authors, for they were the first to
suggest that a life of John Maunsell Richardson would be
interesting to the public. And those who suggest — especially
when, as in this case, it emanated from the source it did — surely
are the real creators of the work they inaugurate. It happened

• • •

via

Preface

on this wise. I had been staying with my sister-in-law, Lady
Yarborough, and in the course of one of our numerous talks
about my brother Maunsell, whose death had occurred that
same year, I had suggested to her that the book " Gentlemen
Riders, Past and Present," which he had written in collaboration
with Mr. Finch Mason, might be read by a much larger section
of the public were it brought out in a cheaper form than the two-
guinea volume in which it had been published.

With this idea in both our minds, one day in November,
191 2, the year my brother died, we called by appointment
on Mr. Neilson, Managing Director of Vintons, Ltd., and
to him we propounded our ideas as to the expediency of
bringing out a new and cheaper edition of " Gentlemen Riders,
Past and Present."

We were answered with a straightforwardness which could
leave no doubt in our minds as to the publishers' opinion on
the matter.

"It would be unfair," opined Mr. Neilson, " to the original
subscribers, and subsequent purchasers of 'Gentlemen Riders,'
to issue a cheaper edition of so expensive and unique a volume.

"On the other hand," he continued, "a life of the late Mr.
John Maunsell Richardson would I am sure be welcomed by
the public — especially the sporting public — and we should have
much pleasure in publishing such a book."

A glance passed between my sister-in-law and myself, and
reading approval in her eyes, I said at once " how much
pleasure it would give me to attempt the task." Mr. Neilson
then said that he was sure I should find a most energetic helper
and sympathetic coadjutor in Mr. Finch Mason, who, as joint
author of " Gentlemen Riders," had assisted my brother in every
way possible, and who he was sure would do his utmost for me
in the same manner.

ix b

Preface

I had the pleasure shortly after this to call- upon Mr. Finch
Mason, and it was forthwith arranged between us that if I
would undertake to write my brother's family history, collect his
personal writings, get impressions from his school and college
friends, and all the illustrations requisite for such a book, he
would gladly undertake to write what he knew of his racing
career.

Quite lightheartedly I accepted my part of this undertaking,
and went down to my home in Cornwall, where I commenced
operations at once by writing a synopsis of the intended book
as requested by Messrs. Vinton. The result being deemed
quite satisfactory, I now sat down in earnest to write the life of
my brother.

And I began to live again in the past. Grouped around me
were those whom I had loved so well in their lifetime, and I
soon experienced, what no doubt hundreds of writers have done
before me, the terrible sadness and seriousness of the task I had
undertaken. Having an extraordinary memory, relatives and
friends long since departed, and incidents in connection with
them, were present to my mind in the most vivid manner. It
seemed almost impossible that they could be dead, and I was
living without them, almost alone in the world. Around me
they crowded, persistently claiming my attention and my remem-
brance, and it is hardly a matter of wonderment that I lost
myself again and again in the dear old days of long ago.

And then — back again into the present, with the practical
part of my work before me ; the collection of material, the actual
sitting down at my writing-table day after day, to work these
recollections into shape for publication ; and the ever-present
fear that I should be unequal to the task of doing justice to my
subject.

Difficult though my task, I managed to struggle through

Preface

somehow. And now that all is finished, and the MSS. out of my
hands and in those of the publishers, I begin to wish I could
write the book all over again. I feel I have omitted so much
and how infinitely better many things could have been expressed.
How much more might have been made of the material by a
more experienced writer than myself.

My one joy is that such " impressions " of my brother's
character as I have been able to collect — opinions of his
contemporaries — from school -fellows, college friends and others,
who had known him all his life, will give the outside public a
better idea of his true worth than any words of my own could
convey, and I thank the writers, one and all, most heartily, for
their ready response to my request, and for the manner in which
they have recorded their opinions.

Lord Minto's regretted death just as he had jotted down
some notes for his promised " impression" of my brother, his
lifelong friend, was naturally a great disappointment.

To my colleague, Mr. Finch Mason, my warmest thanks
are due. The encouragement he gave me when I was in great
doubt as to my own powers ; his help in the revision of my work ;
and above all, the sympathy which could only come from a true
friend of the man — what better word could I choose — whose
memory we have done our best to perpetuate.

In conclusion, I beg to thank the Earl of Yarborough for
the information he so kindly gave me with regard to the original
planting of the famous Brocklesby Woods, and the building of
the Mausoleum. Also for his recommendation of Mr. Sherlock
of 3 Old Market Place, Grimsby, who took infinite pains to
reproduce with his camera the beauties of the Mausoleum,
Limber Village, and the Woods.

To those who will take the trouble to read this preface, I say
a very heartfelt M Thank you." They begin where I leave off,

Preface

and will perhaps in reading it sympathize with one who has
done her best to record in an interesting manner " the life of a
great sportsman."

MARY E. RICHARDSON.
July, 1914.

Postscript

My thanks are due to Mr. John Neilson (the Managing
Director of Messrs. Vinton and Co.) for his unfailing courtesy
and his interest in this book during the long period it has been
" on the stocks."

The manuscript was in his hands a month before the war
broke out, but it was thought unwise to publish it until the
cessation of hostilities. Now that the Allies have practically
completed the task to which they had set their hands, and men
war weary are returning to the more congenial pursuits of peace,
the sport of kings can again be enjoyed to the full, and so it is
hoped that this life of a great sportsman may be acceptable to a
wide range of readers.

The intervening period, since the manuscript was completed,
has been saddened by the passing of some of my brother's
dearest friends, including Lord Minto, Lord Clarendon, Sir
Chandos Leigh, Rev. Cecil Legard, Mr. Leopold de Rothschild,
Mr. Thomas Hare, and my sympathetic collaborator, Mr. Finch
Mason, " Uncle Toby " of the Sporting Times.

In Sir Heron Maxwell's words engraved on the flask he
presented to my brother, let us hope they have met " in those
happy hunting grounds far, far away."

M. E. R.

February., 1919.

Xll

CONTENTS

CHAriEK

II.

III.

IV.
V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

PAGE

Preface vii

Introduction by Victoria, Countess of Yarborough . . xix

An Old Lincolnshire Family i

John Maunsell Richardson's Father 12

Birthplace: Limber Magna 20

"The Cat's" First Steeplechase 32

The Coming of the Riding Countess; of Yarborough into

North Lincolnshire 42

Early School Days 50

Harrow and Cambridge 63

Life at Limber 72

Visitors at Limber 79

Racing Career. By Finch Mason 91

As an Owner. By Finch Mason . . . . . . .111

Marriage to Lady Yarborough ' 114

As Huntsman — Leaves from his Hunting Diaries . . .124

Political Campaigns 133

A Life-long Friend: Lord Minto 149

Life at Edmondthorpe 158

The Close of the Day 169

A Fitting Requiem 176

Reminiscent 189

John Maunsell Richardson's Writings collated . . .217

Introduction to " Gentlemen Riders, Past and Present " 217

Eton and Harrow — A Few Recollections . . . 225

The Derby — Some Reminiscences 230

Royal Ascot—A Retrospect 237

Fox-hunting 243

Steeplechasing — To-day and Yesterday .... 258
The Grand National— Some Experiences . . . .265

Show Jumping 280

xiii

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Frontisfiec*

John Maunsell Richardson, Esq., J.P., D.L. (Presentation Portrait)

Victoria, Countess of Yarborough „

Miss Mary E. Richardson (The Author) ,,

FACING PAGE

William Richardson, Esq. (J. M. Richardson's Great Great Uncle) 4

The Chester Cup, 1788 8

William Richardson, Esq. (J. M. Richardson's Father) . . .12

"Huntsman," Bay Gelding 14

J. M. Richardson (with his Brother and Sister), 1851 . . .16
Mr. and Mrs. William Richardson (J. M. Richardson's Father and

Mother) 18

Brocklesby Hall 20

Glade in Brocklesby Woods 22

Great Limber House 24

Great Limber Church (South Side) 26

Mrs. Pelham feeding her Chickens . .28

The Mausoleum at Brocklesby . 29

Priests' Dyke, Limber 30

J. M. Richardson at Four Years Old 32

J. M. Richardson's Very First Mount 34

The Side Door of Great Limber House 38

The Forge, Limber Magna 40

Victoria, Countess of Yarborough (Presentation Portrait) . . 42

Victoria, Countess of Yarborough (age 33) 44

Victoria, Countess of Yarborough (1868) 46

"Gone Away," Hunter Bay Gelding 48

The Rev. H. G. Southwell 50

J. M. Richardson at Thirteen Years Old 52

Elstree School Card, 1861 58

J. M. Richardson (Cambridge) 60

Cricket Score Card, 1864 64

Trophy of Foils, Rackets, etc 66

List of Illustrations

FACING TACE

Colonel William Richardson 68

Magdalen College, Cambridge 7°

J. M. Richardson's Racing Stables, Great Limber 72

Mr. John Richardson and Celebrated Ram (from Oil Painting) 74
Mr. John Richardson and Celebrated Ram (Enlarged Section of

Picture) 76

Captain Machell 80

"Disturbance" (Winner Grand National, 1873) 8z

"Reugnv" (Winner Grand National, 1874) 84

4'Furley" (Winner U.K. Grand Handicap Steeplechase, 1873). . 86

George Angus Marris, Esq 88

J. M. Richardson 'as Gentleman Rider 91

Peter," Winner of Steeplechases 92

The Grand National, 1873— "Disturbance" Wins ! .... 100

Mr. James Barber 102

"Revirescat" (from a Painting) 106

Silver Flask (Presentation) 108

"Zero"— The Grand National, 1876 112

J. M. Richardson (1881) 114

Silver Presentation Shield 116

Little Brocklesby 118

Colonel William Richardson 120

J. M. Richardson and Victoria, Countess of Yarborough, 1881 . 122
J. M. Richardson, as Joint M.F.H. Cottesmore, 191 1 . . .124

Cottesmore Hounds at Leesthorpe 126

Tom Smith (Huntsman to Brocklesby) 128

"Ormsby," Winner Brocklesby Steeplechase, 1833 130

J. M. Richardson (1894) 134

Saddle presented to J. M. Richardson 136

Rt. Hon. Lord Heneage of Hainton 140

Shorthorn Bull, "Patriot," 1810 142

The Present Earl of Yarborough 146

Earl of Minto, The late ("Mr. Rolly") 150

Mrs. Catharine Maunsell 152

Memorial Window, Limber Church 154

Edmondthorpe Hall (West Front) 158

Edmondthorpe Church 160

Mr. and Mrs. J. B. Richardson 162

J. M. Richardson and his Son Jack. 164

J. M. Richardson and Lady Yarborough (191 1) 166

Remarkable Old Tomb in Edmondthorpe Church . . .170

xvi

List of Illustrations

FACING FAG*

Mrs. J. B. Richardson and her Two Sons 172

Master Jack Richardson i74

The Lichgate, Limber Church 176

Lord Worsley, The late 178

"Tom," Chestnut Hunter 180

J. M. Richardson's Grave, Edmondthorpe Churchyard . . .182

Memorial Tablet in Edmondthorpe Church 184

Mausoleum of the Pelham Family 186

Earl of Minto, The late Fourth 19°

Lord George Hamilton 192

Earl of Clarendon, The late Fifth *94

Lady Battersea l9&

The Honourable Sir Chandos Leigh 202

Thomas Hare, Esq., The late 204

Leopold de Rothschild, Esq., The late 206

Finch Mason, Esq., The late 208

J. M. Richardson, a bad " Toss " with the Cottesmore . . . 210

J. Fulford 214

Captain "Doggie" Smith 218

Mrs. John Richardson (J. M. Richardson's Grandmother) . . • 220

Edward Dowson, Esq 222

The Earl of Coventry 226

Harrow School Memorial Pavilion 228

The Vicarage, Great Limber 230

Mrs. William Richardson 232

A Corner of the late Col. Richardson's Dining-room . . .234

The Corner House, Overstrand, Cromer 238

Healing Manor, near Grimsby, Lincolnshire 244

Healing Manor, near Grimsby, Lincolnshire 248

The " New Inn," Great Limber 252

Tablets in Limber Church 260

Tablets in Immingham Church 262

Grand National— J. M. Richardson's Cap, Jacket, and Whip . . 280

xvn

VICTORIA, COUNTESS OF YARBOROUGH (i88j

INTRODUCTION

VICTORIA, COUNTESS OF YARBOROUGH

During the life of my dear husband, it was often suggested
to him by his intimate friends and others, that he should write
an autobiography — that such a life as his had been, full of
interest, especially in connection with matters relating to sport,
had better be told first-hand by himself.

Indeed, I often represented to him myself that his life-story,
written in the charming manner that characterized his articles
in the Daily Telegraph, and in his introduction to the book,
" Gentlemen Riders," published in collaboration with his friend
Mr. Finch Mason in 1910, would be a welcome addition to the
literature of the sporting world, but, alas ! he was not spared to
carry out my wish.

His only surviving near relative — his sister, Miss Mary E.
Richardson — has, however, undertaken this task, with Mr. Finch
Mason contributing the chapters on my husband's racing career,
and to them I leave it with every confidence that they will
carry out the work ably.

They will, I have no doubt, be able to interest the outside
public in my husband's career, and show that in a life apparently
given up to the pleasures of sport for enjoyment alone, he was
keenly alive to the duties that should accompany the lot of a
man whether he be true statesman, or true sportsman, if in

xix

Introduction

either capacity he is to respect himself or be respected by his
friends or by the public.

My greatest happiness is to remember that although my
dear husband enjoyed to the full the pleasures of sport, he never
for one moment dreamt of shirking the many duties, arduous
often though they were, that his position in the sporting world
involved.

For instance, he would rarely refuse to judge at any horse
show to which he was invited, unless it were an absolute im-
possibility for him to be present ; neither would he regard any
trouble too great to perform his judicial duties at such show in
the most thorough manner possible.

And yet, to his great regret, I well know that he has been
obliged to refuse hundreds of invitations to judge at horse shows,
from sheer lack of the necessary time to undertake the work
involved. To prove how keen he was to see and give his
verdict upon the very best specimens of horseflesh, I may say
that he never could allow himself to neglect the great Dublin
Horse Show, until later years, when he felt the fatigue was too
great.

Although my husband has judged at hundreds of horse shows,
in fact, all the principal shows of Great Britain, I have never
known him give a wrong verdict on any animal. In one or two
cases where his award has been challenged, I have known the
man come to him afterwards and tell him frankly that his judg
ment, then doubted by him, had been proved right by the
subsequent facts of the case.

As to his powers as a practical huntsman, I have the best
right to speak, for after our marriage in 1881, during my son's
(the present Earl of Yarborough) minority, he hunted the
famous Brocklesby dog pack for four seasons, from 1882 to
1886.

Introduction

For some time previous to our marriage, when I carried the
horn, he had taken the keenest interest in the breeding and
management of hounds, and, as Mr. Collins justly remarks in
his well-known book, " The History of the Brocklesby Hounds
from 1700 to 1901," "the Brocklesby Hunt is very much
indebted to him (Mr. J. Maunsell Richardson) for his labour of
love on behalf of the historic pack" (p. 215).

His handling of hounds was, indeed, no amateur huntsman-
ship. When he took the horn and undertook to hunt hounds,
he determined that he would show as good sport as any
professional huntsman. He certainly showed a great deal
better sport than many huntsman can show ; and what strikes
me most forcibly as I look back on the happy bygone years of
our life together, was my husband's all-round ability. I am
very sure, and many of his friends — men who have succeeded so
splendidly in their special line, such as his lifelong friend, the
Earl of Minto, late Viceroy of India — would have agreed with
me to the full in this thought, that in any career he had chosen
he would have made his mark.

He had the power of giving his whole mind to whatever he
undertook, and if, as a very clever writer has said, " genius is
the power of taking infinite pains," then, indeed, my husband
possessed true genius, and in a most remarkable degree. But,
like all true genius, he was intensely, almost to a fault, humble-
minded, except in the matter of sport and all that belongs to it,
which was to him simply second nature, and he required the
greatest encouragement to undertake anything outside, such as
politics, etc.

Indeed, it was only in response to my earnest entreaties,
that he consented to contest that most Radical of all the
Lincolnshire parliamentary divisions, viz. the Brigg division of
Lincolnshire. That he, a strong Conservative, should win the

xxi

Introduction

greatest political contest on record in this division, speaks
volumes for his great popularity, and the trust he inspired both
in politics and sport.

The turn of my husband's mind was towards a country life,
and all that goes with it : all through our happy time together,
it seemed impossible for us to dissociate ourselves from the love
we both had for country sports of all kinds. Riding, hunting,
attending race-meetings and horse shows, were to us the natural
outcome of our lives, and it was a never-failing delight to me to
see my husband handle a horse. I have never known him
beaten by any horse he attempted to ride. Many a time I have
seen him mount an apparently unmanageable animal — at a show
when he was judging — and after he had taken him round the
ring two or three times, that same horse would not only behave
himself in a proper fashion, but would show himself and his
paces to the best advantage, to the amazement of the onlookers,
and to the delighted surprise of his owner.

He had perfect hands, and could do practically what he
would with his mount. I have never seen him lose his temper
with a horse, even with the most irritating specimen. He
possessed that power with horses which gives the true
horseman that inexplicable sympathy between the rider and
his horse making them one, and which, to a great extent,
explains his success both in the hunting-field and on the
race-course.

In writing this short introductory chapter, I must cordially
thank, not only the author of the book for her labour of love, but
also my husband's other old friends (school-fellows, college
friends, and those of his later life) who have so ably assisted the
author with their knowledge of his career.

In conclusion, I trust that the contents of this book may
appeal not only to those readers who in the past came in contact

xxii

Introduction

with my husband, on the race-course, in the show-yard, the
hunting-field, and elsewhere, but to the general public. I also
hope that my friends and those who read this will not criticize
me too severely for paying this tribute to the memory of one I
so dearly loved and have lost.

/^^^^ /f . J^AA^ryl^n^/7

xxni

MARY E. RICHARDSON.
(The Author of this volume.)

THE LIFE OF A GREAT
SPORTSMAN

CHAPTER I

AN OLD LINCOLNSHIRE FAMILY

My brother John Maunsell Richardson, whose life-story I tell
in this book, was the second son of William Richardson, of
Limber Magna and Immingham, Lincolnshire, and was born
at Limber Magna on the 12th of June, 1846. His mother was
Mary Eliza Maunsell, only child of Thomas Maunsell, of
Limerick, Ireland, and Catharine his wife.

He had one brother, William,* a year older than himself,
who predeceased him by two years ; and one sister, still living,
who is privileged to tell this his life-story.

For the genealogy of this branch of the old Lincolnshire
family to which we belong, we have our brother William to
thank, who although in full accord with the honest pride of his
ancestors, who were " too proud to care from whence they
came," was persuaded by a certain Mr. Gibbons to allow him
to search old deeds, and examine registers dealing with the
subject, which he had in his possession.

This resulted in each one of us acquiring a beautiful volume,

* Lieut.-Colonel 3rd Lincolnshire Regiment.

I B

The Life of a Great Sportsman

hand written on vellum, at the cost of £$ 3.?. — little enough
truly, for the trouble it must have given the author — which
bears the following title : M A Pedigree of the Family of
Richardson, and collateral branches of Greyingham, Roxby,
and Limber in the County of Lincoln. Together with the
evidences in support of the same. And genealogical notices of
the Maunsell and other kindred families, by A. W. Gibbons,
1886."

The first entry in this book is to the fact that one Seliora
Richardson, late wife of Thomas Richardson, of Helpingham,
in the county of Lincoln, made a will in 141 3, leaving lands
and hereditaments in that county to her two sons, John and
Robert, and her daughter, Agnes, and residue to executors,
Nicholas and Johan, his wife.

Before that date, according to Mr. Gibbons, who told my
brother William of the fact, but did not see fit to write down
any more ancient history on the subject, the name of Richard-
son had been Malger. To one Malger a son had been born —
Fitz Malger, or the son of Malger. Then came a Richard Fitz
Malger, and so the name was corrupted into Richardson, or the
son of Richard, and the original name dropped out.

To a relative who has read all through the terrible dullness
of this genealogical tree, with its collateral branches, I am
indebted for the remark " That it is the chronicle of an un-
ambitious family."

Certainly, reading between the lines, one can tell that John
Maunsell Richardson's ancestors were content to live quietly
on their lands,* seeking no special personal aggrandisement, or
to possess themselves of this world's good by any means which
would unduly dispossess others.

Thus, without over-praising my own family, I may fairly

* As country gentlemen no doubt enjoying all kind of sport then in vogue.

An Old Lincolnshire Family

claim that from the year 141 3 to that of 1846, when the subject
of this memoir was born, his ancestors were thoroughly liked
and respected in their native county. Surely that is a great
test, for "a prophet is not without honour, save in his own
country, and amidst his father's kin," and that John Maunsell
Richardson, by the straightness of his aims, and by the honesty
of his dealings, especially in all matters pertaining to his racing
career — which by general consent is admittedly the form of
sport most open to monetary temptations — was a worthy
descendant of the old stock, few will deny.

In spite, however, of the " unambitious " character of the
Richardson chronicle, upon examination, one or two entries
show that the family preserved a certain determined dignity of
surroundings, and that some of the marriages in the family were
advantageous in a worldly sense.

For instance, we find that one Mary, grand-daughter of John
Richardson, of Kirton, married Edwin Anderson, of Manby, in
1 743, an ancestor of the present Pelham family, now Earls of
Yarborough. We also find that in 1808, one Richard Maun-
sell, son of Robert Maunsell, of Bank Place, Limerick, married
Catharine, daughter of William, 1st Earl of Listowel. Hence,
before my brother, John Maunsell Richardson, married Victoria,
Countess of Yarborough, who was Victoria Alexandrina Hare,
daughter of the 2nd Earl of Listowel, the families were con-
nected on both sides.

My brother Maunsell, there can be little doubt, not only
inherited one of his Christian names — the one by which he was
usually called — from his delightful Irish grandfather, but also
the peculiar brightness of intellect, and fascination of manner,
possessed by our Hibernian neighbours in so remarkable a
degree, which characterized him all through life, making him
a favourite wherever he went.

The Life of a Great Sportsman

There were many pictures in the old house at Limber where
we three were born and brought up, that grew up with us, and
of these, two life-size portraits impressed us with a certain
amount of awe, and interested us immensely, as soon as we
were old enough to understand who they were, and in what
relation they stood to us.

One was a life-size portrait of an old gentleman with a kind
but fiery face, short grey hair, small yet twinkling grey-blue
eyes, dressed in a striped waistcoat, blue coat with brass
buttons, breeches and top boots.

We were told this was our great-great-uncle, " Squire "
Richardson of Limber and Immingham, who, being childless
himself, had adopted our father when he was quite a small boy
— little older, in fact, than we were — had educated him ; and,
finally, when he and his wife died, left him all his money, which
last was to come to us in equal shares, when I, who was the
youngest, was twenty-one years old. Naturally it took some
time for this information to dawn upon us in its full value, but
we learned soon enough that we were indebted for all we
enjoyed, and were to enjoy in time to come, to this same jovial,
red-faced old gentleman. We also learned, that it was no
mean fortune we were each likely to inherit.

It is a matter of history, as we were often told, that in the
first place, the artist who painted this picture had so modified
the tints of the face, that our uncle indignantly repudiated his
facsimile. "Paint me as I am, or not at all," said he. As a
matter of fact our grandmother, Mrs. Maunsell, used to tell us
that " the old gentleman could talk himself handsome in ten
minutes." He often laughingly told the story that he had
heard strangers say when travelling, " It's taken some port wine
to colour that face." In reality, "eczema" was to blame for his
high colour, for he was a water-drinker all the latter part o£

WILLIAM RICHARDSON, ESQ.

Of Limber and Immingham, Deputy Lieutenant for Lincolnshire ;

born 1754, died 1830.

(J. M. Richardson's Great Great Uncle, from whom he inherited his fortune.)

An Old Lincolnshire Family

his life. We had a most beautifully chased silver jug with a
wicker handle, in our possession, which he used for his hot
water at night, and which no one exactly knew how to describe.
It was neither a coffee-pot nor a claret jug. At last the grand-
son of the silversmith who made it enlightened us upon the
point, expatiating at the same time — no doubt in his grand-
father's words — on the extraordinary fact, that any one like
their old client should in those hard-drinking days be a water-
drinker.

There is no doubt that our great-great-uncle was a most
kind-hearted, if slightly eccentric, old gentleman, and his wife,
who was a Miss Catharine Marris, daughter of William Marris,
of Roxby, was very much of the same persuasion, though
history relates that she was a proud and stately lady, invariably
styled " Dame Richardson."

An anecdote I remember of her, bears out the idea that
she possessed a certain dignity, which perhaps her lord and
master did not trouble himself to emphasize on his own account.
Going into her kitchen one day, a man who had come in for
some reason or other, in his ignorance, or possibly nervousness,
remained seated, instead of rising to do homage to the lady
of the house. " Have I a bear in my kitchen ? " she is reputed
to have said in scathing tones, standing directly in front of the
unfortunate villager. But, be that as it may, she evidently
possessed a heart of great kindliness, and, being childless, must
have aided and abetted her husband in his adopting the eldest
son of his nephew, John Richardson of Horkstow, who had
a numerous family of sons and daughters.

History relates that the method of my father's adoption
was unique to say the least of it. One fine summer day, by
which time, doubtless, everything had been carefully discussed
beforehand between Squire Richardson and his Dame, the big

The Life of a Great Sportsman

barouche was ordered to be in readiness and the black horses
harnessed. In these days of motor cars and splendid roads, a
journey of twenty-five miles or so is a mere nothing, but at
that period it was a solemn undertaking, and the black carriage
horses were only brought out on very special occasions.

When I was a child we still drove a pair of black horses,
and I used to wonder how anybody could think of driving with
any other colour. With due solemnity, for the night had to
be spent from home, the shaped carriage trunks were adjusted
behind, and away went my great-great-uncle Richardson and
his wife on the errand which meant so much to all of us.

There can be no doubt that our grandfather, John Richard-
son, had not the least idea what this state visit portended,
when his great-uncle, addressing him in solemn tones, but with,
no doubt, a twinkle in his kind grey eyes, enquired, "Which
is your naughtiest boy, John ? " Without hesitation, my grand-
father at once replied, " My eldest son William, of course ! "
" Good !" exclaimed the Squire. "Then I will adopt him, and
if you will have his things packed up, he can return with us
to-morrow."

And thus it came about that our worthy father came to
Limber about the year 1820, and lived at the old house
with his adopted parents, remaining with them until the
Squire died in 1830, and afterwards until Dame Richardson's
demise in 1836. Eight years later, in 1844, he himself married,
and brought his wife to live at the old home.

Another very vivid recollection of our childhood and its
sporting inheritance, was the silver Urn we used on those
special occasions when visitors either came to stay in the
house, or to a party. The arrival of the great silver Urn,
hissing gloriously, was hailed by us as a delightfully sportive
addition to our breakfast or tea-table, and still more so when

An Old Lincolnshire Family

we were of an age to understand its mysteries, and the inscrip-
tion upon it was explained to us. Thus it ran :

"Chester Cup,
won by William Richardson's Conqueror* in 1788."

Further, it was explained why this Urn was so particularly
beautiful. Its shape always commended itself to us, for children
naturally love beautiful things, but we were also shown that
the inside of the Urn, where the heater went with its mysterious
cover, was all solid silver. It appears that, as well as the
Chester Gold Cup of that date, Conqueror also won, during
the week's racing at Chester, either a silver cup value £$0, or
its equivalent in money.

Now, Dame Richardson being of a very practical turn of
mind, decided that the two cups were not useful, and, as she
and her husband had not as yet adopted my father, no doubt

* Conqueror was an aged horse in 1786 when his record in " Baily's Racing
Register " first commences to be recorded. On August 10 that year he won a ^50
stake at Nottingham and five days later at Derby secured a similar award in a
similar race, i.e. one of four-mile heats. On September 15 he ran in a ^100 race at
Stockton, where he finished last of five horses in two of the four-mile heats, and was
withdrawn from the third and final heat. In the June of 1787 he won the Members
Plate of .£50 at Peterborough, beating four others. One of them was Mr. Galwey's
Superb, who seven days later won the Stamford Corporation Plate of ^50.
Conqueror next secured the Members Plate of ^50 at Grantham on July 6, and then
he was " laid aside " for the two events at Chester in 1788. A month after his Roodeye
victories he was running in the name of Mr. Singleton at Beverley, where he won a
£50 race decided over two four-mile heats. Except for the defeat at Stockton-on-
Tees in 1786, when he may have been lame or, most likely, knocked up by the journey,
Conqueror did actually not lose a four-mile heat race. Mr. Richardson very likely
being satisfied with the possession of the Grosvenor Gold Cup, a trophy always
keenly contested for by the county families — and actually the only trophy that the
horse did win — the designation " Plate " being but gentle camouflage for actual
" stakes " — his owner doubtless sold him to Mr. Singleton, for whom he won the .£50
race at Beverley, and then the game old son of Espersykes departs from the pages of
" Baily's Racing Register," leaving behind him the record of a sterling and game
stayer.

The Life of a Great Sportsman

thought they might as well have a nice tea Urn, as two
unnecessary cups, however ornamental.

Through the courtesy of the manager of the "Chester
Courant," Mr. J. A. Birchall, whose publication is one of the
oldest English newspapers still in circulation, having been
established in 1730, I am able to give the account of what
appeared in that paper as to the Chester Race week, which
lasted from May 5th to May 9th, 1788. I have also to
thank Mr. F. J. Warmsley, Secretary of the Chester Race
Company, Ltd., who took the trouble to get particulars for me,
and Messrs. Weatherby & Sons for their kind contributions
from the " Racing Calendar" of that date.

Racing must have been a much slower kind of sport in
those days, as far at least as the number of events were con-
cerned. One race a day was the limit, but seeing that it was
run in four-mile heats, and the best out of three, there was
plenty of excitement. The old account runs thus : —

"Entered May the 5th to run at Chester Meeting 1788
the annual City Plate value ^30, with a purse of ^20 given
by the Corporation for 4, 5, 6, and aged horses, the best two
of three four-mile heats. Four years old, seven stone : five
year old, 8 stone; and aged horse 9 stone."

Regarding this race I find that Mr. William Richardson's
aged bay gelding, Conqueror, by Espersykes and ridden by
G. Sell, carried 9 stone, ran and won the two first heats of four
miles each, beating two other horses, Attraction and Oberon.

We must presume that horses, however good, would have
to rest a considerable time between such long heats, and no
doubt the ladies and gentlemen amused themselves between
whiles in quite as pleasant a fashion as they do in these
days.

After his performance on the Monday, it appears Conqueror

THE CHESTER CUP.
Won by Conqueror in 1788.

An Old Lincolnshire Family

did not run again until the Thursday following, when on the
8th of May the Gold Cup, value ^50 (the gift of the Rt. Hon.
Earl Grosvenor), was decided. In it four-year olds carried

7 stone 5 lbs. ; five-year olds 8 stone 2 lbs. ; six-year olds

8 stone 1 1 lbs. ; and aged horses 9 stone 6 lbs.

For this race, also, Mr. Richardson's Conqueror ran against
two others, both six-year olds and in receipt of 4 lbs., and to
win it this good old horse had to travel some 1 2 miles racing
speed. He won the first heat from Oberon, came in second
to Oberon for the next bout, and won the third trial, again from
Oberon, with Sharper third to them in each heat. Thus did
the son of Espersykes win the much-coveted Chester Gold
Cup and the forerunner of the present Chester Cup, for
Limber.

It strikes me, in the light of the preceding reports, that
the Silver Cup supposed to have been won in the race for the
" City Plate " on the Monday must have been a childhood's
myth, and that our great-great-uncle landed at home as fast
as the slow travelling in those days would permit, with the
Gold Cup in one hand and ^50 good sovereigns in the
other, to be presented in triumph to Dame Richardson,
who later on, as I have previously stated, had them con-
verted, through the medium of the melting pot, into the his-
torical Urn.

With respect to the other amusements which the patrons of
the turf in those days must have enjoyed, I note from an old
MS. kindly copied for me by Mr. Warmsley the following
significant account : —

Cocking.

Cheshire versus Lancashire.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday.

The Life of a Great Sportsman

I understand this to mean, that on the mornings of the days
mentioned, which were those of the Race meeting at Chester,
there was Cock-fighting between the leading breeders of
Cheshire and Lancashire, and that the interests of the specula-
tive race-goers were in this fashion maintained until the
afternoon's racing came on.

There is a specially characteristic story told of the jovial
owner of Conqueror, which under similar circumstances could
readily be accredited to his fun-loving descendant who forms
the subject of this book. One wild dark night, in the winter
say of 1775, or thereabout, when the snow lay thickly on the
ground, and was still falling, a belated traveller riding along
the road from Caistor saw the cheerful lights gleaming in the
wide front of the old house at Limber, and riding up to the side
door, rapped loudly thereon with his whip, demanding a night's
lodging, and to see Mine Host.

Mr. Richardson, who at the time was sitting in his study,
which adjoined the side door, heard this unexpected knock
and demand, and at once came rightly to the conclusion that
the stranger had mistaken his house for the inn for which he
was evidently seeking. Being the soul of hospitality, however,
and determined to rescue this unexpected guest, at any cost,
from the horrors of the night, he brushed aside the astonished
servant, and courteously invited the traveller to enter.

One can readily imagine what a comfort the sight of Mr.
Richardson's smiling red face would carry to the cold-stricken
stranger, and how he would hug himself for joy at the thought
that not only had he found the inn he sought, but also one
of the jolliest and cheeriest landlords imaginable into the
bargain.

One can also imagine, too, how Mr. Richardson, having let
the servants into the secret, with orders that it was to be

An Old Lincolnshire Family

strictly kept until the morning, persuaded his Dame to let him
have his joke, and to absent herself from the evening meal,
whilst he played his part as host, and (as was often the custom
in those days) did the entertaining at supper himself. Then
the racy stories he would tell, and how he would draw the
stranger out all the time, chuckling all the while when he
thought what an awakening it would be on the following morn-
ing, and his visitor's confusion when he found out the trick that
had been played upon him.

The story goes that Mr. Richardson brought out a bottle of
his famous port, famous even in those days when port wine
was the wine of the time, and men vied with each other in
obtaining and keeping in their cellars the very best. One can
see, too, when morning dawned, the unfortunate stranger coming
down to breakfast, and instead of an inn repast, finding the
stately figure of Dame Richardson, seated behind the historic
Urn won for her by Conqueror and now smoking away for all
it was worth. We can picture his confusion — his apologies.

Whatever passed, it is tolerably certain, that with such a
hospitable couple, the stranger would soon find that he had
only exchanged his experiences of Limber House from the
thought of it as an inn to the joy of it as a country house,
where he ever would be a welcome guest. And from all I
have heard he and his host and hostess remained the best of
friends to the end of their lives.

There is an old and trite saying : " Be careful to entertain
strangers, for by so doing, men have entertained angels un-
awares." And such, by all accounts, seems to have been the
case in this instance.

1 1

CHAPTER II

JOHN MAUNSELL RICHARDSONS FATHER

The other picture in the old house that impressed we children
very strongly, was a life-sized portrait of our father, who died
when we were very young. My eldest brother, William, was
four, John Maunsell Richardson three, and myself — bringing
up the rear — two years old. We liked to look at his face
whenever we got the chance, as it had a very kind expression,
with a nice colouring, not at all fiery like the picture of the
owner of Conqueror. I say " whenever we got the chance,"
advisedly, because rose-coloured curtains were drawn over it,
and only withdrawn on State Occasions, or if we three com-
bined in a request to mother and grandmother to let us see
it as a special treat. Then when with much solemnity, and with
many tears, they would draw back the curtains, the sense of
mystery, which is always delightful to children, deepened into
a kind of imperfect sympathy for a pain we could not under-
stand, and which for many years perplexed us greatly.

I remember one morning especially well, when we three
were invited into the drawing-room where the picture occupied
a prominent position. The curtains were withdrawn, and some
of the villagers were gazing at the picture, and both men and
women were crying bitterly. Naturally such a sight perplexed
us still more, but we soon understood sufficiently to know that
this picture of the dead William Richardson conveyed to others

WILLIAM RICHARDSON, ESQ.
Born, 1812 ; died, 1850. J. M. Richardson's father.

John Maunsell Richardson's Father

beside our mother and grandmother a sense of intimate loss,
that had hurt them one and all badly. Then as we grew older
we learnt that he had been loved and respected by all who
knew him, in a manner that falls to the lot of few men.

Our eldest brother, William, was the only one of us who
could remember his father alive — though the remembrance
was not altogether a happy one, being connected with a sound
thrashing for telling a lie, which lie was, I really believe, the
only one he ever told in his life. Maunsell and I always
cherished a slight feeling of jealousy on this point, not as
regards the thrashing, which certainly neither of us wished to
have experienced, but we thought our mother and grandmother
favoured our eldest brother, and considered him a being set
apart from us, and especially blessed for this remembrance.

Our father was by no means an indifferent horseman, and I
call to mind one very special instance of his prowess, which
was related to us when we were exceedingly small, and being
determined riders ourselves, it naturally interested us immensely.
Moreover, to make the story more entrancing, a picture hung
in the dining-room of a bay horse called Huntsman, with a
racing saddle on him, and a groom standing at his head, evi-
dently awaiting his rider at the side door of our old home.
This picture we had often studied before we knew the story,
as our own groom, " Tommy " Rickalls, who taught us all to
ride, was there portrayed, and we loved him very much.

It appeared that one day, not long before his marriage, a
guest who was dining, with him had recently won a rather
celebrated race, and during dinner had regaled his host ad
nauseum with his own prowess as a rider, and his horse's
excellence as a chaser. At that time my father had this fine
old upstanding bay horse Huntsman in his stables, and one
that could be described as a thoroughly safe conveyance,.

The Life of a Great Sportsman

perfect at fences, but as slow as a top compared with even a
moderate steeple-chaser. Having no doubt dined well, and
being sick unto death of his guest's boasting, he there and then
made a match with him for ^"ioo a side, Huntsman against
the other's wonderful chaser — Owners up. It was a mad
enough after-dinner wager, truly, for my father must have
known full well that, if his opponent's horse kept on its legs,
his own had not a ghost of a chance. But there was never
any idea of backing out of anything my father ever undertook,
and it was some comfort to know that Huntsman would be
sure to keep on his legs, and that, at any rate, he would leap
as well as the other.

The event duly came off — a Point to Point race — four miles
over the stiffest country that could be found. My father had
stipulated for the choice of the course, and he certainly gave
his opponent no quarter in that direction, his argument being,
no doubt, that even should the chaser fall and pick himself up
again, pace was bound to tell and he could very easily catch
up old Huntsman. However, he did fall, and evidently either
could not pick himself up again quickly enough, or, more
probably, his horse got away from him, for Mr. Richardson
came in an easy winner of the race and the ^"ioo wager, and
forthwith had his good old horse and equally faithful servant,
Thomas Rickalls, perpetuated on canvas together, to com-
memorate the victory.

Naturally as we got older we were continually asking
questions, and Maunsell being a special favourite with his
mother, we generally made him the examining counsel. As it
usually began and ended with many tears from our mother
and grandmother, the examination was not altogether as de-
lightful and amusing an experience as we desired, but at any
rate we generally elicited some point of interest and I think

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John Maunsell Richardson's Father

profited to a certain extent, especially Maunsell, who was
always a quick and more than ordinarily intelligent boy.

For one thing, we learnt he was the soul of honour and
truthfulness. His chastisement of our elder brother, when he
must have been terribly ill himself and must have heartily
disliked the ordeal, told us this fact when we came to a reason-
ing age. He was, too, a great lover of animals, who in turn
adored him. He had a Black and Tan Old English Terrier,
Duke by name, and so obedient was the dog, that being
upstairs in the nursery, which was on the third floor, and the
window open, his master unthinkingly pointed in its direction,
Duke, thinking he was intended to jump out, and with no
thought but to obey, jumped accordingly, and was only rescued
just in time by his tail. This same old dog lives in my
memory as rather a sad instance of keeping old pets alive too
long. He lived to be twenty-one years old — a really authentic
case of a dog's longevity — but before he died even now I can
remember, with horror, his fits, his sad, sightless eyes, and the
various other ills that beset an animal that has outlived his
natural limits. Yet who can blame the wife who kept this'
living reminder of her dead husband, until from sheer old age
he dropped into his grave ? On both sides Maunsell inherited
an almost inordinate love of animals, which in his case showed
itself more especially in his intense love of horses. His mother
was simply a slave to any animal, it did not matter how in-
significant, and her love for them was returned in full measure.

Once she had a pig as a pet, and I can see even now in
my mind's eye this little humble follower close at her heels,
his tail wagging in porcine ecstasy at being allowed to be near
her and follow her about. Our greyhounds once chased and
bit a kitten very badly, and their victim should have been
destroyed at once, so shockingly was it mauled. But no, for

The Life of a Great Sportsman

two nights my mother sat up nursing it, till in its death
struggles it bit her in each hand. Then the horrible idea was
mooted, was the unfortunate kitten mad ? At that time the
wife of the huntsman of the Brocklesby hounds, who lived at
the Kennels, was known to possess a certain antidote against
madness — a potion said to be infallible. So my mother went
off to interview Mrs. Smith, and took me with her. To this
day I can see the horrible, thick, red-brown concoction, which
my poor mother drank without turning a hair, quite a fair-sized
basin full. I remember it the more distinctly, as it reminded
me so much of the Gregory mixture we unfortunates often had
to take, only it seemed still nastier, and much thicker. At any
rate, whatever its virtues, it could have done no harm, for our
mother luckily felt no ill-effects, either from the bite of the
poor little kitten, or from the extraordinary medicine she had
imbibed !

We used also to question "Tommy" Rickalls, the faithful
old servant, and from him we extracted a good deal of in-
formation as to the "horsey" side of my father's character.
We learned that although he could never be called a thrusting
rider with hounds, he was a keen upholder of the sport, and
no doubt Maunsell learned thus early that the joy of hunting
does not consist entirely in tearing over fences, cutting some
one else out, or over-riding hounds, and such like atrocities,
for I never knew him guilty of such deeds, nor has any one else
that I ever heard of, and for this good trait in his character he
had to thank his early grounding in hunting lore, inherited from
his father, and filtered through faithful old "Tommy" Rickalls.
Now " Tommy " also had his failing — his only one, I verily
believe, for a better all-round man with horses has never existed.

My mother and grandmother used to tell the story

with great gusto, as showing that Mr. Richardson, although

J. M. RICHARDSON, ON THE RIGHT OF THE PICTURE,
WITH HIS BROTHER AND SISTER IN 1851.

John Maunsell Richardson's Father

extraordinarily kind and forbearing, could be stern and sharp
enough when he chose. "Tommy" Rickalls had driven the
three of them some long distance to dine with friends, and had
refreshed himself in the meantime in the public-house, not
wisely but too well. On the homeward journey, my father,
seeing him swaying backwards and forwards on his box, told
him to pull up and get down, whilst he, mounting to the box
of the carriage, held the reins. Obedience to authority being
" Tommy's " watchword, he swayingly obeyed.

As soon as he was down, off drove my father, leaving poor
" Tommy " to cool his heels and his head, some miles from home.
It was supposed to teach him a lesson, and no doubt it did
until next time. However, "Tommy" drunk was a better
servant than many sober, and Maunsell had to thank him for
his early instruction in riding, his unvarying faithfulness to
his dead master, and his first lesson in the " hunting field " of
the real meaning of the " Sport of Kings."

Naturally we learnt many other details concerning my
father. Undoubtedly he was eccentric. But that, no doubt,
was accounted for by the fact, that he lived from his boyhood,
when about fourteen, until he married at thirty-three, with old
Squire Richardson and his wife, and except for a very short
time at school; had no playmates at all of his own age to share
in his amusements. He was never sent to college either,
although three of his brothers went. It is more than likely
that he refused to go, and was allowed — as I believe he was
in everything — to have his own way by the fond old couple
who had adopted him for their own. For instance, we were
told that in the middle of being shaved by his barber, he
would jump up and play a tune on the flute or violin — which-
ever was the handiest — for he loved music and played, I believe,
fairly well on both instruments.

17 c

The Life of a Great Sportsman

This talent for music was inherited by our eldest brother,
who could play practically any instrument. As children we
suffered much from his cornet, flute, and such-like ear-splitting
torments, but eventually he settled down to the viola, and in
later life discoursed sweet music upon that instrument. To
his youngest son he has transmitted the full harmony of sound
that his soul possessed, but for which, in the absence of
adequate study of the technique of music, he could find no
outward expression. It is good to know that in that son his
family possess a musical genius of no common type, who has
had the chance his father never enjoyed of a musical education.
To Maunsell, on the other hand, music never came naturally,
though in later life the singing of hymns in church gave him
infinite delight. Indeed, his widow tells me that she had
sometimes to restrain his ardour.

My father possessed a fine vein of humour, and could
see the funny side of a thing, turning what might prove a
serious matter, causing unnecessary inconvenience and possibly
grave consequences, into a laughable and easily forgiven
circumstance, leaving no ill-will on either side. He had a
capital manservant once, called Dent, whose one fault was a
great weakness for sweets, more particularly the creams and
jellies left from the dinner- table. Being told of this, Mr.
Richardson hit upon a plan. He chose the moment when he
knew Dent was in the kitchen, talking to Mrs. Killick the
cook, and coming in, observed, as the man was in the act of
making off — u Don't go, Dent, I want to speak to Mrs. Killick,
and tell her how pleased you are with her cooking, and how
much you appreciate her sweets in particular. And now, Mrs.
Killick," he said, " I want you, whenever you make us that "
(naming a very delightful cream mould that had disappeared
in much too rapid a manner), "to put some of it into a special

MR. AND MRS. WILLIAM RICHARDSON.
(J. M. Richardson's father and mother.)

John Maunsell Richardson's Father

mould for Dent. You like it, don't you, Dent ? " By this time
Dent, covered with confusion, had escaped, but he had learnt
his lesson, and no more sweets disappeared. It is a fair
example of the love that Mr. Richardson inspired in those who
came into contact with him, for notwithstanding this rebuff, Dent
remained a faithful servant with his master to the very last.

When in Lincolnshire collecting information for this book,
I went to see the last surviving member of my father's gene-
ration, Miss Colquhoun Marris, who lives at Brigg. I thought
I would gather again from her some impressions first hand of
Mr. Richardson, whom she well remembered, and she very
kindly gave me some most interesting particulars. In person
he was tall, just under six feet in stature, giving the impression
of still greater height by his upright carriage and trim figure.
His manner was the perfection of dignity and urbanity, for,
without being strictly handsome, he had the fascination that
descended in such full measure to his son Maunsell. He
adored children, all of whom loved him in return. In fact,
my dear cousin said — and even at this long distance of time
tears were in her eyes as she spoke — " Every one loved him,
and I never have in all my life — neither had my father —
heard a word in his disfavour." Truly a fitting parent for
John Maunsell Richardson and John Maunsell Richardson a
worthy son of such a father.

CHAPTER III

BIRTHPLACE : LIMBER MAGNA

The village of Great Limber, or, strictly speaking, Limber
Magna, now so well known in the sporting world for the stables
that in 1873 and 1874 produced two Grand National winners
in Disturbance and Reugny, is situated well to the north of
North Lincolnshire. It is some twelve miles west of the noted
fishing and seaport of Great Grimsby, about five miles south
of the vast new Immingham Docks, partly built upon land
held by John Maunsell Richardson's ancestors for generations,
and a mile and a half south of Brocklesby Hall, that fine old-
time seat of the Pelham family, now Earls of Yarborough.

The spacious park surrounding this mansion, which with its
glorious old trees and fine springy turf is second to none in
England, formed, amongst many of its other joys, a grand
training-ground for horses destined to compete for the honours
of the turf — that is, to the privileged few, who like Maunsell
were allowed to enjoy its advantages.

Now, although the county of Lincolnshire is by no means
all fenland, and quite flat, as it is generally supposed to be by
many people who have not taken the trouble to study the
geography of that county, it must be confessed, that unless a
Lincolnshire village nestles amidst the wolds, it often presents
a somewhat bare, not to say ugly appearance.

Thus, Great Limber village, which is on comparatively

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flat land, might not, except for its fine old twelfth-century
church, have presented any special feature of interest to the
world in general unless to those who, like my brother Maun-
sell, were bred, born, and reared there ; he loved it better than
any place in the world. Its environment grew upon him. The
magnificent Brocklesby woods, stretching for miles, right away
from Brocklesby Hall to Pelham's Pillar, no doubt formed to
him, amidst many other charming features, a most picturesque
background to the village of Limber.

This beautiful setting of woodland not only takes away all
reproach of bare ugliness from the village, but makes it
positively unique, for in its straggling mile of length — sup-
posing you are walking from one end to the other — one is
accompanied by this stretch of trees, which follows you, either
on your right hand or your left, as you go up or down the long
village street. Over a century ago, the then owner of the
Brocklesby estates, Squire Pelham, planted these millions of
trees for the benefit of his heirs in succeeding generations, and
for the beautifying of his favourite village, that of Limber Magna.
It is also a happy thought to his descendants, that Squire
Pelham's lifelong friend, Squire Richardson of Immingham, our
great -great-uncle, who rented the big " Top House" at Limber,
and much land adjoining from Squire Pelham, had also a hand
in adorning the village he too loved so well.

As one imagines those men and their times and ambitions,
one can see them in one's mind's eye, two fine old English
gentlemen, both then in the prime of life, in top boots, buff
breeches, and brass-buttoned blue coats, astride their respec-
tive bob-tailed nags, and sallying forth day after day, to
determine which would be the best site for the planting of the
trees, and deciding where the proposed great belt would be
best broad, or best narrow. They no doubt took with them

The Life of a Great Sportsman

professional foresters, who would finally help them to deter-
mine upon a scheme of woodcraft, the realization of which has
since become the pride and glory, not only of Squire Pelham's
direct descendants, but of the whole folk of North Lincolnshire.
Surely each individual tree bears silent witness that the man
who gave so much thought, time, and money to the beautify-
ing of his estate, and his county, is worthy of praise and
perhaps some emulation in present days.

An inscription, upon one of the well-known landmarks of
North Lincolnshire, Pelham's Pillar, where the woods end, and
which is also their furthest point from Brocklesby Hall, tells
the story of the undertaking, and from its height, will repay
the sightseer the trouble of climbing so many steps, not only
to see these miles of trees and to note the grace of their
waving lines, but to be rewarded with a bird's-eye view, which,
on a clear day, gives a radius of some forty miles of the
surrounding country. The inscription on Pelham's Pillar
runs thus : " This Pillar was erected to commemorate the
planting of these Woods by Charles Anderson Pelham,
Lord Yarborough, who commenced planting in 1787, and
between that year and 1823, planted on his property, 12,552,700
trees. The Foundation of this Pillar was laid in the year
1840 by his son, and the building finished by his Grandson
in 1849."

It seems wonderful, looking at these grand century-old
trees, that they, as well as the sturdy oak, or its graceful neigh-
bour, the silver birch, were once such tender saplings, that the
smallest child was forbidden on pains and penalties to play
amidst their tempting recesses ; and that they were then called
" The Plantations," which only merged into the more dignified
name of " The Woods " by very slow degrees.

When Mrs. Maunsell, our grandmother, from whom came

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my brother's name Maunsell, was quite a little girl — she also
having been born and bred at Limber — the parental commands
against making the tempting Plantations a playground were so
strictly enforced, that, when she said the Lord's Prayer at
night, instead of repeating the words " lead us not into tempta-
tion," she always said to herself, " and lead me not into the
Plantations."

Then, too, the Sport of Kings, a hundred years ago, if not
quite so fashionable a pursuit as it is now, was as well and as
enthusiastically supported in North Lincolnshire, as in any
other county. Moreover, these new Plantations soon became
valuable breeding grounds, and cover, for Master Reynard ;
and, as such, assumed a still more sacred character to lovers of
fox-hunting, as all good Limber folk were, the celebrated
Brocklesby Hounds being then well to the fore.

The delight of the Brocklesby Woods does not, however,
consist of splendid trees alone. The broad grassy rides that
traverse them from end to end make them a veritable paradise
for lovers of riding. Think of it ! With fine trees, on either
side of you, sheltering you from the cutting winds of winter,
and shading you from the too great heat of the summer sun,
you can canter along on springy turf for miles if you wish, with
neither a rabbit-hole to give you a nasty fall, nor a rise in
the ground high enough to necessitate a breather for your
horse.

Was ever any neighbourhood so perfect for riders, old or
young, as this happy part of the world, this piece of dear old
Lincolnshire ? Small wonder, then, that Maunsell Richardson
never remembered when he first began to ride, or even when
on some small steed he first followed the hounds. In fact,
riding was more natural to we three children than walking, and
infinitely more agreeable.

The Life of a Great Sportsman

As for the houses that form the village of Great Limber,
they consisted when Maunsell was born, as they do now — with
the exception of the house that the late Lord Yarborough built
for my brother's occupation — of five principal residences, the
rest being cottages. There are the village shops — one being
dignified by the possession of the post-office — and the inn,
which still rejoices in the name of the " New Inn," although
some one hundred years have passed since its foundation stones
were laid.

The largest of these five houses was known as Great
Limber House, or more often called by the villagers " The
Top House," as it stands at the extreme east end of the
village, generally regarded as the " Top." It is a fine specimen
of Georgian brickwork, and is surrounded by a large grass
homestead — so large, in fact, that one half of its space was
enough for the setting up of three of the regulation-size
hurdles, and a good gallop round, which ensured the u taking
down the back " of a too fresh horse, as ours were often wont
to be, upon first leaving their stables. And that the homestead
was large enough for this necessary adjunct to good horseman-
ship was all that concerned us, the then inhabitants of the
11 Top House," from childhood upwards.

If you walk through the west gate of this homestead — for
though the inhabitants of the "Top House " have unfortunately
changed, the House and grounds are the same — you come into
the village. As you walk past solidly built brick cottages,
generally gable-ended, with gardens back and front — the front
garden bright with flowers — everywhere you see signs of the
well-being of the farm labourer, and the kindly care of the
respective landlords.

These cottages are built on each side of a pleasantly broad
street, curving somewhat to the left, as you pass down from

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Birthplace : Limber Magna

the " Top House," and a few hundred yards further on you
come to a turn on the left which leads you (now, alas ! through
the beautiful Lych Gate, erected to John Maunsell Richardson's
memory by his Lincolnshire friends) to the old church, which,
like most of those in Lincolnshire, has a sturdy square tower,
and is full of interest, both inside and out, to the students of
the church architecture of that period.

In our childhood, the old-fashioned square pews still filled
the body of the church. They have been carted off to the
rubbish heap long since, and the newer-fashioned, low, door-
less pews have been substituted. But somehow it always
seems to me that the old square pews — loose boxes as they
were often irreverently called — accorded better with the old
Norman arches and the grey old walls.

When we were children one of these square pews was
assigned to the occupants of each of the large houses, with a
separate oblong pew at the back of it, for the servants of each
residence, giving a kind of feudal setting to the picture.

Unfortunately for us children — consisting of my two
brothers and myself — our pew was situated directly under the
pulpit, and it was a fearsome sight when the clergyman looked
down upon us, with eyes which in our imagination boded ill
for our happiness — in this world at all events.

He certainly managed to make our Sundays the most
dreary day of all the week — a day we detested with our whole
hearts, and the only one on which we were as sad to rise in
the morning as we were delighted to go to bed at night, which,
it goes without sayings was by no means our usual state of
mind. To be compelled to listen twice every Sunday, for a
whole hour, to the dreariest of discourses, was a penalty which,
thank goodness ! is not now inflicted as it was then on church-
tormented children. Truly, among the many fine traits in my

The Life of a Great Sportsman

brother Maunsell's character, it is not the least, that after the
nauseous dose of so-called religion he was subjected to as a
child, he retained to the last a great and ever-growing respect
for the Church and her service. To churchgoers nowadays,
even in very remote country districts, it seems incredible, that
as late as the middle of the last century such a caricature of
what Church worship ought to be certainly existed.

Oh ! the dreariness of the long, droned-out prayers ! The
appalling length of the nasal abomination of the drawled-out
singing by the village school children, without even the modest
harmonium to keep them in tune ! Well might we children
come to the conclusion that if this were the prototype of
Heaven, and Heaven consisted entirely of Sunday, we should
much prefer everlasting week-days amongst the, perhaps, more
wicked, but certainly more sympathetic community.

Looking back through the long vista of years, one can only
think that the then Vicar of Great Limber found peace for his
own conscience in boring himself as well as his congregation
profoundly once a week, thus doing penance for the fact that
he absented himself from his parish most week-days, and,
instead of visiting his parishioners, found more recreation in
operations on the London Stock Exchange.

Leaving the church and coming back to the main road,
you pass the rectory on your left, screened from the road by
a wall, to pass which, to us children, was always a sensational
experience, for it was there our ogre of Sunday dwelt, and we
often longed to see what he looked like out of church.

From this, the road bears slightly to the left, and you come
to the forge. In Maunsell's racing days the owner of the
forge, Grimbleby by name, excelled in all matters of shoeing,
in fact, was a perfect master of his craft. No horse was too
vicious for him to tackle, no equine foot too difficult for him

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Birthplace : Limber Magna

to fit, no racing plate too delicate for him to manipulate.
When my brother first started what I may call serious racing,
Grimbleby determined that he would thoroughly master the
blacksmith's finest art, the racing plate, and with such infinite
care did he study the matter, that never once did he fail, nor
a horse that he had shod lose a race through bad shoeing, as
is so frequently the case.

From the blacksmith's you come to an open space, and on
the south side, facing the New Inn, is a broad, iron-railed,
gravel road, leading to a pair of finely wrought gates, which
bring you to Limber's famous and most cherished building, the
Mausoleum of the Earls of Yarborough. This dome-shaped
building was erected under the direction of James Wyatt by
the same Squire Pelham to whom Limber owes its background
of woodlands, in memory of his much-loved wife, who has
gone down to posterity in Sir Joshua Reynolds' famous picture,
entitled " Mrs. Pelham feeding her chickens." She died at the
age of thirty-two years.

This grand tomb stands on a grassy insulated eminence
known to have been a Roman tumulus, many Roman sepulchral
urns having been found there when digging the foundations,
right in the heart of the woods, where they are broadest, and
is surrounded by magnificent specimens of the cedar of Lebanon,
the seeds of which were brought from the East and planted on
the spot where they now flourish, by Squire Pelham's own
hands, over a hundred years ago.

The interior of the Mausoleum, consecrated by Dr. Prettyman,
the then Bishop of Lincoln, in 1794, is circular, and is divided
into four compartments by eight fluted columns supporting a
vaulted and highly decorated stained glass dome, which when the
door of this mortuary chapel is closed throws a soft and beautiful
light upon the interior of the building. This light, as was

The Life of a Great Sportsman

specially designed by Mr. Wyatt, falls directly on the beautiful
white marble statue of Mrs. Pelham executed by the celebrated
sculptor Nolikins, and surely one of his finest works of art,
which stands alone in the centre of the chapel, enclosed by
thick brass rails.

Even as a child, I can well remember how beautiful this
sculptured figure appeared to me, and quite recently when I
saw it again, and the custodian closed the door in the old
familiar manner, I felt a curious thrill when looking at it,
realizing, as I did, how the man who had loved her so well
thought no expense too great, no personal trouble too much,
to surround her even in death with undying marks of his
affection.

Having visited the Mausoleum, one should return by the
main road of the village. Near the New Inn, on your left-hand
side, you come to cross-roads, and if you walk a few hundred
yards on the right-hand road you see a very charming long, low,
pointed house, which in our young days was occupied by the
Nelson family, of whom one son and one daughter, though some
years older, were, for most purposes, our comrades in arms.

Should you, however, take the left-hand road from the New
Inn, and walk for a hundred yards or so, you come to a still
more picturesque long, low house, on your right hand. In fact,
you come to all that remains — except its extensive foundations
which are situated in a field adjoining the " Top House," — of
what was a fine old Priory, founded by R. de Humer in
1 1 80 a.d., and one that flourished and gave kindly hospitality
to all the poor of Great Limber, and for many miles around,
without discrimination. A pond in front of this house is still
called Priest's Dyke, and though shallow now at its sides, is so
deep in the middle, that a full-sized horse getting into it would
have to swim to get out.

Mrs. PELHAM FEEDING HER CHICKENS.

From the celebrated painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds, in the possession

of the Earl of Yarborough.

(The Mausoleum at Brocklesby was built to her memory.)

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Birthplace : Limber Magna

A propos of the depth of this pond, which doubtless formed
one of the sources from which the inhabitants of the Priory
derived their fish supply, there are two other fishing ponds in
Limber. We had a stolid, good-humoured bay carriage horse
and an evil-minded black pony, rightly named Beelzebub. The
latter belonged to our grandmother, who used to drive him in
a low basket phaeton, and with her he was always tractable.
With us children, however, he was quite the reverse, exercising
his demoniacal qualities by rearing over end several times with
one or the other up ; running away with us in our grand-
mother's pony-carriage when we had sneaked it, as was frequently
the case, and in other ways showing us how very much he pre-
ferred to be handled by his superiors instead of by us, for whom
he felt no respect whatever.

Now Beelzebub, who, as many people do their opposites,
loved the stolid bay horse and in summer roamed the home-
stead with him, was continually leading his friend into mischief.
Once having opened the gate which led into the village, and
which had been fitted with a special iron bar against his
depredations, the two careered with infinite joy all through the
place. Then finding they were in danger of immediate capture,
made a bee-line for their paddock, and swam across the fine
old Priest Dyke, showing its exceeding depth, which no one
appeared to have plumbed before.

Walking back to the main street, and going straight on
from the junction of the cross-roads, you pass cottages on both
sides, and then come to the large end house of the village,
generally known as " The Other End," or more commonly as
" The Marriss." This house, situated at the extreme west of
the village of Great Limber, was the birthplace of our grand-
mother, Mrs. Maunsell, where our mother was brought up from
a baby, and it was from this house that the latter migrated to

The Life of a Great Sportsman

the " Top House " on her marriage with one of the then great
catches of North Lincolnshire, our father, the fascinating young
Squire Richardson, himself no mean sportsman.

Thus, it will be seen that the village of Great Limber, with
its environs and its traditions, was a fine training ground in
the sporting direction, and no doubt was a great factor in leading
my brother Maunsell's mind, even as a child, and ultimately as
a man, to make sport in the best sense of the word the one
absorbing interest of his life.

There is also another peculiarity of North Lincolnshire that
gives even hack-riding a particular pleasure. The ordinary
high-roads rejoice in broad grassy sides, where two or three
riders can canter along abreast, quite secure from any pitfalls
for miles, and without any necessity for the "'ammer, 'ammer,
'ammer on the 'ard 'igh road." They can ride from village to
town, or from town to village, ad lib. Roads may have grassy
sides in other counties, but so far as the present writer has
seen, none comparable, either in size or in the springy quality
of the turf, to those of North Lincolnshire.

No doubt the roads were mapped out on a generous scale
by those then in power long centuries ago, for the Romans are
undoubtedly responsible for many of the roads in North
Lincolnshire. Land grabbers were not ; railways had not
ploughed their iron tracks through the country ; even stage
coaches were non-existent, the only mode of locomotion being
the trusty Roadster and the Pack-horse.

My brother Maunsell's childhood was by no means entirely
taken up by the one sport, of riding or hunting. He loved, as
in fact he did all his life long, every kind of honest sport for
sport's sake, excelling from childhood in every game to which
he put his hand.

In fact, for Maunsell to become one of the greatest

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Birthplace : Limber Magna

sportsmen of his age was but the natural outcome of the love
of his early days. And there is no doubt that he gained his
wonderful capacity for never losing his head in a race, or any
other form of competitive exhibition, from the fact, that from
childhood he always sought out youths considerably his senior
in>ge, and well worthy of his steel.

We all three emancipated ourselves at a very early age
from the control of our grandmother and mother, and dispensed
as often as possible with the attendance of our kind old groom,
who had taught us all to ride, really believing that we were in
every way capable of managing ourselves and our ponies.
And although it would not be advisable for every boy to
attempt this early emancipation in matters equine, yet it can
hardly be doubted that it made my brother, from a very early
age, a self-reliant horseman.

The great love of horses which grew up with him, from the
day when at four years old he was presented with his first
mount, a very handsome Shetland pony, no doubt contributed
in a large measure to his wonderful judgment where horses
were concerned, and made him one of the soundest, as he was
one of the most popular judges at the hundreds of Horse
Shows at which he was called upon to adjudicate. I recall
that this same small steed gave him his initial taste for racing,
for the first time he mounted it, with much pride before an
admiring crowd, I amongst the number, it promptly ran away
with him round and round the field, but he stuck to it, and at
last reined it in before us in triumph. Frightened he was, no
doubt, but victorious.

CHAPTER IV

M THE CAT'S " FIRST STEEPLECHASE

For some time past an acute rivalry had existed between we
three children, our cousins and our friends in Limber, as to the
comparative merits of our steeds, especially in connection with
the powers of the latter in crossing a country.

On the flat we had always a good means of judging, for
it was a rare thing indeed if a race of some kind did not come
off each day we rode out. It was our regular practice to ride
somewhere every day, wet or fine. As a matter of fact, in our
heterogeneous riding parties, none of us could pass or even
come up to the other, but the trot or canter became a gallop,
then a race to the nearest stone-heap, tree, or gate. In these
extemporary races my chestnut pony Tommy, who had a
knack of jumping off quickly at the start, nearly always proved
a winner. We had, however, so far, never attempted a
steeplechase, and our souls were thirsting to prove which of
our mounts was the best across country.

After long and anxious deliberation between the three of
us, our cousins and friends, it was decided unanimously that
there must be a test, which should take the form of a real
steeplechase, on the most approved grown-up lines. It was
also decided that we three must take the initiative, it being a
recognized fact, that whatever the arbiters of our fate allowed
us to do, the other parents in the village followed suit, and

J. M. RICHARDSON AT FOUR YEARS OLD.

"The Cat's" First Steeplechase

allowed their sons and daughters to do likewise. But in this
instance, determined as we were to have our own way in
every particular, we felt that to organize a real grown-up
steeplechase without the aid of our elders was absolutely im-
possible. We had, therefore, to consider seriously how we
could best " work the oracle," or in other words, how we could
get our mother's and grandmother's consent and assistance.
In minor matters, such as riding, hunting, playing quoits, foot-
ball, cricket, etc., we had always been successful, and did as we
liked ; but we felt that more diplomacy than we had ever
exercised before was necessary, if we were to be allowed to
organize the projected race meeting.

At last we decided upon our plan of campaign, which was
to approach the enemy individually. Maunsell being my
mother's favourite was told off to attack her, and my brother
Willie being his grandmother's boy was to bring up his forces
to bear upon her in like manner. My part was that of a
deeply interested spectator, who gave the weight of her
influence and support to the attacking party ; the more so as
my precious pony was to be ridden in the race by Maunsell,
who, as I had been forbidden to ride him myself in the race,
would, I knew, place his mount in the best position possible.

Stout and self-willed as our hearts were, so much depended
upon the glad consent of our elders, that I remember well,
pulses were beating pretty fast when the great subject was
broached to them. But oh ! the joy when permission was
given — just permission at first, but which very soon afterwards,
no doubt after anxious consultation with others, developed
into an enthusiasm almost as great as ours over the whole
business.

Certain stipulations, however, were made. The race was
to be run over our own land ; the fences to be thoroughly well

33 d

The Life of a Great Sportsman

trimmed down ; ditches cleared, etc., etc., and the course (this
we also had determined) flagged in correct steeplechase fashion,
and the desired racing kits to be home made. Thus, we having
won the day with the arbiters of our fate, the other parents of
competitors in the coming race fell into line ; and nothing now
remained but to get the racing kits ready, the racecourse in
order, and to fix the day.

Naturally, first in order came the choosing of their racing
colours by my two brothers. In anxious conclave, assisted by
our elders, it was decided that the new Richardson colours
should be Orange and Blue. My eldest brother's should
be " Orange body, blue sleeves, orange cap ; " Maunsell's
were " blue body, orange sleeves, blue cap." It was in these
same colours that my eldest brother won many races as a
young man ; and they were also Maunsell's colours for many
years, in fact until those were registered in which he won his
first Grand National.

But after the selection of the colours, there were so many
other practical and important details to be attended to, that a
fortnight was considered the shortest time in which everything
could be got ready. Two weeks at that time of life is more
like two months later on, but we tried to possess our souls in
patience, and revelled in the thought of superintending the
necessary details, including the buying and fashioning of each
article that would be required for the racing outfits, to the
minutest detail.

Glazed calico of the correct shade was ordained for the
jackets and caps (we were not allowed to run to silk) ; while
for the breeches, two pairs belonging to our defunct racing
great-uncle, Mr. Thos. Marris, one of grandmother's brothers,
were to be cut down to the required size. The correct racing
boots, we soon found, were to prove our greatest trouble.

J. M. RICHARDSON'S VERY FIRST MOUNT.

"The Cat's" First Steeplechase

We certainly found boots galore, hunting boots, racing
boots, etc., etc., when we had the joy of ransacking Uncle
Tom's old chests of clothes. But the size of these boots ?
That was the rub ! However, as my brothers had quite
determined that they must have racing boots — and these at all
events were not too small — we felt sure that we could devise
a plan of making them as wearable as they were appropriate.
And this we did, with what result will be seen afterwards.
During these at first seemingly interminable two weeks our
time was fully and delightfully occupied by superintending and
watching our good household tailor, Josiah Fytche, cutting out,
trying on, and otherwise busying himself in carrying out the
racing jackets and caps from correct grown-up patterns, and
from the calico which had arrived in due course, not only quite
perfect in colour, but looking so like silk that we forgot to be
disappointed that it was only an imitation.

The breeches, too, had to be tried on many a time before
they could be pronounced comfortable and workmanlike. And
the delight of the feel of a first pair of well-made and comfort-
able riding breeches must be known to be appreciated.

Good kind old friend, tailor Fytche ! Truly he took as
much interest in that racing outfit as we did ourselves, and
repaid the infinite variety of our childish teasings — for he was
a constant worker in our house, sitting cross-legged upon a
table in our big front kitchen — by a nobility of spirit that
scorned to take a mean advantage upon us, when we were in
such deadly earnest to get all things ready in time for the great
day, by even pretending to be slow. I really believe, moreover,
that we had the grace from that time forth to no longer hide
his beeswax, to blunt his big scissors, or to squirm so per-
sistently when he was trying on any of our clothes, that it was
almost an impossibility to make a good fit.

The Life of a Great Sportsman

We also superintended the clipping of the hedges, and the
length of the course, in which we were greatly assisted by
our great-uncle Mr. William Marris, another of our grand-
mother's brothers, and one of our trustees! His opinion we
treated with great respect, as having ridden in several steeple-
chases himself, we considered him competent to advise — actually
to advise us — just think of it ! Then came the final decision as
to who should ride this or that horse or pony in the race ?
Who, in fact, were to be the competitors ?

Finally it was arranged that the field was to consist of four
runners. My two brothers ; our great friend George Nelson ;
and our second cousin George Marris (our uncle William's
eldest son) ; owners up ; catch weights.

My brother Willie was to ride his thoroughbred bay cob,
14.2, a handsome, high-spirited little animal, and a perfect
fencer. Maunsell's mount was my 14 hands dark chestnut
pony Tommy, a nice thoroughbred, with a touch of the Arab
in him, never beaten on the flat in our impromptu races, and
a remarkably fine fencer. George Nelson was to ride his own
brown horse, 15*2, and George Marris his grey mare, also 15*2.
Both these last-named riders and horses were in every way
superior in age, size and weight to my brothers or their
mounts, but as catch weights had been ordained it did not
matter much. George Nelson was eighteen years old, and a
good weight for his age, and George Marris was seventeen,
and also scaled a fairly proportionate amount for his age and
size, but my brothers, respectively ten and eleven years old,
carried no superficial amount of flesh, and so it was justly
supposed that the conditions of the race would bring the horses
together. Catch weights, of course, meant in this case that the
jockeys, being owners of their respective horses, were neither
to increase nor diminish their weights by a single ounce.

" The Cat's ' First Steeplechase

Really it was a race between youths and mere boys ;
between full-sized horses and ponies. Still, as out larking we
had always been able to negotiate every fence our elders and
their horses had cleared, we were undaunted, and believed
that if we could not win we could at least put up a very
good show. The two weeks passed at last, and the fateful day
dawned.

It was a lovely January morning, on a Tuesday and con-
sequently non-hunting day, for nothing could have induced us
to fix the race for a day on which it would have been possible
to go out hunting. Needless to say, amongst our other pre-
parations, each day had seen the two ponies thoroughly well
schooled, either over the fences, later on to become the race-
course obstacles, or over some other part of our well-known
skylarking grounds.

My two brothers' mounts were, in consequence, in perfect
condition, and I suppose never had owners, even professional
trainers of racehorses, all the world over, regarded the feeding,
exercising and health of their animals more anxiously than we
had done. In this we were ably seconded by our head groom,
" Jimmy " Marfleet, the successor of " Tommy " Rickalls, to
whom any prowess we or our steeds exhibited in the hunting
field, or elsewhere, was a matter of infinite delight.

Seeing that we three children, and those whom we led
astray, practically provided the whole village of Limber with
amusement and wonder over our escapades, it is not surprising
that there was quite an imposing muster of the natives in the
winning field, anxiously waiting to see the finish.

"Just ye think, now, that tha' young Squire Richardson
(so my eldest brother was called) and Mr. Maunsell was agoing
to race over fences agin Maister George Nelson and Maister
George Marris ! "

The Life of a Great Sportsman

" Aye, that they was and no mistake ! "

Against driving in the big barouche I had definitely
"struck." Barred from riding in the race, I was determined
to be as locomotive as possible, and had borrowed Maunsell's
pony in place of my own, on which he had the mount.

My grandmother had the smaller dinner bell, which she
was deputed to ring when they were "off," in the approved
race-course fashion. We had pleaded for the larger bell to be
unshipped from its coign of vantage over the Side door, as it
would, we thought, be louder and more effective. But on this
piece of vandalism the authority at the Home Office at once
put a veto.

Soon after our carriage had taken up its position at the
winning post (which was also the starting post), the com-
petitors in their bright colours were seen coming along in the
approved leisurely fashion down the road which led into the
starting field.

Then came the preliminary canter. How my heart beat
when I saw Maunsell and my dear chestnut pony ! What a
gallant little figure he looked, and it was only natural that in
my heart of hearts I wished him to be the winner. Although
so long as the Richardson colours were to the front, whichever
brother wore them, I felt it ought to be the same to me. And,
then, wild joy and excitement, for at the ringing of the dinner
bell, the competitors assembled in a line, four abreast, at the
starting post, and at the word " off" from Uncle William
Marris, who was the starter, the whole four made a splendid
start. The quartette took the first hedge in fine style, Maun-
sell, to my excited imagination, carrying off the palm in every
particular. After the first fence, the course turned to the left,
over another hedge and ditch into a fair-sized field ; then
round a flag, and to the right again, over two more fields,

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" The Cat's ' First Steeplechase

which brought them to one of the most intricate and important
jumps, viz. : the crossing of the Caistor Road, in and out.

It was to this point that I galloped off after seeing the start,
and arrived just in time to see the field, minus one of their
number, rapidly approaching. Of the three, two, I was delighted
to note, were my brothers; the missing one being George
Marris, whom I could discern in the distance, in hot pursuit of his
grey mare, which had apparently come to grief at the second
fence. My brother Willie was leading on his bay cob, George
Nelson on his brown horse close behind, and Maunsell, evidently
on the best of terms with his mount, as I anxiously noticed, was
lying close on their quarters.

Willie and George Nelson crossed the road, jumping the
fences in splendid style ; but, alas ! a sad fate awaited poor
Maunsell. Some spirit of evil must have entered into my pony
— at the best of times apt to be a little too free at his fences —
for in the midst of his usual little rush at his jump, he stopped
dead short as he got up to the first fence, and threw his rider
right over his head into the road. But even then, the same
agility which afterwards earned for him the sobriquet of " The
Cat " stood Maunsell in good stead.

Turning a complete somersault, he alighted on his feet,
facing the hedge with the reins, to which he clung, still in his
hands, with a determination to hold on at any cost to his steed.
But not all of him left the saddle. One of Uncle Tom's big
faithless and unmanageable racing boots remained behind,
jammed in the stirrup. We had made these look possible to
wear, for we had determined that they were necessary to
complete the beauty of the racing kit, and had arranged that
by the wearing of several pairs of socks, the feet at least would
appear a perfect fit.

It was the tops that had given us the most thought and

The Life of a Great Sportsman

anxiety, and this difficulty we had only overcome by stuffing
the calf of each leg, after the boots were on, with newspapers.
It was quite clear that the paper had shifted, and out came the
leg. I can see Maunsell now, standing in the road ; a boot on
one leg, on the other only a sock ; his arm stretched to its
fullest extent, holding on to the reins, determination in his face
— in every line of his little body — as, nothing daunted, he
clambered back over the stubby hedge. I can see him remount-
ing, getting his stockinged foot into his enormous boot again,
and after taking his mount back to the required distance,
jumping in and out of the road, then racing after the first two
as hard as his pony could lay its feet to the ground.

As far as my eyes could follow, I watched him galloping
along in the wake of the others, grimly determined to catch
them up. Then I made the best of my way back to the winning-
field, in order to see the finish. George Nelson came in first
on his brown horse, my brother Willie second half a length
behind, and Maunsell in spite of all drawbacks finished by no
means a bad third. Thus ended Maunsell's first steeplechase.
Possibly it was — who can tell ? — the most exciting race, in a
sense, he ever rode. In it he displayed, at ten years old, the
same extraordinary pluck and determination not to give in which
in later years stood him in such good stead.

Indeed, I have often wondered, when, as Mr. Finch-Mason
relates in his record of my brother's racing career, given later
on in the book, he broke three stirrup leathers at the first fence
in as many important steeplechases, winning in spite of the way
he was handicapped, whether the thought of that faithless racing
boot that betrayed him in his childhood's first race, ever caused
him, not only an inward laugh at the recollection, but made his
determination the stronger to persevere to the bitter end ?
As I write this Memoir, one of those small glazed calico racing

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jackets lies before me. It is my eldest brother's "orange body
and blue sleeves." Beautifully made, it is exactly like a real
silk grown-up racing jacket, truly a most faithful reproduction !
Dear old tailor Fytche ! Good old days, the best remembered
of all, perhaps, being that on which my afterwards famous
brother rode his first steeplechase.

CHAPTER V

THE COMING OF THE RIDING COUNTESS OF YARBOROUGH INTO

NORTH LINCOLNSHIRE

It is by no means overstating the case, and I am sure every-
one of her old friends, and young ones too, who have known
this fact from their cradle upwards, and who read this book,
will agree with me, that the coming of Lady Worsley, now
Victoria Countess of Yarborough, into North Lincolnshire,
caused a revolution of the most joyous kind over the whole
country-side.

Before her advent there had been a vein of marked dullness
in and around the old Pelham stronghold, as the family rarely
visited Brocklesby, and if they did, the visit was of very short
duration, the flag, always flying when the family were in
residence at the Hall, and which was so anxiously looked for
by the residents for miles around, being seldom hoisted. Most
unfortunately, the then reigning Earl of Yarborough, grand-
father of the present Earl, was a confirmed invalid, and the
Countess, his wife, being no special lover of outdoor sports of
any kind herself, and disliking the dullness of the country,
naturally preferred life in town.

The famous Brocklesby pack of foxhounds was kept up,
however, in the fine old style of former years, the huntsman,
Tom Smith, one of the celebrated Smith succession of hunts-
men to the Pelham family, showing thoroughly good sport, and

THE COUNTESS OF YARBOROUGH.

On Brilliant, with two celebrated hounds of the Brocklesby Pack.
(From the painting by Sir Francis Grant, presented by the Brocklesby tenantry and friends in 1865.

The Coming of the Countess of Yarborough

keeping foxes down even to the satisfaction of exacting farmers.
At the time of which I write, the Brocklesby Hunt, sound as
it was for all practical purposes, lacked the leadership of an
M.F.H. able to attend to his duties as such, which in a county
such as Lincolnshire, as in fact in all hunting counties, promotes
good fellowship in the hunting field.

In the case of the Brocklesby Hounds this was, perhaps,
more noticeable, as the successive Earls of Yarborough were
not only the owners of the splendid packs of hounds by which
that part of the county was hunted, and as such, hereditary
Masters of their hounds, but were also the landlords of the vast
Brocklesby estates. Even when our invalid M.F.H. was able
to show himself at the covertside, I well remember how his
presence was hailed with delight, and how courteous and kind
he was to every one ; especially singling out we three children,
who were all allowed to hunt directly we could ride, for he and
our father had been great friends.

One special hunting day, when the writer, then five or six
years old, was the one small female person out with the hounds,
I remember a gentleman coming up to me, and in the kindest
manner telling me to come with him and he would show me
the fox — always a much- coveted sight. He was riding a very
small hunter, almost a pony, and I soon felt quite at my ease
with him, especially as his mount being hardly taller than mine,
our heads were almost on a level, a fact which made conversa-
tion flow more easily, as may readily be imagined. Moreover,
he was dressed in ordinary plain clothes, with straps to his
trousers, and this combined with a charming Pelham manner,
which the present Earl inherits in a marked degree, made him
appear less formidable, and a much more friendly companion
than had he been red-coated and top-booted.

Although I had seen much touching of caps and hat-liftings

The Life of a Great Sportsman

I did not quite recognize to whom I had had the pleasure of
conversing, but after he had shown me the wily Master
Reynard crossing a ride in the woods as he had promised, and
had left me, and my old groom "Tommy" Rickalls had joined
me again, the latter told me with bated breath that the gentle-
man I had been speaking to was none other than the Earl of
Yarborough himself. To the best of my recollection this was
the last time the covertside, or hounds, ever saw their kindly
owner, for although the Earl lived some years longer he was
never able to appear in the hunting field again.

Thus, the fact that the Brocklesby M.F.H. had not taken
an active place in the hunting field for some years, makes it
readily understood with what joy the whole countryside
welcomed the news that Lord Worsley, the heir to the title
and estates, and who all knew must, in the course of nature,
soon assume the reins of power, and his eighteen-year-old wife,
daughter of the second Earl of Listowel, were to spend the
winter of 1859-60 at Brocklesby. That joy was not lessened
when it came out that not only was she a very fine horsewoman,
but a true Diana of the chase. Truly, their coming worked a
never-to-be-forgotten change in North Lincolnshire.

The year was a remarkable one also in other ways. The
Great Comet of 1859, which many had foretold was to be the
end of the world, had appeared. When the two great planets
appeared in its lustrous tail, it was a most awe-inspiring sight.
I remember well gazing at it with wonderment not unmixed
with fear, and certainly no comet I have ever seen has impressed
me in the same manner.

At that time I was at a boarding school at Kensington,
Maunsell and my eldest brother being at Elstree, a preparatory
school for Harrow, for which well-known place of learning and
sport they were both destined. It was in a letter to my

VICTORIA, COUNTESS OF YARBOROUGH.
At the age ot thirty-three.

The Coming of the Countess of Yarborough

brothers and myself from my grandmother, Mrs. Maunsell, we
learned the tidings that Lord and Lady Worsley had come
down to Brocklesby Hall to live there for the winter ; also that
her ladyship especially loved hunting, and went out with the
hounds every day she could get a " satisfactory " mount.

That there were not really " satisfactory " hunters " for
ladies " in the Brocklesby stables is not to be wondered at, for
at that time no ladies of the Pelham family had ever ridden
to hounds. In fact, hardly any ladies hunted in those days.
Neither, as it proved afterwards, were there any side-saddles
fit for a lady to hunt upon, that is, for one who, like Lady
Worsley, was determined not only to see the Hounds " throw
off," but to ride to hounds.

The crowning joy was, that the Christmas holidays were
approaching, and with what delight and anticipation we three
in our different places of detention were looking forward to
these holidays and the extra joys that hunting would possess, I
can hardly describe. My special and peculiar joy was that
Lady Worsley, whom I had already begun to worship in my
childish mind in an anticipatory manner, had borrowed my
pony, my beautiful dark chestnut, 14 hands pony, Tommy,
the same one that figured in the story of Maunsell's first steeple-
chase ; had ridden him very straight to hounds ; and had after
the run pronounced him a perfect mount. How well I
remember, too, upon my first appearance out hunting, that
memorable season of 1859, that Lady Worsley came up to me
directly she saw me in the field, and thanked me personally for
the loan of my pony, praising him in the kindest way, and
thereby capturing my childish heart.

Perhaps a description of one of the most fascinating and
soundest women any one could be privileged to meet will not be
out of place here, for though it is from a child's point of view —

The Life of a Great Sportsman

my own when I first saw her — there are, after all, few truer
judges of character than children, and that same impression has
only been intensified in later years.

As to her personality, it was her eyes that struck one first.
Large, clear, and blue, as only Irish eyes can be, her manner
had the peculiar fascination that only a thoroughly kindly
heart and buoyant temperament can give. Then, again, who
would fail to admire the perfect little figure, showing to such
advantage on horseback ?

The good Lincolnshire folk, whether those in her own rank of
life or in a humbler position, were completely captivated by her.
Men, women, and children — she charmed them all. A dignified
yet true kindliness proceeded from a soul brimful of the real love
of humanity, that true nobleness of the human soul which is,
alas ! by no means always the accompaniment of a noble name.

In the days I am writing about, so very few of the gentler
sex followed the hounds, that when one appeared, as in Lady
Worsley's case, who really went well, without thrusting herself
forward, over-riding hounds, or in any way making herself a
nuisance to the hunting field, it can be readily imagined how,
in a sporting country like ours, such a visitant was not only
very noticeable, but very welcome. And undoubtedly with her
advent into North Lincolnshire and her love of sport, the whole
aspect of the Brocklesby hunt changed from grave to gay. Not
only did she come out to every meet that it was possible she
could attend, but it was an extremely rare thing, if her mount
was good enough, that she did not stay out the day through,
and ride not only well, but with extraordinary courage and
judgment, and still more rare if she did not see a run through
from start to finish.

But perhaps the most remarkable feat of all was that she
jumped fences seated in the old-fashioned two-crutched saddle.

VICTORIA, COUNTESS OF YARBOROUGH (1868).

The Coming of the Countess of Yar borough

I may mention for the benefit of the present generation of
ladies who follow hounds, that to jump fences in this kind of
saddle not only required an amazing amount of courage, but
would have been an impossibility unless the rider had held on
to something. Nothing, however, daunted Lady Worsley. In
her determination to be with the hounds, she held on with her
left hand to the saddle behind, the right only being at liberty
to steer her horse, and hold him to his fences. And no fence
that could be negotiated by anybody else was too high, no
ditch too broad, for her to attempt. She might fall sometimes,
horse and all, in which case she was up again like a flash,
and away after the hounds.

Naturally her extraordinary pluck, combined with her irre-
sistibly charming manner, had won all hearts, and I am prepared
to swear that there was not one man, woman, or child, including
Maunsell, then thirteen years old, who would not have willingly
died in her service. There is no doubt, indeed, that the erst-
while somewhat cold-hearted population of North Lincolnshire
were stirred to the greatest enthusiasm their natures were
capable of expressing when Lady Worsley came amongst them,
and by her unaffected manner taught them that to have a title
of nobility may also mean real nobility in every particular.

There is a peculiar arrogance of childhood difficult to define,
but I must confess I found rather a delightful satisfaction in
the fact that I could negotiate all my fences without holding
on to my saddle behind, while Lady Worsley had to use this
means of keeping her seat over fences. Naturally in my
conceit I thought it was my own superior horsemanship,
whereas it was my new saddle which in reality should have
had the credit of it. For I was riding on a saddle which
possessed one of the first three crutches, or leaping heads as
they were called in those days, ever invented for ladies' saddles.

The Life of a Great Sportsman

How well I remember that day out hunting (it being always
an intense joy to we three to be noticed by her), when Lady
Worsley came up to me and said, " How do you manage to
sit your pony over fences without holding on to the back of
your saddle ? I cannot."

Then I remember it suddenly dawned upon me that it
might possibly be the new saddle my grandmother had given
me, with its delightful and safety three-crutch leaping head,
which gave me this most unfair advantage. Naturally before
that I had never thought it possible I could have anything
better or newer than Lady Worsley. Then I remember how
astonished we both were when, jumping down from my pony
when the hounds checked, she discovered that wonderful new
third crutch, and I that her saddle did not possess one. How
well I remember, too, with what pride I lent her my saddle,
and how she loved her day's hunting upon it ; how a saddle
with the leaping head was obtained for her as soon as it were
possible ; and how my own saddle was glorified in my eyes
for ever afterwards.

In these days, when side-saddles are constructed with
pommels of such a size that it is an impossibility for any
woman to fall off at her fences, or even off her horse at all,
unless she deliberately throws herself to the ground, it is hard
to realize what courage and determination was required by our
hard-riding' Lady Worsley when she came amongst us in North
Lincolnshire, and hunted on these old-fashioned saddles with no
leaping head at all, being still further handicapped by having
only one hand with which to guide her horse at the fences.

Yet I hardly ever remember a horse refusing with her, for
her one hand on the reins was considerably better than most
people's two, and her sympathy with her horse either hunting
or hacking was perfect, as indeed it is to this day.

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The Coming of the Countess of Yarborough

Apropos of my eleventh birthday-saddle present, I can never
forget the unselfish joy which my brother Maunsell displayed
over its arrival. We had all seen a big hamper arrive on the
Saturday, and had led Mother and Grandmother a dreadful
life of questioning as to what it could possibly contain. The
carrier, Crowe by name, we knew, had brought it from Caistor,
our nearest shopping town, on the Saturday ; my eleventh
birthday being on the Monday. His son still carries to and
fro for the inhabitants of Limber village, and his sweet-shop
still sells the "lollypops" we then loved so well as children.
On the Monday, at the first moment possible, we rushed to
the call of our elders to see the hamper unpacked. First there
came a lovely bridle. Then, later, after much pulling out of
straw, came the saddle with its wonderful new-fashion third
crutch. Though not usually demonstrative, I well remember
Maunsell flinging his arms round Grandmother's neck, and
thanking her with all his heart. Then there was a saddling up
of ponies — especially mine, as I was the birthday queen — and
away we started to jump the hurdles, a feat I had never been
able to attempt before. Oh ! the joy of the security in jumping
which that third crutch gave !

Looking back over this long vista of years, my wonder
is in no way lessened that any woman could have had the
amazing pluck to ride to hounds as our Lady Worsley did
during the greater part of the hunting season of 1859-60 with
the Brocklesby, under such almost impossible conditions. Only
the same intense love of every description of sport and of "the
Sport of Kings " in particular, which Maunsell also possessed,
can account, not only for her youthful exploits in the hunting
field, but for the energy which made Lady Worsley her hus-
band's gallant companion in many a fine run of later years.

CHAPTER VI

EARLY SCHOOL DAYS

In 1859, just eight years after father died, our mother married
again. Her second husband was the Rev. Harry Glanville
Southwell, only child of Mr. Henry Southwell, of Saxmundham,
Suffolk, a well-known and wealthy solicitor. The advent of
the young man into our quiet Limber village, as curate to
Mr. Brown, the rector, was a great event. Not only did he
succeed in enlivening the depressingly dull services in Limber
Church as much as it was possible in the absence of organ and
choir, but he brought with him a great reputation as a cricketer,
as well as being known as an exceptionally good shot. At
Harrow he was in the First Eleven of 1848 and 1849, and tne
last two years of his college life at Trinity, in the Cambridge
University Eleven of 1852 and 1853. It was, therefore, scarcely
to be wondered at, that a budding cricketer, such as Maunsell
was at that time, became at once his bond slave and would-be
imitator in this special line. As a first-rate man behind a gun,
he also fascinated my eldest brother, who was devoted to
shooting, and possessed "a real gun" when he was ten years
old, giving quite a good account of himself amongst the
partridges at that early age. Indeed, to the end of his life, he
remained fonder of shooting than of any other kind of sport.
At that time the days of tremendous scoring in the cricket
field were not so generally known as now, and to get a

THE REV. H. G. SOUTHWELL.
J. M. Richardson's stepfather.

Early School Days

44 century" was considered a wonderful performance, and
although, when Mr. Southwell played in the University match,
his scores were not large, he was known as a tremendous
swiper when he did get hold of the ball, as well as being a
very sound all-round cricketer. It is, therefore, not astonishing
that the young curate soon established the most cordial
relations with we three children, especially with Maunsell, in
whom his foresight no doubt detected the coming sporting
genius. Nor is it astonishing that the " Cat " was and
remained his special favourite, even when we were all grown
up, in fact, to the end of our stepfather's life.

In addition to Mr. Southwell's popularity and importance
in North Lincolnshire, he was received at Brocklesby as a
welcome guest, whenever the young Lord and Lady Worsley
(the latter now Victoria, Countess of Yarborough) were in
residence at the Hall. This fact had the effect of opening
automatically every house in the county to him ; and combined
with the extraordinary geniality of his disposition, won him
all hearts in and around Great Limber village. His, too, was
a striking personality, being over six feet high, very broad and
immensely powerful ; indeed, the very reverse in every
particular of the ordinary curate of fiction. He had also a
manliness about him and a way with him which were most
attractive, and which certainly appealed as powerfully to we
three children as to our elders. But his chief social success
was in the captivating of our grandmother, Mrs. Maunsell.
She was by no means susceptible to outside personal influence
— indeed quite the reverse, especially if she suspected any man
of the desire, which practically most men who came in contact
with our pretty widowed mother had, of marrying her. I must
say Mr. Southwell deserved every credit for his perspicuity in
seeing that it was necessary to approach the mother through the

The Life of a Great Sportsman

grandmother, to have any chance in the matrimonial stakes, as
more than one aspirant for her daughter's hand had found out,
to his bitter disappointment and chagrin.

Another point in Mr. Southwell's favour as our prospective
stepfather was, that very soon after he came to Limber, the
question of a school for my two brothers had to be decided.
My school career was already determined, a boarding school in
Kensington, kept by four sisters, the Misses Hare, and where
my mother had been their first pupil. Curiously enough, as it
turned out, when my six happy, healthy years with them ended,
I was destined to be their last pupil.

Thus, at this critical time of Maunsell's life, there is no
doubt that Mr. Southwell, who was rapidly becoming very dear
and necessary to our mother, had a considerable and most
honourable share in persuading her to enter my two brothers
at Harrow, which, having been there himself, he could
naturally recommend with confidence. He also advised an
establishment at Elstree, kept by a Dr. Bernays, as being the
best preparatory school for Harrow then existent.

Up to now we had had our governesses, and the boys a
tutor, the Rev. James Pooley, who not only preceded Mr.
Southwell as curate at Limber, but had also been an aspirant
to our mother's hand. Being, however, unsuccessful in his suit,
he married our Aunt Margaret, one of my father's sisters,
retiring with her from Limber, and from our ken, thus making
room for the conquering Mr. Southwell.

Owing to our late Queen Victoria, of blessed memory,
having married Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg Gotha, the
German language was just then the order of the day, and our
governesses were, in consequence, selected from that nationality.
Two of these poor ladies quickly proved themselves quite
incompetent to manage we unruly children, in any shape or

J. M. RICHARDSON AT THIRTEEN YEARS OLD.

Early School Days

form. Our first, I think, stayed about a week, and during that
period cried continuously. Our second was a massive Fraulein,
very fat, kindly, and cheerful, but hopelessly out of place where
three spoiled children required managing.

One experience lives to this day in my memory. I was
going into the schoolroom, and had got near the door,
when I suddenly became aware of a sound of weeping and
wailing from within. This was exciting, for up to that moment
our new Fraulein had not given way to tears like the Niobe
first mentioned. I went in and found my mother trying to
pacify the poor lady, who, with a huge red wheal on her fat
arm, was in the act of pouring forth in broken English, in no
measured tones, the dreadful iniquities of my brother Maunsell,
who in her opinion was the most cruel boy that ever lived.

It appeared that, having tried to coerce my brother against
his inclination, he had retaliated with a cutting whip, trying his
prentice hand on the poor lady's soft arm. Whether he was
punished for this escapade I have no recollection, I should say
not from my experience of later years, but our fat Fraulein soon
disappeared, taking with her, it is to be feared, but a poor
opinion of the Limber House discipline.

Our third and last German governess was a lady the exact
opposite of my brother Maunsell's victim in every sense of the
word. A very pretty fair young girl, Fraulein Harpfner spoilt
us quite as much — possibly a little more — than our mother and
grandmother, and was therefore tolerated by us, and treated
with kindness, consideration, and much gratitude by our elders,
so much so that when our governess period was over, she
remained with us for some time as a friend of the family. I
cannot remember that she taught us anything, excepting to
speak German with the purest Hanoverian accent, and a
number of German games which she played with us to our

The Life of a Great Sportsman

satisfaction ; whilst she gave our mother and grandmother, both
of whom were " Marthas," some very good cookery receipts for
special German dishes, which we relished exceedingly. I
particularly remember she told us that they never dreamed of
cooking a hare in Germany until its nine skins had been
carefully removed. Naturally, after this piece of interesting
information, nothing would suit our inquiring minds but to see
these nine skins in actual process of dissection. We duly
experimented upon the first poor "puss" which fell to our dogs
or guns, my brother Maunsell, who loved the eating of hare and
the coursing of it too, besides being the most practical culinary
artist of the three, watching the operation with intense eager-
ness. We kept greyhounds in our young days, and coursed
whenever possible on non-hunting days, we three going out
with the groom and dogs, and ranging the fields in the most
approved fashion. But this form of sport, if indeed it is worthy
to be dignified by that name, we gave up early in our lives. I
remember I was the first to give it up, and whether from the
same reason my two brothers followed suit I have never known
for certain, but I should think it extremely likely, for both were
humane even as boys. My relinquishing of the sport came
about in this way. One day I found myself in the proud
position of being the only one going for a ride, and expected
to take out the greyhounds as was our wont for exercise and
sport. So very jauntily I set out quite alone with a pony I
could easily get off and on, and a couple of the fastest grey-
hounds— "Grews" as they are called in the Lincolnshire
vernacular — to thoroughly enjoy myself, and betook me to a
field which was a well-known " find " for a hare. I found, ran
into, and killed my terrified quarry, and the cries of that poor
coursed hare ring in my ears to this day. I had to take her
from the dogs, and kill her, and from that moment I renounced

Early School Days

coursing and all its ways, and would sooner, even now, at my
age, ride or walk twenty miles in the opposite direction, than
go to a coursing meeting, or see a hare chased and killed, in
any shape or form.

It was when this young Fraulein, our last German governess,
was in charge, that Mr. Southwell appeared upon the scene,
the man who was destined to play no small part in Maunsell's
upbringing, and to whose manly influence and firm treatment in
his early life, no one was more grateful or showed that
gratitude in a more substantial manner than my brother.

In 1 858, about a year before Mother married for the second
time, but when Mr. Southwell was no doubt exercising a great
if outwardly unrecognized influence over her decision, my two
brothers went to Elstree, and Mother, who felt she could not
bear the strain of the separation from them for so long a time
as the school term, took a house at Great Stanmore, about
four miles from their preparatory school for Harrow. I went
with her to live there, and the nice young German governess
also accompanied us to look after me for a time. When she
went back to her home in Germany, I had daily lessons from
the Misses Wilde at Edgeware. These ladies were aunts of
the talented but unfortunate Oscar Wilde, and their careful
grounding in many scholastic ways I have by no means for-
gotten. Naturally during the time my mother and I were at
Stanmore both my brothers came over whenever possible for
" exeats," also for any special holidays, and very happy they
seemed. Both were put almost at once in the Cricket and
Football Elevens, and very soon were in the First Elevens of
Cricket and Footer.

The time soon came when we youngsters were, if not
exactly to be relegated to the background, at all events not to
be the first, final, and only interest in our mother's life — for my

The Life of a Great Sportsman

brothers had not been long at Elstree, and duly entered for
Harrow, when Mr. Southwell claimed my mother, the house
at Stanmore was given up, and her second marriage took
place at St. Mary-le-bone Church in London, I being her only
bridesmaid.

Directly after this interesting event, I went to the Misses
Hare's Boarding School in Kensington, and during that time
of probation, I trust, absorbed something at least of the noble
precepts the dear ladies endeavoured to inculcate into we
girls.

After Mother's second marriage nothing seemed altered
outwardly, as far as we children were aware at the old home
at Limber, excepting that Mr. Southwell came to live there
instead of at his lodgings in the village, retaining his curacy
under Mr. Brown, and no doubt, though we did not under-
stand it at the time, helping our mother very materially in the
arduous work of bringing up two very self-willed boys. One
very special instance of his help with regard to my brother
Maunsell, which, indeed, I am only too glad to acknowledge
here, is a fact I was never cognisant of until many years after
it happened. It was, however, small wonder that such a thing
happened, and that he revolted at school discipline, as any
very spoilt and headstrong boy with a tremendously strong
character was practically certain to do, naturally detesting and
fighting against real restraint.

Moreover, Dr. Bernays, the Headmaster of Elstree, was
not only renowned as a first-rate schoolmaster, but for his
terrible temper — even foaming at the mouth with rage at times,
so it was said — and that he thrashed any offender with an
extraordinary mercilessness upon the slightest provocation. Be
that as it may, early one summer morning, two very small boys,
minus caps and in well-worn slippers, arrived at Limber House,

Early School Days

having run away from school, travelling all night, after climb-
ing down a water-pipe out of their dormitory, walking four
miles from the station at the home-end, and I forget how
many miles at the school end. That these two forlorn little
specimens of the genus boy expected to be welcomed with
open arms, caressed and cuddled to their hearts' content, is
quite certain ! That the wicked headmaster who had treated
them so cruelly and driven them to the extremity of running
away from school would be execrated and punished by the
Genial Powers that watch over little boys in general they never
doubted for a moment !

What Mother, worshipping Maunsell as she did, would
have done had she been left to her own devices, or for the
matter of that Grandmother, either, Heaven only knows !
But I shrewdly suspect the exact reverse of what did happen.
Luckily, however, for my brother and his absconding com-
panion,— it appeared that my brother had persuaded this
little person to run away with him — Mr. Southwell, as in duty
bound, intervened, and after both the runaways had been
washed and fed, which ministrations they badly needed, he
took them back to the school they had deserted.

History has never revealed, at least not to me, what
happened to the two truants when they arrived at Elstree in
the charge of Mr. Southwell. It is to be hoped that Maun-
sell's stepfather, who proved himself at that time to be the
boys' stern "grey angel of duty," was able to represent to the
irascible but conscientious Dr. Bernays that by their uncomfort-
able journey, by their anything but joyous reception at home,
and by the bitter experience that instead of being welcomed
and petted they were " expressed " back to their hated school
bondage, they had been sufficiently punished. It is certain,
at any rate, that Maunsell was not only reinstated in the

The Life of a Great Sportsman

school, but acquitted himself well ever afterwards, for amongst
the papers he had carefully preserved, was this card : —

« Elstree Hill School.
" Presented to John Maunsell Richardson in testimony of a
well-spent term, Easter 1861.

" (Signed) TiiOMrsoN Podmore, M.A."

Mr. Podmore was the immediate successor of Dr. Bernays.

My being at school in London, and my two brothers at
Elstree, only twelve miles from town, our holidays often
coincided, and we used to hit off our journeys down from
school together whenever possible, meeting at some station
en route, and arriving at our home station at the same time.
Sometimes my brothers' ponies would be sent to meet them,
and they would canter off in the highest spirits from the
station, leaving me in my uncomfortable, and as I considered
inglorious girl petticoats, to envy them hugely, and longing to
have been born a boy. But sometimes we all three drove out
together, and the groom who had brought our vehicle would
go home with the luggage cart and draught horse, in a more
leisurely manner.

One lovely evening we arrived together at Haborough
station from school for our summer holidays. On the way
down in the train, for some reason or other, the boys had
been on the verge of quarrelling. No real fighting had,
however, taken place in the railway carriage, as we had had
grown-up companions, to whom we generally made ourselves
agreeable, and they were too much of " little gentlemen " to
fight in public.

On our arrival at the station, instead of their two beloved
ponies meeting them, and as they had joyfully anticipated,
having a good gallop — possibly a jump or two — going home,

<
u

1-1

o
u

■si

H
C/D

Early School Days

the phaeton was there to take us all three home. It was one
of the old-fashioned high and roomy kind of vehicles, with a
good seat in front, and only a moderately comfortable one at
the back. The only consolation to them being that the young
black carriage horse was in the shafts, and as he took a little
more careful driving than his older comrade, I suppose Mother
and Grandmother had thought the idea of driving him would
somewhat make up to my brothers for the absence of their
ponies.

Undoubtedly this driving home, which they both hated in
comparison to feeling a good mount under them, was the last
straw, and two very cross boys looking for trouble and occasion
to quarrel in fisticuff fashion climbed into the front seat, rele-
gating me to the back of the carriage, which, however, I knew
well to be my usual position when we three drove that phaeton
together. My eldest brother by right of his year's seniority
claimed the reins, most unfortunately as it turned out, for of
the two he was by far the worst driver.

We had proceeded in somewhat sulky silence, but quite
safely, for about a quarter of a mile, when a heavy waggon
carrying big trees, a " wood cut " as they are called in North
Lincolnshire, met us, and my eldest brother either could not
or would not try to give enough room space on the road for
this cumbersome vehicle to pass us comfortably.

At any rate we very narrowly escaped landing ourselves
on the huge wheels, and this careless driving, added to the
natural fear of the accident we had escaped by the skin of our
teeth, was too much for Maunsell's nerves and temper. Then
the " row riz." He seized the reins, and how at that critical
moment we did not, phaeton and all, capsize, I shall never
know, for the young black horse, though called " young " by
courtesy, was by no means over-quiet, and the sharp jag at

The Life of a Great Sportsman

his mouth, caused by Maunsell seizing the reins, was a dis-
quieting experience for any animal young or old with the
natural spirit of a well-bred and well-fed horse. But that
special Providence which watches over children, sailors, and
those who have dined " not wisely but too well " saved us,
and as my brothers fell to fighting over which should have the
reins, I, like the fox in the fable, secured them as they were
falling to the ground, and pending the end of the quarrel
assumed the ribbons, which I held to the right of the com-
batants, and to the right of the phaeton.

Many thousand times have I driven since then in later life,
but for variety, excitement, and no doubt considerable danger,
though I thought nothing of that at the time, commend me to
that particular drive.

For four miles we proceeded in this fashion, neither boy
mastering the other sufficiently to get possession of the reins
again. At it they went as hard as they could go, swaying this
way and that in their seats, arms working, legs working, but
so evenly were they matched, that luckily for them, for me,
and for the black horse, neither got in a knock-out blow. My
only fear was that the gate of our homestead would be shut,
and then I did not know what on earth could be done, or how I
should land my fighting passengers, for I could not leave the
horse to get down or stay the combatants for a moment.

Luckily it had been thrown open by loving hands to
welcome we three delightful specimens of humanity, and I
turned in and drew up to the side door in fine style, and with
much empressement. I even remember turning the horse round
to face the stables, as we had been taught was the correct way
of driving up to the house. And still the boys in the carriage,
even when I pulled up, were at fisticuffs as hard as they could
fight, although our Mother and Grandmother were standing at

J. M. RICHARDSON
When at Magdalen College, Cambridge,

Early School Days

the open door with wondering faces, naturally unable to make
out what on earth was happening. But they were soon to be
enlightened, for Maunsell, who was watching his opportunity,
as the horse stopped, finally landed a decisive blow on his
brother's temple, knocking him right out of the phaeton to the
ground, where he lay stunned. And so ended the " four-mile
fight."

But when servants and all hastened to rescue the vanquished
warrior, it was a very different Maunsell who stood there,
repentant, when he saw what he had done ; and it was a
tearful small boy who later looked sadly on, while two angry
ladies tended the swelling temple, and tried to mitigate the
blackening eye of his brother, and ease his aching head. Next
morning all was peace again, and through those summer holidays
I do not remember another really serious fight between my
brothers. Generally, however, in any scrimmage, jovial or
serious, Maunsell came off the victor.

I can remember once only during their childhood and
boyhood my eldest brother getting the better in a quarrel, and
then it was partly an accident that ended the fight, the end
being that Maunsell's head was jammed through the dining-
room window. A fine scolding Willie had for it too, though
quite possibly he had been in the right, for it was a rooted idea
with our elders that Maunsell would have a fit if he were
whipped, or generally cornered in any shape or form, such as
had then happened by the window incident.

But these brotherly fights, like lovers' quarrels, left no
bitterness in their train, for the two boys were as good friends
after one of their " sets-to " as they were before, possibly
better, if the truth were known. As small children they shared
their toys together, then their ponies, and later their horses —
in fact, everything; and were more like twins than brothers

The Life of a Great Sportsman

with over a year between their respective ages. Indeed, my
eldest brother looked up to his " minor," especially when they
became older, as natures slightly weaker naturally admire and
depend upon those stronger than themselves. It has often
struck me that one of the most extraordinary factors proving
the soundness of my brother Maunsell's natural character was
that, spoilt as much as possible in his earliest days by an
adoring mother and grandmother, worshipped at school,
immensely admired at college, nearly always, in fact, " cock
of the walk " wherever he went, he remained unspoilt after
childhood's days of selfishness were passed, and in his early
youth, manhood, and to the end of his life, was one of the
most kindly, unselfish and unspoilt men that ever lived.

CHAPTER VII

HARROW AND CAMBRIDGE

From Elstree my brother Maunsell naturally gravitated to
Harrow, under the reign of Dr. Butler, following his elder
brother, who had gone there about a year earlier. Maunsell
brought with him from his first school at Elstreefa well-earned
reputation for skill at most games, and a real love of sport,
that soon made him immensely popular with his schoolfellows
at Harrow, and in a very short time proved in this wider field
of action that he was just as good as he had been represented.
Indeed, there is no doubt he speedily established a wide and a
sound reputation as an all-round coming sportsman. When I
had the pleasure some time ago of meeting one of his
Harrow schoolfellows, the late Earl of Clarendon, who has
very kindly contributed an impression of my brother to this
book, he said to me, " I believe your brother was the only
schoolboy ever known who possessed a race-horse of his own."
This undoubtedly is a fact, although we thought nothing of it
at the time, having been accustomed to owning ponies, and
afterwards horses, from our childhood upwards, so that the fact
of one of us owning a race-horse seemed quite an ordinary
matter. The animal, Lord Clarendon alluded to, was the grand
thoroughbred brown mare Vienna, which was ridden for my
brother by one of our Limber friends and boon companions,
George Nelson, who won a steeplechase plate value ^"ioo on

The Life of a Great Sportsman

her whilst her owner was at Harrow. Many a time I have had
a mount on that mare and can answer for it that she was a
beautiful goer, seemingly hung on springs. She won several
races after her first experience on the turf, but none I think
over which we three sang metaphorically such paeans of joy as
over her first win for the " Bold Harrow Boy."

My brother had been but a very short time at Harrow when
he took the School Cup as their best fielder, and as I write
these lines, the small silver shield he won for " the best catch
at Harrow school," and which he gave me many years ago to
have made into a brooch, hangs over his picture, the last ever
taken of him on horseback, as Joint Master of the Cottesmore
Hounds ; as I lift my eyes it meets mine in bright testimony to
Maunsell's prowess as a first-rate fielder.

Among Maunsell's most cherished possessions, I have
found, carefully stowed away, the identical cricket card published
by Lilly white, of the historic match at Lord's, Harrow v. Eton,
in 1864, when, captained by the late " Charlie " Buller, Harrow
scored a glorious victory over Eton, beating them in one
innings with sixty-seven runs to spare. This match, which
ranks as one of the most famous, if not the most successful, in
the annals of Harrow School, I was privileged to see, partly as
a tremendous treat, and partly because I had a brother playing
in this match. Two of my favourite schoolfellows and myself
were taken by one of our kind principals of the Kensington
Boarding School to Lord's Cricket Ground for the purpose.

How vividly it all comes back to my memory now ! I have
been to many cricket matches at Lord's since then, but on that
glorious day in July 1864, the sense of personal pride that
possessed me, by the reflected glory of my brother's prowess,
has never been equalled. But though Maunsell's performance
that day was a most creditable one for Harrow, the special hero

Also Published, Price 3s. 6d., Tfie.Pablte SchooUTatchei

Winchoster. from the Commencement.

oolJKatches of Eton/Harrow, a« "~7~*

At LORD'S.

-f

W.T. Phipps, Esq..

F. W. Smith, Esq

H. Montgomery, Esq

Harrow v. Eton
Fridayday,& Saturday, July
HARROW First Innings

A. N. Hornby, Esq. ... b Tabor 19

M. H. Stow, Esq c Tabor, b Prideaux 54

Hon. J. G.Amherst .. c N G Lvttelton, b Evans 3

C. F. Buller, Esq c Barring-ton, b Prideaux 61

H. G. Phipps, Esq — b Prideaux 9

J. M. Richardson, Esq c S G Lyttelton, b Evans 29

not out 28

c S G Lyttelton, b Evans 8

run out .-. 0

W. Evetts, Esq c S G Lyttelton, b Prideaux 0

G Arkwright, Esq ... c Barrington b S G Lyteltnl4

b 9, 1-b 4. w 9. n-b ... 22

Total 242

ETON First Innings

A. M. Evans, Esq c Montgomery, b Arkwrigt 0

W. S. Prideaux, Esq •• c Richardson, b Arkwrigt 4

Hon. S. G. Lyttelton... st Stow, b Arkwright 8

Hon. N. G. Lyttelton c Arkwright, b Amherst 2

E. Lubbock, Esq c Buller, b Amherst 28

A. F. Walter, Esq b Amherst 3

H. M Thompson, Esq b Arkwright 0

W. W. Phipps, Esq ... b Amherst 2

H. D. Forsyth. Esq ... runout 14

R. A. Tabor, Esq c & b Arkwright 0

W. Barrington, Esq.. not out 2

b , 1-b , w , n-b ...
Umpires. .. Nixon & Fennell Total 63

7, & 8, 1864.

Second Innings

The Scores of Public School
Matches, from 1805 to 1864,
including the last Match,
may be had at Fred. Lilly-
white's Printing Tent.

I-b

w , n -b
Total ...

Second Inninga

notout 10

c Montgom. b Arkwright 12

c Moatgom. b Arkwright 60

b Amherst 3

c Buller, b Arkwright .... 12

lbw.b Amherst 12

c Hornby, b Amherst 0

b Amherst 0

h Arkwright 6

c&b Arkwright 3

c Phipps, b Arkwright ... 2

b , 1-b , w 1 . n-b 2. ... 3

Total 112

Still on hand, at Is. the "ENGLISH CRICKETERS' TRIP TO CANADA,"
AND THE UNITED STATES, with Twenty-four Engravings, and maybe bad at the
Tent also"LILLYWHITE'S GUIDE to CRICKETERS," Price ONE SHIL11N0.

MATCHES TO COME.
Monday, July 11th. at Lord's, Thirteen of Kent v. England.
Thursday ,!July 14th, atLprd'6, M.C.C. and Ground v. County cl Norfolk.

OLD CRICKET SCORE CARD OF " LILLYWHITE'S," 1864.
Harrow victorious in one innings.

Harrow and Cambridge

of that match — for the general public, I mean — was the handsome
young captain of the Harrow Eleven, "Charlie" Buller, who
made the top score of the day, 56, M. H. Stowe coming next
with 54, and my brother third best batsman, with 34 runs.
When the match was over it was grand to hear the Harrow
boys cheer their captain again and again, the Etonians joining
in the demonstration ; after which victors and vanquished
carried him shoulder-high round the wickets and back to the
pavilion.

I can see Buller's merry and happy blue eyes now as he
made a gallant attempt to laugh off the honour accorded him as
a good joke, and I hear again the ringing cheers straight from
the hearts of his proud and happy schoolfellows, and his
admiring antagonists. Surely, it was a great day for Harrow.

But what Maunsell appreciated most in the game, and he
had learned it from his stepfather, Mr. Southwell, who had
also been coached by the same adept at Harrow, was that
"Bob" Grimston, the Hon. Robert Grimston that was, had
looked upon him as one of the most dependable " men " in the
Harrow Eleven. Nor did he receive this knowledge second-
hand only, for though the Hon. " Bob " was a man who hardly
ever praised a pupil, except by inference, he told him so him-
self, and much to my brother's delight.

Maunsell's ability as a cricketer was by no means the full
sum of his athletic triumphs in his stay at the school on the
Hill. As a runner he distinguished himself by winning the
School Hurdle Race, which, as every one knows, is by no means
an easy task. In addition to this, he proved himself a first-
class jumper, winning the long jump of 18 feet 6 inches,
which can be described to-day as an extraordinary feat for a
boy of fifteen, and in the sixties, too, when athletic grounds were
by no means perfect. He was also a good man with the foils,

65 f

The Life of a Great Sportsman

and became so proficient in the art of fencing that he was able
to win the prize given by Mr. Angelo, the famous " Maitre
d'armes" who was instructor in the pastime at Harrow, and
who predicted for my brother (who had done him so much
credit) a wonderful career as an expert with the foils had he
been so minded.

And I should add that Maunsell, like his brother before
him, was also a member of the Harrow Football Eleven for the
two years 1864 and 1865. At that time football had not
become the absorbing game of the day as it is now, but to be
good enough to be selected for the Eleven, out of the hundreds
of other boys, speaks well for his combined sportsmanlike
qualities. My eldest brother to the last day of his life was
immensely proud of a 3-inch scar on his right shin that he bore
from a hard-won "footer" match at Harrow, when he played
for the First Eleven,'and the securing of which obliged him
to take to his bed for three weeks.

Hanging up in the billiard room at Edmundthorpe Hall are
two very handsome old trophies, two racquets with dark -blue
velvet handles and massive silver ends. These represent one
of the proudest moments of my brother Maunsell's life, when
at Harrow he captured the Challenge Racquet Cup from the
celebrated Cecil Clay, who afterwards became the Oxford
Racquet Champion.

It was after the historic cricket match at Lord's, already
mentioned in this chapter, during the Christmas holidays, when
we three children were at home together, that as I was riding
one hunting day beside the then Lady Yarborough, in the
Brocklesby M Foxdales " Woods, one of its most lovely rides,
she said to me, " Oh, who is that pretty boy ? " Looking to
where she had indicated, I saw my brother Maunsell cantering
along the left of us In the valley. The woods in this part slope

TROPHY TOF FOILS, RACKETS (WON AT HARROW),
AND TWO CUTTING WHIPS.

Harrow and Cambridge

down on each side. She and I were riding together on the
right-hand slope. Maunsell was mounted on a handsome,
bright bay cob, and certainly he and his mount looked an
exceedingly handsome pair, even to the critical eye of a sister.
It was with a pardonable feeling of pride that I answered,
11 That is my brother Maunsell." As a very small boy she had
often seen and spoken to him, but after leaving Elstree for
Harrow, he had grown up very rapidly, and changed much in
appearance. The tales of his sporting powers at the latter
school had evidently reached her ears, for she said, " Oh, then,
that is your brother who is such a fine cricketer ? ' She, as I
have explained, had now become the reigning Countess of
Yarborough, and although not so very much older than
Maunsell, then a boy of seventeen, and she a woman of
twenty-two, the difference in age to me that day seemed 'so
much more marked than it did, or would, in later years.

But, whether or not before that eventful day when hunting
in the woods Lady Yarborough had ever noticed him at all very
specially, it is certain that, on his part, and long before that time,
he had formed such an opinion of her in his own mind that she
so completely came up to his notion of what the most perfect
woman in the world should be, that I feel sure he never thought
of any other woman as his mate from that time forward. This
may sound odd, of course, but there is no doubt that this
single-hearted affection of his for the lady destined one day to
become his wife, and which she so early inspired in his heart,
remained with him all through his life. "If I cannot marry
her, then no one,'^ was his unexpressed boyish determination,
and no knight of olden time ever kept troth to his own promise
more faithfully, or was better rewarded in the end, for his
allegiance.

From Harrow in 1866, when just on twenty years old, my

The Life of a Great Sportsman

brother Maunsell elected to go to Magdalen College, Cam-
bridge, then the sporting college par excellence at the 'Varsity,
and I am told by those "in the know" that its reputation for
sport still stands as high as ever. I have already recalled that
Maunsell, on being given his choice as to whether or not he
should go to the University, elected to go to Cambridge. My
eldest brother refused to go to either of these seats of learning
and elected, on the contrary, to stay at Limber, at any rate
until the time came when I was twenty-one, three years later,
and our inheritance could be divided, when we could each
determine what was to be our future course as to the old home
and the bent of our own lives. Again there can be little doubt
that Mr. Southwell's advice was in the right direction.

With his Harrow reputation as commendation my brother
Maunsell was at once put into the cricket Eleven, and played for
his University in their matches against Oxford in 1866 and
1867. That he made no conspicuous success at Cambridge as
a cricketer is not surprising, for here he could indulge in the
sports he loved the best, such as hunting and racing, whilst at
Harrow he was not able to get any hunting, excepting during the
holidays at Limber, and could only race by proxy, so to speak.

It is small wonder, therefore, that, once settled down, we
find him well to the fore in all matters appertaining to sport,
especially to horsemanship, with the result that in 1867 he was
unanimously elected to that most coveted position the Master-
ship of the Cambridge Drag Hounds, a post regarded at the
'Varsity as an honour only paralleled by the coveted position of
M.F.H. to a popular Hunt. Mr. Finch Mason will tell of
the " Cat's " racing achievements at the time of his sojourn at
" Alma Mater," which no doubt formed the prelude of what he
was to become in later years.

Two very characteristic anecdotes of him during his stay at

COLONEL WILLIAM RICHARDSON.
(J. M. Richardson's brother-)

Harrow and Cambridge

Cambridge were related to me by my brother William and the
late Lord Minto respectively.

The former informed me that when one day he paid a visit
to Maunsell at Cambridge he was shown into his sitting-room
at French's historic lodgings at 6i, Park Street, Jesus Lane,
Cambridge ; a bare table (with a cutting whip lying on it), a
horsehair sofa, and a single chair, were the only articles of
furniture the room possessed. His visitor was asked to "sit
down and wait," the servant telling him that, though Mr.
Richardson might possibly not be long, he could by no means
predict how long, for he had gone out in riding apparel, and
very often did not return until nightfall.

My eldest brother, who was a voracious reader, then asked
the man if he could have a book to pass the time away, for he
had come a considerable distance to have a look at Maunsell
and his rooms. Any book, he added, would be acceptable, but
a novel for choice. The astounding reply he received at that
abode of learning was, " I am very sorry, sir, but Mr. Richard-
son has not got a book of any sort."

Lord Minto told me many years ago, when he stayed at
Limber with us, of his extraordinary first meeting with my
brother Maunsell. It was during a run with the " Drag " that,
in a ploughed field, he saw a rider, evidently a member of the
hunt, vainly endeavouring to induce a refusing horse to take a
fence. He passed him, and went on with the hunt, thinking
nothing more of the matter. After the gallop was over, ho w-
ever, as he was returning via the road, he saw the same man
and horse still battling at the fence, and then and there made
up his mind that a man possessed of such patience as this must
be something quite out of the common way, and determined if
possible to make his acquaintance at once. I regret to record
that the language my brother was using was of an exceedingly

The Life of a Great Sportsman

sultry nature, and as he was never addicted to strong language
at any time of his life, it was clear that on this occasion his
temper must have been tried beyond endurance. It was from
this meeting that a friendship sprang up between Lord Melgund,
as Lord Minto then was, and my brother, which was destined to
last until the end of their lives. It goes without saying that
his horse had to negotiate that fence before he was allowed to
return to his stable that night.

But in spite of having no books at all in his rooms at the
time his brother William visited him at Cambridge, my brother
was evidently determined to show that, although he loved
horses, hunting, and racing above all things, he could devote
himself to reading when so inclined, and that when he chose
he could work as resolutely as any man at Cambridge who
"sported his oak." For one whole year, in fact, he devoted
himself so assiduously to reading, that he passed the examina-
tion he was going in for, with flying colours, and I verily believe
was more proud of the achievement than of any of his later
turf victories.

How well I remember the telegram arriving at Limber ! —
they were rare in those days, and we had to pay five shillings
for delivery of a message — and our delight at the glorious news
that told us of his success. His friend and biographer, Mr.
Finch Mason (" Uncle Toby "), in the course of an article in
the Sporting Times of January 27, 191 2, written after my
brother's death, thus alludes to the incident :

" I venture to think that nine undergraduates out of ten
with similar tastes to his, and facilities for indulging in them,
would to a certainty have devoted such energy as they possessed
to their development, to the entire exclusion of study. Not so
Maunsell Richardson, who to his credit be it said, resisted with
Spartan courage all the allurements of the saddle — in his case

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a hard struggle you may depend — and resolutely 'sporting ^his
oak,' devoted the whole of the following year, 1867, to reading
hard."

Surely this speaks volumes for my brother's power of con-
centration on any subject, congenial or uncongenial to his
nature, that he was determined to conquer.

CHAPTER VIII

LIFE AT LIMBER

Fox-hunting at Limber meant conjugating the verb " to hunt "
in all its tenses in the present, whenever possible, if not in the
immediate future. Racing followed, preferably on non-hunting
clays, which meant riding one of the Limber stable chasers or
getting a mount wherever one was available, no matter bad or
good, for in these days it was "the sport" that was the thing,
and not the possibility of broken bones, that counted. Horses
to us signified not merely taking all the best out of them, but
meant putting into them the best possible knowledge and
ability, by sound horsemanship and good schooling over fences
or otherwise. Then, when the active work, either of the chase
or the racecourse, was over for the day, we talked " horse " for
the rest of the happy evenings with congenial companions.
This made up the sum, at least in winter, of the " Cat's " joyous
days at Limber. Joyous they were, indeed, for him, and happy
for those who enjoyed his good fellowship and leadership in all
equine as well as in other matters.

Then, too, when Jack Frost maliciously stepped in and
stopped hunting and racing, there was skating on the fine
stretches of water in Brocklesby Park, in which art Maunsell
was a past master. Hockey on the ice was also indulged in,
for our party always mingled with the "house party" at the
Hall, and we invariably had fine fun. Lady Yarborough and

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Life at Limber

her sisters and brothers, who often stayed with her, were as
proficient at skating and hockey as they were at nearly all
other games of skill. Sleighing, in sleighs specially constructed
and very primitive, and which turned over on the slightest
provocation, was another source of fun, and the spills amused
us as much as the exhilaration of the runs. When I look
back I cannot help but think what a splendid time it was
for those in the swim of it all, with Maunsell as our ring-
leader.

Healthy young life it was, with all its pleasures ahead, and
the world opening out, and apparently holding in the future
still greater possibilities of more splendid achievements. Truly,
the world of sport is great and glorious when men and women
" play the game." Surely, it brings out the finest qualities that
we poor human beings possess. From many instances that
could be brought forward, it proves that the true sportsman,
when called upon to contribute to his country's welfare, can be
trusted to show, by his singleness of aim, sterling honesty and
courage, that although, hitherto, a devotee of sport for his own
enjoyment, he will certainly hold his own in a very different
sphere of life, and prove as enthusiastic for his nation's well-
being as he was for honest sport followed for pure sport's
sake.

And so it is a happy remembrance for all who knew
Maunsell personally, and especially for those related to him by
the nearest ties, that it was in his joyous young manhood he
laid the foundations of his extraordinary success as a sportsman
in the hunting field, on the racecourse, and in later years as a
judge of horses. Further, all who knew him agree that he
would have made his mark in Parliament had he liked, for
there in a brief membership he showed the same straight-
forwardness of purpose, power of personal application to detail,

The Life of a Great Sportsman

and that keen enthusiasm which he displayed in every other
walk of life.

Not only to Maunsell is this applicable, but by far the most
striking instance of a great sportsman proving himself really
"great" in the severer tests of life, was that of his lifelong
friend, the famous u Mr. Roily," as he was known to the sport-
ing world, or " Roily " Melgund to his intimates, and in his later
years as the Earl of Minto. Amongst other honoured posts
he held were those of Governor-General of Canada and Viceroy
of India.

As Lord Melgund in 1870, when twenty-five years old,
" Roily" came to stay with us at Limber, where, under my
brother's experienced wing, he perfected himself in the art of
riding over a country. To quote from Gentlemen Riders, when
referring to " Mr. Roily," the name Lord Melgund used for
racing purposes, it is stated that when he lived at Limber with
us, " if he failed it certainly was not for want of practice, for
what with riding gallops over a country in the early morning
and hunting all day, he may be said to have lived in the
saddle." Mr. John Corlett might very well remark, as he did
in the racy columns of his popular pink paper, " Mr. Roily
has taken to riding like the devil." " Roily " had been Maun-
sell's greatest chum at Cambridge, where the two formed a
friendship destined to endure with unbroken fervour on both
sides until they were parted by my brother's death in
1912.

Lord Melgund lived with us for over four years at Limber,
becoming as one of us, entering into all our sports, sharing our
likes and dislikes, our joys and our sorrows — making, in fact,
a most delightful fourth to my two brothers and myself, and to
me a third brother, and perhaps not the least agreeable of the
trio. What splendid horses we had in the stables in those

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halcyon days ! Both the capacious old stables at Limber House
and Maunsell's newly erected racing stables in the village were
filled to overflowing. Our friends' horses, too, we often stabled,
for we should have considered it as inhospitable not to have
provided the best of everything for their hunters.

At that time we had Disturbance, Reugny, Furley, Rhys-
worth, and many other celebrated animals, which with Maun-
sell's own steeplechasers, and those he had in training for his
friends filled our stables in the village.

Open stable — open house — was the order of the day with
us at Limber ; our greatest pleasure from the eagerly awaited
cub- hunting to the last day of the hunting season — all the year
round, in fact. What a specially happy time it was for us all
when cub-hunting began in September, and it was a case of
early tea or milk at 4.30 a.m. Then away to the stables to
mount and off to join the hounds as the day was breaking —
generally to the grand old Brocklesby woods, abounding with
cubs, and where we could gallop along for miles on the broad
grassy rides, watching hounds as they routed out the cubs and
chased them this way and that, our horses crushing the early
morning dew off the long grass, leaving dark tracks in their wake
as we galloped along. There is, moreover, always a good off-
chance during cub-hunting — which distinctly increases its excite-
ment— of hounds lighting upon a fine old dog fox or a vixen,
who will give them and their followers as fine a run as any in
the real hunting season, while even a prodigiously robust and
valiant cub may, taking time by the forelock, yield up his
young life after a noble struggle in the open.

In cub-hunting, too, there is great pleasure to true lovers
of sport, like Maunsell, in watching the puppies beginning their
training by a judicious mingling with their elders. Full of
joyous young ardour and excitement, they lend themselves to

The Life of a Great Sportsman

their initiation with the blood instinct of fine breeding, and
bowl over many a lusty cub, thereby, if they are lucky, earning
a succulent morsel of a tender young Reynard, and show-
ing the huntsman who has watched over them from their birth
that they may become not only worthy successors of their
noted Brocklesby ancestors, but may even aspire to a glorious
rivalry in vulpine successes.

Then, when cub-hunting merges into the real thing, after
long days out with the hounds — and they were long days indeed
at that time, for we always rode to the meets, however wide —
and as it was a point of honour with us never to come home
before hounds knocked off, it was often nightfall before we
came back, having started at 9.30 a.m. And then what quiet
happy evenings we had in the old home !

When our little house-party met at dinner, the run of the
day was lived over again ; the fences negotiated in spirit ; the
whoo-a-whoop, that told of a gallant fox being bowled over,
would ring again in our ears, and the sport, so well described by
Mr. Jorrocks as carrying with it all the excitement of war with
only a certain percentage of its dangers, would seem to us for
the hundredth time, at least, the one thing to be lived for and
enjoyed.

No dinners ever passed off more pleasantly, as none knew
better than myself, I being the purveyor of the feast. For
although I had no grand chef, nor were our dinners dis-
tinguished by any special dishes of superior flavour, the homely
mutton (we killed our own sheep) and the well-roasted joints of
beef, to appetites sharpened by healthy exercise, never put me
off my feed, as the saying is, through natural anxiety as the
hostess. But one can scarcely take credit for good cooking
when a hunting man's appetite is to be satisfied, for, in the well-
considered opinion of a devotee of the sport, we know that

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Life at Limber

" a goose is an uneasy kind of bird, too much for one and not
enough for two."

The conversation did not flag at our dinners, but the palm
was held by Maunsell, who was well able to talk us all down.
And looking back now I cannot wonder, for he talked intelli-
gently, and even if he shouted at times, he shouted either home
truths or, better still, tried to improve us all in our knowledge
of the hunting country — its obstacles and difficulties — the
working of hounds, and generally to instruct us in the way we
should go for our own good in every particular.

Not one of us round our dinner-table dare have funked a
negotiable fence ; in fact, it would have taken far more moral
courage to do this than to jump the obstacle, however formid-
able. But we were a hard-riding lot, and in those days fear
and ourselves were strangers. For we had our plucky little
Countess of Yarborough with us most days, and although she
could show nearly the whole field her heels across country, at
any rate we tried to follow her intrepid lead. After dinner,
when we foregathered in the drawing-room, peace reigned.
There was no card-playing, for none cared to gamble, and few
even to play at all. Drinks would come in, but they would go
out again untasted night after night, for there were no drinkers.
Only my eldest brother smoked, neither Maunsell nor "Mr.
Roily " ever indulging in the weed. And so in three respective
chairs they would sleep " all peaceful," and I, rejoicing to see
them quiet and contented, would either work or read until the
sleepers awakened, and went off to their respective beds, to
dream of the past day's sport and look forward to the
morrow.

One day Lord Minto reminded me that I used sometimes
to sing to them. Well, perhaps I helped to soothe them to
sleep ; if so, my voice of byegone years has not been wasted

The Life of a Great Sportsman

altogether. And this happy-go-lucky life continued until, in
1874, my eldest brother, to whom practically Great Limber
House belonged, married the eldest daughter of the Vicar of
Limber, Canon Chamberlain, and so this merry bachelor estab-
lishment— this open-house rendezvous for the sporting elect —
closed automatically.

CHAPTER IX

VISITORS AT LIMBER

One of my brother's favourite racing maxims was: "Put yourself
in the best company and your horses in the worst." And certainly,
to judge from the friends he invited to stay at our home at
Limber — especially Lord Minto, who was as Jonathan to his
David — he carried out to the full the first part of this trite
saying. It can be gathered, too, from the number of his
" wins," totalling up in one year to fifty-six, the particulars of
which appear later on in this book, that he carried out the
second part of this maxim in a highly satisfactory manner.

One of the most celebrated of our visitors was the late
Captain Machell, at that period the doyen of the racing
world, who came several times to stay with us at Limber.
An old steeplechase rider of great ability himself when
quartered with his regiment in Ireland, there was probably no
better judge of the sport, and everything in connection with it,
than the Captain. He certainly showed his good judgment
when, having marked my brother down, while at Cambridge, as
an amateur of unusual promise, he took care not to lose sight
of him when he left, that abode of learning. For it was the
Captain's motto through life never to miss a chance ; and he
had no doubt felt certain that in my brother he had discovered
not only a rider who would carry his colours to the front when-
ever possible, but also one whom he could mould to his will in

The Life of a Great Sportsman

all things. How right he was in his estimate of the " Cat's "
ability in the saddle we all know, but there the Captain's
perspicuity ended, as will be made clear later on when the
story of Reugny's Grand National comes to be told.

Captain Machell soon became aware of the fact that my
brother was not only something quite out of the common as a
cross-country jockey, but that his genuine love for the horse
extended to its education and subsequent training, and so he
decided that he could not do better than entrust his most
valuable steeplechasers to my brother's care.

When I state that Maunsell would only consent to receive
payment for the bare upkeep of the horses under his charge,
their jumping education, training, and general care and super-
intendence being inclusive, for pure love of the thing, it will be
pretty generally conceded, I fancy, that Captain Machell had
good reason to congratulate himself on his amateur trainer.

Notwithstanding these sacrifices on his part, my brother
always regarded himself as Captain Machell's debtor, inasmuch
as only through the agency of a man of his means could he
get into his possession and ride horses of the very first class ;
for though possessing a fair fortune of his own it did not run
into giving the price for horses which the Captain could afford,
expecting, no doubt, to be recouped by methods which my
brother could not and would not employ.

I wish here to record that as a guest in our house nothing
could exceed Captain Machell's kindliness and charm in every
way, and to every one. This was especially so in his invari-
able courtesy to our grandmother, Mrs. Maunsell, who lived
with us at Limber, ostensibly as my chaperone (I was then
only twenty-three), but in reality loving to be with us, and
though upwards of seventy-six years old, taking as much interest
in our horses — their exploits — our friends and their doings, as

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Visitors at Limber

we did ourselves. And we treated her as she was, a sympa-
thetic companion, in no way inflicting upon us the ordinary
grandmotherly interference.

To her Captain Machell would talk by the hour — of his
horses — his hopes and fears for them — of herself, and inciden-
tally, what she thought more of than anything, his admiration
for the character and the riding powers of her beloved grand-
son, Maunsell Richardson. And all this in the simplest manner
imaginable, as though he had no other thought or purpose at
the back of his mind than that of entertaining a very dear and
interesting old lady, and a disinterested desire for my brother's
success on the turf.

And if the impression he had intended to create in the old
lady's mind was of his artlessness and general love of sport for
sport's sake, he certainly succeeded, for to the very last day of her
life Mrs. Maunsell remained quite convinced that the notorious
Captain Machell was the most sincere and guileless of men. To
me also he was the soul of courtesy and kindliness, and at our
meals (luckily I did not then know he was a noted "gourmet")
ate with sufficient appetite to satisfy me that at any rate the
fare we provided was to his liking.

In many other ways, too, Captain Machell showed his
kindliness of disposition and courtesy. I well remember one
lovely morning in the early spring, during one of his flying
visits to us at Limber, when an important trial was on of the
horses then in training for the coming Grand National, and
Disturbance, Reugny, Furley, and another horse were to be
"ridden out" at certain weights, and the result to those in the
know would be satisfactory or otherwise.

The trial, at which I was to be present, had been fixed for
the early morning before breakfast, and having kept my appoint-
ment made overnight with Captain Machell in the Hall, we

81 G

The Life of a Great Sportsman

went to the stables together to mount our respective steeds. I
could not help noticing how the Captain's hands shook even
then, and it was a case of a glass of cognac administered by his
valet before he could even mount and away with any degree of
calmness or comfort. On our ride to the course over which
the trial was to be ridden nothing could exceed the Captain's
urbanity, opening gates, and had I been a queen riding beside
him he could not have been more chivalrous.

Then came the great trial, and although I was by no means
"in the know," it evidently passed off to the satisfaction of
those who were, for we all returned together to the house, and
a merrier breakfast party never gathered round a table for that
delectable meal.

Even the proverbially shy and silent Mr. Robert Walker
was guilty on this occasion of perpetrating a joke which caused
much laughter. Our party being considerably larger than
usual, the egg-stand had overflowed and some eggs were
propped against the others lucky enough to be accommodated
in the egg-cups. One of these itinerant eggs fell down, upon
which the usually reserved " Bob " exclaimed, amidst dead
silence, " There's one of 'em down, anyhow ! "

Another frequent visitor to us at Limber was the Freiherr
Jacques von Shavel, a Viennese gentleman with most charming
manners and great kindliness of heart, who in his own country
was quite as well known a personage as Captain Machell in
ours — perhaps even better. He was a friend of both my
brothers, more particularly, however, of the eldest, Willie, who
was a good German scholar ; whereas Maunsell had no language
but his own, and thought that no country could hold a candle
to England. But to both my brothers Herr von Shavel
remained a staunch and true friend, never failing to come and
see them if possible whenever he came to England ; and in the

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case of my eldest brother, making a point of hunting him up
in whatever place he had made his home in after years.

Although by no means a horse-dealer, excepting in the
most aristocratic meaning of the word, Herr von Shavel was
commissioned to purchase mounts for two succeeding Emperors
of Austria, both of whom were ardent lovers of fox-hunting,
whilst the late Empress, as many will remember, proved herself
well able to hold her own with the best English and Irish
sportswomen, and with the fastest packs of hounds in England
and Ireland.

It is true she was piloted by one of the "boldest and
hardest riders that ever crossed the border " * in the shape of
the late Captain " Bay " Middleton, but it is none the less true
that to follow such a pilot faithfully and unflinchingly showed a
daring and enthusiastic spirit inspired only by the truest love
of sport.

" Bay " Middleton was one of Maunsell's most intimate
friends, especially in their cricketing days when both played
for " I Zingari." I am not sure if he ever stayed with us at
Limber, if so it was not during my reign ; but he was a promi-
nent guest at my brother's wedding in 1881, and it was on
that occasion that we were first introduced to each other. I
remember thinking it a trifle difficult to reconcile myself to the
belief that this perfectly groomed and even slightly nervous
gentleman was the practical joker and the wild bear-fighter of
whom I had so often heard my brother speak.

No end of good stories are forthcoming, and still live
vividly in men's minds, as to his extraordinary love for prac-
tical joking and his wonderful capacity for inventing fresh
methods of bear-fighting. It is told how, when once upon a visit

* See " Gentlemen Riders Past and Present," by J. M. Richardson and Finch
Mason, pp. 378 and following.

The Life of a Great Sportsman

to Lord Fitzwilliam at Wentworth, the late Lord Strathnairn,
with commendable prudence, took the precaution to barricade
his door with a heavy chest of drawers before retiring to bed
for the night. Upon another celebrated occasion, being no
respecter of persons, it is related how Sir Chandos Leigh,
when he captained an eleven of the " I Zingari " in Ireland,
was nearly driven into a real bear-fight by some monkey trick
played upon him at the Viceregal Lodge, Dublin, by this Imp
of Mischief in the presence of the then Lord Lieutenant of
Ireland and his Duchess. It was certainly only due to the
power of self-restraint the great Counsel possessed that blood
was not shed, for the irrepressible " Bay " stepped slightly over
the bounds of fair play in the favourite amusement on this
memorable occasion.

In spite of his tendency occasionally to carry a joke a little
too far, " Bay " Middleton, as many of his friends can testify,
possessed a very kind heart, and genuine feeling for those in
trouble. Some years ago a friend of mine told me that she
was staying with her mother, who was extremely ill, at the same
hotel as the redoubtable " Bay," their rooms being adjoining.
She knew him well by reputation, but never having met him,
she hesitated naturally in asking him to moderate his bear-
fighting horrors for the sake of her mother. Not only, how-
ever, were he and his friends silent as mice during their stay,
but he never passed her mother's door without making a point
of removing his boots, and, what is more, insisted on his friends
doing likewise.

Naturally Herr von Shavel came into North Lincolnshire
in his quest for the best horses for so fine a rider as his
Emperor. And nothing but the most perfect horse in every
respect that money could buy was good enough for him.
Each hunter was required to have the best manners of an

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experienced hack, and a hack to be good enough to take a
hunter's place on occasion.

A fine horseman himself, with hands as delicate as a
woman's, he knew immediately he was on a horse's back, and
had handled him for a few minutes, whether or not he was the
suitable article. And for the suitable article, no price stood
in his way. For the unsuitable he had no second place.
Many a horse he purchased out of our stables, and I am
proud to recollect that he once bought a grey cob of mine,
solely for his perfect manners, for the colour was an abomination
to him.

Although the last time I had the pleasure of meeting Herr
von Shavel at my eldest brother's house in London, his hair,
once dark as the raven's wing, was white as snow, I am glad
to say he is still in the land of the living,* and I sincerely trust
we may meet again, also that he will read this slight tribute
to his faithfulness as a friend, and genial companion.

Another frequent visitor to our house at Limber was the
late Hon. Sir Chandos Leigh, who became as well known
in the Law Courts as he was formerly in the cricketing world.
His book of Recollections, recently published, entitled "Bar, Bat
and Bit," gives, with many other delightful details and anecdotes
appertaining to its title, a very charming impression of his old
friend Maunsell Richardson and his wife, at Healing Manor.
Although considerably older than either of my brothers — as a
matter of fact, he had been a contemporary at Harrow with
our stepfather, the Rev. H. G. Southwell — he was so young in
mind and thought, that he never seemed aggressively our
senior in any manner. He shared our amusements, hunts and
rides when possible. Although the graver matters of the Law
— for he generally stayed with us when on Circuit — claimed his
* He has, I regret to say, passed over since this was written.

The Life of a Great Sportsman

attention, he never allowed them and their attendant worries to
detract from his interested good fellowship with us, and our far
less important doings.

Another interesting personality who visited us at Limber
was Maunsell's old college chum, the late Cecil Legard, who
afterwards became the Rev. Cecil Legard, that wonderful sur-
vival of the genuine sporting parson, who with the surplice,
metaphorically speaking, over his hunting kit, makes the best
of both worlds. An extraordinary good judge of a horse and
an enthusiastic lover of them as well, I believe he has never
been known to be taken in over a deal. He certainly never was
when I knew him in the old days, and I expect advancing years
had, if anything, made him a still more competent judge of
both horse and hound. What a wonderful clerical hunting
" get-up " was his ! A dark-grey coat and breeches of the
latest and most perfect cut, with black boots which left nothing
to be desired in shape, fit or style, was surmounted by a low-
crowned hard felt hat, which, while corresponding to the
correct clerical hunting attire, was to all appearance as com-
fortable to its wearer as the old-fashioned hunting-cap had the
reputation of being.

Young Lord Aberdour and Lord Wodehouse, now re-
spectively Earls of Morton and Kimberley, both Cambridge
chums of Maunsell's, also visited us and came several times to
Limber, making themselves quite at home with us, exempli-
fying their aristocratic descent by their extra charm of good
fellowship, which surely is the only true hallmark, the gold of
good breeding.

Two well-remembered friends, also, are the two Goldneys —
" Prior and Jack," as they were in those days — now respec-
tively Sir Prior and Sir John Goldney. They came more
especially to visit my eldest brother, Prior Goldney having

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Visitors at Limber

been his greatest friend at Harrow, whilst his younger brother,
Jack, made our acquaintance at his brother's desire, and arrived
at the Open House at Limber as a matter of course. The two
Goldneys, if not such enthusiastic sportsmen as my brothers,
or as the majority of Maunsell's particular friends, proved
themselves delightful additions to our family party. I am
glad to say they are both living, and if, as I hope, they will
read this book, I salute them in these pages, and claim them
as friends of past years.

Perhaps " Sir Jack " will recall to mind a lovely summer's
day when the riding party from Limber were winding their
way through the Brocklesby Woods, two of them, Sir Jack
and I, with shining faces. We certainly did not possess much
personal vanity in those days — neither he nor I. There had
been a plague of flies, especially tormenting when, as was
frequently the case in the summer, we rode in the Brocklesby
Woods, for their beauty and shade. So "Sir Jack" had a
certain fly lotion sent down from London, with which if you
anointed your face no flies approached within biting range.
Before starting, he and I duly anointed ourselves. I did not
look at myself in the glass before going out, neither, I fancy,
did he. But when I came in and beheld the greasy apparition
that met me in the mirror, I did not wonder that certain
acquaintances we had met, and the shopkeepers in Caistor, had
smiled in a manner quite unusual. I had certainly noticed that
Sir Jack looked rather disreputable, but his appearance was
positively beautiful compared to mine !

To this delightful " Life at Limber," its enjoyments and
its excitements, many friends who lived around us contributed
largely. They would drop in at all times of the morning and
evening, particularly those who lived near us in the village, to
see what we were doing or going to do, whether riding or

The Life of a Great Sportsman

driving. This would be chiefly in the summer, when hunting
and racing were off. Then they would ride or drive with us,
or on rainy days play billiards. At any rate, we were never at
a loss for companions of different ages or sex. All were
welcome, and made no difference in our daily life, except that
" a pleasure shared was a pleasure doubled."

Foremost amongst them was one very special friend and
cousin, George Marris* — "Little Man," as we all called him.
He was, in fact, our real stand-by. Wet or fine he was sure
to turn up, and would on occasion ride anything Maunsell
asked him to try — would, in fact, rough-ride the youngest or
the most vicious old horse that might happen to have found
his way into our stables. Nothing came amiss to the " Little
Man." Some years older than our three selves, we had been
accustomed from childhood to regard him as our own property
to play with us when we wanted ; in fact, to be at our beck
and call, and incidentally to get us out of any scrape we might
have managed to get into. Nor did he ever fail us. Maunsell
once had a remarkably vicious horse, though perfect in all
other respects, which he had bought from a friend who literally
could do nothing with him. When he would go he was bad
to beat in the hunting field, and Maunsell, who had never yet
been conquered by a horse, determined to try his hand at
" Dutch Sam," f as he was very appropriately named. After
a few weeks, the horse proved so tractable under my brother's
handling, that it was decided I was to have a ride on him, and
to call at the neighbouring village, and relate how a conquest
had been achieved.

Naturally I was highly flattered, and considered I was

* Eldest son of Mr. William Marris, of Limber, and nephew of our grandmother,
Mrs. Maunsell.

t " Dutch Sam " was the name of a once celebrated prizefighter.

GEORGE ANGUS MARRIS, ESQ.

Visitors at Limber

receiving a high and mighty honour. The horse was saddled
for me, and with a merry party of lookers-on standing round,
was brought out to the steps near the stables for me to mount.
I just managed to get on to the saddle, but before I could
annex stirrup or reins, off plunged " Dutch Sam," dragging
the man who was holding his head, and who, luckily for me,
clung manfully to the reins for some yards. The brute then
got him down, and the next thing I saw on finding my stirrup,
and getting a slight hold on the reins, was " Dutch Sam "
literally pounding the unfortunate man with his fore feet as he
lay on the ground. The " Little Man " flew to the rescue,
and seizing the reins that had fallen from the groom's grasp,
held on to them like grim death, although he too was dragged
some distance by the now infuriated horse.

It was, no doubt, the unaccustomed swish of my habit that
had done the mischief, for after this escapade, and " Little
Man " had succeeded in pacifying him, " Dutch Sam " soon
recovered his temper, and was as quiet as the proverbial lamb.
So much so, indeed, that I rode him as hard as he could go to
the nearest doctor.

On examination his unfortunate victim proved to have had
seven ribs smashed to pieces, and for days his life was despaired
of. I am glad, however, to say that he eventually made a
complete recovery, and worked for us many years afterwards.
The whole affair had been so sudden and unexpected that
when it was over I only realized from Maunsell's livid face
what a severe ordeal I had gone through. He was in the
stable at the moment it happened, and only rushed out just in
time to seize the reins on the other side. By which time the
horse had worked off his temper, and now, thoroughly subdued,
was trembling in every limb, in the consciousness, no doubt, of
what he had done.

The Life of a Great Sportsman

It was an extraordinary instance of how a horse of moods
could be a complete savage one moment and a perfect gentle-
man the next. For all that, my brother was determined to
take no more risks, and though, personally, I rather liked the
horse, it came somewhat as a relief when, not long afterwards,
Maunsell announced that he had found a purchaser for
" Dutch Sam."

J. M. RICHARDSON AS GENTLEMAN RIDER.

CHAPTER X

racing career

By Finch Mason

It will be generally admitted, I am sure, by all those who have
any knowledge on the subject, that there are two qualifica-
tions which are absolutely essential to the steeplechase rider, no
matter whether he be a professional or an amateur. One is,
unlimited pluck — or, as many would prefer to call it, nerve —
and the other skill. That there are a great many young
horsemen who possess the first-named goes without saying,
but unfortunately one is not much good without the other, and
there can be no question that the possession of both to an
eminent degree was the real secret of Maunsell Richardson's
extraordinary success in the career he had mapped out for
himself in early life. In his own introduction to the book
which he collaborated so successfully with myself a few years
ago, and, as in this case, published by Messrs. Vinton and Co.,
entitled " Gentlemen Riders Past and Present," whilst saying
nothing about skill, he alludes to the question of nerve in
language there can be no mistaking.

" One thing is, certain," he says, " which is, that unless an
aspirant to steeplechase honours thoroughly makes up his mind
beforehand to put his whole heart and soul into his work, with
his neck a secondary consideration, he may just as well leave
the game alone altogether for all the satisfaction he is likely to
get out of it."

The Life of a Great Sportsman

Whilst, as I have already mentioned, there are thousands of
young horsemen who set not the slightest value upon their
necks — men who would ride at a house if it came in their way
— yet owing to this very recklessness will never make good
horsemen in the strict sense of the word. And that is where
the "Cat" — to give him the name Mr. Richardson was
popularly known by — " came in," as the saying is ; for not only
did he possess the heart of a lion, but also every other quality
which goes to make the perfect horseman. A proof of which
— if any were wanting — being his artistic riding on the flat ; the
few races he won under these conditions being generally voted,
even by the professional (flat race) jockeys he competed
against, perfect masterpieces of race riding, which they them-
selves could not have bettered.

His superiority in this respect is not hard to explain.
11 Thorough " in everything he undertook, directly the steeple-
chase season was at an end he would repair to his favourite
Newmarket, and there, under the friendly guidance of Joe
Cannon and other famous trainers, would spend his mornings
taking part in five or six furlong gallops, riding the older horse
against the two-year olds, and assiduously practising the art of
getting quickly off.

I have frequently heard him say that had he not ridden
over short courses every day during the recess, he never would
have won the two welter races at Epsom, one at the spring-
meeting on Lincoln, belonging to a worthy bookmaker,
familiarly known as " Nosey " Taylor, and the other at the
summer meeting, on the day after the Derby, when on Bicker-
staffe, the property of the then Lord Lonsdale, he beat
seventeen others in the " Six Furlong Welter," in a style which
provoked general admiration. What made the task more
difficult for an amateur was that in those days there were no

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Racing Career

straight six furlongs as now, consequently the horses had to
come round Tattenham Corner soon after the start.

As an example of the wonderful condition he always kept
himself in, Mr. Richardson, early in the same afternoon on
which he won the Grand National for Captain Machell on
Disturbance, rode and won a seven-furlong race on the flat,
on Lincoln, a feat described to me by one of the most celebrated
amateur horsemen of his day as the finest exhibition of stamina
and confidence he had ever witnessed or was ever likely to
again, involving as it did a strain on the constitution that not
one jockey out of a hundred, either amateur or professional,
would have had the hardihood to risk.

On the contrary, one has only to take up a sporting paper a
week before the Grand National to read that such and such a
jockey — professional most likely — engaged to ride a prominent
candidate in the race, undesirous of taking any risks in the
interim, will not appear again in the saddle until he fulfils his
engagement at Aintree.

Mr. Richardson's immunity from accidents in the field was
wonderful, the only falls he received of any importance during
his steeplechasing career being got when schooling the chasers
at home sometimes. He attributed this in no small measure to
two causes — one in never riding into the heels of horses in
front of him during a race ; and also should the horse he was
riding come down on his knees, he often kept on his back
instead of cutting a voluntary over his head. The most
modest of men, when the subject was under discussion once,
he added, " I suppose, as Sir John Astley remarked in his book,
'hands' had something to do with it, but it seems rather
conceited to say so."

And there is not much doubt that this was the true explana-
tion, both the hands and feet of the " Cat " being just about as

The Life of a Great Sportsman

near perfection as could be, whilst, as I have previously stated,
his nerve was undeniable.

Another habit of his, which certainly did not find favour
with the majority of steeplechase jockeys, was always to select
the biggest place in the fence to ride at ; whilst another
golden rule he adhered to religiously, especially at Aintree, was
to carefully go over the ground before the race. I don't believe
that there was an inch of the Grand National course that he
didn't know by heart, and I believe it was a fact that Colonel
Campbell, now commanding the 9th Lancers, who won the
race on The Soarer in 1896, attributed his success in no
small measure to a letter written some years previously by
Mr. Richardson to a mutual friend, giving the latter much sound
advice how to ride at the different fences — exactly where to take
off, and so on.

Though I believe he won a small local steeplechase, if not
two, when at home in Lincolnshire for the holidays, when
actually a boy at Harrow, it was not until November, 1865,
being at the time an undergraduate at Cambridge and not yet
out of his teens, that Mr. Richardson's steeplechase-riding
career may be said to have commenced in earnest.

Though entered on the books of Magdalen College, he was
never actually in residence there, taking up his abode in
preference at French's well-known lodging house by Park
Street, Jesus Lane, which was literally a hotbed of young
sportsmen, amongst those living there at the same time as
himself being the Honourable Harry Fitzwilliam, the late
Mr. Leopold de Rothschild, and the late Rev. Cecil Legard,
all three of whom, like himself, have since made their mark in
the world of sport.

Mr. Harry Fitzwilliam, for instance, distinguished himself
in early life, by being one of the very few horsemen — they were

Racing Career

only two in number, I fancy, himself and an officer in the nth
Hussars — who ever succeeded in taking the big " Double " at
Punchestown — then twice as formidable an obstacle as that now
in existence — in a fly.

The late Mr. Leopold de Rothschild, as we all know,
eventually blossomed forth into one of the most influential
owners of racehorses in the kingdom ; whilst as to his popularity
it is no exaggeration to assert that, with the exception of the
purple and scarlet livery of His Majesty, there were no racing
colours in existence which met with such a spontaneous
welcome from the crowd when they were seen in the van as the
"dark blue and yellow " of popular " Mr. Leo."

Again, where is the visitor to any of the principal Hare and
Hound shows held in different parts of the country, during the
last forty years or so, who is not familiar with the striking
personality of the Rev. Cecil Legard, who in the capacity of
judge — and a good judge too, as the song says — was always
much " in evidence " in the show ring on these occasions ?

French's, which was the recognized headquarters of the
creme de la cremey so to speak, of the sporting set at Cambridge,
was a most exclusive establishment and exceedingly difficult to
get into, every one desirous of becoming a member having to
be proposed and seconded just the same as at a club. What-
ever his intentions in the future, there can be no question but
that the young freshman's first thoughts on commencing his
university career ran entirely to Horse and nothing else, it
being significant that on a near relative of his own, on a visit to
Cambridge, calling on him at his lodgings one day in his
absence, was highly amused on casting an eye round the sitting-
room to note that its chief furniture apparently consisted of a
chair and a riding-whip.

In November, 1865, we find him sporting silk for the first

The Life of a Great Sportsman

time in public in a steeplechase at Huntingdon, which he won
on Vienna, a mare of his own, who must have been a goodish
animal, as he won the Fitzwilliam Hunt Cup at Peterborough,
and the Kimbolton Four-mile Handicap Steeplechase at Bed-
ford— which last was over a very stiff country — on her the
following year. (Note by M. E. R. : " Vienna was a brown
mare, perfect in her paces, sweet-tempered. I have often
ridden her/')

After this successful beginning, the subject of our memoir,
greatly to his credit, made up his mind to devote attention
entirely for a time to reading, and that he carried out his plan
with the same energy and determination which were his leading
characteristics in everything he undertook, either then or in
after life, is clear, seeing that in the end he succeeded in passing
his " Little Go " with flying colours. After this he no doubt
thought himself fairly entitled to resume his favourite pursuit.

Accordingly, in 1868, we find him once more making a start
— and a good one — by winning the Open Handicap Steeple-
chase at Lincoln on a mare belonging to himself named Proser-
pine, which victory he followed up by winning the Yarborough
Cup at the same meeting on The Pet, belonging to Mr. Nelson.
Whilst at Cambridge he won the Open Hunters Steeplechase
for Mr. Abington on Warden, and the Aylesbury Open Handi-
cap for Mr. Bentley on Novice.

At Aylesbury the following year he won a match, which
created a good deal of interest at the time in undergraduate
circles, on Cora Pearl, belonging to the late Sir William Milner,
beating his friend Mr. "Charlie" Newton on The Fawn, the
property of Lord Rosebery, after a good race, by a neck. In
1869, riding Watteau, belonging to himself, the "Cat" won
the One Mile Hunt flat race at Redbourne, this being the
first race on the flat he ever took part in.

96*

Racing Career

The season of 1870 was destined to play an important
part in his riding career, seeing that, in addition to many other
races, Mr. Richardson won the most important event he had
yet ridden in, namely, the Grand National Hunt Steeplechase,
run on this occasion at Cottenham, near Cambridge, on
Schiedam, belonging to the still living Lord Chaplin, then
Mr. Henry Chaplin, like himself a Lincolnshire man — a fact
which made the victory all the more appropriate.

Now it was — or very soon after — that Mr. Richardson
formed the connection with the late Captain Machell — perhaps
the best judge of steeplechasing in England — which was
destined to have such successful results, and which ended in
that gentleman not only sending his protige a lot of his horses
to his place at Limber to be trained for their engagements,
but giving him a roving commission to buy any more he thought
likely to win races whenever he had a chance.

One of the three first investments in this line was Keystone,
which good horse he purchased from that well-known Lincoln-
shire yeoman and sportsman, Mr. Robert S. Walker, after
winning the Sefton Steeplechase at Liverpool on him, and that
the deal was a successful one was proved by his new purchase
winning the Cambridge Handicap Steeplechase and the West
of Scotland Steeplechase at Eglinton in the same year. Mr.
Richardson then took Keystone to Baden-Baden, where, with
himself in the saddle, he was only beaten by a neck for the
Grand Prize.

Mr. Richardson was unlucky in this particular race, for he
had ridden in it, as it happened, the previous year, his mount
on that occasion being Juryman, the property of Count Nicholas
Esterhazy. He, the late George Ede (Mr. " Edwards "), and
the still living Major Arthur Tempest were the only English-
men riding in the race, and all went well until they came to

97 h

The Life of a Great Sportsman

the brook, when Juryman and his rider collided with Major
Tempest's mount, and were knocked bodily into the water,
the " Cat," whose ankle was damaged, being picked out by
an English groom looking on, just in time to avoid being
jumped upon by the remainder of the field, consisting of a lot
of foreign officers of different nationalities, every one of whom
fell into the brook.

The only rider, in fact, who managed to get over in safety
was George Ede on Benazet, belonging to the late Lord Powlett,
who went on and won pretty much as he liked.

Benazet, I may mention — again ridden by Mr. " Edwards"
— was made an odds-on favourite for the same race the follow-
ing year, which he would inevitably have won but for coming
down at the brook and breaking his back, to the great grief of
his rider, who, as one of the papers afterwards remarked, was
as fond of poor Benazet as, the song tells us, was the proverbial
Arab of his steed.

Other events won by Mr. Richardson that same year for
Captain Machell were the Brocklesby Open, the Warwick
Hunt, and the Nottinghamshire Steeplechases, all three on
Defence, trained by himself.

At Rothbury, Northumberland, again, riding on a very
light saddle and over severe country, he won the Open Handi-
cap Steeplechase on Lady Day, notwithstanding the fact that
he broke a stirrup leather at the very first fence.

Besides the Grand Annual at Warwick on Schiedam for
Mr. Chaplin, other races he won that year were the Coplow
Stakes and Granby Handicap at Croxton Park, on Felix and
Bickerstaffe, the property respectively of Lords Calthorpe and
Lonsdale, whilst on Tuberville he won the Warwick Welter
for the late Lord Aylesford. At Ayr he won the Corinthian
Handicap for Mr. James Barber on Disturbance, and later on

Racing Career

the Worcestershire Welter for Mr. Ray on Scylla by a short
head, after a great finish, Jem Adams and John Osborne being
second and third, with a head between each.

In 1872 Mr. Richardson eclipsed all his previous perform-
ances in point of number, winning no fewer than fifty-six
events, four of which were races on the flat, including the two
at the Epsom Spring and Summer meetings on Lincoln and
Bickerstaffe respectively, of which I have already made men-
tion, and which he himself was so proud of. It was a singular
incident that of the four races under Jockey Club Rules he
rode in that year at Epsom and Liverpool he should win
them all.

The following year, in addition to numerous other races of
more or less importance, the "Cat" set the seal on his fame
by winning the Grand National on Disturbance, purchased by
him from Mr. James Barber on behalf of Captain Machell for
a very small sum at the Ayr meeting. Disturbance was a
very little horse, and despite the fact that in Mr. Richardson's
hands he had already beaten a field of first-rate horses in the
Croydon Steeplechase, this probably accounted in no small
measure for his being allowed to start at an outside point, the
majority of backers being no doubt of opinion that 1 1 st. 1 1 lb.
Was far too heavy an impost for so small a horse to carry
successfully over so long and tiring a course as that at Aintree.

Captain Machell and Mr. Richardson, however, knew better,
and never lost confidence in their champion, with the result
that Captain Machell was credited with having won the largest
sum in bets that had ever been his lot since he went on the
turf, not even excepting that memorable occasion when Hermit
won the Derby ; whilst Mr. Richardson, whose first bet it was
of any importance, landed the thousand to ten the Captain had
taken on his behalf soon after the acceptances were declared.

The Life of a Great Sportsman

I may mention that the " Cat " had a similar piece of good luck
when King Lud, belonging to the then Lord Lonsdale, won
the Cesarewitch in 1873, Captain Machell on his own initiative
having good-naturedly insisted on investing a tenner for him at
the longest odds then obtainable, which in this instance meant
40 to 1.

Beyond an occasional sovereign on his fancy for the Derby
or other of the Classic races, I believe these were the only two
bets worthy of the name ever made by the subject of this
memoir, and he was certainly to be congratulated on the result.

Perhaps the most heavily backed candidate than any in the
Grand National of 1873 won by Disturbance was Rhysworth,
a gigantic animal who, when the property of the late Mr.
Henry Saville, had run third for the Derby, and was supported
by his owner at the last moment, as though the race was all
over but shouting, as indeed it looked when he was seen lead-
ing what was left of the field on approaching the final hurdle
with only the undersized Disturbance threatening danger, and
going so strong that Mr. Richardson might well be excused
for regarding his thousand to ten as being good as lost.

In a moment, however, the situation underwent a complete
change. Rhysworth, though a good horse in a way, was a
rogue of the first water, and as the game little Disturbance
closed with him at the last hurdle — the two horses rising in
the air together and almost touching each other, back went
his ears, flat to his poll, and declining to respond to the vigorous
call of young Boxall — a son of Mr. Chaplin's stud-groom, who
rode him — Disturbance, jumping like a cat, drew gradually
away to win comfortably, amidst vociferous cheering from all-
parts of the course.

Boxall was very much blamed on this occasion for making
too much of his horse, and it was openly stated that had the

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Racing Career

jockeys been reversed the result would have been very dif-
ferent. Maunsell Richardson, however, who was surely better
entitled to know than any one, declined to allow this at any
price, giving it as his opinion that no one could have ridden
better than Boxall, whose rough and ready style of riding
exactly suited a wayward brute like Rhysworth, who had tried
all he knew to " cut it " on two other occasions during the race,
notably when coming to the water in the first round, when, but
for the determined handling of his jockey, he would inevitably
have refused.

To show what a good performance it was on the part of
Disturbance, it may be mentioned that Rhysworth, either the
very next day or the day after, ran clean away from a large
field in the Sefton Steeplechase, with the substantial burden
of 12 st. 7 lb. on his back. Had the horse won the Grand
National it would indeed have been hard lines for Maunsell
Richardson, at whose place he had been located for some time
until removed in consequence of a rupture between his owner
and Captain Machell, and who had taught him all the jumping
he ever knew.

To celebrate the event many Lincolnshire friends shortly
afterwards gave a banquet to Mr. Richardson at Brigg. When
it is added that the motto on the top of the menu card was
" Disturbance but no Row," and that the " Mate " (the late
Sir John Astley), in his most genial mood, presided at the
feast, it may well be imagined that the gathering was of a most
festive character, it being not too much to say that the cheering
which went up when the guest of the evening got on his legs
to return thanks for the toast of his health might easily have
been heard in the next parish.

Curiously enough, Mr. James Barber, from whom Dis-
turbance was originally purchased, though begged by Mr.

ioi

The Life of a Great Sportsman

Richardson to back the horse for the Liverpool, quite con-
trary to his usual custom — for no one liked a gamble better
or could scent a "good thing" more readily than Jimmy
Barber — steadily declined to take the hint, so if he was left
out in the cold, no one was to blame but himself.

In after years he had a mare named Fan, and on one
occasion, when well fancied for the Grand National, for which
in a previous year she had been placed, with a view to making
the race a greater certainty for her than it already looked,
her eccentric owner sallied forth in the dead of night on
the eve of the event, accompanied by one or two other con-
spirators all armed with hatchets, with the object of cutting
down the obstacles on the course. Just as they were busily
engaged in this nefarious scheme, what was their astonish-
ment, when the sound of " chop, chop, chop " in the distance
suddenly made them aware that another party of sportsmen (?),
presumably connected with another promising candidate, were
hard at work with the same object in view, as in Fan's
case.

Whether the two forces foregathered and acted in concert
I am not aware, but it is satisfactory to know that the scheme,
so far from attaining its object, in all probability played into
the hands of the winner, Fan, as she had done in previous
years, refusing at the first or second fence with more obstinacy
than ever.

Jimmy Barber was a most eccentric character, and long
after he had ceased to own racehorses was a regular attendant
at the principal race meetings, especially at Newmarket, where
his quaint* figure, garbed in a swallow-tailed coat of antique
pattern, shepherd's plaid combinations, and wearing a very
tall and ill-brushed hat, and with a thick stick in his ungloved
hands, was always a familiar feature of the place. On a wet

I02

MR. JAMES BARBER.

(Formerly owner of Disturbance.)

Racing Career

or cold day a short blue cloak, fastened at the throat by a
clasp, hung gracefully from his shoulders.

The racing over for the day, Jimmy Barber, as he was
familiarly called, would repair to his inn, and there after
dinner, seated at the head of a long table, he would be found
roaring out song after song, in a voice which for volume I never
yet heard its equal, until closing time.

Another of his weaknesses, too, was quoting the Bard of
Avon on all occasions whenever he had a chance. "As
Shakespeare was once good enough to remark," he would
commence, and then out would come a quotation from his
repertoire, delivered with a solemnity which would have been
laughable had it not been rather a trial to listen to.

On one occasion, in his palmy days, a match between a
two-year-old of his own and another, who started favourite,
ended in a dead heat. The decider was run off later on,
George Fordham being engaged to ride by the other side in
place of the jockey who had previously tried to ride, his
mount, this time, being a hot odds-on favourite.

Jimmy Barber, accompanied by two members of the fourth
estate, were driving along in the former's fly to watch the race,
when one of the party remarked, " I suppose it's a good thing
for the favourite, isn't it, Mr. Barber ?" "Well, a' don't know
so much about that," was the reply, "ma' boy tells me that
he lost quite three or four lengths at the start just now owing
to the colt turning tail when the flag dropped, and — — " But
before he could finish the sentence his two companions had
opened the door, and were now running as fast as their legs could
carry them back to the Stand, there to invest a quarter's salary
— or possibly more — on the non-favourite, who, it may be
mentioned, this time got off all right, and won in a canter,
and it is to be hoped landed its eccentric owner a good stake,

1 03

The Life of a Great Sportsman

as it certainly did for the far-seeing gentlemen of the Press,
to whom unwittingly he had given what in the phraseology of
the Turf is termed the " Office."

When, the following March, Maunsell Richardson appeared
on the course at Aintree in the familiar white jacket and dark-
blue cap, mounted on Reugny, who left off one of the hottest
favourites for the Grand National ever known in the history
of the race, little did those who looked on and admired, and
later on cheered him to the echo as he galloped home on
the favourite, imagine that they had seen the last of this
brilliant horseman on a racecourse. Such, however, unfor-
tunately proved to be the case. Unjustly blamed by the
owner of the favourite for his failure at the very last moment
to obtain what he considered a fair price about his horse, and
offended beyond measure — and justly so — at the proposal
made to himself with a view to sending Reugny back on the
quotations, which, had it been carried out, must inevitably have
damaged his reputation, he made up his mind at once that,
win or lose, his ride on Reugny in the Grand National should
be his last.

In vain did Captain Machell, now desperately angry at his
wishes not being complied with, threaten to scratch Reugny
and rely on Defence. " I don't keep my horses to run for a
lot of Lincolnshire farmers to bet on ! " added he. " I have
lived amongst and hunted with them all my life," retorted the
"Cat," "and having let you know the result of the trial in
ample time, thought myself justified |in giving them the 'tip.'
As for your threat," he added, "if you carry it out I'll ride
Furley and beat you ! "

The Captain's next move was to offer all his principal horses
en bloc to Mr. Arthur Yates, acting .on behalf of that well-
known sportsman the late Mr. Gerard Leigh, for the sum of

104

Racing Career

.£12,000, and had that gentleman been on the spot there is
little doubt that the offer would have been accepted. As it
was, Mr. Yates, being unable to communicate with Mr. Leigh
at the moment, and not caring to take so heavy a responsibility
on his own shoulders without first consulting his principal, the
offer fell through, with the result that Captain Machell had to
make the best of a bad bargain, as the saying is, and put up
for once with what he could get, which in this instance was a
solitary bet of five thousand to a thousand.

" And not bad business either," as Mr. Richardson once
remarked to the writer, "seeing that Disturbance, Reugny, and
Defence only cost him ^1200, when I bought these for him
originally at the Ayr meeting a little over a year previously."

How religiously he kept his word as regards his vow not
to ride in public again can be well understood by any one at
all acquainted with John Maunsell Richardson, the only time
he ever appeared again in the once favourite white jacket and
dark-blue cap being when he took part in a private sweep-
stake in Croxton Park, on which occasion he rode a hunter of his
own, which he had hunted down, the race eventually falling to
his friend, the late Mr. Hugh Owen, whose mount, belonging
to himself, started favourite in a large field and won easily.

Soon after Reugny's victory in the Grand National, Captain
Machell sold the pick of his steeplechasers, including Dis-
turbance, Reugny, and Defence, for a large sum, to the late Mr.
Gerard Leigh, by whom they were sent down to Luton Hoo,
his place in Bedfordshire. It will hardly be believed that one
fine day, in order to provide amusement for the home party,
the whole fleet were brought out, and, with hanging reins
attached, were jumped'-over leaping bars erected for the occasion,
with the result that Disturbance, at all events, was irretrievably
ruined, and never ran again, whilst the others suffered more

105

The Life of a Great Sportsman

or less injury from their exertions in a performance which can
only be likened to that one would expect to meet with at a
horse show or a circus.

An Amusing Experience

In the early spring of 1872 Mr. Richardson received a
letter from his old friend Mr. Ned Maxwell — afterwards Sir
Edward Heron-Maxwell — stating that he had entered a big —
very big — and long chestnut horse, named Reviriscat, of whom
he had formed great expectations, in the Hunt Steeplechase
at Lincoln, and would take it as a great favour if he would
ride him, a request which the " Cat " readily complied with.

Having duly weighed out for the race above-mentioned,
Mr. Richardson made for the saddling paddock, and there
found — to quote his own words — <( the biggest horse I ever
set eyes on, with the smallest bridle, a tiny snaffle, with the
thinnest rein possible to conceive, purchased in the town — at
a toyshop I should imagine — that very morning by Ned Max-
well's old Scotch groom, because, so he informed me, he
' thought it looked like racing! "

"Just imagine my feelings," went on Mr. Richardson, "on
beholding this enormous horse, quite seventeen hands high, with
a one-rein pony snaffle on him and nothing else, to ride over a
course made up of ridge and furrow, small fields and trappy
fences, with ditches on the take-off side destitute of guard rails,
with a narrow road to cross — altogether a very difficult country
to negotiate, in fact. A goodish-looking mare named Susan,
who had previously won several races, with Tom Spence in the
saddle, was made favourite, the race, according to all accounts,
being reckoned a good thing for her.

" At all events, she compared very favourably with my own
mount, whose underbred and elephantine appearance so struck

106

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Racing Career

my friends looking on, that on mounting I was the recipient of
many inquiries as to whether my life was insured.

"Well, off we started" (I am still quoting his rider), "and,
to my surprise and delight, instead of Reviriscat, as I made
sure would be the case, going badly over the ridge and furrow,
or taking a lot of riding in the fearful and wonderful bridle
already described, no horse could possibly have gone better,
with the result that when we got amongst the trappy fences
the others were quickly left behind, and never being caught,
we eventually won with the greatest ease, to the extreme
delight of his sporting owner, who, though the winner had
frequently carried him hunting, the latter had never previously
run in a steeplechase. To show his appreciation of the per-
formance, dear old Ned Maxwell presented me soon afterwards
with a souvenir in the shape of a large silver flask, on one side
of which was inscribed ' Reviriscat,' and on the other the
following lines composed by himself: —

"SEMPER FIDELIS.*

" Semper Fidelis — proud Motto — none less
1 Cat' Richardson's Image could truly portray .
Still in faith and in love let me add ' Reviriscat '
In those happy hunting fields far, far away."

In March, 1873, Reviriscat, ridden by that popular gentle-
man rider and fine horseman, the late Captain " Wenty " Hope
Johnstone, whose first ride it was in the race, ran in the Grand
National, for which, though heavily backed by his owners and
friends, he made no show against Disturbance, the mount of
Mr. Richardson.

Mr. Ned Maxwell was never happier than when writing
poetry of his own composing, and so sanguine was he of
success on this particular occasion, that he actually took this

* The Richardson family motto.
107

The Life of a Great Sportsman

in hand two days before the race, and wrote some verses
descriptive of Reviriscat's victory in the Grand National and
how it was won, intending to post it off the same night to one
of the sporting papers for insertion the following morning. No
words can adequately describe the disappointment felt by his
sporting owner at his favourite's defeat, and a great friend of
his told me that he shall never forget how, at the end of the
day, with tears in his eyes, the other pulled the verses out of
his pocket to show him, previously to consigning them to the
flames.

After this Mr. Richardson suggested to Mr. Ned Maxwell
that he should make a present of Reviriscat to his son Johnnie,
then a lieutenant in the 14th Hussars, so as to qualify the horse
for the Grand Military, for which, in his opinion, he had a
decided chance. This piece of advice was promptly acted upon
with the best results, Reviriscat, with the popular " Wenty " in
the saddle, winning the much-coveted Gold Cup in the easiest
possible manner. I may mention that Reviriscat's poor display
in the Grand National of 1873 is accounted for by the fact that
he was suffering from a very severe cold at the time and had
no business really to have run. That it was unfortunate that
he did so there was only too good proof, as he never recovered,
and died not a great while after, to the great grief of his owner
and all his family, who were devoted to the good old horse.

Before he took to steeplechasing he was hunted regularly
with the Buccleuch hounds, being frequently ridden on these
occasions by Miss Heron-Maxwell (the only lady who was
ever on his back), then quite a young girl in the schoolroom.
On one of these occasions the two negotiated a big gate in
such good style as to cause an old follower of the Duke's
hounds, George Dove by name, to remark, " Ah, Miss Heron-
Maxwell, you have the golden key which unlocks all the gates ! '

108

SILVER FLASK.

Presented to J. M. Richardson by the late Sir Heron Maxwell, with a
verse composed by himself.

Racing Career

Beyond a visit each year to the Derby and Ascot and the
Leger, and perhaps Newmarket in the autumn, in company with
the Countess of Yarborough, when he made one of a house-
party to witness the two last great handicaps of the year and
foregather with his old friends, Mr. Richardson only took a
passing interest in the Turf, the Grand National, which he
generally attended if not hunting or otherwise engaged, as
might be expected, being more to his liking than all the rest
put together.

On arrival on the course at Epsom on the Derby Day, he
would make straight for the Paddock, and in that hallowed
spot he would remain until he had carefully inspected and
criticized all the horses engaged in the big race. Needless to
say, his opinion on these occasions was eagerly sought after
by his friends, who, it almost goes without saying, if they took
his advice, as was generally the case, could hardly fail to profit
by what they heard. Not a thing seemed to escape his notice,
and if there was a weak spot to be found in any of the favourites,
his practised eye would detect it in a moment.

I remember a few years ago asking him his opinion of a
red-hot favourite for the Oaks, who had just passed him in
review. He shook his head ominously. "A nice mare
enough," was his reply, " and may do well later on when she
has grown and filled out a bit, but in my humble opinion she
won't do for to-day's race at all. As she passed me just now,"
he added, " I could hear her joints crack as she walked along."
How right he was there was ample proof later on, the mare
in question being hopelessly out of it long before the finish.

Another instance of Maunsell Richardson's sound judgment
was on that memorable afternoon in 1908, when Signorinetta
won the Derby so unexpectedly for the Chevalier Ginistrelli.
He had just finished his inspection of the Derby horses, and

109

The Life of a Great Sportsman

was leaving the Paddock for the Grand Stand, when he ran
up against one of our most noted trainers, with whom he at
once entered into an animated conversation regarding the big
race, and the respective chances of the animals engaged therein.

" Why shouldn't the mare win ? " inquired Mr. Richardson.

"The mare!" echoed the trainer in astonishment. "What
mare ? I didn't even know there was one in the race."

"Why, Signorinetta, to be sure," replied the other. " I've
seen every horse in the race," he added, " and looked 'em care-
fully over, and to my thinking she is the only really fit animal
in the race, and consequently extremely likely to win the
Derby, especially with her sex allowance."

" Well, Mr. Richardson," said the trainer, " there's no man
in England whose opinion I have more respect for than yours,
so I'll be off and have a look at Signorinetta before it is too
late."

And so saying they went their different ways ; the one to
inspect the Chevalier's mare ; the other to invest his usual
sovereign on her. Never was there a much straighter " tip " in
racing parlance than this, for, as is well known, it was her
superiority in condition and nothing else which gave the
Chevalier Ginistrelli's filly the Blue Ribbon of the Turf.

The late George Ede (" Mr. Edwards ") enjoyed the repu-
tation of being the best gentleman rider of his day, an opinion
in which Mr. Richardson heartily concurred. But there are
many who still hold to the belief that when they were both
riding at the same time there was little to choose between them,
and that if anything the " Cat " was the superior of the two,
and if the writer's opinion is worth anything, it is that the latter
were right.

CHAPTER XI

as an owner

By Finch Mason

Soon after the numbers had gone up for the Grand National of
1876, a little group, in which a horse took pride of place, made
its appearance on the course and at once attracted a good
deal of attention.

No need for one to consult the card to know the name of
the candidate ; the fact that it was ridden by the late Earl of
Minto, then Lord Melgund, better known to the racing world
as Mr. " Roily " (his old Eton name), the recognized jockey of
the famous Limber stable ; that Maunsell Richardson — a little
stouter, perhaps, than in the Disturbance and Reugny days — to
whom it belonged, was at his head, and that the veteran jockey*
Tom Chal loner, who bred the horse, was trotting by his side,
at once proclaimed the fact that it was Zero, who for some time
past had been one of the most fancied candidates in the race.

A bright bay, Zero, with his docked tail and hogged mane,
was an old-fashioned looking customer, and although his
splendid shoulders drew attention to his rather light appearance
behind the saddle, there was a business look about him, combined
with the knowledge that he hailed from the popular Limber
stable, just then in great form, which doubtless secured him
many additional backers.

Mr. "Roily," too, who, since his friend the "Cat" had

The Life of a Great Sportsman

relinquished the pigskin, was now the recognized jockey of the
stable, was also riding in tip-top form, so no wonder Zero left
off a great public fancy. Unfortunately the luck which had
been his now for some time past deserted Mr. " Roily " on this
occasion. Zero, who was going as strong as a lion at the time,
just behind Shifnal and Jackal, and jumping splendidly, came a
tremendous cropper at Valentine's Brook the second time round,
with serious results to his plucky rider. With the assistance
of the late Tom Cannon (senior), who happened to be on the
spot, he was brought back to the Grand Stand, where, on
arrival in the weighing room, his injuries, after examination,
were discovered to be so serious that Sir James Paget was at
once telegraphed for. On arrival at Liverpool he confirmed
the opinion of the other medical men in attendance, that their
noble patient had dislocated his neck. Now this was "a fact "
which the amateur jockey declined to believe until four years
later when, calling on Sir James about another matter, the
great surgeon, referring to the accident, remarked, " Well, all I
can say is, you are one of those extraordinary people who has
broken his neck and are none the worse. Your skeleton," he
added, " should be one of the most valuable in existence."

On Lord Minto remarking that he would gladly bequeath
his skeleton to him in his will, Sir James laughingly replied,
" Oh, I shall be gone long before you, but I can answer for
them that the College of Surgeons will be very glad of it if you
like to leave it to them."

Lord Minto certainly had an extraordinary escape. The
muscles of his neck shrank, with the effect of pulling his head
down on one side, and for months he was practically a cripple
and suffering great pain in his shoulder and arm, which remained
with him for years afterwards — to the end indeed. Notwith-
standing which, though still very weak and ill from the fall in

112

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As an Owner

the " Liverpool," at the end of March he insisted on riding
Weathercock at Sandown Park the following November, with
the result that he got another bad fall at the fence going down
the hill ; Zero, strange to say, who had been bought in the
interim by Lord Charles Beresford, and ridden on this occasion
by his brother, Lord Marcus, falling by his side.

Years afterwards Mr. " Roily " was at Catterick Bridge
races, and in the course of a chat with John Osborne, for whom
he had won several races on the flat on a horse named Vintner,
the latter remarked, " You remember getting that bad fall on
Zero in the Grand National of 1876, when Regal won, but did
you know the cause ? Because, if not, I can tell you." He
then added : " I was walking round the course in the morning,
and so were you, and you had got nearly as far as Becher's
Brook, when, catching sight of Mr. Richardson and one or two
other friends on ahead, you ran on and joined them looking
at Valentine's. I walked on, and on coming to Valentine's
Brook discovered an under drain close to the left-hand side, just
where you jumped it, and it was that into which Zero put his
feet on landing, and turned over."

As Lord Minto remarked afterwards, " Fancy such a state
of things being allowed to pass unnoticed by the authorities on
a severe course like that of Liverpool ! "

The accident, which in this case so nearly proved fatal, only
goes to show, as Maunsell Richardson never ceased to point
out, how necessary it is for the jockeys to go carefully over the
course — not only at Aintree, but anywhere else — before riding
over it. He invariably made a practice of doing so himself,
and no doubt saved himself many a " toss " in consequence.
So far as I am aware, though he occasionally ran a hunter in
the private sweepstakes at Croxton Park, Zero was the last race-
horse Maunsell Richardson ever owned.

113 1

CHAPTER XII

MARRIAGE TO LADY YARBOROUGH

After leaving Cambridge, where he played in the University
Eleven in 1 866-1 867, and 1868, and distinguished himself by
his sound all-round play both in the field and at the wicket, my
brother still devoted a good deal of his spare time to cricket,
and playing for the Jockeys against the Press at Brighton
he carried out his bat for 138. In those days such scoring
was considered a far more extraordinary feat than now, when
centuries seem rather the rule than the exception. At the
same watering-place he scored 134 for the Quidnuncs, against
Bullingdon.

As a member of the I Zingari, he went over several years
running to Ireland with an eleven captained by his old friend
Sir Chandos Leigh, when they played against the Na-Shula
Club — the Irish Zingari — and every other club of note in
Ireland. On these occasions " Bay " Middleton generally
made one of the party.

It is recorded that one year he made over a century for
I Zingari when they played twenty-two of South Ireland at
the Curragh. Then for the same Club, playing the Viceregal
Lodge in Phcenix Park, Dublin, he scored 109 ; and over a
century when the eleven played against Newbridge.

These are a few records of the many cricket matches in
which my brother not only made big scores, but showed his

114

J. M. RICHARDSON (1881).

Marriage to Lady Yarborough

"Cat "-like (according to Lilly white) qualities when fielding,
and as is well known without good fielding, in spite of the
finest batting, a side is almost bound to lose. Maunsell was
never a good bowler, not taking kindly to this branch of the
game, and perhaps it was just as well that the two brothers
did not take up the same line at cricket, for William devoted
himself to bowling, and was a very fair medium-paced bowler.
These particular matches I mention served to show that what-
ever my brother Maunsell put his mind to, whether hunting,
racing, cricket, rackets, golf, and even the alleged greater
game of politics, he was equally at home.

Before and during his married life, it used to be a standing
joke at all parties that on whatever side Maunsell was, that
side was bound to win. In fact, his opponents used to say
to him in a bantering way, " We give up all hope of winning
a game when you are against us ! " At lawn-tennis his great
agility naturally stood him in good stead, and his racket
practice at Harrow and Cambridge made outdoor tennis, in
later years, a comparatively easy pastime for him to play. At
billiards, too, it took a very good amateur indeed to take his
number down, and he has even held his own on occasion with
professional players.

Even at golf, which he took up quite late in life, a game
which many people declare one can do no good at, unless you
are to the manner born, he played a remarkably strong, sound
game, so much so that shortly before his death he was made
President of the Cromer Golf Club.

Mr. Finch Mason tells a good story of a visit to the
Ranelagh Club whither my brother repaired once before
Ascot to have a round of golf. A member, who evidently
was accustomed to be taken at his own valuation in all
matters including sport, especially golf, at which ancient and

ii5

The Life of a Great Sportsman

honourable game he fancied himself very considerably, at
once arranged to take him on.

"How many would you like me to give you?" inquired
the gentleman in question, described by Maunsell as a ladylike
person, with longish hair and a pince-nez, when they had
arranged preliminaries. " I'm — er — at my top form just now,
don'tcher know ! " " Thanks," said my brother, " I would
rather play even, if you don't mind." They did, to the other's
great discomfiture, and the " Cat" won anyhow.

I remember well one day a few years after my brother
Maunsell had taken to golf, indeed the very last time he, my
eldest brother and I were ever together in this world, he said,
" If it were put to me now which of the two I would rather give
up, were I obliged to do so, I must honestly say I would rather
give up hunting than golf." Would that he had done so, for
that he overworked his constitution there can be no question.
But the old love was very strong in him, and as long as his
health stood, and he could enjoy both, he gave up neither, and
so died Joint Master of the Cottesmore Hounds, literally
"with harness on his back."

From 1870 to 1880 Mr. Finch Mason takes up the story of
Maunsell's racing life, during which time he devoted himself
chiefly to his triumphs of the Turf, although by no means
neglecting his old love — Fox-Hunting. My brother was,
however, not destined to devote his whole time and energy
either to the Turf or to his own special line in any other form
of sport, for by the death of the third Earl of Yarborough, in
1875, ne found he had other and more important calls upon
his time and energy, to which he was only too delighted to
respond. For were they not to assist one who had been
his friend and comrade for many years, and whom he had
worshipped from afar with a chivalrous, single-hearted devotion

116

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Presented to J. M. Richardson on the occasion of his marriage to Victoria,
Countess of Yarborough, by 700 of his friends and admirers, on 15th July, 1881.

Marriage to Lady Yarborough

which few men can give, and very few women receive ? And
truly, at that period, the Countess of Yarborough needed all
the assistance she could get, for at the death of his father the
present Earl of Yarborough was only a boy of sixteen, and
consequently a very heavy burden fell upon the shoulders of
his mother in the management — not only of her family, con-
sisting of four boys and one girl, and of those household details
that are supposed to be the one and only thing a woman can
undertake, but the entire control of the Brocklesby Estate,
which now devolved upon her. Such confidence had her first
husband, the Earl of Yarborough, in her capacity for carrying
through any task to which she set herself, that he had left
everything in her charge as executrix, and had appointed her
joint trustee for her children and the estate. Nor was the
Earl's confidence in his capable wife misplaced, for during the
present Earl's minority she not only paid off mortgages on
the estate to the amount of over ^100,000, but enhanced, if it
were possible, the reputation of the Yarboroughs as the most
equitable of landlords in the United Kingdom.

Even the hounds fell to her management, and until the
present Earl of Yarborough came of age she carried the horn,
and was virtually M.F.H. of the celebrated Brocklesby Pack.
Of the 1st Lincolnshire Light Horse, too (Lord Yarboroughs
Own), she was honorary Colonel. It was in these two special
directions that my brother was able to help the Countess of
Yarborough, even before his marriage to her Ladyship, with
his masterly knowledge of hounds, and their working.

After his marriage with her, in 1881, my brother took up
his residence at Brocklesby Hall, where the Countess's duties,
until the marriage of her eldest son, constrained her, though
pleasantly enough, to live, letting his bachelor house of Little
Brocklesby to respective tenants of sporting proclivities. He

117

The Life of a Great Sportsman

hunted the Brocklesby dog pack during the last two years of
George Ash's term of office as huntsman to the Brocklesby, and
the first two years of Will Dale's. Twice every week saw my
brother during the years 1882 and 1886 in the correct huntsman
get-up, and I am told that he was quite extraordinary as a
practical huntsman. Once only I was privileged to be out
when he hunted hounds, and I remember well what a fine day's
sport we had, and how fit and happy he looked. What struck
me rather particularly was that he was wearing extraordinary
thick-soled top-boots. Remembering how in other days the
thinness and elegance of the hunting boot was a point my
brothers were very particular about, I inquired the reason. He
replied : " If you had to go through and over such rough
places as I have, you would know well why a huntsman
wears thick-soled top-boots."

I have mentioned elsewhere that when my eldest brother
married, he continued to live on at the old home at Limber ;
and as young married people naturally prefer a house to them-
selves, the knotty point had to be solved as to what Maunsell
would do, and where he would reside. There was practically
no house in Limber that would have been at all suitable for
him. In fact, at that time there was not an available house of
any kind in the village. Where was he to live, then, was the
question. It was for his staunch friend the late Earl of
Yarborough to solve the problem. Determined that Limber
village should not lose from its precincts a man who had so
distinguished himself, and whom he trusted and loved above
all men, consulting him as he did in many matters other than
those connected with the turf, the chase and the stables, he
at once built him a house as near the old home at Limber as
possible, and quite close to my brother's racing stables already
erected in the village, which had shown such wonderful results.

118

Marriage to Lady Yarborough

Thus it was that " Little Brocklesby " came into being, and
only the untimely death of the third Earl prevented the title-
deeds from being handed over as a free and most generous
gift to my brother Maunsell.

In the management of hounds, Maunsell was not only of
much practical use to Lady Yarborough but to the whole
country-side, not forgetting the pack itself, for he studied their
breeding, feeding, and general health in a most thorough and
complete manner. We used to laugh at him when we went
to see him in his house, " Little Brocklesby," as we nearly
always found him studying the Brocklesby Hounds' Stud Book,
called by us "his prayer-book." Amongst his papers looked
over since his death I have found many of these books, the
copious notes on the margins being ample proof of how
thoroughly they were studied.

The following are supposed to be old wives' tales : one, that
you must " tell " the bees if death occurs in the family, and put
crape on their hives, or they will desert their homes ; another,
that if all the scions of a family that has lived, say, a hundred
years or so in one place, go away, the rooks desert the rookery
they have made in the woods near the house, and form another
home of their own at the nearest point to where any members
of the old family they have lived near so long still have their
dwelling. I cannot from my own knowledge answer for the bees,
though I have been told by apiarists that what I have related
is undoubted fact ; but for the rooks and their vagaries I can
speak with assurance that the following is a true tale. When
my eldest brother gave up his old home at Limber, the inhabi-
tants of the Rookery, in a small wood, some three hundred
yards from the house, deserted en masse, and fixed their
new habitation in a clump of trees as near to the home of
my brother Maunsell at " Little Brocklesby " as possible. And

119

The Life of a Great Sportsman

there they are to this day, having, I suppose, become recon-
ciled to the fact that no Richardson being in or near the village,
they may as well stay in their new home until some of the
Richardson family, faithful as the rooks, return to the old
home. When I was at Limber a few years ago, I found them
still inhabiting the wood, and listened with great delight to the
old familiar cawing. Alas ! would I could have been privileged
to stay in that dear old village, and never leave it again.

Superintending horses and hounds for Lady Yarborough
was, however, by no means the whole of my brother's gladly
given assistance to the hard-working and practical little Countess,
for he also took actual command of the ist Lincolnshire Light
Horse, and from an extract which appeared in the Grimsby
News of August 9, 1878, it is very certain he not only took
command for the honour and glory of the thing, but saw to all
matters of detail, and did his duty as became the head of so
notable a regiment.

Here is the extract from the Grimsby News: —

11 Encampment of the Earl of Yarborough's Light Horse
Volunteers.

"The Troop has been again under canvas in Brocklesby
Park for an eight days' training. On Tuesday the Countess
of Yarborough, for the first time, was in camp, dressed in the
tunic, crossbelt, and sword, and wearing the colours of the
troop. Lieut. J. M. Richardson was the officer in command.
Amongst others being Trumpet- Major William Richardson
(Lieut. J. M. Richardson's brother), and the Hon. Victor and
H. Pelham as side-drummers, the role of which they played
uncommonly well. On Saturday the troop made a recon-
naissance of the surrounding country, inclusive of a visit to
Grimsby, under the command of Lieut. J. M. Richardson.
Their appearance in the street was a source of general

120

COLONEL WILLIAM RICHARDSON.
(J. M. Richardson's brother.)

Marriage to Lady Yarborough

attraction, especially as the Countess of Yarborough, in the
uniform of the troop, occupied a leading place in the march.
The appearance of the horsemen and their splendid mounts
were much admired. The Inspection took place on Tuesday
last. The Band was mounted for the first time, and had a
most imposing appearance."

Apropos of this mounting of the band, my musical brother
William, Trumpet-Major to the Regiment, had heard Lady
Yarborough express a wish that the band should be mounted
at the review. Needless to say, for her ladyship to express a
wish, was for all good Lincolnshire folk — men and women
alike — to obey, if it were in their power, and in a fortnight's
time my eldest brother had managed to mount the band, even
to providing a white horse for the drummer. To accomplish
this, he had lent his horses, his servants, and anything he had
which was wanted, and given his whole time during the two
weeks at his disposal to their necessary practice and equipment.
In the end, however, he was well repaid for his trouble, by
what the local paper termed, " the gallant spectacle of their
most imposing appearance."

"At ii a.m. there was a foot parade for Inspection by
Lieut. -Colonel Garnett, commanding the nth (Prince Albert's
Own) Hussars," and adds the Grimsby News man : —

" The order in which everything appeared gave entire
satisfaction to the gallant officer."

" At 3 o'clock the Troop formed in squadron under Lieut.
J. M. Richardson commanding, and at the end of the inspec-
tion the reviewing officer addressed the troops, and con-
gratulated Lieut. J. M. Richardson, the officer commanding,
on the order in which he found the property of the troop, the
tents, the boots, and the accoutrements. The horses were an
exceptionally grand lot, and under no circumstances could a

121

The Life of a Great Sportsman

better sample be found. The drill of the troop was steady ;
men and horses were equally well drilled ; and the style in
which the troop appeared could not be excelled, except in
crack cavalry regiments in the Regular Service, and he (Col.
Garnett) should have great pleasure in reporting favourably to
the Horse Guards of the splendid troop he had that day
inspected."

It will be seen by the foregoing that in this part of the work
allotted to my brother Maunsell, he acquitted himself in a
satisfactory manner. Love, they say, makes a pleasure of all
toil for the beloved, and my brother Maunsell's reward came
when in 1881 the present Lord Yarborough came of age, and
Lady Yarborough felt free to marry the man of her choice.
For seven years he had waited patiently, and I am very sure
that had his divinity elected to marry some one else, he would
have remained a bachelor to the end of his days.

It is well said, " Our trials often end in becoming our
blessings," for there is no doubt that those seven years of
waiting developed and softened my brother Maunsell's perhaps
almost too strong character in a remarkable degree. Accus-
tomed as a child to have his own way in everything ; admired
for his good looks ; loved and made much of by his mother
and grandmother, his school and college friends, and in fact
by nearly all with whom he came in contact, his naturally fine
character might in some degree easily have been spoilt, but
this wonderful lesson of patience that he learnt almost un-
consciously, and certainly on Lady Yarborough's part was
taught quite without premeditation, was a godsend in the
perfecting of his character, showing him that it is at times but
the necessary law of human nature, that our wills, however
strong, may be thwarted by circumstances over which we
have no control ; and then we learn patience.

122

J. M. RICHARDSON AND VICTORIA, COUNTESS
OF YARBOROUGH

In the Engadine on their wedding tour, 1SS1.

Marriage to Lady Yarborough

There is no doubt, however, that this long time of pro-
bation, salutary as it was for his character, was at times
very hard to bear, and was borne very bravely. Many and
many a time, although he never complained by words, or
blamed his adored Lady, I have known him to be unhappy,
and above all, miserably uncertain, as indeed all true lovers
ought to be, as to what will be their ultimate fate.

When on that lovely July afternoon, of 1881, he stood at
the altar of St. George's, Hanover Square, and was made
one with the love of his life, he had his reward. It was " the
sporting wedding of the year," as one of the papers termed it.
None of his rivals for the hand of one of the most fascinating
women of her time grudged him that well-won victory.

For them both, these seven years of probation were, no
doubt, a time of trial, but for both they ended in one of the
happiest marriages that fall to the lot of men and women in
this world. They were hardly ever separated, with tastes in
common, all their thoughts, hopes, joys and sorrows were shared.
If you wanted my brother's study, you found it at a writing-
table in his wife's boudoir, which was no happy resting or
working place for her unless he were there to share it.

If you entered Lady Yarborough's drawing-room you found
her, it is true, but her husband was never very far off, should
he be at home, or if not he would appear on the scene in a
very brief space of time. Wherever one was, the other was
nearly certain to be found, and so year in, and year out, it
was the same story. No wonder that she misses him every-
where— sees him in spirit wherever she may be — and her
extraordinary courage and natural determination not to give
in has alone enabled her to live her life, that life so precious to
the relations she loves and by whom she is loved in turn, and
to her multitude of friends.

123

CHAPTER XIII

AS HUNTSMAN — LEAVES FROM HIS HUNTING DIARIES

When, after his marriage with Lady Yarborough in 1881, my
brother hunted the dog pack of the Brocklesby Hounds, it was
in no amateurish spirit that he entered upon and carried out
these duties. Hunting men will readily understand by the
following leaves which I quote from the Sporting Diaries he
kept during the four years he hunted the Brocklesby dog
pack, and will see from them, that although he was a man who
detested writing down any of his experiences, he gave his mind
thoroughly to the work in hand. I am told he showed
some of the finest sport that has ever been chronicled by this
celebrated old pack of hounds. A man of few words as far as
writing was concerned, the entries he has made show the care
with which he watched the working of hounds, and the interest
he took in all the details of their work. As to the care and
trouble he took over the breeding and rearing of the Hounds,
one has only to go through his papers, as I have been privi-
leged to do, and read his copious notes on the subject, to see
what minute thought he bestowed on the business. Scores of
kennel books with his notes and comments show how he had
mastered this problem so dear to him for many years. In
fact, from the time he was twenty-eight years of age to the
time of his death at sixty-five, he must have studied con-
tinuously the thousand and one apparently small matters which

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go to form and keep together such a fine pack as the
Brocklesby, and prepare himself for what he finally became,
joint M.F.H. of the Cottesmore.

Leaves taken from his Diary read: "Meet: — Hendale
Lodge. Horses out Victoria (Lady Yarborough), Dumpling ;
Maunsell Champagne. Weather fair wind, S.W. Foxes
killed i. Dog Hounds. First rate morning. Tremendous
cry and we ran hard for nearly four hours. Great many foxes.
Many cubs on foot and at last ran into a cub ; capital day for
hounds and they richly deserved their fox. Dryden seemed
to tire. Voucher, Slack, Wonder and Rarecat did a lot of
work."

11 Meet : — Caistor Gate. Horses out Victoria Trumps ;
Maunsell Sandboy. Found several old foxes and ran very
hard by Swiss Cottage and Foxdales to Brampton over W.
Frankish's farm through Newsham Wood out by Limber
School and through Cunnygreens (the wood the rooks deserted)
to Swallow cross-roads and into the woods at Swallow Wold,
ending over Caucas bottom and lost him near Pelham's Pillar.
Hard morning for hounds and unsatisfactory not getting any
cubs. All the young ones (hounds) did well except Ariel."

" Meet : — Brompton. Horses out Victoria Dumpling ;
Maunsell Sandboy. Found directly and ran very hard for an
hour in the woods. We got a cub away across the Searby
corner, and ran him very nicely to Grassby Top, turned to the
left and killed him in Clixby — thirty-five minutes. The young
hound entered well. Weathergage made a good hit just before
killing the fox."

"Meet: — Swallow Vale. Horses out Victoria Trumps;
Maunsell Champagne. Soon found plenty of cubs and stalked
them round the Vale. Into Henholes and back to the Vale,
and killed in three-quarters of an hour. We found again in

125

The Life of a Great Sportsman

Dawber Wood and ran into the Vale and through Henholes
and across the fields into Dawbers back into the Vale, and I
think he got to ground. We trotted to the woods and soon
found and ran for two hours from fox to fox. Sun came out
and no scent, gave it up. Hard morning. Dryden did a lot
of work in the morning, bit tired later on. Haggard short of
work — others did well."

" Meet : — Roxton Wood. Horses out Victoria Trumps J
Maunsell Hero. Rather stormy at first. Found at 7.15 a.m.,
and ran round the wood for two hours and killed a fine cub ;
we then came across a fox as we were leaving the wood, and
hunted from fox to fox all over the wood for four hours more,
and at last bowled him over — the best and hardest day I ever
ran. All hounds there (27 couples out), two couple short of
work, we sent home after killing first fox, and all the young
ones except Alaric pleased me. Furley, Bowler and Beeswing
(young bitch) did a tremendous lot of work. Nothing tired.
First-rate morning for hounds."

Of the real Hunting season he writes : — " First day of
advertising. Meet : — Laceby Cross Roads. Horses out
Maunsell Orange Peel and Simmington ; Victoria Hero.
Found at the small spinnies near Laceby and ran to Grimsby
Osier beds, and on to Bradley Wood, and ran sometime in the
wood. Several foxes on foot, one went away to Irby and lost
him in Beelsby Valley. Found in Irby Holme and ran several
rings for an hour and killed him. Satisfactory finish. Moderate
scent all day. Algy Legard, late Master of the Rufford, was
out. Alaric the only dog that did not do well."

11 Meet : — Brocklesby Park. Horses out Maunsell Birth-
day ; and Victoria Hero. Found a brace of foxes at Kealby
Southwells, and ran very fast to Riby Bratlands and to Heal-
ing Ground Wells. A good show of foxes and at last got

126

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away with one to Healing Gorse and to ground. Drew Roxton
Wood ; several foxes on foot and ran ringing about till dark.
Bad day's sport. Must have an earth stopper. Duchess of
Hamilton, Lady Olive Montague, Lord Calthorpe, Sir G.
Wombwell, Lord Burghersh, Sir B. Cunard, Tom and Mrs.
Tom Fitzwilliam and Miss Hall were out. We sent word
the night before to the Riby keepers to stop the earth. I
was very disappointed with the day."

11 Dec. 5th. (Dogs.) Horses out Maunsell Quebec ;
Waterford Murderer ; Victoria Birthday. Found in a turnip
field at Topham's Farm at Tows and ran very hard past
Wykham to Girsby and through the village pointing for
Hainton, turned short to the left and ran, leaving Girsby
Manor on the left, and through Wykham fish-pond over Tows
to Binbrook top covert, then through the covert straight to the
Scallows at Wold Newton pointing for Cadeby Hall, turned to
the right and ran through Wykham to Fotherby, turned to
the right again through Grimble Wood, sharp to the left for
Utterby across the railway between Ludborough station and
Louth, raced up to Ludborough village and pulled him down
in the clergyman's garden at Ludborough 3 hours and 15
minutes. A very good hunting run and no large check until
we came to Grimble wood. Wonder, Weathergage, Roman,
Bonny Lass, Harbinger, Acton, Ajax did a great deal of work.
Bought a three years that went splendidly all through the run.
Birthday carried Victoria splendidly." (Note by M. E. R. :
This beautiful thoroughbred bay gelding Birthday was a
present from my brother Maunsell to Lady Yarborough a year
or so before they married. A very fine jumper and an all-
round perfect lady's horse, he gave ,£400 for him, and at that
price considered him cheap. He carried his mistress many
seasons and never gave her a fall.)

127

The Life of a Great Sportsman

Here I came upon an interesting note as to my brother's
ideas on stag-hunting, showing not that he crabbed the twin
sport, but how he loved the actual work of the hounds, and
what to many seems the dreary part of the performance was
to him the greatest pleasure. The italics are his. No date
is given.

" I was hunting with Rothschild's Staghounds. No real
lover of fox-hunting can care about stag-hunting. No find, no
kill. Hounds carry no head. Two good runs of 35 minutes.
Cyril Flower, Leo Rothschild, and Douglas Gordon, were out.'

"Jan. 20th. Meet: — East Halton. Horses out Maunsell
Hero ; Victoria Birthday. Found directly in Bradley wood,
run to Scartha and back to Tennyson's Holt and through the
Holt to back of Walthan, then through Holton-le-clay to the
Gears. (Here a sheep-dog ran the fox.) We had four foxes
in the gears, and we ran round for twenty minutes, and then
out near Barnoldby to Beelsby, and the scent became so cold
we could do no more good, 2 hours 50 minutes, ran fast the
first half-hour. We were close to Irby Holm, and directly we
put the hounds in, a fox that had done a lot of work crossed
the ride, and we ran him hard in a ring to Irby dales, and
killed him — 55 minutes. Very hard day and satisfactory
killing him. Weathergage, Wonder, Ajax, Acton, Harbinger,
Bonny Lass, Leveller did a lot of work."

From a note of my brother's I find the following : —

" Meet at Saxby. I was not out. I heard they found
some outlying foxes, and as I was not out to look after them,
they chopped one and another they murdered in a pit."

At the end of the year 1881 I find this note : —

" Very satisfactory season all through. We killed 100
foxes in 109 days' hunting. The hounds did well. The
youngsters generally entered well."

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This probably begins another year's cub-hunting :

"The Woldsmen's (puppies walked by them) rather dis-
appointed me. Wanting condition, work light. Waterford
sent four couples to be worked and Rattler did well."

" Only fair sport during September. Scent moderate in
early October. Later in the month the scent improved, we
had some satisfactory runs in the open, and killed nearly all
our foxes. We were out 35 days and killed 38 foxes."

11 Nov. 1 st, 1882. Regular hunting begins. Meet: — Little
Brocklesby. Waterford having provided a big breakfast*
quite 100 people were out. We drew Rcxton Wood, ran over
the grass toward Brocklesby into the grounds and hunted him
beautifully down the walks back to Little Brocklesby, past the
Mausoleum and sharp back over the grass nearly to Roxton
Wood again. Then over the Brocklesby Steeplechase course
into Milliner's Wood and killed him, 1 hour 10 minutes. Good
hunting. Went to Riby Hermitage, found a leash of foxes on
foot, very bad scent and earths badly stopped. Forester, Arlen.
Bowler showed good nose and tongue all down the road to
Little Brocklesby. Gave Tyrone (the late Lord Waterford) f
the brush ; very little left of it as Vanquisher had nearly
eaten it ! "

" Meet : — Pelham's Pillar. Good day in the wood, chopped
a fox (bobtailed) at Pelham Pillar. Good hunting run 1 hour
5 minutes. Roman — Wellington did well."

On Feb. 28th, 1882, I find under the heading "Good
Days" :

* This remark distinctly savours of sarcasm. Not directed at the generous donor
of the breakfast, but at the thought that men who attended a meet of foxhounds
because a good hunting breakfast was provided were not the type of men my brother
admired.

f Then a plucky boy who rode to hounds well and showed what he was destined
to become, a real lover of sport. Alas ! for his untimely end.

129 K

The Life of a Great Sportsman

" Meet : — Thornton College. Good day's sport ; Rawnsley
(Master of the Southwold Hounds), C. Wright (M. J. Bads-
worth), A. Legard (late M.F.H. of the Rufford), Lord Water-
ford (late M.F.H. of the Curraghmore), Col. Fairfax (late
M.F.H. York and Ainsty), and several from the Holderness
were out. Hounds ran with great head the first run and
killed their fox handsomely. Moderate scent with the second
run. With the third they gave Roxton Wood a good rattling.
Rompish, Wildfire, Sabine, Barmaid, Beatrice (Speedy Water-
ford's) did well. Ruin (Waterford's) made a good hit down
a road."

The last two entries in my brother Maunsell's Hunting
Diary are well worth recording. I give them just as they
stand, and they speak for themselves, and any one who under-
stands hunting and cares for the working of hounds, and not
simply for galloping over fences, will understand and appreciate
his real love of the sport for sport's sake.

" Very hard day : — Mixed Packs, Dogs and Ladies."

"A Bye-day. Meet Swallow Wold. Found in a pit on
Sharpley's Farm and ran hard into the Swallow end of the
woods, down the woods to Grasby bottom over Raven's farm
through Cottager dales to ground at John-o'-Groats, 2 hours
30 minutes. Went to Pond close woods and ran round
the wood for ten minutes, then away past the Rectory at
Kermington on to Brocklesby Station when they marked him
to ground in a large drain — bolted him and ran fast to Parr's
Newsham chase, and he went into a small drain near the Gate
House. We bolted two foxes and unfortunately hounds ran
the vixen, but luckily she got to ground directly, and I took
the hounds and put them on the other fox and hunted by the
drain side past Parr's lamb pens into Pond close Wood point-
ing to Wootton, then back to Pond close and out towards the

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chase ; here they ran hard over the Park nearly to the water
tower, where unfortunately a terrier foiled the ground, having
followed the fox, and brought the hounds to a check when
close at their fox. I held them forward but they did not seem
to like it, so I thought it was wrong and went back to the
chase, when Vic (Lady Yarborough) came up to me and told
me our fox was walking dead beat by the water tower within
fifty yards of where we had run him. I went back, but he had
a long start, and hunted him slowly through the Mausoleum
Woods, away past Little Limber Lodge ; here Lucky Lass made
a good hit on the road, back to Pond close wood, through the
wood over the railway, then over a new-sown barley field where
hounds could hardly run him, and I had to give it up at 7.45
p.m., having run over four hours.

"Terribly hard day. Hounds very stout and hunted
beautifully ; all the field except Cecil Legard had gone home.
(If the terrier had not foiled the ground at the Water tower
we must have killed him.) Wellington, Weathergage, Acton,
Wildfire, Tapster, Lucky Lass (Waterford's), Major Warbler,
all made good hits and very stout. Fifteen couples out. All
there at the finish except Rompish, who got away early in the
morning on a fox from the woods. Two hours and 30 minutes
with the first fox. Four hours and 15 minutes with the second
fox. Stopped them at 7.25 p.m. If we had killed our last fox
I consider it would have been one of the best day's sport I ever
saw : I feel convinced he had worked his way back to Pond
close wood, but it was too late to go as I did not cast them
after the last check.

"April 23rd. Vic s birthday : Took the hounds to Roxton
Wood and ran for 15 minutes in the wood, then away over
H. Brook's farm pointing for Riby. Storm came on, we could
do nothing more. Found in Mausoleum Woods and ran with

131

The Life of a Great Sportsman

best cry I ever heard for nearly an hour. Fox dead beat and
to ground near View Gate.

" May 5th. Meet : The Kennels. The last day. Charlie
(Lord Yarborough) came back from India on the ist. As rain
came and the weather very cold we went out to kill a May fox.
Unfortunately there was bad scent in Roxton Wood. Hounds
rather short of work. Ground foiled in the wood and did not
like to go to Mausoleum Woods as there were two litters of
cubs."

This leaf ends that part of my brother's Hunting Diaries,
but I have quoted enough to show what he held to be the
duties of a Huntsman Amateur or Professional. I think even
to those who do not understand the inner practical working of
fox hunting it will be clear that what is worth doing at all is
worth doing well, and whether or not they sympathize with my
brother's work in this direction they must admit his was at least
work well done.

J32

CHAPTER XIV

POLITICAL CAMPAIGNS

At the earnest entreaty of his friends, but more especially at
the desire of his wife, Lady Yarborough, whose advice, as he
well knew, was always given to further his best interests in
life, and whose political views were in accordance with his
own, my brother consented to contest the Brigg Division of
Lincolnshire, in the Conservative interest, at the General
Election of 1886.

The constituency was then, as it is now, a very stronghold
of advanced Liberalism, and was represented in Parliament by
a most able man, the late Mr. Samuel Dancks Waddy, Q.C.,
an old hand at any kind of legitimate wire-pulling, and a
magnificent speaker. Amongst other clever electioneering
tactics, he came forward as a Gladstone Liberal, a name to
conjure with in those days for the most illiterate voter, who, as
ignorant as a mule, and without the smallest idea as to his own
best interests in the political struggle, had heard of Gladstone's
name, and had his ticket as to the flag under which colour he
was to vote — the Gladstonian — and so voted. His majority,
too, at the last election had been a very ample one, totalling up
to over 2600.

Perhaps it was as well that my brother and a great many of
his supporters, who were new at the political game, had not
any idea that they were practically leading a " forlorn hope,"

133

The Life of a Great Sportsman

and that to fight so radical a borough with such a strong
opponent, as well as being the sitting member, was almost
foredoomed to failure.

But at any rate Maunsell and his supporters, although they
were not rewarded by a victory, which would, under the cir-
cumstances, have been almost a miracle, succeeded in pulling
down Mr. Waddy's majority by over 2400, and only lost the
election by 165 votes.

This, as all his supporters declared, was a moral victory,
and naturally at the next General Election of 1892 my
brother was encouraged to try his luck again in the same
division, in which, though still as Liberal as ever, his
triumphant return was confidently predicted by his friends.

All is fair in love and war, and we must call a Parlia-
mentary contest, worked as it unfortunately is on such strong
party lines, the nearest approach to Civil War that this
enlightened twentieth century achieves, unless by the time
this book is published we shall have experienced that horror
in Ireland. A most unfortunate private circumstance, attend-
ing Mr. Waddy's personality as a Queen's Counsel, consisted
in the fact that, but for a love affair in which he had played a
prominent legal part some years previously, the 165 votes
which he scored to win would certainly have been given to my
brother.

At the General Election in 1886 there was a second cousin
of ours living at Caistor, Lincolnshire, a certain Miss Mary
Anne Marris. Her father, the late Mr. George M arris, our
grandmothers brother, had been Caistor's leading townsman
and richest inhabitant, and in his capacity of an old-fashioned
county solicitor numbered amongst his clients all the members
of the Richardson family. He was also the coroner of the
district, the Mary Anne just mentioned being his only child.

134

J. M. RICHARDSON.
When he represented the Brigg Division of Lincolnshire in Parliament, 1S94.

Political Campaigns

She had been brought up in the Miss Edgeworth style,
and was so precious to her parents that she was hardly ever
allowed out of their sight. The natural consequence was, that,
no doubt with the connivance of servants who took pity on so
solitary a damsel, she contrived to make assignations with an
usher in the Caistor Grammar School called Heap. I need
hardly say, that, although his Christian name was otherwise, it
became and remained Uriah, and at the time when the case
with all its vagaries appeared in the London daily papers was
given as such.

The end of the story is, that when old Uncle George and
his good wife departed this life and were safely laid away in
the family vault, Mary Anne found herself in absolute posses-
sion of something like ^80,000, nearly all of which was invested
in houses, land, etc., in Caistor, and carried parliamentary votes
influenced by her, enough to turn an election either way, in the
Brigg division of Lincolnshire. By this time, however, she had
learned to appraise Mr. Heap at his proper valuation, and had
arrived at the conclusion that he was not so much in love with
her as with her fortune. She therefore sent him to the right-
about.

But she had unfortunately reckoned without insight into
the Heap character, which must have been somewhat of the
11 Uriah " of Dickens' type, for her discarded lover at once
brought an action against her for breach of promise of
marriage. The late Mr. S. D. Waddy, Q.C., was her counsel,
and although the papers made immense fun out of the case,
Mary Anne got off with a comparatively trivial payment of
damages for her foolishness, and Mr. Waddy thereafter repre-
sented to her all that was valiant and chivalrous in mankind.
Moreover, my brother and his wife, not being adepts at wire-
pulling, omitted to call on their relation, to solicit her influence,

135

The Life of a Great Sportsman

which would have been quite sufficient for the purpose, and,
which abundant evidence proved, actually did turn the election
in Mr. Waddy's favour.

That my poor old Uncle George, who was a staunch
Conservative, would have turned in his grave at the thought
of his money being used in the Radical interest did not
evidently weigh in the balance with his daughter against the
saving to her pocket in damages, for the valiant Uriah opened
his mouth wide and claimed ,£25,000 for his broken heart and
for the loss of his Mary Anne, plus her fortune. There can be
no doubt this was a great factor against Maunsell's success all
through his Parliamentary campaigns.

Very shortly before the 1886 election, at a meeting of the
Primrose League, held in the Corn Exchange, Mr. W. Piggott,
one of Brigg's most prominent townsmen, said, " We have a
very able candidate in Mr. John Maunsell Richardson, who
has always so far succeeded in everything he has undertaken.
You will, I am sure, give a helping hand to return him as your
Member to Parliament when the next General Election takes
place. I feel quite sure he will use every means in his power
to further the splendid aims that have always been the lodestar
of Leaguers such as the Primrose Dames. "

On August 13, 1886, at a meeting of the Primrose League,
when a great demonstration was held in Brocklesby Park, Lady
Yarborough being the ruling councillor, the Hon. W. T.
Marriott, Q.C, M.P., spoke with no uncertainty as to his
opinion of the recent election mistake.

He said, " I am bound to say I am utterly unable to under-
stand how at the recent Parliamentary Election for the Brigg
division of Lincolnshire, the electors could reject so good a
candidate as Mr. John Maunsell Richardson, and elect such a
man as Mr. Waddy. I wonder, by the way, to how many of

136

SADDLE PRESENTED TO J. M. RICHARDSON

By his political opponents, after his first election, lost in 1886, who stated,
" though they could not help him to a seat in Parliament, gave him
a sure seat in that saddle. . ."

Political Campaigns

you Mr. Waddy is known? It seems to me he was elected
because nobody knew him."

At the same meeting my brother, disdaining to say one
word against his successful rival, struck the right note of
statesmanship, when he said, " I stand before you as the
rejected candidate, but I have one very great consolation,
which is, that the views I expressed and the policy I tried to
advocate when I had the honour of addressing you as a
candidate for Parliament, have been so cordially approved of
by all classes of voters that they have returned an overwhelm-
ing Unionist majority to Parliament.

That all his friends worked for my brother with great
heartiness there is no doubt, and yet in spite of the wave
of Conservatism that was then sweeping over the country,
Radicalism, in combination with Mr. Waddy 's qualities and
the name of Gladstone, had too firm a hold at the election of
1886, in the Brigg Division, for any change to be effected in
the political representation.

It was, however, very gratifying for my brother to find out
how much he was personally trusted and esteemed among the
electors. One of the most Radical villages in North Lincoln-
shire is that of Frodingham, where a large number of miners
are employed to work the ironstone for the several companies.
When canvassing these constituents Maunsell was often told
how much they would like to vote for him. But, " Sir," they
would say, " we maun vote for our ticket." Indeed so strong
was the personal feeling in his favour, that after the election
was over his principal opponents in that district invited him to
a dinner, at which the chairman presented him with a saddle
and bridle. The latter ended up a laudatory and half-apologetic
speech, by saying, " We could not vote you a seat in Parlia-
ment, sir, but we have voted you a saddle on which we know

137

The Life of a Great Sportsman

you will have a safe seat as long as it hangs together, and a
bridle you will know how to use."

I know personally of one incident in which an enthusiastic,
even rabid, Gladstonian Liberal, a splendid speaker, and one
whose presence on the platform would have carried weight and
influenced many votes, refused to come down and address a
meeting in the Liberal interest in my brother's division. " I
cannot speak for him, and I will not speak against him," was
the reply returned.

From 1886 to the next General Election for Parliament,
1892, my brother had "nursed" his constituency and had
during that time certainly lost no hold on the electors, for he
polled 300 more votes than in 1886; but the same difficulty
that he had to contend with then, both in the strength of his
opponent and the ultra-liberalism of the Borough, met him,
and he was again defeated. For although 300 more voters
polled for Richardson, Waddy brought out 561 more, and the
whole Poll was increased by 866.

Then, to make the return of a Tory the more difficult, as
in 1886 a wave of Conservatism had swept over the country,
now, just six years later, the tide had set in the opposite
direction, and the Liberals were returned with a majority
for Parliament under the Leadership of the greatest Parlia-
mentarian of the Victorian era, William Ewart Gladstone, for
the last time.

It is always a pleasant thing to turn from a political defeat,
especially if the principal is intimately connected with yourself,
and chronicle a victory. And this happened at the bye-election
in the Brigg Division of Lincolnshire, when, in 1894, my
brother was returned in triumph for the constituency he had
twice before contested unsuccessfully. That wonderful bye-
election still lingers in the minds of my brother's constituency

133

Political Campaigns

of North Lincolnshire, not only of those who voted for him,
but the canvassers and the voteless ones who worked so hard
to secure his return. What a time of excitement it was 1 To
quote from a local paper of December 15, 1894 : " Reckitt looks
blue, and Lord Rosebery has come to grief in a Lincolnshire
drain. Mr. J. M. Richardson has steered another Disturbance
to victory in the Grand National contest."

Then the account goes on, " The counting of votes took
place in the Corn Exchange, and although conducted in private,
the result that Mr. Richardson had won, by some mysterious
means leaked out before the official announcement was made,
and at once the newly elected member was received with an
outburst of cheering which lasted for some minutes. When the
figures were announced the outburst was renewed, and the cheers
were kept up for a considerable time. Speaking after repeated
calls, the new member said : — ' I congratulate youupon having
won a great victory, but the victory is due to your exertions,
and not to the man who is now addressing you. Now that
the battle is over I hope all the voters, whether they supported
me or not, will look upon me as their Member, a Member who
will endeavour to serve their interests to the best of his ability
and in no party spirit.' " The account then tells how Mr.
Richardson and the Countess of Yarborough and Master Jack
Richardson entered an open carriage, out of which the horses
had been taken, and were drawn round the town by enthusiastic
supporters, being splendidly received everywhere.

I was in the good old town of Brigg one summer, collecting
at first hand material and local colour for this life of my brother,
and was astonished at the vivid manner in which all the details
of that one election, when Maunsell's political colours were to
the fore, had captured the minds and the hearts of the North
Lincolnshire people. I shrewdly suspect that very many of

139

The Life of a Great Sportsman

his political opponents were opponents in name only, because
as honest men having promised their votes to their party they
would not draw back from their word, yet in their hearts were
genuinely delighted when my brother won.

From a political opponent, but evidently a personal friend,
I find the following : —

" Hoburne,

" Christchurch, Hants.

" My dear Richardson,

" Although I say with the National Anthem 'Con-
found your politics ' I cannot but write congratulations on your
victory. I shall be delighted to see you in the House.

" Herbert Gardner."

It was certainly but by a narrow majority of jj votes that
my brother was returned to Parliament in 1894, Dut a larger
number of voters polled at that bye-election than in the previous
two elections, and my brother received 655 more votes than at
his first attempt. A total of 8,677 votes were cast as against
7,609 in 1886 and 8,469 in 1892. Considering that the whole
electorate in that division of Lincolnshire consists of just
over 10,000 voters, it was an astonishing result, secured by a
thoroughly well-worked and conscientiously canvassed con-
stituency.

In connection with this narrow majority of 77 ; at a dinner
given shortly after his election at Scunthorpe, near Brigg, and
referring to a rumour that a petition was to be presented
against his return to Parliament, the new member remarked, " I
have heard this cry of an objection being lodged years ago,
when a horse I rode ran a bit faster than another, and came in
first, but I've always 'weighed in' all right, and I have no

140

THE RT. HON. LORD HENEAGE OF HAINTON.
(Who introduced J. M. Richardson to the House of Commons.)

Political Campaigns

doubt I shall be able to stand the test of the Parliamentary
equivalent to ' weighing in ' on this occasion."

11 The victory of Brigg," as it was called everywhere, caused
a very great sensation in the country generally, coming as it
did immediately following the loss of Forfar to the Liberals.
" Punch" had some excellent cartoons on the subject, and there
is no doubt that the Brigg victory hastened the downfall of the
Rosebery Cabinet. Here again we can see the note of friend-
ship to the individual, for Lord Rosebery, himself a friend of
my brother, though a political opponent, and one who must
have been smarting at this second blow to his Ministry, in a
speech he made on 12th December, 1894, shortly after the
Forfar and Brigg elections, showed himself as magnanimous to
Maunsell as an opponent to his policy as he was faithful to
their old friendship. He said, "It seems hard in this great
meeting " (the hall in which he spoke, accommodating 8000
people, being filled to overflowing) " to feel any sense of dis-
couragement" (a Voice, "Brigg" ). " It is quite true we have
lost two bye-elections, but I think the losses both in Forfarshire
and at Brigg can be explained entirely by local circumstances."

Of the Forfar election he added, "The death of my dear
friend the late Lord Dalhousie lost that election." Of the
Brigg victory he remarked, "In the case of Brigg we had to
deal with an excellent local candidate — a good sportsman, — ah !
gentlemen, the election agents are not wise who despise good
sportsmen, and one who had the inestimable advantage of
having fought the seat twice already, and, gentlemen, is there
not something in these attempts, though hitherto unsuccessful,
that appeals to the sense of fair play in Englishmen ? And I
don't think we need particularly complain. To hear the hulla-
baloo that is kicked up, one would think that we were the only
Government that had lost a bye-election."

141

The Life of a Great Sportsman

On May 16th, 1895, at 1.30 p.m. Mr. J. M. Richardson
made his first, and I regret to say, his last speech in the House
of Commons. He seconded an amendment moved by Captain
Bethell to a Land Tenure Bill, the Second Reading of which
had been moved by Mr. Lambert. From the Times I quote
the following account : —

"Mr. J. M. Richardson, who on rising was received with

cheers, said, that as representing one of the largest agricultural

constituencies in the Kingdom, I can claim some acquaintance

with the views of tenant farmers in connection with this Bill.

I wish to draw the attention of the House particularly to that

portion of the Bill which proposed to abolish the law of distress."

"In Lincolnshire generations of farmers had succeeded to

farms under what was known as the Lincolnshire tenant right

system, under which the most cordial relations had subsisted

between landlords and their tenants. This is in my opinion a

most inopportune time for introducing this Bill, inasmuch that

the report of the Agricultural Commission would shortly be

made, when the House would be in a better position to judge

of the merits of the proposals which were contained in the Bill

than they were at present. The Hon. Member for South

Molton would therefore have been better advised if he had

waited for the publication of the report before he had introduced

the measure. I emphatically deny that the smaller tenants

would derive any advantage from the abolition of the law of

distress, which enables the landlords to give credit to their

tenants at certain times of the year, when if the tenant did not

obtain that credit they would be compelled to sell their corn at

a disadvantage. Under the Lincolnshire custom the landlords

usually give four months' and in many cases 1 2 months' credit

to their tenants, but if this Bill passed they would be obliged

to demand payment of their rents immediately it became due.

142

o
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« <U

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i-i

-d

>-.

C/3

a
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Political Campaigns

" The Report of the Assistant Commissioner in Agriculture
goes to show that the Lincolnshire custom is most b eneficial to
the agricultural tenant. The Bill ought to have been submitted
to the various chambers of Agriculture before it was introduced
— I beg to second the amendment."

I had been invited by my sister-in-law, who was in town
for the season, to go with her to the House of Commons to
hear my brother speak, he having secured us seats in the
Ladies' Gallery. Imagine our disappointment when he came
up to the gallery, excited and radiant, having said his say. He
thought we had been there, and in fact had only just finished
his speech when we arrived. We were told, however, by
several members that he had made a very telling speech, and
created an excellent impression in the House, and that great
things were expected of a man who could hold the attention
of members with no perceptible effort, and would evidently
only speak on matters that had been well considered by him
in detail, and of which he had personal and special knowledge.

It is really astonishing what testimony I have found amongst
his private papers of his value as a loyal member of the Party
to which he belonged, and the conscientious manner in which he
discharged such duties as fell to his lot during the few months
that he was a Member of Parliament and entitled to write M.P.
after his name. One letter from an exceptionally well-informed
and influential member of the Conservative Party gives us a
partial clue to my brother's non-success in the election in 1895.
It is written from Downing Street, and after expressing infinite
regret over the other's defeat, goes on to say, " I am afraid,
while you were attending to your duties in the House of
Commons, your opponent in Brigg was making the running.
I have to thank you for your kind attention in the House. No
party could have had a more loyal and constant supporter.

The Life of a Great Sportsman

"If every one had been like you a Whip's Office would
be an easy one. (W. H. Walrond.")

And from another very influential man, written from the
House of Commons, came this note : — " I am sorry from the
bottom of my heart for the loss of such a good man, and just
the man we now wanted to do something for Agriculture. He
would have been such a support to Walter Long and Chaplin."

From Mr. Walter Long himself came the following : —

"8/8/95.
11 My dear Maunsell, — I can't think how the people of
Brigg have been induced to stultify themselves. We shall all
miss you immensely, and nobody more than I. It is disgusting
to think we shall not see you on Monday. (Signed) Walter
Long."

From Mr. Richard Middleton, who wrote from the Con-
servative Central Office, Westminster : — " I can't tell you how
grieved I was at your not carrying the seat, especially after
the splendid fight you have made for our cause in that con-
stituency. (Signed) Richard W. Middleton."

And these are but a few of the many tributes I have found
in his papers as to my brother's estimated political value in
the minds of men who not only knew what they were talking
about, but were the practical leaders and mainstays of the
Conservative party.

As, however, will have been gathered from the foregoing
letters, my brother's victory at Brigg was but a short-lived
triumph, for although he certainly contributed by that well-fought
fight to bring the Liberal Government, which was under Lord
Rosebery's guidance at that time on Mr. Gladstone's retire-
ment in 1894, to an end, he was defeated in July, 1895 ; his

144

Political Campaigns

active political career only lasting from December, 1894, when
he took his seat amid cheers in the House of Commons, to
July, 1895, when, as Mr. Walter Long remarks in his letter,
the people of Brigg stultified themselves.

My brother was offered seats in other counties, and safe
ones, too, so that he would have had no difficulty in re-entering
Parliament, but remaining true to his beloved Lincolnshire, he
firmly refused, saying, " If I am not good enough to represent
the county in which I was born and bred, I will represent no
other." To that principle he adhered ; although often urged
to return in easy fashion to the House of Commons, where
he would have undoubtedly done good work for his country,
he held to his determination.

That many of his constituents were not only grateful for
his services, but grieved beyond measure at the loss of his
seat, the presentation portrait of himself that figures as an
illustration in this book speaks more eloquently than any
words.

This valuable oil-painting by Mr. Ouless, R.A., and
justly considered one of his best examples, was exhibited
at the Royal Academy of 1897, an<^ lis presentation to my
brother took place at the Angel Hotel, Brigg, in August,
1897.

Mr. Carey- El wes, the Chairman of the Presentation Com-
mittee, at a very large and representative meeting, including
many ladies, amongst whom were Victoria, Countess of Yar-
borough, Lady Eleanor Heneage, Lady Adela Larking, Lady
Winifred Carey- El wes, Miss Amelia M. Barker, and others,
said : "Not only had they sympathized with Mr. Richardson
when the fates had been against him, but on one memorable
occasion they had rejoiced with him over a triumph, which in
that part of the world had no parallel. It was his duty and

145 L

The Life of a Great Sportsman

pleasure to present to Mr. Richardson his portrait, painted by
Mr. Ouless, R.A., as a tribute of their appreciation of his
sterling qualities, and a mark of their admiration, esteem and
affection." The Chairman also presented an illuminated
address in a book containing his name and those of over
iooo subscribers.

After expressing his profound thanks for the honour
accorded to him, my brother, in reply, said, "This picture is
painted by one of the greatest artists in the kingdom. But
it is not as a work of art I value it the most, but rather as
a token of the kindly feeling and friendship that has existed
for so many years between myself and my neighbours, and
I am proud to think that in these years of political strife I
have not made any enemies, but instead have gained an in-
creased number of friends.

" We all look back with pleasure to the bye-election of
1894. I received a telegram from Lord Salisbury a few hours
after the poll was declared containing these words : ' Con-
gratulate you, most important victory.' But I well know I
could not have won that bye-election without good workers,
and although it would be invidious to name any single one, I
may be excused for saying, that my wife Victoria, Countess of
Yarborough, gave me every assistance and encouragement to
persevere."

" I am indeed lucky in having a wife who possesses the
virtues of patriotism, with the private and more homely ones
which constitute the charm and comfort of a home. I may say
in conclusion this portrait will be handed down as a valuable
heirloom to my family."

The Earl of Yarborough, Maunsell's eldest stepson, then
said, " This occasion is especially pleasing to me, firstly, from
family connections, and secondly from political ties."

146

THE PRESENT EARL OF YARBOROUGH.

Political Campaigns

I well remember, as I was going one day to my brother
and sister-in-law's house in London (they generally took a
house in town for the season) when this portrait was in progress,
I met the former walking down the street. He looked a
shade extra smart and very pleased with himself, and I said,
" Where are you off to ? "

" To Mr. Ouless's studio," he said. " Fancy ! he has given
two days to the painting of my hands alone ! "

Certainly his hands were very characteristic, and if any
one wants to see what they are like, I refer them to Madame
Tussaud's to look at the hands in wax of Richard Cceur de
Lion, for they are the exact counterpart.

It is very difficult to account for my brother's loss of the
seat in 1895. But looking at the matter quite dispassionately
at this distance of time, it seems to me, as I know it does to
many others in the Brigg division, that the Conservative Party
made too sure of a victory — that they underrated their oppo-
nent. An absolutely fatal error in war — politics — or love. It
has since also been proved that many villages never received
my brother's election cards or posters. But whatever the
reason for Maunsell's failure in 1895, after his triumphant
success in 1894, this ending to his parliamentary career was,
in the opinion of many, a distinct loss to the country, and more
particularly to the agricultural and landed interests, of which
he had a unique knowledge.

My brother was a very good speaker, and his voice carried
well. The first time I ever heard him speak was under the
most depressing circumstances. The meeting was held in an
immense rain-sodden marquee, in which the words of such a
practised speaker as Mr. Chaplin were almost inaudible. Yet,
though seated at the far end of the tent, I could hear every
word my brother said, without the slightest difficulty. That

147

The Life of a Great Sportsman

he prepared his political and other speeches with the greatest
care is abundantly proved by his notes of the same I have
since found amongst his papers, not only showing an immense
range of subject matter, but also proving that with a few
concise notes he was able to deliver a long and important
speech.

148

CHAPTER XV

A LIFE-LONG FRIEND : LORD MINTO

" In him," to quote from the Daily Telegraph of Monday,
March 2, 1914, "the Nation loses a capable, high-minded and
patriotic servant of the Empire."

And it may truthfully be added that in private life his
bereaved wife, his family relations and friends lose as
generous, kindly and true a man as ever existed, and one,
moreover, who in spite of achieving so much was the most
modest of men.

I had just finished a preceding chapter on Life at Limber,
in which, as he had so full and I am sure happy a share, the
late Lord Minto, then Lord Melgund, figures largely, when I
heard the sad news of his death. He has not long survived
my brother Maunsell, his life-long friend. I knew how very ill
Lord Minto had been, but it was hoped that the severe opera-
tion which he underwent in the summer of 19 13 would bring
him back to health. Unfortunately, however, frequently re-
curring attacks of malarial fever, that curse of a lengthened
sojourn in India, finally laid him low, to the intense grief of all
who were honoured by his acquaintance, and mourned by the
Empire he had served so faithfully and long.

After holding minor but most important Government
appointments, he was appointed Governor- General of Canada
in 1898, holding that position until 1905, when he became

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

Viceroy of India, holding office from 1905 to 1910; filling
in these two appointments the highest posts it is possible for
a subject to occupy, and in each acquitting himself brilliantly.
He left both countries in a far sounder condition than he found
them. In Canada, as perhaps was natural, where he cemented
the tie to the Mother country so much more closely, the effect
of his good government was swiftly traced, as the minds of our
brethren across the water move in a line with ours and re-
present recent growth. In India, that most wonderful and
interesting of our possessions and the most difficult to bring
into line with our modern ideas, the effect of his rule has been
slower, but he undoubtedly proved that an Englishman,
although ruling an alien nation, alien in religion, thought and
long eras of mystic civilization, could sympathize with them in
their essentially different attributes of mind and feeling. Also
he convinced them, that although we could be true to our
ideals we could respect theirs, and honestly endeavour to do
justice to their old-world beliefs ; above all he did all in his
power by personal action to break down the terrible colour
prejudice. Then, too, he displayed a personal courage, whether
in sport, or in the performance of his Viceregal duties ; and
there is no doubt that courage such as Lord Minto displayed
captures the heart of any people, and is recognized and re-
spected.

When I look back upon those days at Limber it seems
almost impossible to think that our dear friend, and familiar
companion, realized these triumphs of statecraft, but on the
other hand it is very easy to believe that in so doing he
remained as ever just the simple-hearted, kindly gentleman,
loving power not for the sake of his own aggrandisement, but
for the good he could do for mankind. And as the child is
father to the man, so was the then Lord Melgund, as I knew

150

THE EARL OF MINTO.
("Mr. Roily.")

A Life-long Friend : Lord Minto

him in these early days of his budding manhood, father to the
man who in his maturer years took up so unostentatiously and
carried through so honourably the great work of the British
Empire with which he was entrusted.

During the four years he stayed with us in Limber, I
cannot recall one mean or inconsiderate action on his part, and
in such a length of time one gets to know a fellow-being very
thoroughly ; in fact, a pleasanter and I am glad to think a
happier quartette than Lord Melgund, Maunsell, my eldest
brother and myself never existed.

Naturally my brother Maunsell and he did a large amount
of bear-fighting, and there were occasions when these fights
became historic — as when rolling over and over together on
the floor in the Limber dining-room, having disagreed about
some horsey question or other, they broke five panes of glass
in our big bookcase — that bookcase is in our family, an
honoured possession yet. Another time they scrapped so
heartily that both coats were very nearly torn off their
backs.

But what mattered a good dress-coat in those halcyon days
— the "Cat," who was a tease of the first water, certainly con-
stantly sharpened his claws upon his friend, although he would
metaphorically have hit out hard if any one else had attempted
the same kind of worrying, as indeed once happened.

During a pause at dinner, when several others, whom we
might call outsiders, were dining with us at Limber, Cecil
Legard said in his very clear voice, so soon to be heard in the
pulpit, " How well you went, Roily, last Wednesday with the
hounds ! in at the kill, and altogether a fine performance ! " I
can see Lord Melgund's face now, as he looked up. Natur-
ally we were listening with all our ears round the table, for
although we never talked of our own doings in the hunting

'5i

The Life of a Great Sportsman

field we liked to know we had gone well in the opinion of
others, and he was evidently pleased and expectant as to who
had remarked upon his prowess. " Who told you that ? " he
said.

" I saw it in a book," returned his tormentor.

Then we, in the know that such a journal existed, knew
that he had looked in Lord Melgund's hunting journal, no
doubt left carelessly about. Poor Lord Melgund got very red
and looked confused, and Maunsell's face was not pleasant to
behold, but luckily the presence of strangers prevented any
serious row. It was a very near thing, however, and matters
were for a time thundery and we of the outside were glad when
conversation flowed along as before.

There was, however, one kind of chaff Lord Melgund could
never stand, even from Maunsell, and that was being accused
of telling a fib. Then the vials of his wrath were poured
forth and the bear-fighting was tremendous, and righteously so,
but I must say I seldom knew my brother to venture on such
thin ice, unless he happened to be in a very bad temper indeed,
which was not often the case.

When I was in Limber last summer I heard a good story
of how Lord Minto and Maunsell strolled down to the village
one day, when they had nothing better to do save to seek
amusement, which they were always certain to find at the
Marris's of the bottom house. " Little Man," as the owner was
always called, conducted them to his Piggery and offered my
brother Maunsell a sturdy young pig of an exceptionally large
litter, of an age vigorous enough to prove most difficult for
any one to handle, provided he would carry it up the village
to our house, three-quarters of a mile away.

Relying on his friend Mr. " Roily " to help him, or on his
own power to induce him to do so, Maunsell accepted this

152

AIRS. CATHARINE MAUNSELL.
J. M. Richardson's maternal grandmother.

A Life-long Friend : Lord Minto

porcine gift on condition that he could have it in a sack, and so
the party set forth, the "Cat" carrying the kicking young porker.
When, however, about halfway, he insisted upon the future
Viceroy of India shouldering his sprotling, squeaking burden
and carrying it the rest of the distance. And so it happened
that for the remainder of the journey to our house Lord
Melgund walked with the pig on his back, and the village
people holding their sides with laughter as he passed their
cottages, the pig shrieking above all other sounds and kicking
ad lib. I can imagine this possibly as being the most ad-
venturous and uncomfortable journey on foot Lord Minto ever
performed, and before, perhaps, the most appreciative audience.

One characteristic of Lord Melgund as a young man, and
one that, reading between the lines of his public career, I feel
sure he retained as an administrator — he was always on the
side of the weak. It seems curious now to recall the many
times he stood between me and the natural teasings of my two
brothers. I knew well he would always be on my side in the
smallest detail of our daily life, and stand between me and any
unnecessary brotherly administrations, whatever the result in
" scrapping " he might have to undergo afterwards. It is very
pleasant to me to testify from my own personal knowledge to
the soundness and sterling worth of Lord Minto's character
when he was at an age few young men ever think of any one
but themselves, or concern themselves with anything but their
own amusement. My grandmother simply adored him, and
he in his turn showed her the greatest kindness and courtesy,
never tiring of talking with the old lady on sport, politics, or
whatever came uppermost.

Very often I have heard my grandmother, Mrs. Maunsell,
say, " I pity the girls when he looks at them with those
beautiful eyes of his, for how can any one help falling in love

153

The Life of a Great Sportsman

with him ? " No one seemed to think of me or fear what my
sad fate might have been — had I fallen a victim to those " eyes
of blue." Yet grateful as I was to Lord Melgund for standing
up for me upon every possible dispute with my brothers, I
must have looked upon him more as a relation than anything
else, for I may honestly say at this time of my life — when my
dear old friend is in his grave, and I in the ordinary course of
life am not so very far from mine — that the thought of his
being in love with me or I with him never entered into my head.
I count myself fortunate in having known so fascinating and
great a man intimately, and being able now to pay this tribute
to his memory without the fear that any sentimental regard for
him then should lead me now to exaggerate his fine qualities.

Two photographs, which were taken just before he resigned
the Scots Guards in 1870, and came to live with us at Limber,
I have luckily preserved. Little did I know when he gave
them to me so many years ago they would illustrate this book.

And now very reluctantly I must leave the subject and
come to my last meeting with my old friend Lord Minto. As
he had been so very ill, too ill in fact to be fit for any
exertion that could possibly be avoided, he asked me to go and
see him in connection with an " Impression " of my brother
which he had promised me for this book, instead of coming to
my hotel.

I had not seen Lord Minto for some years, excepting a
glimpse I had of him at my brother's funeral in 191 2 ; we had,
however, kept up a correspondence much in the same way that
men do, writing congratulations for any pleasant landmarks of
life, condolences for the sad, and no Christmas had passed
but we exchanged cards of good wishes, so it seemed we met
as if we had parted yesterday.

In person he seemed only changed by his grey hair and

154

STAINED GLASS WINDOW.

Erected in Great Limber Church, to the memory of his Grandmother,
Mrs. Catharine Maunsell, by J. M. Richardson in 1887.

A Life-long Friend : Lord Minto

sadly frail appearance, but his manner, expression, and bearing
were the same, and his cordiality was just what I expected.
We talked of old times, and it was extraordinary the minute
details of the old Limber life he remembered. I went wrong,
or he thought I had, in the colour of Maunsell's tassel to his
racing cap ; he immediately put me right, and on two or three
other quite minor points.

" How glad we were to get you safely back from India!
Did you like the life there ? " I asked him.

" I loved it," he replied ; and with very pardonable pride
he added, " my family are the third generation who have lived
at the Residency." Then with his old sweet smile, "And my
wife never had a day's illness the whole time we were in
India." He told me then, but even quite casually, that he had
had a very serious operation, how serious I did not understand.
" My inside," he said, " was crushed, owing to the many falls I
had in the old days." I said, " Was it from the old falls in
Lincolnshire or the historic time when you broke your
neck ? " " No," he laughed, " I have had many falls since
then."

We naturally talked of my brother Maunsell, and I told him
some details he wanted to know for his " Impression." Being
the only friend who had seen Maunsell at the end, in fact a
few hours before his death, I asked him what he had thought
when he saw him.

" Thought," he said, " he was just like himself, cheery, and
I am sure had no thought of dying. I never was more
astonished or horrified in my life than when I heard on the
Monday morning he had passed away — you know I saw him
the Sunday afternoon before, and he seemed so bright and
hopeful for himself." Then I asked a personal question.
" Should you have recognized me ? " I said. He shaded his

155

The Life of a Great Sportsman

eyes with an all too delicate hand and said, " I should have
recognized you anywhere."

He had allotted me a full hour, and after that was to
interview an Indian Potentate, some very big man indeed, he
said. He told me that, and it was easy to judge from his
manner that colour at least with him made no difference to his
feeling of respect for genuine worth.

Sorry as I was not to chat with him longer, and bitterly
disappointed as I am never to have seen him again, I am glad
I did not take up my full hour of his precious time nor add my
selfish share to his weariness. Although he asked me to stay,
and seemed very sorry, I insisted on going before my time
was up.

And now I come to a very sad part of my story, and one
that has caused me great disappointment. In that not only
have I lost in Lord Minto a reader who would have been as
interested in my book as I am myself, and would have been
kindly critical into the bargain, but he was unable through his
illness to finish the all but completed "Impression" he had
contemplated, indeed made notes of, for my book.

As lately as January ist, 19 14, I had this letter from him :

"Dec. 31st, 1913.
11 Minto House,
" N.B.

" My dear Miss Richardson,

"In case you may think I have forgotten my
promise about a few notes * to you about dear old Maunsell, I
write to say that I have scribbled down a few things, but my
typist is away for a holiday, and I suppose will be back in
about a week, when I will send them to you.

* Since this was written Lady Minto has kindly sent me the extract from her late
husband's diary and what he had written to the time of his death of his " Impression."
—See Chapter XIX., " Reminiscent."

156

A Life-long Friend : Lord Minto

" Without embarking on racing or training, it is difficult to
say all one would like, but as Finch Mason is doing that part,
I think it is much better to keep clear of it and to be general,
and I shall be quite short.

" Ever so many happy years to you from

" Yours very sincerely,

(Signed) " Minto."

Naturally after this letter I expected the eagerly awaited
"Impression" every day, and even wrote to Messrs. Vinton
and Co., who were just as anxious as I was to have such
important matter for the book, and told them I had as good as
got it.

Then to my great disappointment on January 18th I had a
letter from Lady Minto to say her husband was in bed, and
had been for over two weeks, with malarial fever, and it would
be impossible for him to do any writing for some time.

I possessed my soul in patience, always hoping for the
best, and that he would pull round as he had done many times
before. But he never rallied, and I have but the sad con-
solation left to me that most probably his last literary effort
in life was to give to the world something of the joy the long
friendship of my brother had been to him, and to add his
testimony to the character of the man he had so loved and
admired.

157

CHAPTER XVI

LIFE AT EDMONDTHORPE

In the winter of 1900, for private reasons, which my brother
and his wife considered only too sufficient, they decided to
leave Healing Manor, where they had lived since the present
Lord Yarborough's marriage in 1887, and at that time a willing
purchaser, Captain the Hon. Gerald Portman, appearing, they
sold the house which they had made beautiful and comfortable,
and which had been their home for so many years.

It was with infinite regret that my brother and his wife
turned their backs upon their beloved Lincolnshire, and the
" Brocklesby." No wonder, for every hound in those celebrated
packs, their pedigrees, points and prowess, was personally
known to my brother by his intimate and long years' study of
their Stud-book's history.

The question, however, as to in which county of Great
Britain they should make their future home was no easy one
to settle, for directly it was known that J. M. Richardson and
Lady Yarborough had determined to leave Lincolnshire, letters
poured in on all sides from their friends, urging the advantages
of their several districts. They were thus assured of the
heartiest welcome wherever they chose to go, and friends in
various ultra-sporting counties assured them that their own
particular part of England could best appreciate my brother's
special sporting knowledge, show the finest sport over the

■58

[-1 w

Q v

1—1

Life at Edmondthorpe

grandest country, and so could best console him for his removal
from Lincolnshire.

Finally, it was decided to make the new home in the central
and compact little county of Rutland; partly, I cannot help
thinking, because it bordered on Lincolnshire, but chiefly no
doubt because with four celebrated packs available : the Cottes-
more, Belvoir, Quorn, and Mr. Fernie's, it afforded a certainty
of the best possible sport. The Masters of these packs were
also well known to my brother — Lord Lonsdale, Sir Gilbert
Greenall, Colonel Forrester, and Mr. Fernie — and their prowess
in the hunting field appreciated by him. A very pleasant
reminiscence, too, both had of Leicestershire hunting and the
" Cottesmore," for a year previously when they were staying
with Lady Downshire (Lady Yarborough's niece), who, by the
way, is a great follower of the hounds herself, they enjoyed a
grand day with this pack. On this occasion Lady Yarborough
rode her wonderful old grey mare and followed my brother
over every obstacle. Those who know the Leicestershire
country will understand what this means, especially negotiating
the celebrated Wissendine Brook.

[Note by M. E. R., 19 19. — Last January, when staying
with my sister-in-law at her present residence, Wing
Lodge, Leigh ton Buzzard, and we were having a tete-b-tete
dinner, I recalled this historic first day's hunting in Leicester-
shire to her remembrance. She laughingly said, "Why I
jumped it twice that day; the hounds checked and turned
back."

" Was it difficult to negotiate ? " said I.

" Not a bit," she answered, " I just cantered up to it,
following Maunsell's lead, and popped over."]

Eventually, Edmondthorpe Hall, four miles from Oakham,
once the seat of the Smith-Barrys (now the Lords Barrymore),

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

then belonging to Mr. Pochin of Leicester, was decided upon
as the new home.

This world-famous Elizabethan house, comfortably
modernized internally, without being spoiled externally, was
a fitting setting and harmonized well with the lives of my
brother and his wife, which it was destined for so many years
to brighten.

It had been a very sad epoch in Maunsell's life, to break up
his Lincolnshire home, and leave the county in which he had
hunted almost before he could remember, nor was it less sad
for his wife, for, first as Lady Worsley, and later as the reigning
Countess of Yarborough, she had created a fine example of
feminine prowess in the hunting field, going straight, riding
unselfishly, never making herself a nuisance. Naturally, after
her marriage to my brother he became her pilot across country,
and hard rider as he was, no fence negotiated by him, unless
he put up his hand to stop her, which happened seldom, was
ever considered unjumpable by his plucky wife.

It was therefore no little compensation to be received with
such delight in their new sporting quarters.

With the Rector of the picturesque village of Edmond-
thorpe, the Rev. Lindsay Knox, brother of the Bishop of
Manchester, and his three sisters, they were soon on the
friendliest terms, making church life pleasant and interesting,
and as was the case at every place in which they had
lived, so here the villagers speedily recognized that the new
tenants of the Hall were friendly, generous, and, above all,
companionable.

Amongst the many good friends my brother and Lady
Yarborough made, cementing also some old friendships, during
their Edmondthorpe sojourn, it may seem invidious to mention
names, but from what I could judge myself on my visits to

1 60

Pi
D

rn
u

Q
W

Life at Edmondthorpe

Edmondthorpe a few come prominently to my mind as their
especial cronies.

That ever-genial and fine sportsman Lord Lonsdale and his
Lady; Elizabeth Lady Wilton and her husband Mr. Arthur
Pryor, both enthusiastic followers of hounds; Mr. and Mrs.
Blair ; Mr. and Mrs. Baird ; Mr. and Mrs. Gretton ; Mr. and
Mrs. Cecil Chaplin and their sons; the ever-cheery Uncle
Clayton and his son Greville ; Mr. and Mrs. Dick Fenwick ;
Mr. and Mrs. Max Angus — Mr. Angus being especially helpful
in the friendliest manner to my brother in the selection of
horses for the Cottesmore Hunt — then their nearest neigh-
bours; Mr. and Mrs. John Grenfell of Wymondham, than
whom none felt my brother's death more keenly. Mr. John
Grenfell is now fighting for his country, his twin brothers,
grand all-round sportsmen both, having made the great sacrifice
in the early days of the war.

[Note by M. E. R., 19 19. — Since writing this, I am happy
to say, now the war is over, Mr. John Grenfell is safely restored
to his family.]

Comfort in the house only would not have contented my
brother and his wife ; the four-footed ministers to their one
great pleasure must have fitting quarters, and in every respect
the Edmondthorpe stables answered to these requirements.
After the Elizabethan days, the present Edmondthorpe Hall
Stables had been a brewery, at a more recent date con-
verted into spacious, lofty, well-drained stabling, with a
grass-centred yard large enough to contain, as no doubt it
had done in the days of old, 200 to 300 men at arms, and
in later humdrum times, any amount of lumbering brewery
waggons.

It was ideal stabling for owners as well as for their four-
footed dependants, a convenient side door in the encircling

l6l M

The Life of a Great Sportsman

stable yard, only some paces from the front door, making a
short cut for horsemen, especially welcome in wet weather.

Some very fair shooting also went with the house, for
although my brother never carried a gun himself, he and his
wife were far too unselfish to take any place at which they
could not welcome their shooting as well as their hunting

O fc>

friends.

My brother felt the differences, and I may also say the
difficulties, of the new country, from his well-known Lincoln-
shire. The enormous meets, the " fields " almost dangerously
large, difficult fences, wide brooks, and riding eagerly as a
boy ; never turning his back upon a fence at all negotiable,
it is no wonder that in Leicestershire he had the worst tosses
of his life.

After one very severe fall, the dramatically amusing
particulars of which are told and illustrated in this work by
Mr. Finch Mason, he was laid up for a long time. Tosses,
however, never daunted my brother, and to the last day he was
out with hounds ; he never faltered, never funked a fence, and
above all, never overrode a horse, knowing what they could
do and asking for no more.

It was not, however, as a horseman only, that my brother
became in an incredibly short time, almost as well known
and appreciated in Leicestershire and the surrounding counties,
as he had been in the county of his birth.

A striking proof of this was manifested when his friend
Lord Lonsdale resigned the Mastership of the Cottesmore
in 1 910. At an important meeting held at Oakham by the
members of the Cottesmore Hunt, Major-General J. F.
Brocklehurst, now Lord Ranksborough, a man immensely
popular in the neighbourhood, and one of the ?finest types of
English gentlemen and sportsmen, was asked to take the vacant

162

MR. AND .MRS. J. B. RICHARDSON AND "BULGER/1

Life at Edmondthorpe

Mastership, but he absolutely declined the honour, unless he
could be associated with Mr. J. M. Richardson as joint Master.

Surely this appreciation of my brother's organizing and
businesslike qualities, as well as his ardour as a sportsman,
was a fitting crown to his hunting career.

He accepted the joint Mastership, and at once set himself,
in conjunction with Major-General Brocklehurst, to make as
searching a study of the Cottesmore pack of hounds, their
pedigrees, capacity and reputation, as he had done in past
years of the Brocklesby pack.

11 The best huntsman, the best whips, the best hounds and
the best horses are only good enough for this big county," he
said, and these, to fill gaps in the Cottesmore stables and
kennels, in conjunction with Major-General Brocklehurst, he
set himself resolutely to obtain. The joint Masters appointed
T. J. Isaac, Junr., late Huntsman of the Blankney, to the same
position with the Cottesmore, and he proved himself, as they
anticipated, one of the best men they could have found for the
post, as good in regard to the training and management of the
hounds as he was across country as a horseman. It is sad to
record that his death occurred not long after my brother's.

It is a well-known fact that the appointment of the new
Master of Foxhounds, especially as in this case when the pack
is popular and fashionable, often causes jealousy among other
aspirants to the position, but in this case the appointment was
unanimously approved, no doubt due to Maunsell's profound
knowledge of hunting in all its branches. Then, too, his
genial temper, courtesy, inability to believe in the petty
jealousies of others, and his pleasure in honest outspoken
criticism, were rare assets, disarming the captious, and winning
over those who might be tempted to be troublesome.

Not long ago a mutual friend, whom my brother and I had

163

The Life of a Great Sportsman

known practically all our lives, said to me, " I never knew
Maunsell buy a bad horse himself, or recommend one to a
friend, or fail to detect the slightest blemish in a hound."

A wealthy buyer of fat stock told me that the secret of his
success lay in being able to appraise a live ox at its dead value
to a pound, and that he was born with this faculty ; and I
believe my brother was born with the power to tell what horse
or hound was worth to a fraction, whether to follow the pack
across country or hunt his fox.

In 1909, just after the festive season of Christmas had come
and gone, I accepted a long-standing and cordially-renewed
invitation from Maunsell and my sister-in-law, and journeyed
from South Cornwall to Edmondthorpe. I had a desperate
longing to enjoy a day's hunting again, even on wheels, and
felt sure I should have the chance, as the hunting season with
the Cottesmore was in full swing. Maunsell and his wife
seldom missed a day, and I knew they would be sure to give
me the fondly anticipated treat if possible.

I wanted also to see them both in the saddle again, enjoy-
ing the fine old sport, and to live, if only for one day, in the
delightful past, when in their company I had enjoyed many
a good day's hunting with the Brocklesby.

Not having seen Maunsell for some years, it was rather
a shock to me to find that his hair had turned snow white,
but as it was always very fair, and was as thick as ever, his
appearance was not altered in any appreciable degree by
this fact.

His face, although rather weather-beaten by his outdoor life,
looked remarkably young, and absolutely uncareworn.

I had not seen my nephew Jack, their only child, since he
was a boy just leaving Harrow, and well do I remember the
intense pride with which my brother brought him up to me

164

J. M. RICHARDSON AND HIS SON JACK.

Life at Edmondthorpe

when we were all waiting in the drawing-room before dinner
was announced on the evening of my arrival at Edmondthorpe.
Certainly it was not to be wondered at that he felt proud of
his son to whom I was re-introduced that evening, Maunsell
himself looking his very best in his scarlet evening coat with
the Cottesmore Hunt facings.

It is delightful to recall what a happy evening we all spent
together; the Hon. Hugo Hare and his wife were there
amongst others. All of us were attuned to gaiety, and each
vied with the other in making the time pass pleasantly. We
played several good old-fashioned round games at cards.
Maunsell and I sat side by side, pooled our counters, and won
everything before us at vingt-un. How the others laughed
and teased us. "They are invincible," they said, "brother
and sister sitting together and winning all before them."

Alas! how little did I guess this would be the last time
we should ever sit side by side; that I should never again
hear his happy laughter ; that we should never see each other
again in this world. It is a glad remembrance this visit of
brightness and happiness, for it plainly showed how heartily
my brother was enjoying life, healthy amusements, and above
all, as keen as ever for the sport he loved best of all.

The next day was a hunting day, and the fixture was one of
the best of the Cottesmore. It was arranged that I should
drive thither with my sister-in-law ; Maunsell, according to his
usual custom, preferring to ride to the meet.

The morning broke gloriously fine, but there was a slight
nip of frost in the air, and a dainty sprinkling of snow ; not
sufficient, however, to stop hunting, and there were indications
that by eleven o'clock, the time fixed for the meet, every vestige
of snow and frost would have disappeared. This proved to
be the case.

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

Before driving off, I caught sight of Maunsell in full hunting
togs as he came downstairs, stepping lightly as of old ; then,
taking his hat and gloves from the hall table, and his hunting-
crop from the rack, he was off to mount at the stable. To his
cheery " Come with me," I was glad to respond, and watched
him mount ; not a sign of stiffness there, I thought ; then, the
dog-cart being in waiting, Lady Yarborough got in, I mounted
beside her, off we drove and joined my brother on his way to
the meet.

For some time he rode beside us, as our way lay through
fields with roads across them — short cuts to many places which
obtains in the county of Rutland — so I had the pleasure of
seeing my brother canter along beside us on his dainty
thoroughbred chestnut mare Isabel. Just the same perfect
seat ; the same understanding between his mount and himself ;
the same boyish laugh as he greeted one friend after another in
rapid succession. Then he disappeared, taking a shorter bridle
cut, and we drove on by the road.

To drive with my sister-in-law has always been a great joy
to me, and I soon found out that she was as perfect a whip
as ever. The same light hand on the reins, which, combined
with firmness, gave such confidence not only to the horse or
horses she drove, but to the passenger seated beside her.

It has been my lot not infrequently to sit beside women
who labour under the impression that they can drive, but
who have no more idea of handling the reins than a baby,
and a more uncomfortable position for their passenger can
hardly be imagined. Needless to say, this was far from being
the case with my sporting sister-in-law. No matter how difficult
the animals she sat behind, Lady Yarborough could always be
relied upon to handle them to perfection, and though it is
rather a rare thing for a man or woman to be equally qualified

1 66

J. M. RICHARDSON AND LADY YARBOROUGH,
(Enlarged from a snapshot taken in 191 1 .)

Life at Edmondthorpe

in the sister arts of riding and driving, I have never yet seen
her equal in either. So I thoroughly enjoyed my drive, and as
we got nearer the appointed place for the meet, horsemen and
horsewomen sprang up in every direction, with their horses'
heads all turned toward the same goal as ourselves.

A slight stoppage was caused at a house close to the road,
outside which a good-looking chestnut horse, with a side-saddle
on his back, was jumping out of his skin with high spirits.
My charioteer, with her usual thoughtfulness, pulled up to
enable his mistress, patiently waiting at the door, to mount.
Unfortunately, we were somewhat late at the meet and the
hounds had moved~off, but I had the pleasure of seeing Lady
Yarborough mount her horse in the old agile manner and
canter off after the hounds.

For some time, under the groom's guidance, I dawdled
about in the trap after hounds, but the day turned foggy, and
giving up the hope of seeing some sport, I displaced the groom
and drove myself back to Edmondthorpe. At teatime, my
brother and his wife appeared ; hounds had gone home early,
and it had been a very moderate day. The other guests had
gone, and we three spent a happy evening together. The next
morning saw the end of my visit, and I said good-bye to my
brother, just as he was going off to the meet again. It always
pleases me to recollect that my final impression of Maunsell
was such a happy one, and that my last sight of him should
have been in the time-honoured scarlet he loved so well.

The beginning of my brother's last illness appeared when,
after two well-contested rounds of golf with Sir Francis Astley
Corbett on the Cromer Links, he developed a serious attack
of influenza, and although he recovered sufficiently on his
retfcrn to Edmondthorpe to ride again, and even to hunt
occasionally, it was apparent that his health had been seriously

167

The Life of a Great Sportsman

impaired by this attack. After a day's hunting, when no doubt
he had overtaxed his failing strength, feeling it his duty as it
was his pleasure, as joint Master of the Cottesmore, to go out,
he returned home seriously ill.

The various local doctors consulted differed considerably
in their opinion, and a celebrated London specialist, Dr.
Rowlands, was summoned to Edmondthorpe.

He at once diagnosed Maunsell's case as septic neuritis,
but unfortunately his system had been too much lowered to
enable him to overcome the attack, and in spite of all that
doctors, nurses, and tender care could do, he died in Dr.
Rowland's nursing home in London on the 22nd January, 191 2.

To the last moment, brave as ever, he fought for life,
hoping against hope, wishing to live. Even his greatest friend,
the late Lord Minto, said to me, " When I saw dear Maunsell
the day before he died he was so cheery and brave, I could
not believe it was the last time I should see him and that he
could be dying."

In conclusion, I have no hesitation in saying, and I am sure
I am right, that although my brother loved his life at Edmond-
thorpe, he would at any time have given it up gladly to return
to the old life in Lincolnshire.

168

CHAPTER XVII

THE CLOSE OF THE DAY

My brother died on Monday, the 22nd of January, 191 2, and
his funeral was fixed to take place at Edmondthorpe on the
Friday following. I had come up from Cornwall the day
before to pay my tribute of respect to the brother I had loved
so long and so well.

Owing no doubt to my being in deep mourning, the people
in the carriage from Euston seemed to have an intuition that I
was closely connected with the sad event which had shocked
the whole sporting community in the Midlands for the time
being. I had come some 500 miles, and their silent sympathy
was very welcome. Indeed one lady insisted on my sharing
her tea-basket, and would neither allow me to pay my share,
nor hardly to thank her. Almost at every station down the
line, boxes were handed to the guard, evidently containing
those last tokens of affection and respect offered by the living
to the dead.

My nephew Richard Maunsell Richardson, one of my eldest
brother's sons, whom I found at Ashwell station, and who is
a fine musician, told me he was to play the organ at his
Uncle Maunsell's funeral the next day in Edmondthorpe
church.

His renderings of the music included in the service were
commended on all sides, and undoubtedly helped to make the

169

The Life of a Great Sportsman

scene the impressive one it was. The aspect of Edmondthorpe
Hall, with its closely drawn blinds, emblematic of woe, pre-
sented a terrible contrast to the last time I was there in the
middle of the hunting season, when everything was cheerful
and full of life, and my brother in the full enjoyment of health
and strength.

Jack, Maunsell's only son, welcomed my nephew and myself
to the house.

The house-party included Lady Yarborough's daughter,
Lady Gertrude Astley Corbet, and her husband, son of the
late Sir John Astley, and a great friend of my brother's.
When children we all knew the dear old " Mate " and loved
him for his geniality and kindness ; he it was who presided
over the banquet given to Maunsell at Brigg, after winning
the Liverpool on Disturbance, in 1873. Lady Yarborough's
youngest son by her first marriage, the Hon. Dudley Pelham,
and his wife ; Mr. George Heneage, eldest son and heir of
Lord Heneage of Hainton, myself and my nephew Dick
completed the party.

We all met at dinner, and each tried in our several ways,
with more or less success, to keep up our spirits for each
other's sake. Our sad hostess kept to her own sitting-room,
an apartment sacred to her, for although supposed to be her
boudoir, it was also her husband's writing-room, and held his
table and his papers, so that even in his and her private work
they were never separated. After dinner was finished, which,
despite our united efforts, proved but a dismal affair, Jack told
me his mother wished to see me in her room.

It is said, " God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," and
in this case, the full tide of lonely misery and desolation, the
waves of which had broken over her, was borne with a
wonderful courage. She had determined also that, no matter

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how much it tore at her heartstrings, she would herself lead
the way on the morrow in that solemn rite when the last
offices would be carried out for her beloved dead.

After the sad interview, my nephew Jack asked me to go
with him to the death chamber. Here there was no grimness ;
the coffin itself, of bright polished elm, stood under a red
shaded lamp which cast a cheerful glow over everything,
whilst the floral tributes formed in wreaths, horseshoes,
shields, etc., placed all round the room, had transformed it
into a veritable bower of sweetness and beauty.

They had laid him in the smoking room, on the walls
of which all his favourite pictures of horses, etc., were hung,
his hunting horns on the chimney-piece.

A more fitting setting for his last resting-place in the home
he loved could not have been chosen.

The two lovely wreaths from his wife and son respectively
were the only ones on the coffin, and as I put my hand on the
beautiful casket, that contained the earthly part of my dear
brother, Jack told me that when he brought the coffin down
from London, and before it was lifted off the hearse, one of
Maunsell's servants, Willingham, who had lived in his service
since a boy, had rushed out, stroking it tenderly, as if in so
doing he had been brought once more in touch with his well-
loved master.

Until then, I had not realized how expressive the language
of flowers is at a funeral, or how these sweet products of
the earth could so remind us that the most beautiful things
of the world are necessarily the most perishable — I did then to
the full.

The day of the funeral broke with solemn stillness, not
a leaf stirred on the fine old trees that stood like sentinels
on either side of the entrance to the hall. As I drew up my

171

The Life of a Great Sportsman

blind and admitted the late-coming daylight, a few flakes
of snow were falling slowly and gently, seeming like kindly
spirits from heaven, bearing sympathetic messages to the
bereaved on earth. The frost and the stillness made the air
deliciously crisp, and it was evident from the thin snowflakes
which fell intermittently, and the shining sun through the
breaking clouds, that the day just dawning, when the saddest
of all ceremonies was to be carried out, would not be burdened
with the added misery of wet weather.

Magnificent as were the floral tributes I had already seen,
two more arrived, one from Maunsell's eldest stepson, the Earl
of Yarborough, who wintering abroad, had sent a splendid
trophy of large Neapolitan violets ; the other was a wreath with
a card inscribed, " From his life-long friend ' Roily ' " (the late
Lord Minto), composed entirely of white flowers, and so large,
that it covered a good quarter of the billiard table in the front
hall, the largest floral tribute I have ever seen, every flower
perfect, and it seemed as if its sender, the dearest and closest
friend of my brothers youth and manhood, had determined to
prove at the last by these flowers how great and beautiful their
love for each other had been through life, continuing until
death separated them.

A little later I was glad to find that my niece Eva (now
Mrs. Jack Richardson) had arrived. She said no one had
asked her to come down, but she felt she could not stay away
from her Uncle Maunsell's funeral. It appeared that very
many other people were filled with the same longing to be
present at my brother's funeral, for from the large number that
attended, most of his friends and acquaintances, who could
possibly manage to come, must have been there. My nephew
Jack, who had been with his father to the very end, had been
iven charge of all the arrangements and they were carried

172

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MRS. J. B. RICHARDSON AND HER TWO SONS, JOHN AND
EDMUND, GRANDSONS OF J. M. RICHARDSON.

The Close of the Day

out in the most perfect manner. As being simpler, though,
alas ! much more affecting, the coffin, instead of being carried
in a hearse to its last resting-place, was placed on a bier, and
the men-servants on the place drew it to the churchyard.
From the butler and stud groom, to the youngest house and
stable hand, all shared in this last sad journey.

As a personal request Mr. Lester, who had been my
brother's butler for many years previous, had begged to come
and take his place beside the bier, and through the kindness of
his present employer, Lady Battersea (the late Lord Battersea
and Lady Battersea, both dear friends of my brother and his
wife), he was able to be present. My sister-in-law bore herself
with her usual courage, but a sadder or more pathetic sight
it was never my lot to witness.

Most of the floral tributes, which had been sent on before,
were grouped on a space at the back of the grave, and piled up
against the grey stones of the old church, forming a back-
ground of flowers, and carpeting the space around the grave.
All had been so carefully thought out and planned beforehand,
that there was no fuss or bustle, not the slightest hitch of any
kind in any of the sad proceedings, not a person had been
forgotten, not a detail ever so slight overlooked, not even a
flower crushed or out of its place.

Luckily the day had fulfilled its early promise of " passing
fair," and although the gentle snowflakes fell intermittently, it
was in the same tender and kindly fashion that they had
displayed in the early morning.

To say that the large Edmondthorpe church was filled is
inadequate to express the company present. Still this might
have been anticipated, seeing that on each side of the road to
the church, and for many yards beyond, innumerable motor
cars and vehicles of every description were crowded together.

173

The Life of a Great Sportsman

The kindly vicar, Mr. Knox, to whom, knowing and loving
my brother as he did, the ceremony must have proved a severe
strain, had to wait many minutes before the huge congregation
had settled down, many being unable to find seats. Then,
when all was still, and without any hymn being given out, the
first note of " Abide with me " (Maunsell's favourite hymn)
was heard from the organ, and never, to my dying day, shall I
forget the impressive effect of those sweet, soft strains, not
only upon myself, but upon the whole congregation. For the
moment I had forgotten who was the organist ; then I realized
that whatever nervousness my musician nephew may have felt
beforehand, it was now forgotten in the one idea of carrying
out the task he had undertaken. His masterly interpretation
of this simple hymn carried with it not only art but also the
heart-notes of sorrow and of hope. The soft opening note
swelled on, until the whole congregation, taking up the words
of the hymn, sang each verse with an underlying softness
and tenderness of expression, harmonizing admirably with the
delicacy of the surroundings and of the music.

All through the service it seemed as if one great sob went
out from each heart, not only for her who had sustained the
greatest loss of all, but for themselves ; and that each in-
dividual member of that congregation mourned the loss of a
personal friend. At the conclusion of the service Chopin's
Funeral March was played amid an intense silence, as
painful as it was wonderful. Then as the bier was con-
veyed to the graveside, as if by one impulse, the whole
congregation turned towards it, and so they took farewell of
their friend.

Nobly self-possessed, his widow stood close to the open
grave, her son Jack by her side. Her grief was too deep for
outward expression, her training of self-repression from child-

'74

MASTER JACK RICHARDSON".

J. M. Richardson's only child, aged 4 years.

(Reproduced from' a pastel.)

The Close of the Day

hood too strong to be broken through, even at this hour of
heavy trial.

A few gentle snowflakes fell lightly on the coffin, and on
the small bunches of violets which lay upon the casket as it
was lowered into its resting-place ; and now all being over, we
passed out of the churchyard, and through the throng of
mourners who stood in silent reverence, expressive of their
grief and sympathy, and so back to Edmondthorpe Hall, now so
redolent of sorrow ; empty in hearth and heart because of him
who was not, yet crowded with many tender and fragrant
memories, which, in increasing measure, would bring comfort
and consolation in the days to come.

175

CHAPTER XVIII

A FITTING REQUIEM

Amongst the hundreds of letters Lady Yarborough received
after my brother's death, I have chosen extracts from some —
letters from men and women of all classes. One and all in
different fashion express how they regarded his loss to them-
selves, not only from the point of view of sportsmen and sports-
women, but as a dear personal friend.

The letters are so unlike the usual letters of condolence,
that I have thought they would show to those who did not
know my brother personally, better than any words of mine
can express, the kind of feeling he inspired in the minds of
others.

There are no doubt some who in reading these extracts
will say : What are these ? Just written off when the mind of
that man or woman felt he or she must write as a matter of
ordinary courtesy, and yet I cannot but think many will see
eye to eye with me, and find in them a spontaneous and
genuine expression of grief.

This after all is the best requiem of man or woman. What
they have built by their lives in the hearts of others, is their
truest epitaph, and for this reason I have thought it well to
publish some of these independent sidelights on my brother's
character.

These requiem letters convey the sentiments of many of the

176

A Fitting Requiem

best known names in the land, but the outstanding feature is
the extent and variety of the classes represented in this
remarkable testimony. I have indicated in only two cases the
authors* names — one from a distinguished dignitary of the
Church for whom my brother entertained a profound respect ;
the other from a dear young connection and friend who has
since laid down his life for his country. For his future my
brother foretold all good both as landlord and sportsman, and
it may be truly said of his death, almost in the same words he
himself used regarding my brother's, " England has lost one of
her most gallant sons."

" Bishopscourt,

" Manchester.

" Dear Lady Yarborough,

" The unfailing and most helpful kindness which you
and your dear husband have shown to my brother and sisters
moves me to make some poor effort to express my deep and
sincere sympathy with you in your bereavement.

11 The whole country is poorer to-day by the loss of one
of the very finest and most polished of country gentlemen.

" But your loss is such as you alone can measure or
understand.

"It is only right that you should know how truly you
have endeared yourselves to all who had the privilege of
knowing you.

" My brother and sisters have enjoyed conditions of
country parish life happier than I have ever seen. I have
admired the considerations which you have showed and the
loyalty with which my brother has been supported. Forgive
me for this very poor attempt to express my gratitude.

"It would be possible to add some words of my admiration
for the character of your dear husband, but at this moment

177 N

The Life of a Great Sportsman

they might only pain you. There would be necessarily so
much left unsaid, nor is there anything from which his modesty
would have shrunk so much as from words of praise.

" Beloved and honoured as few have been and still fewer
so justly as he deserved to be loved and honoured, he has
left the record of a noble life and an untarnished name, a
memory inexpressibly precious.

" It is impossible to think of such a life as closed by death.

" His true life is begun in the presence of Him whom with
such unaffected humility and sincerity he served during his
earthly stay.

" May He who has taken him from you for a while be near
to help and comfort you.

" Pray don't think of answering or even of acknowledging
this letter, but believe me to remain,

" Yours in truest sympathy and respect,

(Signed) " E. A. Manchester."

(Bishop of Manchester.)

From the late Lord Worsley, heir to the Earldom of
Yarborough, killed at Mons : " I am so grieved to hear of your
dreadful sorrow. England has lost her greatest Sportsman."

" How grieved we were at the irreparable loss you have
sustained in the death of one so much beloved by all. . . .
Seldom is it the fortune of a man to have such hosts of friends
and admirers, and seldom indeed is it that a man leaves behind
him so many who will look in vain and in sorrow at the blank
that is left in the world by his untimely removal from our
midst."

" It was always a delight to be in his company, and I know
well there are numberless friends who will for ever mourn the

i78

THE LATE LORD WORSLEY.
(Killed at Mons.)

A Fitting Requiem

loss of one of the truest and kindest of men, and cherish his
memory with the deepest affection."

" He will be mourned and missed by every one. It is such
an absolute calamity to us all in this county and to the Hunt,
- . . he was the one man we could least of all spare, . .
Every one loved him."

" No one has had more genuine sympathy from all classes
than you will have. Mr. Richardson made every one feel he
was their friend, and every one will grieve personally for
him. . . . Many, many friends will mourn with you the loss
of so splendid, lovable, and manly a man, and the world is
poorer by his death."

" So wonderful a horseman, so wise a man, can never be
replaced in Leicestershire. . . . You have the sympathy of
every living person that knew you both."

"We consider it a privilege to have known him ... it is
a real loss to us all. . . . We all grieve for the loss of a good
friend. ... A grand fellow-sportsman whom we have all
lost. ... I voice the words of all the county. No words
of mine can tell you how grieved we all are at the loss of a
fellow-sportsman and friend."

" I never knew any one who without knowing it himself
drew every one to him as he did. Every one really loved him.
It is a wonderful gift, but he was one of the few who are
blessed with it. No one will feel his loss more than myself."

"My life-long and best of friends whom I loved. . . .
How I shall miss him, best of sportsmen and friend ! "

" It has come as a great blow to his county. He is
regretted by every one, both rich and poor, and his loss is one

179

The Life of a Great Sportsman

that cannot be replaced. He was the kindest, and best of men,
and like no one else."

"It must be some help to you to see how he is appreciated
and mourned, and it must help one to feel that everybody is
mourning for one, and with one. . . . Yours has been such
a perfect companionship."

11 1 have known him so well since his boyhood. I shall
never look upon his like again. The world can ill afford to
lose such a man."

" Please remember your sorrow is our sorrow too. He
leaves a great blank in the lives of all his friends, and we shall
not look upon his like again. One always quoted him as the
example of a perfect English gentleman, and a magnificent
sportsman. I am proud and grateful to have known him. We
shall mourn him long."

"Your sorrow will be shared by many who will mourn for
him as one of her very best Englishmen."

" We shall all mourn for Maunsell, but none more deeply
than his nearest neighbour."

" A loss that will be felt by hundreds of Maunsell's friends
and admirers — I am proud to have been both."

" Mr. Maunsell Richardson had been known to us for so
many years, that we became accustomed to regard him as a
personal friend. His portrait hangs in a prominent place here,
and will be doubly dear to us now that he is gone, and amongst
the number of those who will most keenly miss his genial
presence, I venture to say none can be more sincerely sorry
than I who have the honour to subscribe myself."

The next extracts from letters express the deep sympathy

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felt for Lady Yarborough by personal friends and acquaintances.
They show the intense affection and comradeship that existed
between my brother and his wife. His near relations of course
know well that Lady Yarborough had always been the one love
of his life, but that affection must indeed have been of no
ordinary kind to have so impressed outsiders, as well even as
my brother's own personal friends, with its depth and happy
constancy. My words convey nothing compared with this
outside testimony to the beauty of their lives. It was an ideal
married life, where interests were in common, and duties were
undertaken hand in hand. Pleasures were enjoyed together,
each participating in the same kinds of sports and pastimes, and
each happy chiefly in realizing the other's enjoyment of all they
embarked on.

" I think I can hardly realize what this must mean to you
when one thinks how much he and you were to each other and
how you have been always together for so long."

" It is with the greatest sorrow I heard this morning of the
death of dear Mr. Richardson ... I know very well how
devoted you were to each other."

" The kindest, the best, the most devoted of husbands ... I
cannot bear to think that he is gone. Every one respected him,
every one believed in him. His was such a fine and loyal
nature. No one can ever take his place. There will be
unanimous regret."

" It must be a great comfort to you to look back on your
happy life with Mr. Richardson."

" I can so feel for you in the loss of your dear companion.
You were always so devoted to each other, and did everything

181

The Life of a Great Sportsman

together. The| blank to you must be inexpressibly sad — and
lonely."

" It seems so hard that hearts so united as yours were should
be suddenly torn apart. My heart bleeds for you."

" You always seemed to be the happiest of couples and life
without him will be empty and sad for you. He enjoyed every
day so much,? and I hope you may find some comfort in the
certainty that his life could not have been more happy."

° My heart just aches for you, words are futile in such a
bereavement. ... I know what he was to you and what a
loss he will be after your long and happy wedded life."

"The loss to you must be overwhelming, as you were so
much to each other and did everything together."

" I can imagine how lonely you will be, and what a blank
there will be in your life — it seems so hard that he, who every-
body was so fond of, should be taken. It is loneliness now,
but the memory of the past is left, and gratitude for that past. "

" How hard it will be to go on with your life without his
constant unselfishness and kindliness about you."

" I do feel for you so. You loved each other so, and 30
years of such love is so rare — I cannot bear to think of your
life without him."

" I understand and feel so well what you must have been
suffering since the loss of your beloved husband — any one who
had the pleasure of knowing him must know what his death
must mean to you, when it makes so much difference even to
his friends and acquaintances."

Those who have read so far will, I am sure, follow me to

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the end of this Requiem, for in the following extracts I show the
reason why my brother's death was felt so deeply, and was
such a loss not only to his widow but to the community in
general.

" Maunsell was always so kind to me, and I was so very
fond of him, that his death is a terrible blow. I see more than
even now what an attraction his charming nature was, I feel as
if I shall never get over it, it haunts me. "

" I have only just seen the death of Mr. Richardson. My
father, who knew him well, and worked with him in the last
Brigg election, and who looked up to him as an ideal sports-
man and politician, wishes to join his regret with ours. Al-
though very humble people, we feel as though we had lost a
personal friend."

"Mr. Richardson had always such a kind and cheerful
word for every one, that even with a small acquaintance it was
easy to appreciate his very amiable qualities."

" You will doubtless have had the sympathy of the whole
country-side, but I should like to add my humble testimony to
the merits of a man who was nothing short of a hero to me, as
he must have been to many admirers of skill, gallantry, and
good fellowship. His figure and appearance on a horse were
those of a man of thirty."

" I have no words, for such a sorrow is beyond speaking of.
Every one who knew him loved him, and to think that I shall
never see him again, or hear his cheery voice again, cub hunting,
makes me miserable. How he worshipped you."

" We shall never see his like again. His cheery face and
smile — and the way he could show all the young ones the way
across country."

is3

The Life of a Great Sportsman

" It seems impossible to realize that we shall never see him
riding over the fences as we used to. My husband always had
the greatest admiration for Mr. Richardson all his life and has
felt his death very, very much."

" I was so pleased to meet Mr. Richardson again, not
having seen him since we were at school together. I found
then the truth of the saying that the child is father to the man.
At school we looked up to him as a leader among other boys.
He was a straight-goer, energetic and popular — in fact a boy's
boy. Last August I recognized the same good qualities in the

man.

" It has made me very, very sad. He was straight in
character as he was to hounds. He will have his last resting-
place in the best hunting county in England, where nothing
but the sound of his hounds and the horn will disturb his
rest."

" I don't suppose there was any one, from the oldest person
to the smallest child, to whom he had not shown some
kindness."

" I, like every one else, thought him the most charming man
I had ever met, and I am certain his presence always influenced
people for good."

" Every one who knew your husband seems to have been
so much attracted to him and he will be very much missed
everywhere. Every one who knew Mr. Richardson loved him.
My husband feels he has lost his best friend."

" To think that I shall never see such a dear old friend as
Mr. Richardson was again. I think of him now as I write to
you with his cheery face and 'joie de vivre.' How he rode
and how he loved all sports and how well he did everything,

184

TABLET TO THE MEMORY OF J. M. RICHARDSON
IN EDMONDTHORPE CHURCH.

A Fitting Requiem

including his literary work. Alas ! that he should not be here

now."

" I can't take it in, or believe it's dear, dear Mr. Maunsell,
who is so inextricably one with the old days, when you both
came down and we all looked forward to seeing you above all
things — I loved you both then, and to this hour."

" My profound sorrow — at the loss of the comrade of my
early days, the staunchest of friends, the most genial companion
that ever trod this earth."

" Words cannot express my regret. I mourn the sad
death of the finest sportsman, most genial gentleman, and
kindest friend that ever stepped."

" He was such a very dear friend. I can remember him
since I was 14 and we all of us have been so fond of him."

" Mr. Richardson was one of my husband's oldest friends
and he was always devoted to him. In later days, it was such
a pleasure to my husband if they were judging together."

" We both have a very lively recollection of innumerable
acts of kindness we have received from Mr. Richardson, that
we feel we have lost a friend by his death."

" Maunsell was so much to us all, both as a boy and after
he was grown up. We loved him dearly. His personality
was unique. Nothing was too small for him if he could do a
kindness. . . . Man, woman, and child loved him at Limber."

" I can never forget your Ladyship's and Mr. Richardson's
great kindness. I am glad the Bank Manager gave my son
permission to attend Mr. Richardson's funeral. I know it
would have been his father's wish."

" You know how devoted we were one and all to dear Mr.

■35

The Life of a Great Sportsman

Richardson. The boys have both written to me quite upset by
the sad news. His kindness to our boys will never be for-
gotten ; he was the very pattern of a fine English gentleman
which appeals to young people, and gives them the ideal at the
moment they most want it."

11 1 have just seen in the papers that your dear husband has
passed away. He and I were great friends ever since 1867.
He was one of the best, truest friends that I had, and indeed I
mourn his loss."

" Please let an old friend of Oxford and Cambridge and
Eton and Harrow days send a line of (very true and sincere)
condolences."

" It is difficult to realize that any one so full of life and
activity, and always so young as Mr. Richardson was, has been
taken away."

" He seemed so full of health and spirits that we cannot
realize it at all. My husband and I have been so devoted to
him, and so of course was everybody who knew him."

" I need not tell you with what regret I read of the death
of my dear old friend. He was a type of sportsman and gentle-
man that is rare to-day, and I know not where to find his
like."

" It falls to the lot of very few to be so universally beloved
as Mr. Richardson was."

i( Impossible to believe. Only a few months ago Mr.
Maunsell Richardson seemed so well and bright at Llandrindod.
I shall always remember how good and kind you both were
to me there."

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"If sympathy can allay your trouble and comfort you, all
your friends late of Limber are with you."

" We have lost a friend who was trusted and loved wher-
ever he went. I never thought to get so fond of any man who
was fifty before I knew him, and it was of course due to the
fine simplicity and deep kindliness of his character. It was a
pleasure to hear the employees on the Cromer Links talk of
him. It was something far more than the ordinary liking for a
good sportsman, but they knew as we all did that warmth of
his heart. The place will never be the same without him."

" You will find it sad, but it will be a comfort to read all
the nice references to Mr. Richardson in the different papers.
I liked to see them, for I felt they were so true. We are very
old friends and you know how I grieve for you."

"It is too sad for you and every one that knew Mr.
Richardson. You would be touched were you here. The
men at the kennels and the various grooms and the others all
regretting him so sincerely. I suppose no man had more
friends of every kind, or has been more mourned."

" I shall never forget all Maunsell's kindness to me, and I
valued his friendship greatly. No one was ever better liked
for himself or had a more lovable nature."

" Many will write to you who knew Mr. Richardson chiefly
as a great sportsman, but I can testify to the patriotic sense of
duty which made him take up work at first uncongenial to him,
the thoroughness with which that work was done, and the
spirit in which he met either victory or defeat. My associa-
tion with him in those old electioneering days will remain
always a happy memory."

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

" He will be terribly missed. It only seems a few weeks
ago that we were looking forward to his joint-mastership (of
the Cottesmore Hounds) which was to bring us such sport."

" He was always such a good fellow in every way and one
that will be greatly missed. How nice and kind he was to
me when I came quite a stranger to Cromer. I shall greatly
miss him. His nice cheery way. Better sportsman there
could not be."

"He was so bright and cheery and so gallant. It was
always such a pleasure to meet him out hunting, and he always
had a kind word for every one. That made us all love him. In
fact without him it will never be the same in our county again."

11 The county has lost a great sportsman, the like of whom
we shall not see again."

188

CHAPTER XIX

REMINISCENT

The following reminiscences I have been privileged to receive
from some of my brother's more intimate friends, for inclusion
in this Memoir. A pathetic interest attaches to the notes, so
kindly sent to me by the Countess of Minto, and which were
found among her husband's papers after his death ; notes, alas !
which were never completed.

From Lord Minto.

("I found several sheets of paper in which the following was
written in pencil. I think it must have been almost the last
thing he did before he was laid up January 5, 1914." Note
by the Countess of Minto, June 17, 191 4.)

Maunsell Richardson was a year junior to me at Cambridge.
The first time we ever met was, I believe, at a " drag luncheon "
at French's. I can see him now, leaning up against the window-
sill, a lithe, active young figure, very fair, with fair, slightly
curling hair, in a braided velvet coat, such as some of us wore
in those days. I did not know who he was, but in the after-
noon we met in "the drag." It was the Stowe Fox Drag. I
don't know if that line still exists, but it was my favourite line,
and we rode the two best hirelings in Cambridge — Harlequin
and The General. He rode Harlequin, a chestnut full of

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

quality, but perhaps not quite such a stayer as The General,
and towards the end of the gallop there was the young fresh-
man alongside of me with perhaps a little bit the best of it, and
I recognized the horsemanship I had never seen before, the
graceful young figure so well down on the saddle, the lengthy
stirrup, and the long free rein to which old Harlequin seemed
so gladly to reply. That gallop was the commencement of our
friendship. We both lived together at French's, a lodging
house in Park Street, really a club, for no one was accepted
there without the approval of its inmates, and the chief quality
for their acceptance was riding. In my time, as far as I
recollect, it was tenanted by Sholty Aberdour, now Lord
Morton, Tom Fitzwilliam, Leo Rothschild, Richardson and
myself. Maunsell had come up to Cambridge from Harrow
with a great reputation as a cricketer. He had been in the
Harrow Eleven. He played, I think, three years for Cam-
bridge. He was universally known there as " The Cat " or
" Pussy Richardson," a name which clung to him through life,
the origin of which I never heard, but at his own home and
amongst country neighbours and close friends he was nearly
always Maunsell, his own Christian name. We were not very long
together at Cambridge, as being a Fellow Commoner I escaped
Little Go, took my degree and went into the army, but we did
not lose sight of each other. My leave was spent largely at
Maunsell's home in Lincolnshire, and when his steeplechase
stable became famous I lived a great part of the year with him
until other interests took me much abroad, and our paths of life
diverged, though the old friendship always flourished. He
must have won many steeplechases whilst still at Cambridge,
at the University " Grinds " or at local Hunt Meetings, but his
most notable performance, I recollect, at that time was his
winning a Steeplechase at Huntingdon, when he broke a

190

THE LATE FOURTH KARL OF MINTO.

Reminiscent

stirrup leather and won with one stirrup on a very hard-pulling
mare of his own. If she had been easy to ride it might have
been no great feat, but she was almost impossible to hold at
any time, and he suffered badly from a strained thigh after the
race. She was a bay mare by Leotard, a very good one. He
never named her, and sold her to Sholty Aberdour. To
attempt to tell the story of " The Cat's " subsequent Steeple-
chase career would entail a book ; but I cannot help glancing
back at our happy days at Limber. The house at Limber was
a strange old-fashioned building with no architectural beauty,
but with an attraction of its own, a long-shaped house with a
front door into the garden which no one ever used, the
accustomed entrance being entirely through a little side door.
I have heard that it was originally built by some former Lord
Yarborough as a hunting box for friends hunting with his
hounds. When I knew it it was tenanted by Willie Richardson,
Maunsell's elder brother.

Extract from Lord Mintds Journal, February, 191 2.

On the 20th I had a letter from Heneage telling me that
" The Cat " was very ill, and had been taken to Dr. Rowland's
Home at 245, Knightsbridge. I went there, but did not see
him that day. Next day, Sunday, I went again in the after-
noon and sat with him. The nurse would only allow me to
stay a few minutes. He was perfectly sensible, and in manner
just like himself, but I am sure he knew it was all up with him.
He said, "You know I wrote to you and told you I should
never get over it." That was some time ago, and since then I
had imagined he was getting better. When I left him the
nurse doubted if he would live through the night, and when I
went next morning it was all over. He died at quarter to
eight. Got back to Minto on Tuesday morning 23rd. On

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

Thursday night, 25th, went back to London again, dressed at
the St. Pancras Railway Hotel, and went down to the funeral
at Edmondthorpe Friday 26th. Went to Freddy Blair's at
Ashwell, and with him to the funeral. My old friend gone. I
cannot say what a wrench it is the link with so many recollec-
tions, and another life which seems now to have belonged to
another world. A change seems to have come over my
world, and it is not the same now he is gone out of it. He
was a splendid fellow, by far the best and most polished rider
I ever saw, and not only excellent at all games, but possessed
of brilliant natural ability. He sat in Parliament for some
months for the Brigg Division of Lincolnshire, and after losing
his seat did not return to politics ; but in any line of life he
might have taken up he would have held a foremost place
amongst his fellow-men.

From Lord George Hamilton,

My first recollection of J. M. Richardson was his arriving
at Harrow a short time — some two years — after I had myself
joined the School. He was a very quiet, cheery little fellow,
with a pink and white complexion and a very round face.
This secured for him the sobriquet of " Puss" or "The Cat,"
by which up to the end of his life he was always known. He
was a boy who slowly but surely made his way in popularity
and the esteem of those with whom he came in contact. He
was a very quiet, plucky little fellow, and played all games
well. He was very strong for his make, and was an extra-
ordinarily fair and just-minded boy.

After a little while he signalized himself by becoming a
very accurate field, and during the time he was in the Harrow
School and Cambridge University Elevens it was no exaggera-
tion to say that he was the best amateur cover-point in England.

192

^LORD GEORGE HAMILTON.

Reminiscent

Very quick on his legs, he watched the ball very closely and
was a deadly catch, covering an enormous amount of ground.
He had very strong, capable hands, which were useful to him
both in riding and in fielding, and they were so shaped that if
a ball got into them it was difficult for it to get out. In speak-
ing of his fielding, I may say that the only time he missed
catches was at a match in 1863, at Beaudesert Park, of which
place my father was in temporary occupation. We had a
match there of Harrow Eleven versus the County of Stafford-
shire, and like boys we played the fool and sat up all night
amusing ourselves by pulling out of bed every boy who tried to
go to sleep. The result was that Richardson, who was as a
rule in bed by ten o'clock, did not get any sleep till nearly six
in the morning, and next day out in the field he missed the
ball three times running, the last ball going through his hands
and just touching his chin and hurting him very much.

There was a charming simplicity of character and right-
mindedness about Richardson that endeared him to everybody
who knew him. At the University he was even more popular
than he was at public school, and his extraordinary horseman-
ship and riding prowess brought him very prominently before
the Undergraduate public.

I got early into Parliament and lost sight of him for a good
many years, as our paths did not converge, but I always heard
of him as an extraordinary gentleman-jockey, and a man whose
opinion was highly valued and who carried with him the good-
will of all who knew him. His remarkable fairness and clarity
of judgment made him the invaluable adjudicator upon any
sports' dispute. He loved sport for its sake alone, and as far
as I know he never gambled and never bet, and he was,
moreover, extremely kind in his treatment of all horses.

He was in the House for a short time, and he enjoyed

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

himself very much there, throwing the whole of his enthusiasm
into the politics of the moment. The tenure of his seat was
insecure, as he had a very strong Wesleyan Nonconformist
element against him which deprived him of his seat at the next
election.

His sudden death was a great shock to all his friends, and
the idea of putting up some memorial to him at Harrow met
with universal response. It was, however, difficult to exactly
hit on the shape or form that the memorial should assume, and
the rule as regards a memorial in the Chapel is that the person
to whom it is dedicated should have performed some public
service ; and although we may say that the influence which
your brother had on sport and athletics generally was wide and
so good as to come under the head of national service, still to
put up a tablet in the Chapel because he was the best gentleman-
rider of the day was rather an innovation upon existing tradition
and rule. We had, therefore, to think of something which
would commemorate his name and would bring his life and
character prominently before successive generations of young
Harrovians. The idea was suggested of putting up a new
Pavilion dedicated to his name, with a portrait of him inside,
as more likely to fix the attention of old and young Harrovians
than any other form of memorial which could be suggested.
This, as you know, has been admirably carried out, and I think
all of his friends may be sure that what has recently been done
will perpetuate in the best possible way his memory to suc-
cessive generations of Harrovians.

As regards myself, I can truly say that there is hardly
anybody I have ever met in my life for whom I had a more
sincere regard and affection. He was unique in his generation.
Though the best horseman of the day, there was not a particle
of what is known as " horsiness " about him. It was only

194

THE LATE FIFTH EARL OF CLARENDON.

Reminiscent

when he got on a horse that you then realized the old classical
conception of a Centaur — a man and horse being one animal.

It was a very pleasing duty, as Chairman of the Harrow
Governors, to be able to receive this Memorial on behalf of the
School, and there is no transaction in connection with the
discharge of my duties as Chairman of the Governors to which
I shall look back with greater satisfaction than the completion
of this Memorial.

From the Earl of Clarendon.

There are some mortals who diffuse around them an atmo-
sphere of geniality towards all those with whom they come in
contact, whose words and deeds are redolent of " good will
towards men," who in one word are possessed of a charm which
is as rare as it is inexplicable, and which is born of a warm
heart and a kindly disposition. Of such was John Maunsell
Richardson.

From his earliest days, both at school and at college, he
formed friendships which endured throughout his life, founded
as they were on the rock of respect. He never made an enemy
or forgot a friend. Many were the generous actions he per-
formed, but he would have "blushed to find them fame." The
intimate relations which existed between him and many of his
contemporaries were stable and enduring, and those who had
the privilege of his friendship were sure of a hearty reception
and a warm welcome, however lengthened the separation, how-
ever different the career from his own.

" No flannelled fool nor muddied oaf" was he, yet in almost
all the sports and pastimes which form a large part of British
life he was a protagonist. On the cricket ground, in the
hunting field, on the racecourse, many were the triumphs he
achieved, conspicuous was the success of which he could boast,

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

but his innate modesty was responsible for the absence of any
vainglorious vauntings of performances of which any athlete
might well be proud.

The writer was many years since conversing with a cele-
brated horseman who asserted that at that time there were
only three expert gentlemen riders in Great Britain : himself
and two others. He forgot John Maunsell Richardson. Not
to many gentlemen riders is it granted twice to win the Grand
National Steeplechase, and the successful negotiation of formid-
able obstacles over a course more than 4^ miles in length
means pluck, endurance, nerve and skill, and who shall say
that attributes such as these if applied to other and more
serious phases and conditions of life do not constitute an im-
portant factor and give an incentive to success ?

And thus with that keen sense of duty which ever prompts
a healthy mind, though somewhat late in life, he stepped into
the political arena with no other end in view save that of
serving his country, with no hope of reward but the approval
of his fellows and the knowledge that the stress and strain
of a Parliamentary career have but one object, and that the
greatest good of the greatest number. It is of such material
that Great Britain's sons are made. The healthy breezy tone
which pervades the bodies of our athletes often finds its way
into their minds and forms an obstacle to the over-indulgence
in the sports of the field of which they are past-masters, and
thus generates a stimulus to the performance of duties which
call forth the best, because the most unselfish, elements of
character.

For the author of this brief memoir it is difficult after the
lapse of more than half a century accurately to recall or record
the incidents of interest which occurred in " the Cat's " school-
life, but there were two salient points during his career at

196

LADY BATTERS EA.

Reminiscent

Harrow which stand forth — his conspicuous skill in all the
games and pastimes which a public school can furnish, and
the cheery, kindly and withal soft and gentle disposition of
the boy which earned him the sobriquet which clung to him
throughout life. Of his domestic life and the "sweet com-
munion " which existed between him and her who has to bear
the heavy burden of bereavement one can only write or speak
with bated breath — " Sorrow's crown of sorrow is the remem-
brance of happier days," but for her there may be this slight
solace — the "monumentum aere perennius" — a memorial
more enduring than mere brass — the regard and affection of
the host of his friends and admirers who will never cease to
deplore his untimely decease.

"Time like an everlasting flood bears all its sons away,"
but unlike "the dream that flies at the opening day," they
do not all pass forgotten, and the name of John Maunsell
Richardson is indelibly engraved on the memory of those who
participated in "the moving incidents by flood and field" of
which he was the hero, but also in that of those who recog-
nized in him the most gallant of sportsmen, the staunchest of
friends.

From Lady Batter sea.

Maunsell Richardson was an old and dear friend of my
husband's since his Cambridge days, and this must be my
excuse for adding these few lines of affectionate remembrance
to the Memoir of his life.

I can recollect the first time that I met Mr. Richardson
and the impression then made upon me, which never varied
in after years. It was at Brocklesby, when Cyril (her husband)
and I were visiting Lady Yarborough, then a widow living with
her children in the charming home of her married life. It

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

must have been in the month of April, in the year 1878. It
happened to be a very cold, tardy spring, and Lincolnshire is
certainly not at its best in such weather, but the warmth of the
greeting that awaited us compensated in a great measure for
the inclemency of the season. On arrival at Brocklesby Hall,
after our first meeting with our hostess, we were ushered into
one of the fine lofty drawing-rooms, a great feature of the house,
and then I heard my husband exclaim : " Oh ! ' Cat,' how are
you ? Come and be introduced to my wife." (" Cat " being, as
I soon learned, a pet name for Mr. Richardson, familiar to all
who knew him.) Upon which, a young man, about Cyril's
own age, came forward and shook me genially by the hand.
I remarked then and there, that he had very kindly blue
eyes, a fresh, healthy complexion, and a pleasing personality.
He had also that unmistakable out-of-door stamp of face and
figure, inseparably connected with those who love sport and
athletic games.

Later, during that same evening, Mr. Richardson told me
how he had known Cyril for many years, how they had always
been the best of friends, and also, how glad he therefore was
to make my acquaintance. I can remember that before dinner
we all trooped into the stables — which really were a wing of
the house — at what is called " Stabling hour." This was quite
a novelty for me. Mr. Richardson went from stall to stall,
patting the glossy coats of the hunters, expatiating upon their
good points and relating some of their exploits in the hunting
field. One of the best was reserved to carry my husband
on the morrow.

Lady Yarborough (always a wonderful horsewoman) showed
us her own special favourite, and I believe that his name was
" Birthday."

I have some recollection of driving about on the next day

198

Reminiscent

in a phaeton with a somewhat loquacious groom, of an imagina-
tive turn of mind, for he gave me a description of what he
declared was going on in the hunting field, whilst I confess to
have seen nothing but the ploughed land of Lincolnshire with
the low well-trimmed hedges and the woods of Brocklesby
sacred to the fox. The occasional sound of the horn and the
cries "View Halloo!" from the huntsmen, and "He's off I "
from the Whip, were my only indications that England's
greatest sport was being carried on in close proximity to
the roads where our phaeton was leisurely moving about.
In the late afternoon, when the riders had all happily returned
sound and whole, my husband dilated upon the fine horseman-
ship of Mr. Richardson, the perfect command he had of his
horse, and yet on what friendly terms they stood to one
another.

But I am not going to descant upon Mr. Richardson's fine
horsemanship, and upon the skill he displayed in steeplechasing
as well as in the hunting field, where he and his friend, the
late Lord Minto, proved such generous rivals — these matters
will all have been dealt with by far abler pens than mine. I
reserve to myself, however, the pleasant task of dwelling upon
the rare qualities of unselfishness, true kindness and modesty
that made Mr. Richardson deservedly popular with old or
young.

On many occasions he and his wife, Lady Yarborough,
were our guests in our Norfolk home, and as our North-east
Coast appealed more and more to them both, they finally
became the owners of a charming small seaside residence,
where, with their son, Jack Richardson, they spent many happy
summer days; the golf course on the Links, with its breezy
surroundings and its glorious sea-view, the tennis court in the
Pleasaunce gardens, proved great attractions to our friends,

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

and none made themselves" more deservedly beloved than the
subject of this memoir. Everywhere he was a favourite both
with young and old, with men of culture, men of business,
agriculturists, the Norfolk fishermen and those of sporting
tastes. He had the qualities of a true English gentleman, and
very lovable ones they are, and he carried on the best
traditions of the old sporting world, such as have been known
for many a day in this our country of England. He was
typically English in his great loveof nature added to a keen
spirit of enjoyment, and in being devoid of all conceit and self-
sufficiency whilst very generous in his estimation of others. I
think we all of us felt what my husband meant when he said
that Mr. Richardson "rang true throughout." I should like
to add that no one, to my knowledge, ever heard one repre-
hensible word from his lips. His respect for women and
children was most beautiful, and as his trim and compact figure
might have been seen Sunday after Sunday wending its way
churchwards, always accompanied by that ever-constant and
inimitable companion, his wife, I felt that amongst the con-
gregation there could not have been a heart more faithful to its
early teaching, humbler in self-appreciation or more grateful
for a life rich in friendship and in home affections.

From the Rev. Hon. Edward Lyttelton> M.A., D.D.,

Headmaster of Eton.

"Cat" Richardson was a name familiar to me from early
days at home, when my elder brothers, especially Spencer,
used to speak of him as a fine Cambridge cricketer. But I
never came across him personally till we met on the Cromer
golf-links. He was then fifty years of age, and though only
a beginner he became quite a sound player in a wonderfully
short time. I never shall forget his boyish glee when he

200

Reminiscent

found himself in his second day's play driving magnificently
and beating an unhappy visitor, who had played for some
time, by "seventeen up." This was an astonishing perform-
ance. Many a game after that we had together, and I was
always proud if I made a good match though I began the
game ten years younger than he was. He set a notable
example to all cricketer-golfers of real keenness and perfect
temper — the sign-manual of the genuine sportsman. Moreover,
he was wholly free from the unamiabilities which in those
days clung to most middle-aged players like a limpet. To
us in the " nineties " the game was a revelation of surprising
incompetence, especially to those who, like him, had been
proficients in cricket. We addressed ourselves to the apparently
childish problem of hitting a stationary ball, while our memories
recalled the mastery of the lightning deliveries of formidable
bowlers in days gone by. Imagine the humiliation of years
of bootless effort on the Links ! What a stern corrective of
human vanity was there! and how the initial effect was to
work havoc on the tempers, first and foremost of old cricketers
who never before had found themselves compelled to con-
centrate mind and will along with the eye on the ball ; and
few there were who did not succumb : but Richardson was
certainly one of them. To go round with him was to feel
your better self invigorated and braced up : the silliest egotist
— and we golfers are surpassingly silly sometimes — would feel
ashamed to maunder over the transparent fiction of the
excellence of his previous week's play, or to rave feebly at
the fiftieth repetition of his own pet blunder, or to button-hole
any one within reach to listen to the unending drivel of his
self pity. All this anaemia of golf was banished by his
manliness, his utter want of assumption or "swank," the
healing of his smile, the courtesy of his speech, and his eager

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

desire that all alike should do well what they had set them-
selves to do. For everything about him was sane and sanative
as well as lovable, and yet he was wholly unaware of the good
he did.

Similarly among men who are called — somewhat heed-
lessly at times — saints, I have never come across one who
more entirely fulfilled the precept, " When thou doest alms let
not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth " ; in fact
he was a real interpreter of those difficult words. Most
strikingly cordial has been the gratitude expressed by under-
lings of every description who ever came across him, for many
a deed of loving-kindness and generosity, noticed only by the
recipient but forgotten instantaneously by the doer, till the
day when he, along with all the multitude of the merciful in
Heaven, shall be received by those whom they cheered on
earth into the "everlasting habitations."

It is a pleasure to me to send you this little tribute to a dear
friend.

[By the kind permission of the author, the Honourable Sir
Chandos Leigh, I am allowed to quote the following " Impres-
sion " of my brother, from his interesting book of reminiscences,
so full of bright anecdotes, " Bar," Bat andBit," published last
year.]

From the Honourable Sir Chandos Leigh.

I was revising barrister for North Mid- Lincolnshire for
thirteen years. . . .

I was rather pleased because I had many friends in
Lincolnshire, including Harry Chaplin and Bankes Stanhope
of Beverley, and the well-known John Maunseil Richardson,
with whom I invariably lived for over twelve years, and who
has lately died, to the grief of all his friends. During my

202

THE HONOURABLE SIR CHANDOS LEIGH.

Reminiscent

stay there Lord Melgund (then Earl of Minto, ex-Viceroy of
India) was generally staying with him, and a very pleasant
time we had. Richardson was, perhaps, the finest horseman
of his time, not excepting Jim Mason. . . . He married
Victoria, Countess of Yarborough, herself a devoted follower
of hounds, and one whose character and virtues I have always
intensely appreciated.

She was simply adored in Lincolnshire, and my wife and
I were present when they celebrated their silver wedding in
July, 1 910, and Lord Coventry made a charming speech pro-
posing their health. The last man who saw him alive was
his great friend, Lord Minto, who told me not long ago that
he went to see him the night before his death, and as he was
leaving, said : " Oh, by the way, Chandos sent you his love."
In answer to which the Cat murmured, " Dear old Chandos."
Lord Minto, in telling me this, added, " Yes ! the Cat was
indeed a remarkable man."

I must add, by the way, that Lord Coventry has now
started a Memorial Fund,* and Lincolnshire has already paid
a tribute to his great popularity by erecting a memorial to him
outside Limber Church, in which parish he resided for so
many years.

From Thomas Harey Esq.

Curiously enough, though I knew poor Maunsell for nearly
forty years I never saw him ride a steeplechase, and only a
race of private sweepstakes at Croxton Park a few years
before his death. This was the first appearance of the white
and blue cap since his win the second year in succession on
Reugny at Liverpool in 1874. It was two or three years after

* By the time this book appears in print that Memorial Fund will have merged
into the Richardson Cricket Pavilion at Harrow.

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

that that I made his acquaintance. I used to go in the
autumn to Brocklesby, about September time, and we had
many pleasant mornings with the cubs together. To talk
about his horsemanship is a thrice-told tale, but I well remember
old Jack Skipwith saying that he remembered " all the old
lot," Tom Oliver, Captain Beecher, Jim Mason, etc., and none
of them could "hold a candle to Maunsell." He was, I think,
physically the most gifted man I have ever known. For his
size and weight one of the strongest, with wrists like steel, and
every one knows his nickname of the "Cat" was earned from
his marvellous activity. It is not very long ago since his old
Harrow and Cambridge friend A. J. McNeil and myself, when
talking about him, both remembered an incident one morning
cub-hunting at Brocklesby. Maunsell rode a black horse
Sultan at a small wold fence out of a road with a ditch to him
and a slope down to the ditch. The horse instead of popping
over popped in and back into the road like an eel. Any poor
rider would almost certainly have shot off, a moderate one
might have stuck on with an effort, but Maunsell simply came
round with the horse as a matter of course. It was curious
that it should have stuck in both our memories for nearly forty
years. There are numbers of fine horsemen, but there was
a style about Maunsell that no one else had. He looked better
on a horse than any one else, rode very long and sat down and
back in his saddle. Though I think I was at least an inch
taller, I remember getting on this very horse Sultan and finding
his leathers five or six holes too long for me. Later in life,
like many others, he rode rather shorter. How the Lincoln-
shire people adored him. Old Jack Skipwith was never tired
of talking about him ! He was not only first- rate company,
but what is perhaps rarer, a first-rate companion — a fine sense
of humour and a rare fund of anecdote. When I say a

204

THE LATE THOMAS HARE, ESQ.

Reminiscent

first-rate companion I mean that whatever you were doing in his
company you were never bored, and he apparently was greatly
amused. Nothing came amiss to him in the way of subjects ;
although he was neither a shooting nor a fishing man or ever
went yachting or travelling, he could always join in your talk
or reminiscences. He never forgot a friend, and though by no
means a rich man was always ready to assist any case of hard-
ship or distress. I well remember not many years ago his saying
" Of course I will give a pony " the moment he heard of the
subject. Of late years he played a great deal of golf, and
though he never became so good at it as he was at cricket in
his younger days, he was a very fair player and used to say
it kept him so fit. " What would life in the summer-time be
without golf!" Fencing, rackets, billiards, all in their turn
came more naturally to him than to most men, though all these
were, so to speak, very minor accomplishments compared with
his horsemanship, but as I have said elsewhere this is a thrice-
told tale.

Only a few years ago a noted Irish horse-dealer asked me
in the Paddock at Ascot, " Who is that gentleman ? " I
answered, " Mr. Richardson." "What, the celebrated Mr.
Richardson ? Pray introduce me," which of course I did, to
my Irish friend's great delight. At the Dublin Horse Show,
if he was judging, one used to hear him pointed out as the
Mr. Richardson who won two Nationals. They thought the
world of him in Ireland as well as in Lincolnshire. I have
mentioned his physical gifts. Though naturally no bookworm,
he was well read and a capital speaker. I often thought his
speeches at Horse-show lunches, etc., were as good as they
could be, and every one knows he sat for Brigg in Parliament.
Since 1906, when I came to live in England, he was a neighbour,
though not a very near one, of mine, and I saw a great deal of

205

The Life of a Great Sportsman

him at his new home at Edmondthorpe. On October 16,
191 1, I rode to Greetham in the Cottesmore country to see a
horse ; as I was riding home I saw a man on a grey horse
in front of me. As I got nearer I said to myself, " What a
smart-looking young fellow, what a good seat ! " Coming up
I saw it was my old friend Maunsell. We rode for a while
until our ways parted, and I saw him no more in the saddle,
and the world has not been quite the same since.

From the late Leopold de Rothschild, Esq.

J. M. Richardson came to Cambridge from Harrow with a
well-deserved reputation. He had been popular at school as
a good cricketer, a keen sportsman, and a faithful friend. This
character he fully maintained, not only at the University but
also in after life. His open disposition, his straightforwardness
towards his friends, and his real love of sport were great
qualities that endeared him to one and all who knew him.
The nickname of " Pussy," or " Cat," which he enjoyed as a
boy, stuck to him through life. Why it was given to him no
one exactly knew — certainly it was not that he had any of the
qualities generally attributed to a cat, but some said that in
early life his face resembled that of this animal.

During the whole time that he was at Cambridge, Richard-
son lived at French's, a lodging house in Park Street, Jesus
Lane, kept by a widow, Mrs. French ; she was always in-
visible, but her sister, Harriet Binstead, commonly called
Harty, was the soul and spirit of the house. She wore a wig
and had rosy cheeks, was never tired, knew the characteristics
of all who came into the house, and was invaluable in every
way. There were five rooms, and it was the custom of the
house that these should be occupied by friends. In Richard-
son's time, and indeed for many years, there was always one

206

THE LATE LEOPOLD DE ROTHSCHILD, ESQ.

Reminiscent

of Lord Fitz william's sons in the house. Besides these, A. J.
McNeil, Lord Melgund (later the Earl of Minto), Leopold de
Rothschild and Edward Buchanan (afterwards Ambassador of
St. Petersburg) were the occupants of this cheery little house.
Breakfast and luncheon were always ready and shared by one
and all. The inmates were always members of the Athenaeum
Club, then, as now, composed of from twenty to thirty members,
all more or less fond of sport. In those days it was the fashion
for each member of the Club to give what was called an
Athenaeum tea — in other words, a supper. All the members
of the Club came by right, and the owner of the rooms invited
a few friends. After supper, some played cards and others
amused themselves by various games. Richardson never
played cards, in fact he and Melgund and one or two others
thought it was a mistake that the whole evening should be
devoted to Loo, or other equally enticing games of chance.
On one occasion they put their wise heads together and
managed to break up the card party by a practical joke, which
at that time created a certain amount of sensation. However,
it was a lesson, and the card-players took the hint and joined
often in the other amusements of the evening. There were
races in the summer in the Fulbourne Valley, a continuation
of the famed ditch which divides Newmarket Heath from the
July course. These races no longer take place, as the Valley
has been ploughed up, but both at Fulbourne, near Huntingdon,
and at Cottenham, where there were steeplechases, Richardson
rode and won many races. Captain Machell, who was always
fond of seeing the boys ride, used to come over to all the
meetings, and he was at once much struck by the perfect
manner in which our hero managed the horses, both on the
flat and across country — so much so that when the first
National Hunters' Race was run on March 15, 1872, he

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

entrusted Schiedam to his care. Richardson rode him and
won easily. His friend Lord Melgund rode in the same race
(under the assumed name of " Mr. Roily ") a horse belonging
to Baron Rothschild called Ledburn. This victory enhanced
Captain Machell's appreciation of Richardson's brilliant horse-
manship, and in '73 he won the Grand National on Disturb-
ance, and in '74 on Reugny. It was said then that no one
ever had a better seat or hands, and to the end of his days
every one recognized these qualities.

Richardson hunted a little in the Vale of Aylesbury, and
to this day Mr. Castle of Thame talks of a great run with
the Rothschild Staghounds, in which he and Richardson
were the only two who saw the end. He boasts, however,
that at one of the last fences Richardson's horse fell,
and that he caught it and they rode side by side to the
finish. Castle, who delights in speaking French, says that
they made a joke about him and said he was " chateau en
l'air," because they had jumped so many fences. The good
horse that Castle rode was sold to Lord Rothschild (then
Sir Nathaniel).

The friendships commenced at Cambridge by Richardson
lasted through his life, and many of his friends always asked
his advice as to how they could get good horses, and he was
always ready to help them. In fact, every year since we left
the University he always sent me a trusty hunter, and in the
well-known sporting sketch by Finch Mason, in which Whyte
Melville, turning round to a few riders, says, " Now then,
gentlemen, you're coming over the most beautiful part of the
Vale " (" Old Days in the Vale of Aylesbury "), I am depicted
riding a chestnut called Cornet, by Codrington, the first horse
Richardson sent me. This was followed by many others, all
good jumpers, and all selected with the greatest care. I am

208

THE LATE FINCH MASON, ESQ. (IN 1914), WITH HIS
BEAGLE SOLOMON.

Reminiscent

now riding one he calls Whittington, a charming horse that
carries me perfectly.

These few words fail to express all the good qualities of a
really good-hearted sportsman, who never said an unkind word
of any one, who thoroughly enjoyed his success, and yet was
never jealous or anxious of any one competing with him, and
to the few of his Cambridge friends who survive him his
memory will always be very dear.

From the late Finch Mason, Esq.

" I liked him so much that, paradoxical though it may
appear to say so, a feeling of regret sometimes comes over one
that I ever knew him."

Such were the words made use of one night in the long
ago in my presence at a well-known Club devoted to the
Fine Arts, by one of our most distinguished Painters — then
a very young man — apropos of the late Charles Dickens,
whose ever-to-be-lamented death had occurred not long before,
and with whom he had recently been associated when illus-
trating one of his books for the great novelist.

Though few in number, they struck me at the time, and do
still whenever I recall them to memory, as containing so much
eloquence crowded into a small space, that in the knowledge
how Maunsell Richardson detested veneer and ostentation in
any shape or form, my first impulse was to repeat them here on
my own account.

On second thoughts, however, whilst making full allowance
for their evident sincerity, I came to the conclusion that they
did not quite represent my own sentiments towards the good
fellow who has gone. On the contrary, with his portrait in
the once familiar white jacket and dark-blue cap — the colours

209 p

The Life of a Great Sportsman

he registered as his own after the death of Captain Machell —
mounting guard over a favourite hunting-whip formerly belong-
ing to him, staring me in the face every day to remind me
of his genial personality, and nothing but the pleasantest
recollections of the original, small wonder that the predominant
feeling within me is that it would have been a matter of great
regret had we never met. Cheeriest and brightest of com-
panions, as all agree who ever had the honour of his acquaint-
ance, nothing seemed capable of damping his habitual good
spirits.

Well do I remember only two days after a bad fall he
received when hunting with the Cottesmore — the worst that
ever befell him — three years before his death, his coming to
see me in London. Bruised from head to foot, so stiff was he
that it was with the greatest difficulty he could mount the
stairs, yet though compelled to sit with his legs stretched
straight out before him and in evident pain all the while, he
treated the whole affair as a joke, giving me such a laughable
description of his toss, which it is no exaggeration to say would
have killed nine men out of ten, that one quite forgot for the
moment its serious nature.

He was in the act of riding at a big jump with a drop the
other side, when some young sportsman, a stranger to himself,
charged the obstacle express pace, at such close quarters as to
momentarily take the attention of the good hunter ridden by
Maunsell Richardson from the business in hand — at least that
is the only construction the latter could put upon it — with
the result that the pair came a fearful cropper the other side,
the horse rolling over and over his rider — who as usual stuck to
his saddle — as he lay on the ground.

Some of his friends at once dismounted and went to the
rescue, and "as he lay there apparently lifeless, he recovered

210

Reminiscent

sufficiently to overhear their remarks, at which, despite his
injuries, he could hardly help laughing.

" This arm's broke ! " remarked one friend as he took up
the limb in question. " So is this," said another, as he handled
its fellow tenderly. " His back's broke, I'm certain," chimed in
a third. Whilst another sympathizer, determined not to be
outdone, exclaimed, " I believe he's DEAD ! " After this
startling announcement the surprise of those surrounding the
sufferer may be imagined when the supposed corpse, suddenly
opening his eyes, inquired faintly, "Where's my horse?" In
so doing imparting such a shock to the kindly sportsman on
whose knee his head was supported, that he promptly let it
drop to the ground with a thud. The corpse had by this time
quite recovered himself, so much so that, rejecting the offer of
a friend's motor car to take him home, the corpse insisted on
remounting his horse and riding back to Edmondthorpe, where
on arrival he went straight to bed. Luckily no bones were
broken, but that he was bruised from head to foot goes
without saying, and from what I have heard since, fancy
there is little doubt that the pressure of a coat-button
when the horse rolled over him had something to do with
his fatal illness.

The following day he went into Leicester to consult a
famous surgeon there, and the day after, as I have stated,
like the good-plucked one he was, came to see the writer in
London.

Another narrow escape he had, either just previous or after
the fall now described, was when riding to covert one morning
all by himself, a small bricked-in bridge over a culvert at the
side of the road gave way, letting his horse in up to his head.
Mr. Richardson either fell or threw himself off — probably the
latter, and as he lay on the ground was all but run into by a motor

211

The Life of a Great Sportsman

car belonging to his friend Mr. Gretton, who was following
close behind en route to the meet.

Conservative in all his notions, it was a long while before
he could be persuaded to invest in an automobile on his own
account, and when he did only made use of it for travelling
purposes, and never as an adjunct to the hunting field ; both
he and his Countess invariably making a practice of riding home
after hunting, no matter how far the distance might be.

Always considerate where his own horses — not to mention
servants — were concerned, nothing pained him more than to
see a so-called sportsman at the end of the day riding his tired
horse some miles out of his way, perhaps to pick up his motor
car, arranged to meet him at a certain spot, in order that its
selfish owner might reach home in time for a game of Bridge
before dinner. Though in great request at all the principal
horse shows in the kingdom, he was appointed as one of the
judges at Olympia on the first two occasions, but the judging
by night was not at all to his taste, and moreover the trick
jumping indulged in there did not appeal to him, as savouring
too much of a circus, therefore it came about that in future,
though I believe requested to act once more, his well-known
figure was conspicuous by its absence in the arena. Another
drawback was that in view of the many foreign competitors
present his ignorance of any language but his own naturally put
him at a great disadvantage.

I remember his giving me a most amusing description once
of how, somewhere in the seventies, he and the late George
Ede, returning together from Baden-Baden, where they had
been riding in the Grand Prix, won by the latter on Benazet,
a brilliant two-miler belonging to the late Lord Poulett, and
having to get back to England immediately after the race in
order to ride at Warwick, owing to their ignorance of the

212

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■~

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1/3

H -a

W %
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Reminiscent

German language, all but missed their train, with the result
that but for an intelligent foreigner, who spoke English and
came to the rescue just in time, they would probably have been
a week doing the journey. Neither shooting nor fishing ap-
pealed to him in the slightest degree — the former he said made
his head ache — our friend of late years when hunting was over
devoted the whole of his time to golf, at which he quickly
attained great proficiency, so much so that the year before his
death he was unanimously elected president of the golf club at
Overstrand, near Cromer, where at a charming residence, called
the "Corner House," he and Lady Yarborough had made
their home for some little while past during the summer
months.

To say that he was delighted when, at the instance of his
friend General Brocklehurst, he was appointed Field Master of
the Cottesmore Hounds is hardly the word. Of this I was a
witness, as he had paid me a flying visit in town that very day,
and it was on meeting the General quite by chance the same
night, on alighting from the train, that the latter told him that
he had just been appointed Master of the Cottesmore, and
counted on his (Maunsell's) support as Field Master. The
latter wrote straight off to me the same night to impart the
good news. With what zeal he entered into his new duties
goes without saying. Suffice it to say that never was the term
"a labour of love" more applicable than in this instance.

How, when after by sheer hard work he had managed to
get everything in shipshape order in readiness for the coming
season, he was seized with the illness which, in spite of the
good fight he made, was to lay him low at last, we know only
too well,

In a letter written to myself very soon after the commence-
ment of the hunting season by one of the best-known ladies

213

The Life of a Great Sportsman

hunting with the Cottesmore, in concluding a graphic descrip-
tion of the day's sport on the opening day, she wound up
with — "and you can't think how we all missed the dear old
1 Cat ' ! " Who is there, I would ask, amongst those that knew
him — whether Peer or Peasant — who doesn't echo her words ?

[It is said, and in ordinary cases doubtless very truly said,
that no man is a "hero to his valet," but in the following
impression of my brother very kindly written for me by Mr.
J. Fulford, who lived in his service first as valet, then butler,
from 1892 to the time of his death, 191 2 — 20 years — it will
be seen that my brother was an exception to the rule.

Once before, during my life, I had the honour many years
ago of meeting one other such exception in the person of the
late George MacDonald.

At that time I knew Miss Bishop rather intimately, a lady
who was admitted behind the scenes and thoroughly con-
versant with the details of the daily life of the wonderful
MacDonald family, a privileged and trusted member of his
household. I remember well that I asked her to tell me
whether Mr. MacDonald was really the hero in private life
that so many people believed him to be who only knew him
in his more public capacity. Her answer was quick and un-
faltering, " Far, far more so, if possible."]

From J. Fulford, his Valet.

My first recollection of Mr. J. M. Richardson is when I
was a boy at Limber when my father was farm bailiff to his
brother, Mr. William Richardson, and we schoolboys used to
watch Mr. Maunsell Richardson's horses being trained over
the fences, training them for the big races he used to ride,
and generally win. He always had a cheery word for us

214

J. FULFORD.
Mr. J. M. Richardson's valet.

Reminiscent

youths and he always encouraged sport of every kind among
us, such as cricket, etc. I well remember having a race with
another boy — he was watching us, and although I did not win
he gave me a shilling, as he said I got such a bad start and
did not have a fair chance ; also it used to be a grand day
for us when Victoria, Countess of Yarborough, used to visit
the school at Limber and give us our prizes, also Lady
Gertrude. I little thought in those days I should ever live
with them as their servant. I still have some of the prize
books in which Lady Victoria and Lady Gertrude kindly wrote
my name.

My father always used to say he had a very great opinion
of both Mr. William and Mr. Maunsell Richardson and what
good people they were to live with.

I shall never forget the coming of age festivities of the
present Earl of Yarborough; Mr. J. M. R. giving we school-
boys shillings for running races ; and the camp of the Lincoln
Light Horse in Brocklesby Park, with Lady Victoria riding at
the head of the troop.

I first came to Lady Victoria and Mr. Richardson as foot-
man in August, 1892, and butler in 1896, when they lived at
Healing Manor — my father had a farm at Great Coates, the
next village, and I remember him telling me to stick to
Mr. Maunsell and Lady Victoria as they were the two best
in Lincolnshire or any other county, and I never met anybody
in Lincolnshire but they had a good word for them, All the
years I lived with him I never remember an unkind word, and
if any mistake was made he always spoke in such a way as
to make you think he was doing you a kindness, and not
finding fault. I always admired him in every way as a sports-
man in racing and hunting ; there are many better judges than
I am who did the same, but what I admired most was that

215

The Life of a Great Sportsman

he was such a manly gentleman. Although he was particular
as to his clothes being well cut and being smartly turned out,
he could not bear foppishness or effeminacy in any way, and
disliked wearing jewellery which would be in any way unduly
noticeable. But I thought his great kind-heartedness was his
chief charm. He never could refuse anybody if they asked
him for help. I knew of scores of cases where he was always
helping people, runners with hounds and such-like folk. And
many are the postal orders I have sent off to people when they
have written to him for help ; truly there are many who will
miss him now he is gone. I do not think it possible for any
one to be missed more than he was in the Cottesmore Hunt.

In fact, when I was in Oakham or Melton I was surprised
at the number of people of all classes whom he had been a
friend to, and all said how much they missed him, he was so
cheery.

One gentleman in particular of the Cottesmore Hunt, Mr.
Greville Clayton, told me that no matter how black things
were looking, his troubles always seemed lighter and less
gloomy after an hour's ride and talk with Mr. R. He seemed
to have the happy knack of communicating his cheery spirits
to others, and to me in my own troubles he was such a friend,
and always gave me such sound advice and help. When he
returned from a day's hunting, no matter how tired he might
be, he always had something pleasant to say, which made it
such a pleasure to serve him, and during his illness he was
so unselfish, considering others even then. I did not think he
was so ill as he must have been, as he was so cheery up to
the time he went to London. I miss him more than I can
say and feel sure I shall never see his like again ; in fact, he
was my ideal of an English country gentleman.

216

CHAPTER XX

mr. j. m. Richardson's writings collated

i. Introduction to " Gentlemen Riders Past and Present." — 2. Eaton and Harrow. —
3. The Derby. — 4. Royal Ascot. — 5. Fox-hunting. — 6. Steeplechasing. — 7. The
Grand National. — 8. Show Jumping.

In the later years of his life my brother had, at the suggestion
of his friends, begun to write on some of the sports of which
he had such an intimate knowledge. The handsome volume
on " Gentlemen Riders Past and Present," which he wrote in
collaboration with Mr. Finch Mason, is generally recognized
as the best work on its subject. It was very cordially received
by the Press and by the public, and is practically sold out, as
only a very few copies now remain in the publishers' hands.
My brother's introduction to the volume is reproduced in this
section, while the articles on Eton and Harrow, the Derby,
Royal Ascot, Fox-hunting, Steeplechasing, and the Grand
National, which originally appeared in The Daily Telegraphy
are included by the courtesy of the proprietors of that journal,
to whom the copyright belongs, which permission is hereby
gratefully acknowledged. The remaining article on Show
Jumping was found among my brother's papers, and so far as
I am aware has never been published.

INTRODUCTION TO "GENTLEMEN RIDERS PAST

AND PRESENT."

I wonder how many readers are aware that the first person
to give a fillip to amateur jockeyship was that merriest of

217

The Life of a Great Sportsman

monarchs, King Charles the Second, who, not content with
merely looking on, frequently rode himself in races of his own
promotion. He it was who founded a race meeting at Burford,
in Oxfordshire, in reality the origin of the Bibury Club, which,
afterwards transferred to Stockbridge, became the favourite
battle ground of all the best gentlemen riders in the kingdom,
and though still in existence, is, alas ! but a shadow of its
former self; thanks to the disappearance of the old-time
meeting at Stockbridge, for which Salisbury is but a sorry
substitute.

Another favourite meeting, too, long since done away with,
was that of the Liverpool Hunt Club at Hoylake, in Cheshire,
at which all our best amateurs over a country invariably
sported silk.

Then, again, there was Lord Wilton's own meeting at
Hooton Park, where he himself, one of the finest horsemen of
his or any other time, riding as " Mr. Clarke," was always very
much en evidence.

The Hoo and Gorhambury Races, too, in Bedfordshire and
Hertfordshire respectively, the latter being held in Lord
Verulam's Park, at which Mr. Delme Radcliffe, a splendid
horseman on the flat, and a great personal friend of George
the Fourth, for whom he frequently rode, was the ruling spirit,
must not be forgotten.

Meanwhile Croxton Park still flourishes like a green bay-
tree, and the Southdown Club goes on its way rejoicing, if not
quite so strong as formerly.

Given opportunity and encouragement, I believe gentlemen
riders would be quite as prolific as ever they were, and it was
the knowledge of the great interest taken in amateur horse-
manship, not only in the past, but the present time, that was
our principal inducement for producing this book.

218

o
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o

O
O

—

a,
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U

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

Though, like everything else, cross-country riding has
undergone considerable changes since it first came into fashion,
just over seventy years ago, it has never lost its popularity
either with those taking an active part in it, or the general
public ; the element of danger, which is present perhaps to a
greater extent than in any other sport to be mentioned, being,
as is invariably the case, an irresistible attraction to both.
One thing is certain, which is that unless an aspirant to steeple-
chase honours thoroughly makes up his mind beforehand to
put his whole heart and soul into his work, with his neck a
secondary consideration, he may just as well leave the game
alone altogether for all the satisfaction he is likely to get
out of it.

That the example of some of those who rode over the
severe country courses in the long ago has done much to
improve the breed of horses there can be no question, and for
their pluck, and energy in showing us what a well-bred horse
with a good rider on his back can accomplish, we owe them a
debt of gratitude that can never be repaid.

It is, no doubt, difficult to treat contemporary characters
and events, and it may be doubted if the difficulty is dimin-
ished, when we commemorate the men who have preceded us.
The writer who is personally acquainted with his theme holds
unquestionably a great advantage, and it will be found that
the most interesting reminiscences in this volume are those
which have been contributed by actors in the scenes they have
described.

Pascal says that, in composing a book, the last thing that
one learns is how to begin.

I hope, therefore, that in commencing with Lord Clanri-
carde my readers will agree with me that he is entitled to the
position.

219

The Life of a Great Sportsman

At the present time the opinion is general amongst prac-
tical men with the welfare of their country at heart that, with
the supply of horses for our cavalry being totally inadequate,
some scheme should be set on foot in order to give an impetus
to their production.

Here is another instance of history repeating itself, for it
is on record that when, something like eight hundred years B.C.,
the Greeks found themselves at the Battle of Marathon utterly
destitute of cavalry, the tardy recognition of horse-racing was
assigned as the reason, with the result that in future the sport
formed a prominent feature at the great National Festival at
Elis. There were " Gentlemen Riders " even in those days,
amongst whom Philip of Macedon and Hiero of Syracuse
seem to have occupied pretty much the same position that
Messrs. Lushington and George Thursby do in our own time,
and they all rode bareback, with no other assistance than a
bridle.

It was at the Olympic Games, too, when the first specimen
of a war-horse was exhibited, that Art received its earliest
stimulus to improve what has been rightly termed the " noblest
animal in creation."

With these examples before us, why should not John Bull
take the hint by giving a little more encouragement to home
breeders, especially among the smaller class, than he is now
doing, and so make it worth their while to replenish his empty
cavalry stables with better, and probably cheaper, material
than is the case at the present time ?

It is hardly necessary to point out that to attain to any
success in race-riding it is absolutely necessary to keep fit, and
here, perhaps, I may be able to give some advice which will be
useful to the novice.

Many young men labour under the impression that by

220

MRS. JOHN RICHARDSON.
(J. M. Richardson's grandmother at 20 years of age.)

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

hunting regularly three or four times a week they are, there-
fore, perfectly trained for riding a race.

In addition, they will probably take no end of trouble in
going for long walks, indulging in Turkish baths, and so on.
All this is of very little use as compared with riding gallops,
both on the flat and over a country, several days in the
week.

Going fast through the air on a pulling horse tries the wind
of a rider, as well as the muscles of his arms and legs, far
more than any hunting can, no matter how fast or how long
it may be. There is no necessity for any great training of
the body. Only ride gallops steadily every morning, and you
will find yourself in perfect wind, and not tire after the
severest race.

The usual day's work, when I had steeplechase horses at
Limber, was to go out every morning before breakfast and ride
two or three different horses in three-miles over fences, and
after the matutinal meal go out for a day's hunting. Of
course you want to be young and full of energy for this kind
of work, as one often jumped more fences during the morning
than in the day's hunting, especially if it were a moderate
scenting day.

Nothing did one more good than to repair to Newmarket
after the steeplechasing was over, and ride gallops on the flat
and in trials of perhaps six or five furlongs, riding the older
horse against the two-year-olds.

Practice of this sort taught you to jump off and get your
horse into his stride quickly without hustling him, and was of
the greatest assistance in making you a good judge of pace.
It also kept one in perfect wind.

Had I not ridden gallops over short courses every day, I
do not think I could have won short races like the two welters

221

The Life of a Great Sportsman

at Epsom — one at the Spring Meeting, and the other the day
after the Derby — when there was no straight six furlongs, and
Tattenham Corner to come round soon after the start.

No matter how good a man may be in the hunting field, he
will find race meetings a very difficult matter when he comes to
try his 'prentice hand, and may take it from me, that before he
can hope to compete with the best professional riders, whether
over a country or on the flat, nothing will avail him but
constant practice in the manner I have just described.

Another matter of great importance is to have your horse
bitted with a bridle that suits his mouth.

On the flat, this is not of so much consequence ; but it
makes all the difference in a steeplechase to have your horse
well balanced when jumping, and having perfect control over
him all through the race. Should he — as is not unfrequently
the case — get the upper hand and break away with his rider
when the starter drops his flag, not only does he tire his jockey,
but he soon runs himself out and fails to stay home.

Nothing is more trying than to ride a hard-pulling horse in
a long race like the Grand National, and in such a case it is
long odds against the horse staying the distance.

On the other hand, with your horse under proper control,
you can always keep him going within himself, with the result
that he will stay on to the end.

A bridle I was always very fond of was two snaffles, and if
on an extra puller, such as Reugny, whom I rode in one of that
description, a chain snaffle and a gag.

How often one hears of a stirrup-leather breaking — as
likely as not at the initiative fence ! No one who has not gone
through this experience has any idea how tiring it is to the
thigh having to ride through a race with only one stirrup. I
have a very vivid remembrance of a ride I once had in the Open

222

EDWARD DOWSON, ESQ.

A well-known cricketer, father of Mr. E. M. Dowson, and
great friend of J. M. Richardson.

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

Handicap, at Hexham, on a mare called Lady Day, when my
stirrup-leather broke at the very first fence. To make it worse,
most of the jumps had biggish drops attached to them. But
" All's well that ends well," and I won by a neck, in the end.
You cannot be too particular in carefully examining your
stirrups' leathers'before getting into the saddle. I say " leathers"
advisedly, as being far better than webbings for steeplechases,
for the reason that, should your foot slip out of the iron, you
can more easily recover it than the other, which twists and turns
about so as to make it very difficult to get your foot back into
the iron.

I would also here never advise any one to ride on a smaller
saddle than one of six or seven pounds, as the tree of a very
light saddle is always liable to break, and really three or four
pounds does not make the same amount of difference in a
steeplechase that it would on the flat.

As to falls, I have been so exceptionally lucky that there is
really very little to say on the subject, so far as concerns
myself, except to remark that the majority of them, in my
humble opinion, are caused by riding too close in the tracks of
the horse in front of you, the natural consequence being that
your mount has no time to see the obstacle before him until he
is right on to it.

As a matter of fact, I hardly ever got a fall when riding the
horses in a steeplechase schooled by myself at home, and the
only one I really ever received all through my career in the
saddle, and that not worth speaking about, was when riding
Juryman in the big steeplechase at Baden-Baden I fell and
hurt my ankle to some slight extent. Major Tempest, George
Ede and myself were the only Englishmen taking part in the
race, and were in front of the others, riding side by side, when
the horse of the first-named swerving against mine just as we

223

The Life of a Great Sportsman

took off at the brook, we both fell in, at the imminent risk of
being jumped upon by the other riders, mostly Prussian officers,
every one of whom came to grief. George Ede, on Lord
Poulett's Benazet, who eventually won, was the only rider, in
fact, to get over in safety.

I have been equally lucky hunting, and until two years ago
never broke a bone, and that was when riding a hack over
some timber.

Some horses are apt to take off too far away from their
fences, and the best way I know of to cure them of this
dangerous fault is to jump them constantly over rather a low
fence with a wide ditch on the landing side. After a few
lessons they will soon learn to go well up to their fence before
jumping.

Others, again, have just the opposite habit of getting too
near their fences before jumping, and for these the best and
safest remedy is the guard rail, as it makes the horse stand away.

The rider can often help his horse to get a fence in his
stride by pointing him the least bit either to the right or left,
as your own eye tells you when you are two or three lengths
away whether your horse is likely to get his stride wrong.

Some horses hardly ever get a fence out of their stride, and
when they do, put a short one in with such rapidity as to at
once equalize matters. To ride such perfect chasers as these is
indeed to be in luck's way. I cannot impress too forcibly upon
those of my readers who are fresh to cross-country work the
great necessity of sitting well back to help your mount at his
fences when he is getting tired, and holding him together in
the last mile of a long race.

A fresh horse can jump without assistance from its rider,
but when blown and leg weary, then is the time he wants help
from his jockey in the manner I have suggested.

224

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

I have heard steeplechasing described before now by its
detractors as a hybrid sort of sport, neither flesh, fowl, nor
good red herring ; but, call it what they may, there is no
getting away from the fact that, as a means of bringing out
those qualities our countrymen are supposed to possess in an
eminent degree and which have so often excited the admira-
tion— not to say envy — of the civilized world, it would be hard
to find its equal.

If a perusal of the brave deeds in the saddle recorded here
should have the effect of giving an impetus to a sport in which
formerly all the flower of our chivalry — from the Merry
Monarch downwards — thought it an honour to engage, then
this book will not have been written in vain.

Speaking for self and partner, I cannot conclude without
expressing our sincere thanks to H.S.H. Prince Charles
Kinsky, the Earl of Minto, Colonel H. Browns, and Messrs.
Reginald Herbert, Harry Rouse, Willoughby Maycock, and
many other relatives and friends of the riders, for their
invaluable assistance rendered from time to time, without which
ours would have been a much more arduous task than has
proved to be the case.

(Signed) J. Maunsell Richardson.

ETON AND HARROW

A FEW RECOLLECTIONS

By JOHN MAUNSELL RICHARDSON

{Reproduced by -permission of the proprietors of" The Daily Telegraph ")

In the early 'sixties, from which period dates my acquaint-
ance with the great public school match, first of all in the
capacity of a passive resister in the Dark Blue interests, and
subsequently as a member of the Harrow Eleven, Lord's

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

Cricket Ground invariably appeared to the naked eye to be
entertaining as large a company within its gates as could be
accommodated with any degree of comfort ; but for all that
there always seemed abundance of room to move about.
Youthful swells about town not only could, but did, ride
their hacks on to the ground, where they were quickly
surrounded by little knots of admiring friends still in bondage,
and longing for the good time coming, when " absence " would
be a thing of the past, and they would act as their own
prepostors.

There was plenty of hospitality going in those days, on the
drags and in the carriages which lined the ground in great
profusion, but it was nothing like the huge picnic it has
developed into of recent years, since it became a Society
function and a popular attraction.

At the time I am speaking about, the visitors to Lord's on
the Eton and Harrow match days were entirely composed of
those directly interested in one or other of the rival schools,
and who, but for that fact, would probably never have taken the
trouble to travel to St. John's Wood for the purpose of looking
on at a parcel of boys playing cricket. Nowadays it is alto-
gether different, and the chances are that if it came to a count,
it would be found that those spectators amongst the sterner sex
who, while applauding their loudest for Eton or Harrow, as
the case might be, were probably unconnected with either
school by any tie, however remote, far outnumbered those who
had a legitimate claim. The youthful card-merchants, with
their shrill cry of " Card o* the metch, gentlemen ! " are still
€n evidence during the play ; but, alas ! the white-aproned pot-
boy, the sight of whose pewter pots, glistening like silver in the
sun and cooling to the eye, rendered his appeal to " Give yer
order, gents," as he picked his way amongst the thirsty souls

226

THE EARL OF COVENTRY.
(President Harrow School Memorial Committee.)

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

seated on the grass below the ropes almost unnecessary, has,
like a good many other cherished institutions in the past,
disappeared long ago.

" Hi, bring me a pot of shandygaff! " cheerily exclaimed a
noble lord at my elbow one broiling hot afternoon many years
ago, adding, as he turned round to his laughing companion,
" Dashed if I can resist the pewter pots of these fellows ; they
remind me of the dear old Christopher ! "

What with legislation, the doctors, and the faddists generally,
our old friend John Barleycorn seems to be having an extremely
bad time of it just now ; Lord's Cricket Ground being by no
means the only place where his presence is considered " out of
date." For instance, whereas formerly, when out shooting, a
horn of nut-brown ale was good enough for our fathers to wash
down their luncheon with, whether on a grouse moor in August,
under a leafy hedge in September, or in a covert in December,
our modern sportsman, especially if at all " neurotic," can't get
on at all unless cheered up by the exhilarating " pop " of the
champagne corks.

The first Eton and Harrow match I witnessed, soon after
going to the last-named school, was in 1861, and I well
remember the row and chaff that went on all the time, and
again the following year. Dr. Butler, then headmaster of the
school on the hill, had just previously issued a mandate that our
trouser-pockets should be sewn up, with an idea of preventing
the slouching habit acquired by their wearers keeping hands
perpetually in them. The Eton boys got hold of this, and they
never let us alone on the subject all through the match, any
chaff on our side being immediately the signal for a yell of
" Pockets ! "

As the day went on the fun waxed fast and furious, with the
natural result that sundry fistic encounters took place during

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

the afternoon between excited members of the rival schools.
One in particular, which was productive of roars of laughter
from the bystanders, who, of course, did their best to encourage
the combatants, took place between " Bottle" Hambridge, the
celebrated Harrow " Cad," and " Joby," who occupied a similar
position at Eton, both elderly men, and both equally drunk.

It was said afterwards that the whole affair was got up
expressly for the occasion by the old rascals — what the police,
I believe, term a " put-up job."

This may or may not have been true, but, whether or no,
it is certain that the entertainment provided for their patrons
was productive of a very rich harvest. The partisans of each
subscribed in the most liberal manner when the hat went round,
as you may be sure it did, when an obdurate man in blue, in
spite of remonstrance, not unaccompanied by attempt at bribery,
stalked solemnly up and spoilt the fun.

I think it was in '63 also that additional excitement was
caused on its becoming known that Maitland, one of our best
men, had backed his bat for a " tenner " against Johnnie
Frederick, playing for Eton, the latter, who was a very bold and
free hitter, winning, if I remember rightly.

In 1864 I played for Harrow for the first time, Charlie
Buller (who died a year or so ago) being captain. A. N.
Hornby — familiarly known in the cricketing world as "Monkey"
Hornby; the two Phipps ; H. M. Stow; Amherst, brother to
the present Earl Amherst, and Arkwright, were also in the
team. The two last-named were slow bowlers — a rather un-
common circumstance, two slow bowlers being seldom seen in
a side at the same time.

I played for my school again the following year, and, thanks
in a great measure to ours being an exceptionally good fielding
eleven, we won in one innings on each occasion.

228

o
o

5
S

-*-»

•4-*

ffj

( )

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

In those days the Hon. Robert Grimston and the Hon.
Fred Ponsonby, afterwards Lord Bessborough — brother of the
present Sir Spencer Ponsonby Fane — were always at Harrow
during the summer, coaching the boys at cricket. Old Bob
Grimston had a catapult, with which he used to bowl at us
when practising, and as he could always bowl a ball exactly
where he liked, if a boy had a weak spot in his batting he would
bowl ball after ball at that particular spot.

Dear old Bob was wonderfully keen at cricket, as indeed he
was about all kinds of sport, especially hunting.

Curiously enough, in spite of his devotion to Harrow and
his love for the game itself, Bob Grimston steadily avoided
being present at Lord's on the occasion of the Eton and
Harrow match, the reason being that he felt himself unable to
stand the excitement. Whether this was always so I am not
in a position to state, but it certainly was the case during the
latter period of his life.

The wags would have it that by way of an alternative Bob
used to while away the time when the match was in progress
in deep meditation, seated on Ben Caunt's tombstone — Ben
being the prizefighter who fought the bold Bendigo for the belt
many years ago. This little fairy-tale may, of course, be taken
for what it is worth.

There is one part of the programme in connection with the
Eton and Harrow match which, I am bound to say, I never
think quite fair — that the captains of the teams should toss for
innings. It is such a manifest advantage to boys to bat when
fresh, over their opponents, who, in addition to the journey up
to London, have had a long and tiring day in the field, that to
my mind it would be much fairer to both if, instead of leaving
it to chance, they took it in turn each year.

229

The Life of a Great Sportsman

THE DERBY

SOME REMINISCENCES

By JOHN MAUNSELL RICHARDSON

{Reproduced by permission of the proprietors of "The Daily Telegraph ")

To old stagers like myself — and I fancy there are a goodish
number left — who, with pleasurable recollections of its past
glories, would feel it weigh heavily on our conscience did we
fail to put in an appearance at Epsom on the Derby Day, it is
positively sad to note the apathy with what was wont to be
looked upon as the greatest event of the year in the Sporting
Calendar is now regarded — not so much by the lower, as the
upper, classes of society. Whereas formerly, not only London,
but the whole country, was agog with excitement as the day
for the great event drew nigh, and which was likely to be Sir
Joseph's best, and how the favourite was getting on, were the
popular subjects of conversation, to the exclusion of all other
topics, the Derby now excites little but passing interest. It is,
indeed, not too much to say that on the present occasion, were
it not for the welcome presence of Minoru amongst the field,
the famous race — which the great Sir Tatton Sykes, then
studying law in a solicitor's office in Bloomsbury, and not over-
burdened with money, thought it worth while to tramp down
from London in the early morning to witness — would command
even less attention than usual.

Five and thirty years ago, and even later, when hotels were
much scarcer than is the case now, any one coming to town
during the Derby Week without having secured rooms in
advance would have found it exceedingly hard to obtain even
a bedroom in the West End, especially in Clubland ; whilst,
from an early hour on both Derby and Oak Days, the streets
of London, both east and west, alive with vehicles of every

230

O °
< £-

<
u

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

sort and description, from the four-horse coach to the coster's
" barrer," with their occupants dressed in gala attire, in which
the dust-coat and the white hat and blue veil, inseparable from
the Derby Day of that period, bore a conspicuous part, pre-
sented as animated a scene on a fine day as could well be
imagined. As the morning advanced equipages of a superior
kind would make their appearance, and well-turned-out coaches
— many of them driven by swell dragsmen, attired in the brown
coat and brass buttons of the Four-in-Hand Club — were to be
met with at every turn in the St. James's district, one and all
to be encountered later on dispensing hospitality on a lavish
scale to all-comers on the Hill.

How things have altered since then ! Take a stroll along
Piccadilly nowadays on the morning of the Derby Day, and
it would be hard to tell the difference betwen that and any
other. The only people, in fact, at the present time who are
at all keen about the Derby are the holiday-makers pure and
simple. What better fun than to take the " Missis and the
kids " for a picnic on the downs, with the Derby thrown in,
and a shilling or two on his Majesty's horse to add to the
excitement ? Granted fine weather, the little party will enjoy
themselves to the top of their bent — especially if they win
their money — and their day's amusement will certainly compare
favourably with that of my young friend Dawdle, who, voting
the Derby a played-out amusement, only fit for the patronage
of antediluvian old fossils like myself, spends the day at his
club betting on the tape.

Faded Glories.

The decline of the Derby in public favour is probably due
in no small measure to the large amount of racing which now

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

goes on, as compared with formerly ; whilst the mammoth
stakes which were introduced in 1886 certainly did it no good,
nor the Turf either, so far as I can gather. If, as it was stated
at the time, the principal reason for their being started was to
give small breeders a chance, they certainly cannot be said
to have answered their purpose, seeing that in every single
instance, so far as I know, these big prizes have been carried
off by owners to whom the winning of a large sum of money
is of no moment whatever. That there are a great many good
sportsmen on the Turf at the present time we are all aware,
but somehow there is not one to be mentioned in recent years
who has ever succeeded in obtaining the large public following
which always fell to the lot of Lord Falmouth, Sir Joseph
Hawley, and Jamie Merry, as his countrymen called the great
Scotch ironmaster. Without detracting in any way from their
skill, it would be equally hard, especially now Morny Cannon
has retired from the profession, to name the jockey riding at
the present who can lay claim to the same amount of hero-
worship as that accorded in the long ago by their admirers
to such past-masters of their art as George Fordham, Tom
Cannon, John Osborne, Tom Challoner, and Fred Archer.

There was a good deal of romance, too, attached to the
Derby in former years, which somehow seems to have deserted
it lately. Take the story of Wild Dayrell, for instance, whose
birth was announced to Mr. Popham at midnight by his excited
butler, who went straight out in the snow to the box occupied
by his dam, armed with a bottle of port wine and a piece of
blue riband, the former to drink to the health of the new
arrival, and the latter " to tie round the neck of the winner of
the Derby, for the first time in my life." Why, I never heard,
but it was said at the time that every footman in London was
on Wild Dayrell when he won the Derby. Without doubt the

232

.MRS. WILLIAM RICHARDSON.
(From a painting by H. St. P. Bunbury, 191 1.)

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

most sensational Derby of our generation was that of Hermit.
When the horse burst a blood-vessel some time before the race
Mr. Chaplin would have scratched him there and then, but for
the persuasion of Captain Machell, who insisted that he would
win. It was then that the late Duke of Hamilton, meeting
Machell one night, and the Derby being under discussion,
thoroughly roused the Captain by saying, " Hermit's a dead'un,
and you know it," the result of which speech was that the
Duke laid Captain Machell the big bet of ,£180,000 to ^3000
against the colt. This was a strongish order, and so thought
the Duke on reflection, and it was only after pressure, backed
by the most influential people, had been brought to bear on
Captain Machell, that the latter consented to cancel the bet,
or, at all events, to modify it to more slender dimensions.
After Hermit's victory, this concession on his part no doubt
rankled in the Captain's bosom, for he never ceased harping
on the subject for years afterwards. The cold day and snow-
storm combined were no doubt in Hermit's favour, as, had it
been the other extreme, the chances are he would have broken
another blood-vessel.

Reforms needed.

The paddock has lost nothing of its charm in all these
years, and still wears its same animated appearance before
the big race. The only marvel is that, considering the large
number of the fair sex who patronize it, the executive, who
could so well afford to bear the expense, do not make a
covered road from the grand stand, instead of compelling the
ladies to thread their way through the unsavoury crowd which
is always collected there. It would also be a boon to the
jockeys and trainers, hurrying to get to their horses after the

233

The Life of a Great Sportsman

weighing-out process. At no other meeting in the world
would such a state of things be tolerated for a moment, and
why the powers that be should allow it in this case, especially
after the number of complaints that have been made year after
year, beats the writer's comprehension entirely.

Another drawback which I have always wondered has
never given rise to a formal complaint from owners of race-
horses is the exit from the paddock through which the horses
make their way to the start. The horses have to pick their
way down a slope, along broken, chalky ground, which, in hard
or wet weather, is bound to be more or less greasy, and, con-
sequently, exceedingly dangerous for a high-spirited or nervous
horse, who might very easily slip, with disastrous consequences
to itself, to say nothing of its backers. Somehow one does not
see so many characteristic figures in the paddock as of old,
and one misses the stalwart figure of Mr. George Lane-Fox —
always a sure find on the Derby Day ; " Ginger " Stubbs, too,
looking exactly as if he had just been turned out of a bandbox,
with his elaborately folded, snowy-white cambric neckcloth, at
the smoothness of which we should have marvelled, had we
not happened to know that he used to make his son iron it for
him every morning after it was on. " Ginger " was one of the
best judges of a horse in England, and his criticism of the
favourites as they passed in review before him was always
worth listening to. For many years he would take a dislike
to one of the Derby favourites, and this he would pepper to
win him a thousand or so, and very well it answered, until in
an evil moment he conceived a wrong impression of Thor-
manby, when Tattersall's knew him no more. Old D'Orsay
Clarke, too, with his blue umbrella, who, originally a waiter at
a fashionable Bond Street hotel, acted for a time as jackal to
Crockford, and eventually blossomed forth into an owner of

234

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

racehorses of some importance, was another familiar landmark.
Perhaps the most striking figure of all, however, in the paddock
was that of David Hope Johnstone, whose stalwart form, clad
in the eccentric " get-up " he affected on these occasions, was
calculated to excite a feeling of wonderment, not unmixed with
awe, in those who beheld him for the first time.

Paddock criticism — if one knows anything at all about a
horse — is occasionally not without its advantages. For instance,
last year I spent, according to custom, a good long time in the
paddock on the Derby Day, with the result that, at the end of
my inspection, I came to the conclusion that of all the candi-
dates for the Blue Riband which had come under my obser-
vation— and I believe I saw the lot — by far the fittest was
Signorinetta. A little later I met one of the most successful
of our trainers, and, discussing the race, I put the question to
him, " Why shouldn't the mare win ? " " The mare ? " he
repeated, "what mare?" On my naming Signorinetta, he
replied, to my astonishment, "Why, I didn't know there was
such an animal in the race." And it certainly was wonderful
that, though she had been on view every morning at New-
market for some time, going great guns with the string which,
by the courtesy of the trainer, she was allowed to join, and
who could hardly get out of her way, yet not a tout at head-
quarters was alive to the merits of the Chevalier Ginistrelli's
good little mare. That it was her fitness, and not her supe-
riority, which won Signorinetta the race I think there can be
no reasonable doubt. -

A Good Tip.

I do not think I ever witnessed a more exciting race for
the Derby than that of 1872, when Cremorne just got home

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

from Pell Mell, on whom dear old G.P. stood to win the biggest
stake he had ever had a try for, which is saying a good deal.
After Cremorne had won the Woodcote Stakes at Epsom the
previous year — a race, by the way, which, though supposed to
be a good criterion, has only twice since been won by a future
Derby winner, and each time by Lord Rosebery, with Ladas and
Cicero, in 1893 and 1904 respectively — it was quite recognized
by his owner and trainer that with ordinary luck the colt had a
chance second to none for the Blue Riband the following year,
and that the trainer was especially confident the following
anecdote will show. The previous year, when the late Baron
Meyer de Rothschild had a prominent favourite for the Derby
in Favenius, that fine old sportsman invited a party of friends
to come and see the favourite in his box on the opening day
of the meeting. Amongst those present was Gilbert, Mr.
Saville's trainer, and, the inspection over, he addressed the
company thus: "Now, gentlemen," said he, "you've seen the
winner of this year's Derby, and if you'll do me the honour to
step across the yard to where my horses are, I'll show you the
winner of next." With that he led them to an adjacent box,
where stood Cremorne, who that same afternoon was to make
a successful debut in the Woodcote Stakes. Not a bad tip, on
the whole, as I think my readers will agree.

Except that there are not so many coaches and carriages
as of old, the Hill presents much the same animated spectacle
it always did. One misses the eccentric figure of Sir John
Bennett, the clockmaker, with his white, curly hair and black
velvet suit, who for many years made a practice of riding down
to Epsom, and was always to be seen riding about amongst
the carriages on the Hill during the day. That arch-jester,
the late Hughie Drummond, considerably astonished the
worthy knight on one of these occasions by suddenly dropping

236

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

down on to the back of his horse from the top of a coach.
How he explained away the circumstances I forget, but I
believe it was considered satisfactory by his victim.

Many years ago it was quite the fashion to ride down to
Epsom on horseback, and a story is told of a party of four
elderly City sportsmen, who made a practice every year of
riding down the day before the Derby to the Bear, at Esher,
where they would put up, and ride on to the Downs the next
morning. On one of these occasions, as they were en route to
the course, a large tilted waggon was rather in their way in
one of the Surrey lanes of no great width, so one of the party
riding forward, bid a man, who was sitting at the back of
the cart smoking his pipe and swinging his legs, somewhat
peremptorily to make room for them to pass. " Hi, Bill ! "
bawled the person addressed to his friend in front, "jest move
on one side for old ' wunce a year,' will yer ? " The story was
all over the City the next day, with the effect that ever after-
wards the too peremptory sportsman was known " on 'Change "
as " Wunce a Year."

ROYAL ASCOT

A RETROSPECT

By JOHN MAUNSELL RICHARDSON

{Reproduced by permission of the proprietors of " The Daily Telegraph ")

Granted fine weather, there is nothing to prevent Ascot this
year from proving as brilliant a function as any which have
gone before.

Always interesting, the Royal procession on this occasion
should be more so than usual, the one thing wanting to com-
plete the picture as the cortege wends its way slowly up the
course from the Castle, in the opinion of many an old habitue

237

The Life of a Great Sportsman

of the meeting, being the presence of the noble Master of the
Buckhounds, attended by the Royal Huntsman and Whippers-
in, wearing their scarlet and gold liveries, followed by the
Yeomen Prickers in green plush with gold-laced hats, which
during the Victorian era constituted such a popular feature on
the Tuesday and Thursday.

The veteran, Charles Davis, with his spare figure and
perfect seat on a horse, who for so long a period was associated
with Ascot, made a figure which will long dwell in the memory ;
whilst of the noble wearers of the gold couples in the writer's
time, perhaps none presented a braver appearance than the
then Earl of Hardwicke, familiarly known as the " Glossy
Peer," who, "got up" to perfection, according to custom, and
splendidly mounted, provoked nothing but favourable criticism
as he rode by in advance of the cavalcade.

Though there is no denying its convenience, the motor-
car, looking at it from an ornamental point of view, is but a
sorry substitute for the lordly drag with its load of fair
occupants, which in former days was so much en evidence at
Ascot, and whose numbers have steadily diminished of late,
none the less so since the regimental coach is no longer coun-
tenanced by the military authorities.

What splendid private equipages, too, of other sorts we
used to see on the famous heath ! One in particular the writer
has in his mind's eye, a light carriage belonging to a Princess
of France, which, with its four magnificent horses, their
harness one mass of silver, with coachmen, footmen, and out-
riders in liveries of sky blue and silver, and wearing well-
curled flaxen wings under their velvet jockey caps, was the
centre of an admiring crowd, both on arrival and departure.

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Bygone Veterans.

A familiar figure in the Royal enclosure was that of the
late Duke of Cambridge, and it was a pleasant sight at the
end of the day to see him mount his horse, in waiting for him
at the back of the Grand Stand, and, followed by a groom,
ride away across the Great Park to Windsor Castle. Towards
the close of his long life the Duke seemed to take an
increasing interest in horse-racing, and was hardly ever absent
from the Newmarket meetings, where he would frequently be
seen in the judge's box when a race was in progress. For
some years, right up to the late 'seventies, a noticeable per-
sonality at Ascot was that of an elderly man of stoutish build
and rubicund complexion, wearing a white hat, with black band,
and dust-coloured clothes, with a large pair of blue spectacles
over his nearly sightless eyes, and in his mouth a large and
inviting-looking cigar, who, seated in a chair in the corner by
the enclosure near the judge's box, was the recipient of many
a cordial greeting during the day from aristocratic visitors of
either sex, to the majority of whom he was evidently well and
favourably known. The late Marchioness of Hastings, in
particular, was often to be seen during the day, seated on a
chair at his side, enjoying a chat with the veteran. Nor was
this surprising, under the circumstances, seeing that but a few
years back, during what has since been known as the
" Hastings era," John Day's lot, and what they were doing,
formed the sole subject of conversation, in the sporting world
at all events, to the exclusion of all other topics.

As the veteran trainer sat placidly smoking his cigar,
whilst those around loudly proclaimed the victory of Cre-
morne, or some other equine hero in the Gold Cup — perhaps,
next to the Derby, the most coveted prize we have — his

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thoughts, no doubt, often went back to that auspicious day for
Danebury, when the diminutive Lecturer, who probably did
more to replenish the coffers of his extravagant owner than
any racehorse he ever owned, lame though he appeared
beforehand to those unfamiliar with his ways, cantered away
with the Cup from nine others, with that peerless horseman,
George Fordham, in the saddle. In so doing he staved off —
alas! only for a time — the crash which was bound to come
sooner or later. The one consolation was that it was a good
time while it lasted.

Sporting Eton Masters.

In the 'sixties Eton could boast of two sporting masters,
the Rev. " Johnny " Yonge and the Rev. Russell Day, the
latter, who, on account of his short stature, was familiarly
known as " Parva Dies," being a relative of the Danebury
trainer just mentioned, and these invariably made a practice
of riding over to Ascot on the Cup day. On these occasions
nothing pleased the last-named gentleman better than to catch
any Eton boys who happened to have found their way there.
For this purpose, he used to give his horse to some one to
hold, whilst he himself poked about on foot amongst the
carriages, and it was odd if, in the course of his rambles, he
did not effect a capture. One of a select covey of juvenile
sportsmen, perhaps, on the top of a coach, in full enjoyment
of lobster mayonnaise and champagne cup, would suddenly be
startled by feeling a pull at his leg, to find, on looking down,
that it emanated from " Parva Dies," who had adopted that
means of making his presence known. A cheery soul was
the Rev. Russell Day, and if he came across any of his
victims the next day, I am told, would chaff them about their

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Ascot adventure and its sequel, in a good-natured way which
effectually dispelled any ill-feeling which might otherwise have
arisen.

Unlike " Parva Dies," Johnny Yonge, on his visits to
Ascot, concentrated his attention entirely on the sport, and
would ride about to different points of the course. On one
of these occasions, when there was a large field of horses,
the good man was very much shocked at the language used
by the jockeys when rounding the bend where he was
stationed.

One Cup day — to be precise, that on which occurred the
memorable dead-heat between Buckstone and Tim Whiffler —
the Rev. Johnny, by himself this time, whilst riding through
the forest on the weedy thoroughbred chestnut he affected,
suddenly caught sight of three small Eton boys, who, mounted
on hacks supplied by Tom Cannon, the horse-dealer, of
Windsor, were cantering gaily along some distance ahead,
evidently bound for the same destination as himself; and, no
notice being taken of his shout to them to stop, at once started
in pursuit.

The late Bill Beresford, who, as it happened, made one of
the party, and may be said to have been in command of the
squadron, with the master mind which stood him in such good
stead in later years, at once gave orders for each to ride off in
a different direction — advice which, on being carried out, at
once bore fruit, for the master, unable to make up his mind
which particular culprit to follow, and possibly not being par-
ticularly anxious either, finally gave up the chase as hopeless,
and pursued the even tenor of his way.

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The Cup and the Hardwicke Stakes.

The Gold Cup was originally established in 1807, and was
won by Master Jackey (3 yrs. 6st.-2), beating three others.
After that it went steadily on until 1845, in which year, by way
of a delicate compliment to the Emperor Nicholas of Russia,
who was over here on a visit, its name was altered to that
of " The Emperor's Plate," to revert again to its old title
in 1854.

In all there have been five dead-heats for the Gold Cup
since the first race in 1807. The most recent was that between
The White Knight and Eider in 1907, the French horse being
subsequently disqualified for boring.

The rich Hardwicke Stakes, established in 1879, is another
race which has brought out many famous animals to compete,
perhaps the most memorable struggle in its history being that
between Ormonde and Minting in 1887, ridden respectively
by Tom Cannon and John Osborne, when the former just won,
amidst a scene of excitement seldom witnessed at Ascot.
Bendigo, who was a good third, though he did not get any-
thing like the credit due to him for it, put in a really won-
derful performance in the circumstances. Being stabled close
to the course, his rest had been so interfered with of nights by
the incessant noise that went on in the various booths and
shows that the good old horse was thoroughly upset and off
his feed, so much so that it was only at the very last moment
that his owner decided to run him. If there was one thing
that annoyed Mr. Barclay more than another it was to see his
favourite, as was frequently the case, described in the sporting
papers as a mere " handicap horse," and I fancy there are few
who know anything at all about form who won't sympathize
with him.

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A Memorable " Black Week."

There has been at Ascot many a " Black Week," to use
the punters' term, and perhaps there never was a worse
example than the year when poor Fred Archer was in the
zenith of his fame — I fancy, but am not quite sure, that it was
1875 — when those who systematically backed the "Tinman,"
burnt their fingers for once to a terrible extent. -

One sportsman in particular, Colonel Burnaby by name,
a near relative, I believe, of the author of "A Ride to Khiva,"
had a most heartbreaking experience. Though not given to
betting as a rule, he decided to back Fred Archer's mounts
steadily all through the meeting, and a shocking bad specu-
lation it proved, for the usually invincible jockey could not win
a race to save his life. Suffice it to say, that the end of the
week saw the gallant Colonel on the wrong side of the hedge
to the tune of upwards of .£30,000.

In vain the bookmakers, in their admiration of his pluck,
begged and entreated the Colonel to take his own time about
settling. Every shilling was forthcoming on the Monday, and
the Ring then knew they had seen the last of Colonel
Burnaby.

FOX-HUNTING

By JOHN MAUNSELL RICHARDSON

{Reproduced by permission oj the proprietors oj ""The Daily Telegraph")

" Hounds stout, horses healthy,
Earths well stopped, and foxes plenty."

I have always held the opinion that better or sounder
advice for a master of foxhounds to take to heart and do his
best to act up to has never been given, or in so few words, as
that contained in the old-time toast quoted above.

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

Only three addenda are wanting for a day's hunting to
arrive at that state of perfection described by the light-hearted
" Dazzle " in London Assurance as the " consummation of
all earthly bliss," and these are a good fox, a good scent, and
a good country. Unfortunately it is not a very frequent
occurrence for a treble event of this description to be brought
off in one day. A good scent makes the foxes fly from a
covert, and on these occasions it is most important that the
huntsman should get away close to his fox, in which case the
scent may be good enough to hunt him on almost any day.
If, on the contrary, the fox is allowed to get a few minutes'
start, the scent, as often as not, is too bad to press him. So,
as Mr. Jorrocks impressed upon his "beloved 'earers," in one
of his famous lectures on "'unting," "Get close away to the
varmint ! " If a huntsman cannot get his hounds quickly out
of covert, it is a sure sign that they neither care about him nor
trust him.

The Hounds.

A foxhound must be stout in the first place, or he is not
worth keeping, no matter how good-looking he may be, or
how well he will work for half the day. A good foxhound
in condition never tires, and can outstay any other animal in
the world, the nearest approach to him as regards power of
endurance, so far as I know, being the wolf.

The greatest benefactors to foxhunting are those masters
and huntsmen who breed hounds only from none other but
those strains that are noted for their stoutness. In no animal
that can be named do the vices and virtues of their ancestors
so surely repeat themselves in their offspring as in a foxhound.
Even small traits of character will be handed down from father
to son in a manner that to any one unacquainted with these

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high-bred members of the canine species would appear well-
nigh incredible. For example, a hound often inherits the
habit of trotting to covert always in front of the pack. A still
more extraordinary instance of heredity came to my knowledge
only the other day. The Bel voir Ragman walked by Mr.
Cooper, of Waltham, used to have the knack of lifting up the
catch of the kitchen door, and this year one of his sons does
precisely the same thing. The value of a hound is not to be
judged by his looks, but by his work, and to combine the two
should be the aim and pride of every master of hounds. How
any one going into a kennel can possibly put a value on hounds
without having first seen them in the field quite passes my
comprehension. You might just as well try and value a hunter
without having seen him go.

Horses.

What a comfort it is to a hunting man to have a healthy
stable, and a good stud groom — himself a good horseman, with
hands of the best — to look after them ! How essential, too, it
must be to ride well-bred horses ! When hunting with a pack
of hounds that are carefully bred in the kennel, and skilfully
managed in the field, not only must our horses be of good
quality, but in perfect condition as well. Needless to say, this
is where the good stud groom comes in. More frequently than
not, in spite of many opinions to the contrary, steeplechase
horses have proved most excellent hunters. Gay Lad, Peter
Simple, and Half-Caste — the first and last of whom were
Liverpool winners — were all three bred in my old village of
Limber, and regularly ridden with Lord Yarborough's hounds,
whilst in later days, Reugny, whom I bought for Captain
Machell from the late Lord Aylesford, was frequently ridden

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

hunting by me in December and January, before winning the
Grand National. Rhysworth, again, who had run second the
previous year in the same event, had been well hunted previously
by one of the Blankney whippers-in. Another example was
Snowstorm, also bred at Limber by Mr. William Marris, and
whom I rode as a four-year-old with hounds, and made a
perfect fencer of before he ever saw a racecourse. After win-
ning many steeplechases, including the Sefton at Liverpool, he
was bought by Mr. Henry Chaplin, described by Custance in
his " Book of Recollections" as " the best heavyweight over a
country I ever saw," who frequently rode him hunting with the
Blankney, of which pack he was then the Master. Last, but
not least on the list, comes Titterstone, on whose back I won
several open handicap steeplechases for Captain Machell, and
who will always hold a treasured place in my memory as the
most perfect hunter I ever rode.

Earth-stopping.

On how many occasions has what in all probability would
otherwise have been a good day's sport been spoiled by the
earths not having been properly stopped ! Years ago it used
to be the rule to stop the earths at night between the hours of
nine and ten. (There is an illustration of this in that most
admirable of hunting books, "The Noble Science," by Mr.
Delme Radcliffe.) Nowadays they are " put to " in the morn-
ing, after daylight, and the foxes are not infrequently stopped
underground in consequence. In many cases drains and earths
are not stopped at all, with the result that when everybody is
in full enjoyment of a run and hounds have settled to their fox,
the latter goes to ground, not only to the great disappointment
(freely expressed as a rule) of the whole field of sportsmen, but

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of the hounds as well. If you cannot depend on earths being
stopped at the proper time, perhaps the surest way to keep
foxes above ground is permanently to close the earths with a
large faggot, removing the same at the end of February. Foxes
do not want preserving ; " you preserve jam," as the late Mr.
George Lane- Fox used to say. All they want is to be left
alone and the coverts kept quiet and they will look after them-
selves, and a huntsman will soon know where to find his fox.

Leicestershire.

Just as Newmarket is recognized all the world over as the
headquarters of the Turf, and, according to its thick-and-thin
admirers, "the only place to train a donkey in," so in like
manner does Leicestershire still stand out by itself amongst
what Sam Weller of immortal memory was pleased to term
the " Fashionables," as the only country fit for any one worthy
of the name of sportsman to hunt in. And not bad judges
either, for there can be no question but that a horseman with
any pretensions to ride up to the motto, " Be with them I will,"
having, like Mr. Sawyer, hardened his heart and betaken him-
self for a season to the shires, is completely spoilt for hunting
elsewhere, and would probably, at the finish, share to a great
extent the feelings of the swell Meltonian of old who, when
asked if he had read a certain novel just then all the rage,
replied, " Read a book ! Why, my dear fellow, I would as
soon hunt in Yorkshire ! "

Since the ox-rail has been replaced by that detestable
invention, so dangerous to life and limb of both horse and
rider, known as barbed wire, which, when put up in the summer
and supposed to be removed during the hunting season, is still
— worse luck! — occasionally to be met with, the fences are
much easier to negotiate than formerly, there being now no

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

great width for a horse to clear. All he has to do is to jump
well up and not hit the binder with his knees, the prizes that
are given in so many counties for hedge-plashing having, as a
result, made the newly-laid fences very strong.

In former days the Meltonian was wont to gallop to covert
on a hack, and would ride his hunter home at the end of the
day. But all that is now changed, and in the luxurious age
we live in the motor takes us to the meet, and, no matter in
what part of the country hounds leave off, the telephone is
requisitioned, and the same vehicle takes us home again.
Distance is, of course, of no consequence to the motor, but
it does seem rather hard on the horse, who has carried you
well all through the day, to be ridden some few miles out of
his way home to where the car is stationed. Long distances
do not affect hounds half so much as horses, and jogging twelve
or fifteen miles to covert does the former, if fit, far more good
than taking them to the meet in a van. A hound, in fact, that
cannot tire out three horses isn't worth keeping.

It is not, of course, given to mortals to command success,
but there can be no question that the first essential to the
ensurement of good sport in the hunting field is for the master
and his huntsmen to be thoroughly keen. No detail, however
small, must be left to chance, for a good run may easily be
made or marred by the merest trifle. No stone must be left
unturned to secure the services of a good huntsman, and the
choice of the whippers-in is almost of equal importance. Though
all this means a good deal of trouble, the reward will be com-
mensurate, you may depend, in the long run. Hunt servants —
or any other, for that matter — well up in the duties of their
calling soon find out when they have a good Master, and will
not only respect him, but, in addition, put their whole heart
into their work.

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The Foxes.

One often hears people say that the presence of too many-
foxes spoils sport. In my humble opinion, it is a fault in the
right direction. If hunted often enough, they will soon learn
to know the country, with the result that their followers will
often have the luck to make acquaintance with

" a fox stout, gallant, and shy,
With his earth ten miles off, and that earth in his eye."

Coverts too close together are not conducive to foxes making
good points. The most useful covert is one of about ten acres
or so, consisting of either really thick blackthorn or gorse, and
if the huntsman wants a ride cut in it it should not only be
narrow, but crooked enough to prevent a shooter seeing a
rabbit running across, and thus disturbing the covert. A thin
covert as a rule is a very uncertain " find," it being so easily
hunted by any chance dog who comes that way. When the
owner of a wood is going to shoot it on a given day, naturally
the M.F.H. is only too pleased to comply with the request not
to come there and draw in the interim. On the other hand,
when hounds are running, and well settled to a fox with every
prospect of a fine run, I say, without hesitation, that no really
good sportsman would take offence if the hounds were allowed
to hunt their fox without hindrance, whilst a courteously-worded
letter afterwards, explaining matters, would surely prevent any
ill-feeling that might otherwise arise. The keepers, of course,
blame the hounds if when the wood is shot the bag is not up
to the mark, but to my mind the excuse is a very poor one, for
we all know that pheasants if driven out of covert are soon back
there, and, what is more, move all the better afterwards when,
literally, flying for their lives. When it is remembered that
stopping hounds under conditions such as I have described, in

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

addition to completely spoiling the day's sport, means disap-
pointment to a great many brave men and fair women, including
strangers from afar, the selfishness of such a proceeding is
obvious.

The Noble Science.

Lord Henry Bentinck always would have it that when
hounds run riot when foxes are plentiful, it was the fault of
the handling. It is the drive and fling of the foxhound that
distinguishes him from all other hounds, and which those well
versed in the niceties of the Noble Science admire so much.
In making their cast hounds should always try forward.
Suppose in a run you come to a bit of bad scenting ground,
possibly from manure recently carted on the land, or from
sheep or beasts having foiled the line of the fox, now is the
time for hounds to try forward. If encouraged to try back,
not only do they get into a bad style of hunting, but are soon
so behind their fox that they cannot press him, with the result
that eventually he runs them out of scent. When hounds are
in the open, a huntsman should blow his horn as seldom as
possible. If near enough to hear his voice let him speak to
them, and they will come quicker than to his horn. He should
bear in mind that if he only hears the music of the hounds the
fox often stops to listen, whereas the twang of the horn has
a very different effect, and it is not his fault, you may depend,
if you get any nearer to him.

A good huntsman is the most observant of men. Nothing
escapes him, and he has his eyes continuously " forrard," in the
anticipation of a check. He knows to a nicety when his
hounds are on a false scent, and stops them directly, strong in
the knowledge that if encouraged to hunt what is wrong, not
only the young hounds, but even those with two seasons'

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experience, will soon become inveterate hare hunters. The
natural instinct of the run of a fox is a gift given to few, and to
grasp a difficult situation at the moment is where a huntsman
should excel. Not a moment must be lost, and above all his
motto must be " Rebus in arduis cequam servare mentem" for
directly he loses his temper it is ten to one on his losing his
fox. A huntsman is placed in a very responsible public
position, and the members of the hunt, especially of a sub-
scription pack, feel it their duty to criticise him, though the
chances are that those who are loudest in their opinion know
rather less about hunting a pack of hounds than the man in the
moon. Frequently the best of masters and first-rate whippers-
in signally fail in ever attaining the gift and aptitude required
to take the supreme command. In no profession that I know
of is the old Latin quotation, "Nascitur non jit" more applicable
than that of a huntsman. In fact, the M.F.H. who, when a
clerical visitor, in his astonishment at the large salary the other
paid his huntsman, exclaimed, " Why it's nearly double what
my living is worth," replied, " That may be true enough, but
you must recollect that a good huntsman is not to be met with
every day in the week," was not very far out, though doubtless
his way of putting it grated somewhat on the other's ear.
Huntsmen, not unnaturally perhaps, think that a gentleman,
not having gone through the same apprenticeship as themselves,
cannot possibly know much about hunting hounds. I had an
example of this only, last year, when a man who had been
whipper-in for ten years to quite the best gentleman huntsman
I ever saw, was appointed in that capacity to a well-known
pack in the Midlands. On my asking a well-known huntsman
if he thought the other would be a success, his reply was :
" What could he learn under a hamateur ? "

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

"Hold hard!"

With the large number of people who comprise the big
fields of horsemen who come out in the fashionable part of
Leicestershire it would be odd if amongst them there was
absent a certain amount of friendly rivalry. Should, however,
a Master ride bang in front of the field when hounds are
running, and, holding up his hand as he turns round in the
saddle, cry " Hold hard ! " it is a bold man who would dare to
pass him. If, on the other hand,he is two hundred yards or so
behind, but little attention is paid to his shouts by the leading
division, their idea being that, jealous of their position, he is
merely " trying it on," with a view to getting on level terms
with them.

Youth at the Helm.

Making every allowance for the temerity of youth, and with
a strong fellow-feeling for keenness, if I might be allowed to
make a suggestion, it would be that before a young man com-
mences to hunt in Leicestershire, he would do well to disport
himself for a season or two in a more provincial county, under
a 'good huntsman, with the object of learning some of the
rudiments of fox-hunting and riding to hounds. " Experientia
docet" as they taught us at Harrow, and I feel sure that a
candidate for honours over the broad pastures and big fences
of High Leicestershire, fresh from a "tour in the provinces,"
such as I have ventured to prescribe, will be the first to admit
its efficacy when he faces the music in earnest.

The Hunting Parson.

Human nature is human nature all the world over, so why,
therefore, should it be considered ififra dig. — nay, in many

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cases, downright wicked — for the gentleman who looks after
our spiritual welfare, and was probably entered to sport of all
kinds from his earliest childhood, to employ some of his spare
time in the invigorating and innocent pastime of galloping over
a country in the wake of a pack of foxhounds is altogether
beyond me. It is my firm belief that top boots are the cause
of it in a great measure. I remember once, many years ago,
when on a visit to a strange country, and in a quick thing over
the grass the first day I was out hunting, I could not but
notice that none went better throughout the gallop than a man
sporting a black overcoat and " antigropelos " — a fearful and
wonderful species of gaiter in use at that period — and who had,
apparently, dropped from the clouds. Judge my astonishment,
at the end of the run, when the stranger in black, riding up to
me with radiant face and outstretched hand, revealed the
identity of a friend of my boyhood who, when up at Oxford
later, was quite one of its representative horsemen, and of
whom my last recollection was seeing him win a steeplechase
at Aylesbury in dashing style on a horse belonging to Charlie
Symonds, which, like most of the animals emanating from the
stables of that great and good man, possessed a knack of
" going," however unprepossessing its looks might be.

" Shocking get-up about the legs, ain't it ? " remarked my
friend, as he saw me taking in the " antigropelos." " Fact is," he
went on, " I'm curate-in-charge of a parish near here, and with
such a nice, narrow-minded flock as mil. % what would happen
if they ever caught sight of their beloved shepherd in breeches
and boots goodness only knows ! They'd ' Baa ' their heads
off and mine too. How do I manage to hunt ? Well, should
I happen to be riding along the road (I am ordered horse
exercise, don't you know), and come up with the hounds by
accident, as was the case to-day, and my horse should happen

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

to bolt in the direction they are running (I bought him from
the village baker for a ' pony,' and wouldn't take a couple of
hundred for him to-morrow), it's not my fault, is it ?"

How many brilliant horsemen can I number amongst my
clerical friends ? To begin with, there was Parson Howsin, of
Brant Broughton, in the Blankney country, who rode straight
to hounds up to eighty, and actually cleared the Whissendine
at that age. A rural dean once asked him whether he pro-
nounced the brook of that name " Kedron or Kidron ? " To
which he replied, " I only know two brooks, the Whissendine
and Brant, and I can spell both, and, thank God ! jump 'em
both." One of his fads was never to let any one but himself
preach in his own church, for, said he, "If the other man
preaches worse than I do, he won't be worth hearing ; whereas,
if, on the other hand, he preaches better than I do, you won't
come to hear me again." Then there was the late Rev. Edward
Drake, who was frequently my guest at Limber for a few days'
hunting with the Brocklesby, and was, without doubt, one of
the finest horsemen of his time over a country. As Mr.
" Ekard," he frequently rode in steeplechases before he took
holy orders, and was on the back of that good horse Bride-
groom in the Liverpool of i860, won by Anatis, on which
occasion he came in sixth. Dick Fitzherbert, who came into
the baronetcy shortly before his death two years ago, was
another fine horseman. His son, Sir Hugo, is Master of the
Rufford at the present time, in succession to Lord Manvers.
Again, I would ask, what man from Melton at the present time
sees more of a run than the Rev. J. P. Seabrook, rector of
Waltham, whose nerve is every bit as good as when he and I
rode together at Cambridge, nearly half a century ago ? When,
the other day, at the request of a hunting friend, Mr. Wil-
loughby Maycock wrote the following extra verse to his well-

254

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

known song, he certainly had not Parson Seabrook in his
mind's eye :

" When we go a-hunting nowadays, we potter at the gaps,

'Cos we're all getting older every day ;
It's no earthly use competing with the young, hard-riding chaps,

'Cos we're all getting older every day.
We can't face the oxer or the bullfinch any more,
We cast our eye around the field in hopes to find a " door " —
Yes, hang it all ! We're not the men we used to be of yore,

'Cos we're all getting older every day."

Modern Horsemanship.

I don't think I am alone in the opinion that never in the
history of fox-hunting were there so many or better riders of
either sex than those hunting at the present time with the
Quorn, Belvoir, Pytchley, Cottesmore, and Mr. Fernie's hounds.
Never, either, were there more beautifully bred horses than are
to be seen out nowadays with the packs just mentioned. Of their
riders amongst the old stagers, where would you better than
Lords Lonsdale, Annaly, and Cowley, General Codrington,
General Burn Murdoch, Colonel " Willy " Lawson, Colonel
Brocklehurst (Queen's Equerry), Majors Ricardo, McKie,
Hughes Onslow, and Laycock, Captains Forester, Douglas
Pennant, and Hubbersty, Parson Seabrook, Messrs. Cecil
Grenfell, H. T. Barclay, H. Sheriffe, Hollway Steeds, Foxhall
Keene, Algy Burnaby, and R. and Guy Fenwick ? Whilst
names to conjure with amongst later arrivals in the country are
those of Lord Dalmeny, Sir John Milbanke, Sir Frederick
Foulkes, Sir Charles Lowther, Captain Paynter (winner of
last year's Grand Military), Captain Long (son of the Right Hon.
Walter Long), and Messrs. Chandos de Paravicini, T. C. Chiches-
ter, Greville Clayton, and George Drummond.

As usual, there was plenty of fun the day after the Cottes-
more Hunt Ball, some of the young brigade riding one against

255

The Life of a Great Sportsman

the other in a way quite refreshing to behold. "'Ware wire ! "
shouted Gillson, as his quick eye spotted the enemy running
along the top of the biggish fence he was making for, branching
off as he spoke for a place lower down. Not so Lord Dalmeny,
galloping along in his wake, and apparently in the same heroic
frame of mind as General Bombastes when he sang : —

" I go, I go—
All dangers scorning,
Some death I'll di-i-ie
Before the morning ! "

for, neither swerving to right nor left, he took the fence, wire
and all, just as it came, without touching a twig. Nor was
this his lordship's only adventure. In the course of the gallop
the Manton brook came in his way, and his horse, a big grey,
refusing, shot Lord Dalmeny clean over his head on to the
opposite bank, with the result that the latter had to wade
through the brook to rejoin the enterpriseless animal in
question. Strange to say, when remounted and sent at the
water by his plucky rider a second time, the grey cleared
without a mistake. . . .

The Ladies.

One of the most striking features in connection with fox-
hunting at the present time, especially in the Shires, is the
number of ladies who come out as compared with former days.
In no outdoor sport one could name do women excel more than
in the hunting-field, and each succeeding year sees a larger
muster at the covert side. How well and straight they ride
to hounds, too ! The comparatively few falls that come their
way are conclusive proof of the nerve, judgment, and good
hands that seem part and parcel of themselves. In the past,
Lady Wilton, Lady Yarborough, and Lady Alexander Paget

256

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

were quite capable of holding their own with any of the men,
whilst at the present time it would be hard to name the superior
of the Duchess of Newcastle, the Duchess of Hamilton, the
Duchess of Sutherland, Lady Lonsdale, Lady Gerard, Lady
Cowley, Lady Greenall, Mrs. Willy Lawson, Mrs. Burn, Mrs.
Guy Fenwick, Mrs. Eaton, Mrs. Sheriffe, Mrs. Laycock, and
Mrs. Angus, Miss Chichester, Miss Hanbury, Mrs. Ellison,
Miss Naylor, Miss Duncan, and many more besides.

The enormous crowds that come out with the Ouorn and
neighbouring packs are very often the means of keeping the fox
from turning back, and the late Colonel Anstruther Thomson
often told me how, when Master of the Pytchley, he would
with confidence cast " forrard " and hit off the line of his fox.
The latter is a toddling animal, and to give him credit for being
a good one, and to get " forrard " accordingly, is good advice
to a huntsman. Amongst the farmers hunting with the packs
here mentioned none go better than William Gale, from the
Belvoir country, a really fine horseman, who formerly rode with
conspicuous success between the flags, and Messrs. Barnett,
Atter, and Northern, with the Cottesmore.

The Farmers.

The large number of horsemen who turn out in Leicester-
shire are, without doubt, responsible in no small measure for
the destruction of fences, and it is only fair that their owners
should be generously treated in return. If riders, when they
come to a new-sown field, would only exercise a little thought
and make a " detour," as they often do when confronted with a
big fence, there would be less grumbling from the tillers of the
soil, you may depend. Farmers, in spite of bad times, in-
variably come up smiling, and it is certain that none take a

257 s

The Life of a Great Sportsman

keener interest in all outdoor sport than themselves, regarding
it, indeed, as essential to their very existence. On what sort of
footing, I wonder, would fox-hunting be if this were not so ?
11 Gentlemen : Our friends the farmers ! "

STEEPLECHASING

TO-DAY AND YESTERDAY

By JOHN MAUNSELL RICHARDSON

(Reproduced by permission of the proprietors of "The Daily Telegraph")

A flatter or more unsatisfactory steeplechase season than
that now rapidly drawing to a conclusion has probably never
been known since first the sport became a recognized institu-
tion. To such an extent, indeed, has steeplechasing deteriorated
that were it not that the Grand National still retains its popu-
larity, the public would soon cease to take any further interest
in the game.

Whenever the fences are trimmed up a bit nowadays, so
that they cannot be brushed through, down come all the horses,
and the executive are roundly abused by the jockeys for
endangering their lives ; the fact being that nearly all of them
using the forward seat — the professionals, that is — they come
shooting over their horses' heads on the very slightest
provocation.

In these cases, when the trainers are taken to task for not
schooling their charges properly, they retaliate by saying, " Ours
have no pretensions to being Grand National horses, and are
really not capable of doing better. If they were we should not
be running them for such insignificant stakes as those to be
met with at the various meetings about London." When, in
addition, one hears, as I did the other day, that a well-known

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Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

patron of the Turf, a personal friend of my own, and formerly
one of the best of our gentlemen riders, was selling his steeple-
chase horses and hurdle-racers, purely and entirely because he
was thoroughly dissatisfied with the present condition of things,
it must, I think, be acknowledged that cross-country sport is in
a very parlous state, and sadly in need of a specialist to advise
upon the case. Anything more absurd than the excuse just
mentioned, that to jump the fences properly at the various
suburban meetings the horse should be up to the Grand
National standard, I never yet heard.

There were plenty of animals running at the time I was
riding who certainly could not be described as first-class or
anything like it, but who were quite capable of jumping any-
thing in reason, such as the Croydon country, for instance,
where the fences were mostly natural, and — for a time, at all
events — the " Sensation Water Jump," as it was advertised on
the posters, of a really formidable character, being, indeed,
wider than that at Liverpool. This attraction, however, if my
memory serves me, was not of long duration, for a horse
belonging to the late Duke of Hamilton, when running in the
big steeplechase, fell and broke his back, with the result that
Mr. Crawshaw, who was in the saddle on the occasion, was
prosecuted shortly after by Mr. Colam, on behalf of the Society
for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. The case came on
at Croydon, and, I fancy, ended in an acquittal, the evidence
showing that the horse, a notorious rogue, was doing his best
to refuse, but his jockey, not to be denied, sent his mount at
the obstacle in such determined fashion that the brute was
obliged to have it, whether he would or no, and curling up in
so doing, jumped short, with the result stated.

After this the water jump was modified considerably to suit
humanitarian ideas.

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

There was many a gibe and sneer the other week in the
sporting papers at the expense of Mr. Harry Beasley for daring
to adopt a hunting seat when riding Cackler for Mr. Assheton-
Smith at Sandown on the first day of the Grand Military
Meeting, but that other people take a different view may be
gathered from the following extract from a letter written by a
well-known owner of steeplechasers, and one of the very best
all-round sportsmen of my acquaintance.

M It was a bit of a lesson," writes my friend, " seeing Harry
Beasley on Cackler at Sandown the other day, and some of the
present school of cross-country riders and frequenters of
steeplechase meetings could hardly help thinking, I should
imagine, when they saw the combination of man and horse,
that the sport must have sadly degenerated since the period
when the Beasleys were in their prime and a power in the
land."

And my friend's remark, it is pretty certain, will be echoed
by many who, as in my own case, view with disgust the
crouching seat and short stirrup of the " up-to-date " steeple-
chase rider, and which, for cross-country work, is, in my humble
opinion, as senseless as it is unsightly, which is saying a
good deal.

Riders of the Past.

When I recall to memory the many cross-country riders of
my own time who a witched the world with noble horseman-
ship," such as Lord Tredegar and his brother, the Honourable
Fred Morgan, " Bee " and Arthur Coventry, " Curly " Knox,
"Lummy" Harford, Arthur Tempest, "Doggie" Smith, "Mr. P.
Merton" (Jinks), Robert Walker, George Ede (Mr. Edwards),
Tom Pickernell (Mr. Thomas), " Sugar " Candy, Reggie and

260

D
X
U

5
<:

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

" Tip " Herbert, Alec Goodman, Arthur Yates, Lord Melgund
(Mr. "Roily"), Lord Marcus Beresford, " Wenty " Hope
Johnstone, " Driver " Browne, the Beasleys, Greville Nugent
(the " Limb "), Lee Barber (the " Shaver "), " Garry " Moore,
Jerry Dalglish, Billy Baldwin (the Lion), Colonel Rivers-
Bulkeley, Peter Crawshaw, Lord Willoughby de Broke, Tommy
Lushington, E. P. Wilson, Lord Oueensberry, Bay Middleton,
Count Kinsky, "Buck" Barclay, and later "Roddy" Owen,
Charlie Cunningham, George Lambton, Johnnie Dormer,
Saunders Davies, Sir Cuthbert Slade, Bobby Fisher (Colonel
Fisher-Childe), Reggie Ward, Colonel Yardley, General Burn
Murdoch, Wilfred Ricardo, Captain Bewicke, Colonel Willie
Lawson, Major Hughes Onslow, Captain Paynter, and George
Thursby ; and among the professionals : George Holman, Joe
Cannon, John Page (the best and fairest I ever rode against),
James Jewitt, Robert I' Anson, Jack Goodwin, George William-
son ; and when you come to compare their mode with that of
the present so-called "up-to-date" style, which, in my opinion,
is more suitable for a circus than a steeplechase course, it
hardly bears thinking about.

The question has frequently been put to me who I consider
the best amateur horseman of those riding at the same time as
myself, and my reply, given without hesitation, has invariably
been " George Ede," who, to my mind, had no superior in the
saddle.

Nerve, knowledge of pace, and perfection of seat and hands
— all were his to an eminent degree. He was as good, too, on
the flat as over a country, which is not always the case, and
there is no doubt that he would have ridden a great many more
races of the last-named description than he did but for his
great love of cricket, to which he devoted himself exclusively

during: the summer months.

261

The Life of a Great Sportsman

His great skill in the saddle was all the more extraordinary,
as I always understood that, so far from being cradled to sport
from his early childhood, as is more frequently than not the
case, he had hardly been on a horse's back until, arrived at
man's estate, he settled down in the country in the capacity of
what is elegantly termed a " Mud Prop," in other words, to
study farming ; and it was whilst thus occupied that he rode his
first steeplechase, a match between horses belonging to two
local sportsmen, his opponent, strangely enough, being none
other than the still living Mr. William Bevill, who was pursuing
the same kind of occupation as himself at another farm in the
neighbourhood. It was a great race, and George Ede would
certainly have won but for going out of his way to jump a weak
place in the last fence of all, in so doing losing a lot of ground
that he could never make up, with the result that his rival, who
had gone straight ahead and taken his chance of a fall, just got
the best of the finish.

Continental Reminiscences.

Though I managed to learn a good many things of one sort
and another during the time I was at Harrow, there was one
part of my education, considered very essential nowadays,
which had certainly been neglected, and that was the study of
modern languages. Never did this omission on the part of the
directorate at the ancient seat of learning referred to strike
home with greater force than when, on a certain memorable
occasion in the summer of 1872, I travelled in company with
poor George Ede to Germany, in order to take part in the
Baden Grand Prix (Steeplechase), in which he was engaged to
ride Benazet — (a charming little horse belonging to Lord
Poulett), and myself Juryman, for Captain Machell.

262

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF

WILLIAM RICHARDSON, ESQ?

ONE OF THE DEPUTY LIEUTENANTS OF THIS COUNTY
WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE MAY 2"D 1830. ANNO ATATIS 78.

HE WAS HICHLY DISTINGUISHED THROUCH LIFE FOR HIS
URBANITY OF MANNERS AND SINCERITY OF FRIENDSHIP, AND
POSSESSED IN A VERY HICH DECREE THOSE VIRTUES.WHICH
NOT ONLY ENDEARED HIM TO HIS RELATIONS AND FRIENDS,
BUT ACQUIRED FOR HIM THE ESTEEM AND BESPECT
OF ALL CLASSES OF SOCIETY.
ALSO OF CATHERINE HIS BELOVED WIFE
WHO DIED MARCH l?T 1836, ACED 81 YEARS.
THEIR REMAINS ARE INTERRED IN THIS CHURCH.
THIS TESTIMONIAL OF CRATITUDE WAS ERECTED
BY THEIR TRULY AFFECTIONATE CREAT NEPHEW.

THIS TABLET WAS ERECTED BY THEIR CREAT CREAT NEPHEWS

WILLIAM AND JOHN MAUNSELL RICHARDSON.

TO REPLACE ONE WHICH FELL AND WAS BROKEN. 1907.

TABLET IN IMMIXGHAM CHURCH.
To the memory of William Richardson, Esq., J. M. Richardson's Great Great Uncle.

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

Thanks to sundry friends bound for the same destination as
ourselves, who kindly acted as interpreters, the journey to
Baden-Baden was accomplished in great ease and comfort, and
it was not until we started to return that our troubles began,
but of that anon.

Besides George Ede and myself there was only one other
Englishman riding in the big race, viz. my old friend, Arthur
Tempest — still going strong and well, I am pleased to say, and
the same keen sportsman as ever — all the rest, about a dozen,
being French and Germans, mostly military men, I fancy. We
three made the running, and all went well until reaching the
water-jump, when Arthur Tempest's mount swerving against
mine whilst in the air we both fell into the brook, followed
immediately afterwards by the rest of the field, every one of
whom came down. The scene that ensued baffles description,
and " the vulgar 'busman's cry, ' Full inside ! ' " was surely never
more appropriate than then, the brook being crammed to its
utmost capacity with a seething mass of struggling men and
horses, from whence issued a babel of strange oaths in different
keys.

The brook was in the first mile, and not another horse got
over but Benazet, or even out of it in time to try and get to
him, so there was nothing for it but for all of us, numbering
about a dozen or more, to return to the enclosure.

Now came the trouble I referred to just now.

George Ede and I being due to ride at Warwick, had to
leave directly after the steeplechase, and our only chance of
being in time was to charter a special to catch a certain train
at Darmstadt. This was all very well, but to make our wants
known to the railway officials was another matter. Our
German was bad, and I am afraid our tempers were worse,
with the result that we missed the express we hoped to catch,

263

The Life of a Great Sportsman

and experienced what seemed to us an endless journey in
consequence.

Grand National Prospects.

With Jerry M. and Cackler scratched, and, to judge from
the betting, the race apparently regarded as practically a " walk-
over" for Lutteur III., the Grand National of this year is,
indeed, a shadow of its former self.

This lamentable state of things is not likely to affect the
general public to any great extent, and should the weather
prove fine there will probably be quite as large an assemblage
as ever on Friday next at Aintree, but to the thousands of
sportsmen from all parts of the kingdom, of whom a large
majority are \ hunting men, whose annual visit to Liverpool is
their red-letter day in the year, the disappointment is bound to
be very great.

If only Jerry M. had stood up, the meeting between our
champion 'chaser and Lutteur III. would have been quite
sufficient attraction in itself without a thought of the other
horses. As it is, should, as is reported to be the case,
M. Hennessy's horse have come back to his very best form, it
looks uncommonly as though the market is right for once,
and that the Grand National is again destined to go to
France.

If, however, the race, which has for so long been regarded
as perhaps the most sporting event of the year, and second
only to the Derby in importance, is a bit unlucky on this
occasion, the same cannot be said of the National Hunt Steeple-
chase, which was brought off with such tclat the other day in
the neighbourhood of Cheltenham.

Though the heavy going frightened some of the owners
into withdrawing their horses, no fewer than thirty-eight went

264

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

to the post for the big event, being the largest number since
the race originated just half a century ago, when Bridegroom,
ridden by " Doughey " Burton, won for " Cherry " Angell over
a course near Market Harboro' ; and I think that, considering
the state of the ground, which, owing to the clayey nature of
the soil, was extremely holding, the fact that up to a mile from
home upwards of twenty-five of the runners were going strong,
speaks well for both horses and riders.

There was a genuine sporting ring, in fact, throughout the
meeting, from start to finish, and that Messrs. Pratt and their
energetic secretary, Mr. F. H. Carthcart, who, with Colonel
Yardley as guide, philosopher, and friend, worked so hard for
a successful issue, deserved the greatest credit for their manage-
ment of what, considering the limited time at their disposal,
and the huge crowd present, must have been a very arduous
task, was the opinion of every one there, including the Stewards
of the National Hunt Committee, who were unanimous in their
praise.

THE GRAND NATIONAL

SOME EXPERIENCES

By JOHN MAUNSELL RICHARDSON

{Reproduced by permission of the proprietors of" The Daily Telegraph ")

" Ye lads who love a steeplechase and danger freely court, sirs,
Hark forward all to Liverpool to join the gallant sport, sirs !
The English and the Irish nags are ready for the fray, sirs ;
And which may lose, and which may win, 'tis very hard to say, sirs.
Chorus : Bow, wow, wow, odds against the favourite, bow, wow, wow ! "

(Old Song.)

When exactly seventy years ago a syndicate of sportsmen,
who had lately acquired the lease of the Grand Stand and
racecourse at Aintree, where from time immemorial the Liver-
pool races had been held, desirous of starting their new

265

The Life of a Great Sportsman

venture in an auspicious manner, decided on a steeplechase on
a grander scale than had hitherto been attempted, as the best
means of accomplishing their object, they little thought that
the result of their enterprise would be to lay the foundation-
stone, so to speak, of an event which had not only " come to
stay," as the saying is, but was actually destined in after
years to become a dangerous rival to the Derby in public
estimation.

The conditions of " The Grand Liverpool Steeplechase,"
as the new venture was styled, were as follows : —

A SWEEPSTAKES of 20 sovs. each, 5 forfeit, with 100 added ; 12 st. each,
gentlemen riders ; four miles across the country ; the second to save his
stake, and the winner to pay 10 sovs. towards expenses ; no rider to open
a gate or ride through a gateway, or more than 100 yards along any road,
footpath, or driftway.

There were twenty-nine jumps in all, of which the
majority seem to have been easy enough to negotiate ; the
exception being what is now known as Becher's Brook, from the
fact that the renowned rider of that name was thrown bodily
into it over his horse's head, which, had it been left as Nature
made it, would have been simply a ditch five or six feet in
width, with a slight drop and very little water, but as improved
by "art" became a very formidable affair; a strong timber
fence, 3 ft. high, being placed about a yard from the bank on
the taking-off side, so that a horse to get fairly over would
have to jump at least 24 ft., the difficulty being aggravated
by the ground from which it was approached being ploughed
land, which on this occasion was in a very heavy condition.
Another brook, described by the reporter of the period as "a
very decent jump," measured 8 ft., with timber in front;
whilst what is now known as Valentine's Brook, and which was
also approached from a ploughed field, consisted of a low bank,
with a deep ditch, and timber 3 ft. high, on further side, the

266

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

space between brook and timber being 10 ft. at least. Then,
in front of the Grand Stand, where the water is now, was
erected expressly for the occasion, but not, as a reporter
facetiously observed, " by particular desire," a wall 4 ft. 8| in.
in height, whilst in the second round a stiff post or rail topped
with gorse was put up, as the same humorist remarks, "to
conciliate those who were longing for another touch at the
water."

A Handicap Event.

The stipulation for "gentlemen riders" in the conditions
does not seem to have had any serious meaning on this
occasion, seeing that of the seventeen horses left in only nine
were ridden by jockeys having any legitimate claim to the
title. The next year and the two following the weights
remained the same (12 st. each), except in the case of Lottery,
who, in 1840, was penalized 7 lbs. for his previous victory, and
might have won but for falling at the wall; and in 1841 and
1842 carried no less than 18 lbs. extra for winning the Chelten-
ham Steeplechase, bringing his weight up to 13 st. 4, which,
of course, had the effect, as was intended, of putting him out
of court. In fact, Jim Mason pulled him up on both occasions
before the end of the race. In 1843 the race was re-christened
" The Liverpool and National Steeplechase," and, in addition,
became the handicap it has remained ever since ; the wall, too,
which had been [removed the previous year, was again revived
on a smaller scale, being 4 ft. high, built masonically, with a
layer of turf on the top.

Lottery, whose fifth and last appearance it was in the race,
was again amongst the starters, being let off this time with
12 st. 6, and a good wind-up he made of it, for, starting
second favourite at 4 to 1, he finished seventh to Vanguard.

267

The Life of a Great Sportsman

Since this 'period the race has gone on increasing in public
favour steadily every year, and it is certain that, the deteriora-
tion in steeplechasing generally notwithstanding, never within its
history was it more popular than at the present time, as witness
the enormous crowds which assemble on every occasion, no
matter what the class of competitor. Many a hunting-man I
could mention who, in the words of Horace, "gaudet equis,
canibusque, et aprici gramine campi," would not go out of his
way to attend an ordinary race-meeting, never dreams of
missing a Grand National, looking at it, indeed, as a fitting
wind-up to the hunting season.

Nor is this feeling confined to the sterner sex, our hunting
ladies being just as keen on the subject as their lords and
masters, many of them not content merely to look on, but
taking the trouble to walk round the course beforehand, and
inspect the jumps.

I have frequently heard the remark that these are bigger
than we are accustomed to meet with whilst hunting, but it
should be remembered that when you are on foot obstacles
look very much larger than when seen from the top of a big
horse. As might be expected in these enlightened times,
there have been many alterations and improvements of recent
years, not only in the course itself, but in the stand and
arrangements generally, conducive to the comfort of not only
trainers and their charges, but the general public, with the
result that at the present moment there is not a race-meeting
to be named whose patrons are better looked after than by
Messrs. Topham at Liverpool.

My First Mount.

When I first made acquaintance with the Grand National,
exactly thirty-eight years ago, on which memorable occasion

' 268

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

(to myself) the late Captain Machell gave me the mount on

Magnum Bonum in the race won by The Lamb for the second

time, it required a horse that could jump without tiring himself,

and really stay, rather more than is necessary at the present

time, for this reason — that, not only was the distance longer

(they did not take a short cut from the canal turn the last time

round, as now), but there was always a certain amount of

plough, and the take-off at the fences was nothing like so level

and sound as is the case nowadays, the track having been laid

down with grass and properly levelled. Every horseman of

experience must be aware what a difference it makes to the

ease with which the horse jumps if the " take-off" is firm,

level, and sound ground. At the period I mention there was

no attempt to protect the course from the public, who just

walked about where they liked. The first three fences were

lined with men and women, who never attempted to get out

of the way until the horses were within thirty or forty yards

of the fence ; and this state of things frequently led to horses

refusing and tumbling at the first fence.

The second fence from the start in those days was a natural
bank, fairly high, that portion of it on the right-hand side
being much lower than the other, and this, although it was not
the nearest line to take, the majority of the jockeys were very
fond of making for, with frequently fatal results to themselves,
as there being not much room, a good deal of jostling neces-
sarily took place, with its attendant falls. Having myself
always been of opinion that the nearest way was the best, I
invariably made a point of jumping where the bank was
highest, thereby avoiding any interference from a crowd of
horses. That I was wise in my generation is, I think, proved
from the fact that, out of the eight races ridden by me at
various times over the steeplechase course at Aintree, I won

269

The Life of a Great Sportsman

four, and only fell once in all of them, ,and that was at the
bank when riding Disturbance in the Sefton Steeplechase, at
which time he had had very little practice.

After getting up I rode him round the course by himself —
a very high trial for a young horse, and one that had its
reward, for the next day I won the Craven Steeplechase on
his back in a canter. Another instance was when riding
Burglar in a hunters' steeplechase. Jumping the bank, accord-
ing to custom, at its highest point, I obtained such a lead that
it was a case of hare and hounds for the rest of the journey —
and the hare won. In my opinion, the fences nowadays are
just as formidable as ever they were, the reason for the horse
apparently making smaller bones of them than formerly being
that the "take-off" is so much better. In former days, the
rail in front of the fences had quite the appearance of a
Leicestershire ox-rail, and though looking a bit more for-
midable than those in present use, were, in reality, quite safe
to ride fast over.

The last fence but one before coming to the racecourse
used formerly to have quite a dip on the take-off side, and in
the second round, when horses were tired and possibly some
of their riders as well, was responsible for many a " toss." I
well remember in 1873, when Disturbance won, Rhysworth
hitting this fence very hard, and Boxall, son of Mr. Chaplin's
stud groom, who rode him, did well to keep in the saddle as
he did. As it was, he had fairly to bustle his horse to regain
his lost ground, and this could not fail to have taken a lot of
the steel out of him. To my thinking, it is doubtful policy for
owners of candidates for Grand National honours to run them
previously in races where the fences are not stiff enough to
throw them down, if, as is frequently the case, they try to
brush through them. Give them plenty of jumping at home

270

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

over fences they can't take liberties with, and when I say
plenty, I would suggest that most of the work should be done
over obstacles which should be strong without being too high,
so that the muscles will not tire, and the horse stays home.
The present idea, however, is rather in the opposite direction,
long gallops on the flat and only occasionally jumping exercise,
if the animals are already good fencers and thoroughly know
their business, being deemed quite sufficient without risking
them so often over obstacles. Disturbance, Defence, Reugny,
Rhysworth, and Burglar knew absolutely nothing when I first
took them in hand at Limber Magna, so I think my method
may fairly be said to have come out of the ordeal with credit to
itself and all concerned.

Preparing Jumpers.

Another item in connection with the preparation of an
aspirant for Liverpool honours to which I attach no little
importance is to have three different gallops, as horses, who,
after all said and done, are very like human beings in their
likes and dislikes, are apt to get tired of always doing their
work on the same ground day after day. Whether there has
been any improvement in our steeplechase horses during the
last thirty years is a question which I find somewhat difficult
to answer. I suppose Cackler is about as good a specimen of
his class as could be found at the present time, but can he
show more quality or substance than such as The Colonel,
Congress, Heraut d'Armes, Rhysworth, Columbine, Cortolvin,
Snowstorm, Reugny, or Come Away — and in more recent years
Manifesto — who a great many good judges, including his
trainer, Mr. Willy Moore, declare to be the best-looking horse
that ever made one of a Grand National field — and the unlucky

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

John, M.P. ? — which last, unless I am greatly mistaken, was a
real good animal.

The form on the flat, before they were initiated into the
jumping business, of Disturbance, Reugny, Regal, and Chandos,
was certainly some degrees removed from moderate. I well
remember Rose of Athol, who ran third in the St. Leger,
trying to give Reugny 7 lbs. in a six-furlong race at Kelso, and
failing signally in the attempt. Chandos, again, ran promi-
nently in the Derby ; whilst great things were expected of
Regal when a two-year-old in the French stable.

It was after winning a six-furlong welter race on his back
at Ayr in very easy fashion that I bought Disturbance from
his owner, Mr. James Barber, and as at the same meeting I
also secured Reugny and Defence, giving ^1200 for the three,
all on behalf of Captain Machell, I may be fairly said to have
made a record bargain. Jimmy Barber, as he was familiarly
termed, was quite a character, and his eccentric "get up," so
familiar to race-goers of that period, consisting of a tightly-
buttoned swallow-tailed coat, shepherd's plaid trousers, and a
very tall and indifferently brushed hat stuck well on the back
of his head, was quite in harmony with the wearer ; whilst,
in cold or wet weather, by way of protection from the
elements, a blue cloth cape of antiquated pattern would adorn
his shoulders. Add a thick stick in his gloveless hands, and
you have a pretty accurate portrait of Mr. James Barber.

I need scarcely remark that the whilom owner of Disturb-
ance was " not born yesterday," as the saying is, and I
remember his once telling me that if a man did him once he
cried shame on him, but if the same man did him twice, he
cried shame on James Barber. In spite, however, of his
boasted worldly wisdom, I am afraid Mr. Barber did not woo
Dame Fortune on the Turf with much success, and to one

272

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

big coup in particular he laid himself out, for there is an
amusing- story attached. There being, in his opinion, only
one bar to the success of his mare Fan in the Grand National
of 1867, viz. the size of the fences, Mr. Barber determined to
" mak sikker," as the Red Comyn remarked on a memorable
occasion, by trimming them a bit on his own account. Accord-
ingly, with this object in view, accompanied by a friend, he set
out, chopper in hand, in the dead of the night on his errand
of mercy. His surprise may be imagined when, arrived on
the ground, he heard chop, chop, chop, in the neighbourhood
of Becher's Brook, and, going to ascertain the cause, found
another party busily engaged in making things a bit easier for
another candidate.

Whether these rival philanthropists joined forces or not
history does not state, but it is certain that so far as Fan was
concerned her astute owner might as well have remained
between the blankets, as, though backed at the finish as
though the race were over, she could get no nearer than
second to Cortolvin, who won in a canter by five lengths.

Another instance of oversight on his part I might mention
was leaving Disturbance out in the cold when he won the
Grand National. The day's racing at an end, Mr. Barber
would repair to his inn, and there, seated at the head of a long
table, he would roar out song after song in a sonorous voice
which made the rafters ring again, and was only hushed when,
at the call of " Time, Gentlemen, Time ! " the company broke
up for the night.

Good Military Riders.

Our gentlemen riders have always held their own with the
professionals over an Aintree country, the reason for which, in
all probability, is that being hunting-men they find themselves

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

more at home there, and the jockeys less so, than with the
smaller and shorter steeplechase courses, such as Sandown and
Kempton, etc., where not only is there less room, but jockey-
ship, pure and simple, has a better chance of asserting itself
than in the more open country.

Never in my opinion was our Army so well represented in
the steeplechase field as at the present time, either in number
or in proficiency. Thirty or forty years ago you could count
its recognized champions on one hand, consisting as they did of
Colonels Knox and Harford, and Captains Smith, Coventry,
and Riddell ; whereas nowadays, at the Household Brigade
Meeting at Hawthorn-hill, it is nothing uncommon to see
twenty or thirty horses going to the post for a steeplechase.

There were, of course, plenty of other good men in the
service besides the quintette I have mentioned, quite capable of
holding their own over a country in any company ; but, so far
as I remember, these were the only officers who made a regular
practice of riding in handicap steeplechases at all the principal
meetings.

From my point of view I feel convinced that taking the
Army as a whole, never in its existence did it contain so many
really first-class horsemen as is the case at the present moment,
and nothing would please me better than to see the Grand
Military run over the Grand National course. This may seem
a bold suggestion to make, but it is one which I feel pretty sure
will find favour in the eyes of a large number of our military
riders, both past and present.

It is now thirteen years since a soldier won the Grand
National, but, judging from the number of good riders who
compete in military races and the long prices some of them give
for their horses, it is pretty safe to predict that before long
their pluck will be rewarded by one of their number again

274

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

annexing the much-coveted Blue Riband. If ever there was
a horseman — certainly one of the most brilliant of our time —
not only to hounds but over a flagged country, of whom one
would have thought it safe to prophesy that at one time or
other during his career in the saddle he would have steered the
winner of the National, it was my old friend " Doggie " Smith,
but in this particular race, which had been the dream of his life
to win, his habitual good luck invariably deserted him. How
well I remember, in 1874, when he and I were riding to
the starting-post together, his saying, with a look of con-
fidence there was no mistaking, "I've got you this time, old
chap ! "

Heraut d'Armes, his mount in the race, a grand-looking
horse, up to 15 st. with hounds, and full of quality, had
previously won the Conyngham Cup at Punchestown in a
canter, and, with only 10 st. 8 lbs. in the saddle on this occasion,
was bound to be dangerous. Anyhow, I know I breathed a
sigh of relief when I saw him come down at the fence after
Becher's Brook. " Doggie's " bad luck still clung to him in
1883, when, but for the merest fluke, he would certainly have
been on the back of Zoedone when she won the National. He
had promised to ride the mare in the great Sandown Steeple-
chase, run a short time previous to the Liverpool meeting.
" Doggie " was away shooting at a friend's place in the country
at the time, and so severe was the frost in that part of the
world that he gave up all idea of travelling to Sandown. A
most unfortunate decision as it turned out, for not only was the
programme at Sandown duly gone through, but Count — now
Prince Charles Kinsky — finding himself without a jockey for
Zoedone in the big event of the day, elected to ride her him-
self. The mare won in fine style, and so delighted was his
sporting owner at the performance that he at once made up his

275 T 2

The Life of a Great Sportsman

mind to steer her in the Grand National, with the result we all
know.

Owing to a recent heavy rainfall, the going was excep-
tionally heavy that year, and there being more plough, and the
fences stiffer than usual, combined to make the victory all the
more meritorious ; and as, in addition, the winner had been
well backed by the general public, Zoedone and her rider met
with a great reception on their return to the weighing-room.
Prince Charles Kinsky comes of a Hungarian family of ancient
lineage, who from time immemorial have been noted for their
horsemanship and passion for sport, and have long been
known over here. Prince Charles's father, indeed, figures in
that well-known picture by Barraud of the Meet at Badminton,
the engraving of which is so familiar to most of us ; whilst he
himself, since his first arrival over here many years ago, in
attendance on the late Emperor of Austria, has entered so
heartily into all our outdoor sports, and — if I may be allowed to
say so — made himself so generally popular that it seems almost
an insult to refer to him as a foreigner. That he was as
pleased to win the Grand National as we all were to see him
do so may be gathered from the fact that on receiving the con-
gratulations of a brother sportsman, who had called at his
hotel for the purpose the morning after the race, the Prince,
after thanking him, exclaimed, in the fullness of his heart,
" What have I now to live for ? "

That Prince Kinsky would have won the Liverpool for the
second time of asking with Zoedone in 1885, but f°r tne mare
being "got at" on the course, only a few minutes before her
rider got into the saddle, is more than probable. The incident
naturally created a great stir at the time, and the details in
connection with it read more like a chapter of a sensational
novel than a happening in real life. The story, however, has

276

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

been so graphically described by Finch Mason in his well-known
book, " Heroes and Heroines of the Grand National," that it
is unnecessary to go over the ground again.

Sound Advice.

Prince Kinsky's victory was another instance of a hunting
man being thoroughly at home over a big country, and it is
interesting to hear that he followed to the letter the advice
given to him just before the race by a sage of great experience,
which was : " Ride just as if you were out hunting the first
time round. After that, and not before, you can begin to look
about you and see what the others are doing."

Perhaps the most remarkable instance on record of an
inexperienced rider as regards steeplechase-riding proving
successful at Aintree was the victory of Lord Manners on
Seaman the previous year, when on a broken-down horse, with
the elements against him in the shape of a blinding snowstorm,
he found himself fighting out the finish with Tom Beasley,
perhaps the best horseman of his day over the Aintree or any
other course.

Frank Gordon, again, who with his life-long friend, Alec
Goodman, for many years divided honours as the best horse-
men who came out with the Fitzwilliam and Belvoir packs, and
who, unlike the latter, did not lay himself out for steeplechase
riding, finished second on Miss Mowbray in the Grand National
of 1853, the only occasion on which he had a mount in the
race ; Alec Goodman, who had won on Miss Mowbray the
previous year, curiously enough being third this time on Oscar,
in the same stable.

In 1848, when the "Little Captain," as the popular Josey
Little was sometimes termed, won on Chandler, a rider

277

The Life of a Great Sportsman

appeared amongst the field whose knowledge of horsemanship,
let alone race- riding, I should imagine must have been of a
very limited description. It was none other, indeed, than
Johnny Browne, the well-known prize-fighter, who had the
mount on Eagle, the story being that he had betted Captain
Alleyne a " monkey" that he would be in the fourth field from
home when the winner passed the post. Johnny, as might
have been expected, rode with plenty of pluck, if not with
much judgment, and kept with his horses all through the first
round until Becher's Brook was reached the second time, when
his horse, who was palpably unfit, coming to dire grief, gave
the venturesome pugilist such a "toss" as lost him his senses
for the time being, as well as his wager.

To go still further back, it may be interesting to members
of the theatrical profession to hear that Mr. Newcombe, one
of the best-known provincial managers in the kingdom, and a
staunch follower of the different packs in the West of England,
where his home lay, who died quite recently, at a great age,
was the same Mr. Newcombe who rode his own horse, Cannon
Ball, in the initiative Grand National in 1839.

Public School Successes.

It would be odd indeed if the great public schools had not
been well represented on the classic plains of Aintree from
time to time, and accordingly Eton is responsible for Capt.
Townley (second, on The Huntsman, to Anatis in i860) ;
Capt. Coventry, who won on Alcibiade in 1865 ; George Ede,
rider of The Lamb in 1868, and in the opinion of many
(including myself) the best cross-country horseman of his day ;
Mr. Digby Collins, owner of and rider of the celebrated mare
Express, knocked over by Arbury in 1865; Freddy Hobson,

278

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

rider of Austerlitz in 1877; the Earl of Minto ("Mr. Roily") ;
" Roddy" Owen, who won on Father O'Flynn in 1892 ; Reggie
Ward, who tried so hard to win with Cathal; and Mr. F.
Withington, who rode Ford of Fyne into third place in 1897,
and sixth the following year. Jerry Dalglish, Capt. Percy
Bewicke, and my humble self are all indebted to Harrow for
that knowledge of the dead languages which has since proved
so useful on occasion for admonitory purposes in a big field of
horses; whilst to Rugby is accorded the honour of having
endowed " Doggie " Smith with the nickname by which he has
been familiarly known to his friends. I am not quite sure, but
I fancy Mr. W. H. P. Jenkins (Mr. P. Merton), the rider of
The Robber in 1869, was also at Rugby, and Mr. J. C. Dormer
(now John Upton), who was second on Cloister to Father
O'Flynn, in 1892, certainly was.

A time-honoured institution in connection with the Grand
National was the betting in the laree billiard-room at the
Washington Hotel on the night before the race, but this has
been put a stop to of recent years by the powers that be, and
the card read over instead, as it is after the Waterloo Cup
dinner. It answers the same purpose, I suppose, but it is
hardly the same thing. How well I remember their forming
a ring round Lord Marcus Beresford and Capt. Machell the
night before Regal's victory in 1876, when the pair backed
their respective champions, Chimney Sweep and Chandos,
against each other in most spirited fashion, in a series of fancy
bets, as a result of which the captain, I fancy, came off second
best !

The great beauty of the Grand National is that no matter
what the quality of the competitors, the attraction is just as
great, and though no doubt on this present occasion the
elimination of Cackler and his stable companions deprives the

279

The Life of a Great Sportsman

race of a certain amount of interest, I don't suppose it will
make much difference at the pay-boxes when their contents
are counted over. The principal question now seems to be :
Will the French horse, ridden by a French jockey, with an
American seat, prove capable of winning ? Personally, I am
dead against this style of riding, the advantage of which I
quite fail to see in such a contest as the Grand National. Let
us hope, if only for the sake of " L'Entente Cordiale," that I
am wrong.

SHOW JUMPING

It is quite right in my opinion that jumping competitions,
such as those at Olympia, should meet with every encourage-
ment, as apart from their great popularity with the British
public, who always appreciate good horsemanship, the prizes
are well worth having, and there is, in addition, a ready sale for
those horses who acquit themselves with credit in the arena.

The first most important point in making a horse a good
jumper is to give him confidence, especially where an extra
high jump is concerned ; the pupil being very apt to refuse
after the obstacle is raised above a certain height from pure
want of belief in his own powers to negotiate it, and that is
why the increase should be made as gradual as possible.

An open ditch on the take-off side of a fence is the surest
test I know of whether a horse is a natural jumper, as he must
spring from his hind legs in order to clear the obstacle pro-
perly. He must also know, when the ditch is full of thorns,
not to take off too near, but, on the contrary, to stand well
away ; and a fence of this description might be introduced with
advantage at our Horse Shows.

It is, of course, impossible in such a place as Olympia to

280

GRAND NATIONAL— J. M. RICHARDSON'S
CAP, JACKET, AND WHIP.

Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated

have fences exactly like those that we are accustomed to meet
with out hunting-, but I think the executive could certainly
improve on the obstacles I saw there last year, which were
artificial in the extreme, and not a bit like the real thing. The
drop fence, which teaches the rider to sit back and the horse to
land on his hind legs, cannot be made easily ; but there is no
earthly reason that I can see why a narrow bank with a ditch
each side, almost identical with the average fence in a bank
country, should not take its place. In any case, I advocate
the ditch on the " take-off " side, which was conspicuous by its
absence last year.

The " double " is a useful sort of jump and should be twelve
feet in between.

The jump of six or seven feet in height is merely a trick,
and to my mind savours rather of a circus. Any horse with
patience and practice can be schooled to accomplish this, but
except to win money at the different shows it is of little practical
value. The winners of the high jump at Olympia would, in
all probability, cut a sorry figure in a run over a blind country
in October.

The fact that the fences at Olympia give way at the least
touch is sure to make horses careless. On the other hand,
were they made really strong, like those you meet with out
hunting, there would be bad accidents for certain, so that the
executive in not taking any risk are wise in their generation.
In my opinion artificial jumps are of very little use in making
a hunter. Drive your equine pupil in long reins over a natural
country and he will soon learn his business.

It should also be borne in mind that for a horse to jump
a big fence when fresh, and when blown and leg-weary, are
two very different things.

The bank last year at Olympia was a great deal too broad

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The Life of a Great Sportsman

on the top. What is wanted for a horse to do properly is a
low bank, very narrow on the top, with a big deep ditch on the
far side, and when I say "do properly," I mean by changing
on the top of this " razor "-topped bank — not simply kicking
back with his hind legs, but with all four legs a top and then
launching over.

The skilled rider in the show ring can undoubtedly be of
great assistance to his horse by getting him nicely balanced,
and making him take off at the proper distance from the fence,
as his practised eye will tell him lengths before he gets to the
obstacle, whatever it is, if he is getting too near, and he will
make his mount shorten his stride accordingly, to the great
improvement of his performance.

Though there can be no possible harm in teaching a horse
to jump these artificial fences, it must not be assumed for a
moment that his becoming a proficient, entitles him to be called
a hunter, because it certainly does not.

A horse with a good rider of either sex on his back, jumping
fence after fence in the arena as if to the manner born, is a
sight worth seeing at any time. But the show hunter must
be looked at as you would a replica of a picture, and perhaps
not a very good one at that.

For the original you must go to the hunting field and
nowhere else.

THE END

VINTON & COMPANY. LTD., 8, llREAM's BUILDINGS, CHANCEKY LANE, LONDON, E.C.

uJ"*iy [h&bcme at
h°™ Grafton, MA 0J536

<*c

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