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"ALL. TKLAT WAS ILEFT OF TMEM

By Gilbert Holiday

LADY MURIEL BECKWITH

(INSET) MISS JEAN BECKWITH, HER DAUGHTER

Lady Muriel Beckwith is the older of the two daughters
of the Duke of Richmond by his second marriage. Lady
Muriel Beckwith married Lieut. -Colonel William Malebisse
Beckwith, D.S.O., late Coldstream Guards, in 1904. Miss
Jean Beckwith is the elder of their two daughters, and will
be presented at one of the early Courts

Photographs by Lems. Queen Amte's Gate, s "'

.v.C.A.

i'Q A miLL ON THE PLOUGH SN THE COTSWOIUD COUNTiRY

-'I by Lionel Edwards, A.R.C.A. ^^

WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR

IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA

WITH THE JUNGLE FOLK

WONDERS IN MONSTER LAND
(With J. A. SHErHKRD)

THE ARCADIAN CALENDAR

THREE JOVIAL PUPPIES
(With Sir Walter Gilbey)

GEORGE MORLAND : HIS LIFE AND WORKS

Fox-hunting :

'Forrard away''

BRITISH SPORT

PAST AND PRESENT

E. D. CUMING

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY

G. DENHOLM ARMOUR

HODDER AND STOUGHTON
LONDON MCMIX

Jo&crvNO Hoi^e To TiAE. K«N»(*i^

THKOO&H VVOOLSTrtORPe.

/iy F. A. SIJiUAKT

A DAY WITH THE UUKE OF RUTLAND'S HOUNDS

PREFACE

THIS book has been compiled in pursuance of a
suggestion that extracts from the works of old
writers on sport, with passages from those of
modern authorities, would be of interest to sportsmen who
take interest in the history of the subject.

No attempt has been made to trace the development of
sports till they reached the form in which we know them ;
and indeed an attempt to render justice to any one of those
which receive notice in the following pages would obviously
demand a volume to itself.

The old sporting classics have been freely laid under con-
tribution. The pre-eminence of Somerville, Beckford, C. J.
Apperley ('Nimrod'), William Scrope, and H. H. Dixon ('The
Druid ') singles them out for quotation : and if the essays on
sport left us by such men as Professor Wilson ('Christopher
North ') and Charles Kingsley are less familiar to the present
generation of sportsmen than their merits deserve, it is merely
because these have been overshadowed by the wider celebrity
of the authors' work in other fields of literature.

For permission to make extracts from modern works my
thanks are due to Messrs. Vinton and Co., Ltd., who have

2057124

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

allowed me to draw upon Saddle and Sirloin for the Druid's
account of ' A Waterloo Cup Day ' ; upon The Life and
Times of the Druid for the same author's account of the
St. Leger of 1850; and upon Baily's Magazine for Major
Whyte-Melville's poem, ' The Lord of the Valley ' ; to Messrs.
Longmans, Green and Co. for leave to take passages from
Mr. Stuart Wortley's contribution to The Partridge ('Fur,
Feather and Fin Series'); from the Hon. A. E. Gathorne-
Hardy's Autumns in Argyleshire with Rod and Gun de-
scriptions of grouse shooting and loch fishing, and from Sir
Ralph Payne Galhvey's Letters to Young Shooters, 3rd Series,
a description of wild fowling; and to the Hon. Secretary
of the Cotswold Field Naturalists' Society for permission
to reproduce from their Proceedings part of the late Major
Hawkins Fisher's address on Falconry.

If there be anything in the adage that when a new book
comes out you should read an old one, this compilation has
claim upon the sportsman.

E. D. C.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

PAQC

FOX-HUNTING ....... 1

'ode to THli NORTH-EAST WIND ' .... 30

CHAPTER II
STAG-HUNTING ....... 31

' THE LORD OF THE VALLEY ' . . . . .41

CHAPTER III
HARE-HUNTING 43

CHAPTER IV
OTTER-HUNTING 58

CHAPTER V
PARTRIDGE SHOOTING 66

' THE FIllST OK SEFl'EMBER " . . • . .83

vii

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

CHAPTER VI
GROUSE SHOOTING ...... 84

' THE GROUSE-SHOOTKr's CALL ' . . . . .97

CHAPTER VII
PHEASANT SHOOTING ...... 99

CHAPTER VIII
WILD FOWLING . . . . . . .112

CHAPTER IX
COACHING ....... 123

' SOXG OF THK B.D.C. ' . . . . . . 148

CHAPTER X
TANDEM DRIVING 149

CHAPTER XI

COURSING 152

viii

CONTENTS

CHAPTER XII

PAGE

SALMON FISHING ...... 165

' TJIK TAKIXG OF THE SAI.JION ' . . . . . 179

CHAPTER XIII
TROUT FISHING 181

' SPRING ' . . - • . 1 95

CHAPTER XIV
PIKE AND OTHER FISHING . .197

' THE SOUTH WIND '..-.■• *""

CHAPTER XV
POLO ......•• 210

CHAPTER XVI
DEER-STALKING AND COURSING . . • .223

CHAPTER XVII

FALCONRY

b ix

236

PAOK

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

CHAPTER XVIII
RACING 248

CHAPTER XIX
STEEPLE-CHASING 260

FOX-HUNTING

FOX-HUNTING,' wrote Beckford in 1787, 'is now
become the amusement of gentlemen : nor need
any gentleman be ashamed of it.'
Time had been when fox-hunting and fox-
hunters lay under social ban. Lord Chesterfield kindly bore
testimony to the good intentions of him who followed the
hounds, but could say little else in his favour : in the days of
Queen Anne a ' fox-hunter,' in the esteem of some, meant a
boor or something very like it ; but the slighting significance
attaching to the word must surely have become only a memory
long ere Beckford wrote.

There is, however, room for doubt whether fox-hunting in
its early days was the amusement of others than gentlemen,
and whether any such were ever ashamed of it. William the
Third hunted with the Charlton in Sussex, inviting thither
foreign visitors of distinction ; and Charlton continued to be
the Melton of England in the days of Queen Anne and the two
first Georges, for fox-hunting was the fashion. Harrier men
maintain that their sport was reckoned the higher in these
times ; but, I venture to think, harrier men are mistaken.
Read this,' dated 14th July 1730, from Sir Robert Walpole
to the Earl of Carlisle : —

' I am to acquaint your Lordship that upon the old
Establishment of the Crown there have usually been a Master
of the Buckhounds and a Master of the Harriers. The first is
now enjoyed by Colonel Negus ; the latter is vacant, and if
your Lordship thinks it more agreeable to be INIaster of the
Foxhounds, the King has no objection to the style or name of

' Letters of Sii- Robert >\'alpole, Hist. J/.S^'. Comni.
A 1

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

the office ; but, as the Master of the Harriers is an ancient and
known office, thinks it may be better if your Lordship takes
the addition of Foxhounds, and the office to be called Master
of Foxhounds and Harriers, Avhich his Majesty is willing to
grant to your Lordship with the salary of £2000 for yourself,
deputy, and all charges attending the same.'

Lord Carlisle would not have sought the title of M.F.H.
had that of M.H. carried the greater consideration.

May it not be that eighteenth-century hare-hunting owes
something of the prestige it has enjoyed in the eyes of posterity
to William Somerville ? Might we not have seen fox-hunting
in somewhat different light had that been the theme of The
Chace ? Perhaps, unconsciously, we attach to the sport the
supremacy that has never been denied the poem ; whereby
fox-hunting, lacking a chronicler, is thrown out of its true
perspective.

When the chronicler arrived he was worthy of the office.
This, his picture of a hunt,' shows him a hound man above all
things : —

' . . . Now let your huntsman throw in his hounds as
quietly as he can, and let the two whippers-in keep wide of him
on either side, so that a single hound may not escape them ;
let them be attentive to his halloo, and be ready to encourage,
or rate, as that directs ; he will, of course, draw up the wind,
for reasons which I shall give in another place. — Now, if you
can keep your brother sportsmen in order, and put any dis-
cretion into them, you are in luck ; they more frequently do
harm than good : if it be possible, persuade those who wish to
halloo the fox off, to stand quiet under the cover-side, and on
no account to halloo him too soon ; if they do, he most certainly
will turn back again : could you entice them all into the cover,
your sport, in all probability, would not be the worse for it.

' How well the hounds spread the cover ! The huntsman,
you see, is quite deserted, and his horse, who so lately had a
crowd at his heels, has not now one attendant left. How

' Beckford's frequent quotations from The Cliacr are omitted.

FOX-HUNTING

steadily they draw ! you hear not a single hound, yet none of
them are idle. Is not this better than to be subject to con-
tinual disappointment from the eternal babbling of unsteady
hounds ?

' How musical their tongues ! — And as they get nearer to
him how the chorus fills ! — Hark ! he is found — Now, where
are all your sorrows, and your cares, ye gloomy souls ! Or
where your pains and aches, ye complaining ones ! one halloo
has dispelled them all. — WTiat a crash they make ! and echo
seemingly takes pleasure to repeat the sound. The astonished
traveller forsakes his road, lured by its melody ; the listening
plowman now stops his plow ; and every distant shepherd
neglects his flock, and runs to see him break. — What joy;
what eagerness in every face !

' Mark how he runs the cover's utmost limits, yet dares not
venture forth ; the hounds are still too near ! — That check is
lucky ! — Now, if our friends head him not, he will soon be off —
hark ! they halloo : by G — d he 's gone ! Now, huntsman, get
on with the head hounds ; the whipper-in will bring on the
others after you : keep an attentive eye on the leading hounds,
that should the scent fail them, you may know at least how far
they brought it. Mind Galloper, how he leads them ! — It is
difficult to distinguish which is first, they run in such a style ;
yet he is the foremost hound. — The goodness of his nose is not
less excellent than his speed : — how he carries the scent ! and
when he loses it, see how eagerly he slings to recover it again ! —
There — now he 's at head again ! — See how they top the hedge !
— Now, how they mount the hill ! — Observe what a head they
carry, and shew me, if thou canst, one shuffler or skirter amongst
them all ; are they not like a parcel of brave fellows, who, when
they engage in an undertaking, determine to share its fatigues
and its dangers, equally amongst them ? It was, then, the fox
I saw, as we came down the hill ; — those crows directed me
which way to look, and the sheep ran from him as he passed
along. The hounds are now on the very spot, yet the sheep
stop them not, for they dash beyond them. Now see with

BRITISH 8P0RT PAST AND PRESENT

what eagerness they cross the plain ! — Galloper no longer keeps
his place, Brusher takes it. — See how he slings for the scent,
and how impetuously he runs ! how eagerly he took the lead,
and how he strives to keep it — yet Victor comes up apace. —
He reaches him ! — See what an excellent race it is between
them ! — It is doubtful which will reach the cover first. — How
equally they run ! — how eagerly they strain ! Now, Victor —
Victor ! — Ah ! Brusher, you are beaten ; Victor first tops the
hedge. — See there ! see how they all take it in their strokes !
the hedge cracks with their weight, so many jump at once.

' Now hastes the whipper-in to the other side of the cover ;
he is right unless he head the fox.

' Listen ! the hounds have turned. They are now in two
parts : the fox has been headed back, and we have changed
at last. Now, my lad, mind the huntsman's halloo, and stop
to those hounds which he encourages. He is right ! — that,
doubtless, is the hunted fox. — Now they are off again. Ha !
a check. — Now for a moment's patience ! — We press too close
upon the hounds ! — Huntsman, stand still ! as they want you
not. — How admirably they spread ! how wide they cast ! Is
there a single hound that does not try ? If there be, ne'er
shall he hunt again. There, Trueman is on the scent — he
feathers, yet still is doubtful — 'tis right ! How readily they
join him ! See those wide-easting hounds, how they fly forward
to recover the ground they have lost ! — Mind Lightning, how
she dashes ; and Mungo, how he works ! Old Frantic too,
now pushes forward ; she knows as well as we the fox is
sinking.

' Huntsman ! at fault at last ? How far did you bring the
scent ? — Have the hounds made their own cast ? — Now make
yours. You see that sheep-dog has coursed the fox : — get
forward with your hounds, and make a wide cast.

' Hark ! that halloo is indeed a lucky one. — If we can hold
him on, we may yet recover him ; for a fox so much distressed
must stop at last. We shall now see if they will hunt as well
as run ; for there is but little scent, and the impending cloud

FOX-HUNTING

still makes that little less. How they enjoy the scent ! — See
how busy they all are, and how each in his turn prevails.
Huntsman ! Huntsman ! be quiet ! Whilst the scent was
good, you pressed on your hounds ; it was well done : when
they came to a check you stood still, and interrupted them not ;
they were afterwards at fault : you made your cast with judg-
ment and lost no time. You now must let them hunt ; — ^with
such a cold scent as this you can do no good ; they must do it
all themselves ; lift them now, and not a hound will stoop
again. — Ha ! a high road, at such a time as this, when the
tenderest-nosed hound can hardly own the scent ! — Another
fault! That man at work there, has headed back the fox.
Huntsman ! cast not your hounds now, you see they have over-
run the scent ; have a little patience, and let them, for once,
try back. We must now give them time ; — see where they
bend towards yonder furze brake — I wish he may have stopped
there ! — Mind that old hound, how he dashes o'er the furze ;
I think he winds him. — Now for a fresh entapis ! Hark ! they
halloo ! Aye, there he goes. It is nearly over with him ; had
the hounds caught view he must have died. — He will hardly
reach the cover ; see how they gain upon him at every stroke 1
It is an admirable race ! yet the cover saves him. Now be
quiet, and he cannot escape us ; we have the wind of the
hounds, and cannot be better placed : — how short he runs ! —
he is now in the very strongest part of the cover. — What a
crash ! every hound is in, and every hound is running for him.
That was a quick turn ! Again another ! — he 's put to his last
shifts. — Now Mischief is at his heels, and death is not far off. —
Ha ! they all stop at once : all silent, and yet no earth is open.
Listen ! now they are at him again ! Did you hear that hound
catch him ? They over-ran the scent, and the fox had laid
down behind them. Now, Reynard, look to yourself ! How
quick they all give their tongues ! — little Dreadnoughi, how he
works him ! the terriers too, they are now squeaking at him.
— How close Vengeance pursues ! how terribly she presses ! —
it is just up with him ! Gods ! what a crash they make ; the

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

whole wood resounds ! — That turn was very short ! — There ! —
now ! — aye, now they have him ! Who — hoop ! ' . . .

The practice of traiUng up to the fox had been, by some
masters at least, abandoned at this time. Beckford drew a
covert in the modern style, though he would have us at the
covert-side by sunrise.

Colonel John Cook, Master of the Essex 1808-1813, suggests
that the practice of meeting at sunrise was adopted with the
definite purpose of hunting the fox before he was in running
trim, or the slow hounds of an older generation would never
have caught him.' However this may be, the system of
meeting soon after sunrise and trailing up to the fox con-
tinued in the New Forest during the earlier years of the
nineteenth century, and is still pursued by the fox-hunters of
the Fells, and in Wales : and these latter do not find their
foxes unable to run in the early morning. When Colonel
Cook wrote, in 1829, the sunrise meet had been generally
renounced : ' The breed of hounds, the feeding, and the
whole system is so much improved that the majority of foxes
are found and killed . . . after twelve o'clock.'

There was, it must be said, at least one among the improve-
ments the Colonel did not regard as such : to Avit, the second
horse system, which by this time had been commonly adopted,
no doubt as a result of the greater speed of hounds. It was
introduced by Lord Sefton during his Mastership (1800-1802)
of the Quorn. Lord Sefton was a heavy weight, but his
example was speedily followed by those who had not burthen
of flesh to excuse them.

The sporting ethics of a century ago were lenient on the
subject of bagmen. It would seem from this note, culled
from the Sporting Magazine of 1807, that if the owner of a
pack wanted to hunt any particular district, and foxes hap-

' They certainly rec|uireil time to catch their fox on occasion : witness the famous
Charlton run of 26th January 1738 : hounds found a vixen at 7.45 a.m. and killed her at
.5..iO I'.M., having covered a distance conscientiously affirmed to be 58 miles 2 furlongs
10 yards.

FOX-HUNTIXG

pened to be scarce therein, he might temporarily stock the
country without reproach : —

' Mr. Termor's excellent pack is come, or coming at the
end of this month (December), from his seat in Oxfordshire to
Epsom, for the purpose of hunting there during the remainder
of the season. The gentlemen of Surrey expect much sport,
as Mr. Fermor will turn out a great number of bagged
foxes,'

When Squire Osbaldeston hunted in Suffolk, season 1822-3,
Mr. E. H. Budd used to buy half-grown foxes for him from
Hopkins in Tottenham Court Road, at thirty shillings a brace,
and send them down in a covered cart, ten or twelve brace at
a time.

It was very usual to turn out a bagman for a day's sport ;
and such a fox often gave a much better run than the practice
deserved. On 18th December 1905 the Master of the Chester
Harriers had a bag fox turned out in Common Wood at a
quarter-past twelve : he was given five minutes' law, was run
to ground at Pick Hill, was bolted, and thereafter stood up
before hounds till dark, when ' hounds were called off by the
New Mills near Whitchurch. The whole chase is computed to
be upwards of forty miles as the crow flies, and mth scarcely
a check.' Mention of bag foxes recalls a comical story told of
Tom Hills, the famous Old Surrey huntsman. He was carrvnng
home, in the capacious pocket of his blouse, a fox he had been
sent to buy in Leadenhall market. Stopped by a highwayman
on Streatham Common, he responded to the demand for his
money by bidding his assailant help himself from the pocket
which contained the fox : and while the highwayman was
bewailing his severely bitten fingers. Hills made his escape.

Long runs are frequently reported in the Sporting Magazine
during the first decades of the nineteenth century. On Friday,
7th December 1804, Mr. Corbet's hounds found near Welles-
bourne pastures, ran their fox for three hours with one five
minutes' check, and killed — nay, ' most delightfully ran into '
him at Weston, about a mile from Broadway : a sixteen-mile

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

point. Of a field of nearly a hundred ' eager amateurs of fox-
hunting,' fifteen were up or in view at the kill.

Nimrod's classic, best known as his ' Quarterly,' essay, by
reason of its publication in that Review in 1832, gives us as
vivid and spirited a picture of fox-hunting as we could wish : —

' . . . Let us suppose ourselves to have been at Ashby
Pasture, in the Quorn country, with Mr. Osbaldeston's hounds,
in the year 1826, when that pack was at the height of its well-
merited celebrity. Let us also indulge ourselves with a fine
morning in the first week of February, and at least two hundred
well-mounted men by the cover's side. Time being called —
say a quarter past eleven, nearly our great-grandfathers'
dinner hour — the hounds approach the furze-brake, or the
gorse, as it is called in that region. " Hark in, hark ! " with a
slight cheer, and perhaps one wave of his cap, says Mr.
Osbaldeston,' who long hunted his own pack, and in an instant
he has not a hound at his horse's heels. In a very short time
the gorse appears shaken in various parts of the cover —
apparently from an unknown cause, not a single hound being
for some minutes visible. Presently one or two appear, leap-
ing over some old furze which they cannot push through, and
exhibit to the field their glossy skins and spotted sides. " Oh,
you beauties ! " exclaims some old Meltonian, rapturously
fond of the sport. Two minutes more elapse ; another hound
slips out of cover, and takes a short turn outside, with his nose
to the ground and his stern lashing his side — thinking, no doubt,
he might touch on a drag, should Reynard have been abroad
in the night. Hounds have no business to think, thinks the
second whipper-in, who observes him ; but one crack of his
whip, with " Rasselas, Rasselas, where are you going, Rasselas ?
Get to cover, Rasselas " ; and Rasselas immediately disappears.
Five minutes more pass away. "No fox here," says one.
" Don't be in a hurry," cries Mr. Cradock,^ "they are drawing

' Master from 1817 to 1821, ami again from 1823 to 1827.

- This gentleman resided within tlie limits (jf the Quorn hunt, and kindly super-
intended the management of the covers. He has lately paid the debt of nature
(Author's note).

Foxhounds, shozvtng Rounded and
Unrounded Ear

FOX-HUNTING

it beautifully, and there is rare lying in it." These words are
scarcely uttered, when the cover shakes more than ever.
Every stem appears alive, and it reminds us of a corn-field
waving in the wind. In two minutes the sterns of some more
hounds are seen flourishing above the gorse. " Have at him
there,'''' holloas the Squire,^ the gorse still more alive, and hounds
leaping over each other's backs. " Have at him there again,
my good hounds ; a fox for a hundred ! " reiterates the Squire,
putting his finger in his ear, and uttering a scream which, not
being set to music, we cannot give here. Jack Stevens (the
first whipper-in) looks at his watch. At this moment John
White, Val, Maher, Frank Holyoake (who will pardon us for
giving them their noms-de-chasse), and two or three more of
the fast ones, are seen creeping gently on towards a point at
which they think it probable he may break. " Hold hard
there," says a sportsman ; but he might as well speak to the
winds. " Stand still, gentlemen ; pray stand still," exclaims
the huntsman ; he might as well say so to the sun. During
the time we have been speaking of, all the field have been
awake — gloves put on — cigars thrown away — the bridle-reins
gathered well up into the hand, and hats pushed down upon
the brow.

' At this interesting period, a Snob, just arrived from a very
rural country, and unknown to any one, but determined to
witness the start, gets into a conspicuous situation : " Come
away, sir ! " holloas the master (little suspecting that the Snob
may be nothing less than one of the Quarterly Reviewers).
" What mischief are you doing there ? Do you think you can
catch the fox ? " A breathless silence ensues. At length a
whimper is heard in the cover — like the voice of a dog in a
dream : it is Flourisher, and the Squire cheers him to the echo.

' In an instant a hound challenges — and another — and
another. 'Tis enough. "Tally-ho ! '' cries a countryman in a
tree. " He 's gone," exclaims Lord Alvanley ; and, clapping
his spurs to his horse, in an instant is in the front rank.

' Mr. Osbaldeston was popularly called ' Squire ' Osbaldeston.
B 9

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

' As all good sportsmen would say, " 'Ware, hounds ! " cries
Sir Harry Goodricke. " Give them time," exclaims Mr. John
Moore. "That's right," says Mr. Osbaldeston, "spoil your
own sport as usual." " Go along,'''' roars out Mr. Holyoake,
" there are three couple of hounds on the scent." " That 's
your sort," says " Billy Coke," ' coming up at the rate of thirty
miles an hour on Advance, with a label pinned on his back,
"she kicks"; "the rest are all coming, and there's a rare
scent to-day, I 'm sure."

' Bonaparte's Old Guard, in its best days, would not have
stopped such men as these, so long as life remained in them.
Only those who have witnessed it can know in what an extra-
ordinary manner hounds that are left behind in a cover make
their way through a crowd, and get up to leading ones of a
pack, which have been fortunate in getting away with their
fox. It is true they possess the speed of a race-horse ; still
nothing short of their high mettle could induce them to thread
their way through a body of horsemen going the best pace
with the prospect of being ridden over and maimed at every
stride they take. But, as Beckford observes, " 'Tis the dash
of the foxhound which distinguishes him." A turn, however,
in their favour, or a momentary loss of scent in the few
hounds that have shot ahead — an occurrence to be looked for
on such occasions — joins head and tail together, and the scent
being good, every hound settles to his fox ; the pace gradually
improves ; vires acquirit eundo ; a terrible hurst is the result !

' At the end of nineteen minutes the hounds come to a
fault, and for a moment the fox has a chance ; in fact, they
have been pressed upon by the horses, and have rather over-
run the scent. " What a pity," says one. " What a shame ! "
cries another ; alluding, perhaps, to a young one, who would
and could have gone still faster. " You may thank yourselves
for this," exclaims Osbaldeston, well up at the time, Ashton -

' Said to be the desiffner of the ' billy-cock ' hat.

- Mr. Osbaldeston sold Ashtoii to Lord I'lymouth for four hundred guineas after
having ridden him six seasons (Author's note).

FOX-HUNTING

looking fresh ; but only fourteen men out of the two hundred
are to be counted ; all the rest coming. At one blast of the horn,
the hounds are back to the point at which the scent has failed.
Jack Stevens being in his place to turn them. " Yo doit!
Pastime! " says the Squire, as she feathers her stern down the
hedge-row, looking more beautiful than ever. She speaks !
" Worth a thousand, by Jupiter ! " cries John White, looking
over his left shoulder as he sends both spurs into Euxton,
delighted to see only four more of the field are up. Our Snob,
however, is amongst them. He has " gone a good one," and
his countenance is expressive of delight, as he urges his horse
to his speed to get again into a front place.

' The pencil of the painter is now wanting ; and unless the
painter should be a sportsman, even his pencil would be worth
little. What a country is before him ! — what a panorama
does it represent ! Not a field of less than forty — some a
hundred acres — and no more signs of the plough than in the
wilds of Siberia. See the hounds in a body that might be
covered by a damask table-cloth — every stern down, and every
head up, for there is no need of stooping, the scent lying breast-
high. But the crash ! — the music ! — how to describe these ?
Reader, there is no crash now, and not much music. It is the
tinker that makes great noise over a little work, but at the
pace these hounds are going there is no time for babbling.
Perchance one hound in five may throw his tongue as he goes
to inform his comrades, as it were, that the villain is on before
them, and most musically do the light notes of Vocal and
Venus fall on the ear of those who may be within reach to
catch them. But who is so fortunate in this second burst,
nearly as terrible as the first ? Our fancy supplies us again,
and we think we could name them all. If we look to the left,
nearly abreast of the pack, we see six men going gallantly, and
quite as straight as the hovmds themselves are going ; and on
the right are four more, riding equally well, though the former
have rather the best of it, owing to having had the inside of
the hounds at the last two turns, which must be placed to the

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

chapter of accidents. A short way in the rear, by no means
too much so to enjoy this brilliant run, are the rest of the Mite
of the field, who had come up at the first check ; and a few
who, thanks to the goodness of their steeds, and their determina-
tion to be with the hounds, appear as if dropped from the
clouds. Some, however, begin to show symptoms of distress.
Two horses are seen loose in the distance — a report is frying
about that one of the field is badly hurt, and something is
heard of a collar-bone being broken, others say it is a leg ; but
the pace is too good to inquire. A cracking of rails is now heard,
and one gentleman's horse is to be seen resting, nearly balanced,
across one of them, his rider being on his back in the ditch,
which is on the landing side. " Who is he ? " says Lord
Brudenel ^ to Jack Stevens. " Can't tell, my Lord ; but I
thought it was a queerish place when I came o'er it before
him." It is evidently a case of peril, but the pace is too good
to afford help.

' Up to this time. Snob has gone quite in the first flight ;
the " dons " begin to eye him, and when an opportunity^ offers,
the question is asked, " Who is that fellow on the little bay
horse ? " " Don't know him," says Mr. Little Gilmour (a
fourteen-stone Scotchman, by-the-by), ganging gallantly to his
hounds. " He can ride," exclaims Lord Rancliffc. " A tip-
top provincial, depend upon it," added Lord Plymouth, going
quite at his ease on a thorough-bred nag, three stone above his
weight, and in perfect racing trim. Animal nature, however,
will cry " enough," how good soever she may be, if unreason-
able man press her beyond the point. The line of scent lies
right athwart a large grass ground (as a field is termed in
Leicestershire), somewhat on the ascent ; abounding in ant-
hills, or hillocks, peculiar to old grazing land, and thrown up
by the plough, some hundred years since, into rather high
ridges, with deep, holding furrows between each. The fence
at the top is impracticable — Meltonicfe, " a stopper " ; nothing
for it but a gate, leading into a broad green lane, high and

' Afterwards Lord Cardigan.

FOX-HUNTING

strong, with deep, slippery ground on each side of it. " Now
for the timber-jumper," cries Osbaldeston, pleased to find
himself upon Ashton, " For Heaven's sake, take care of my
hounds, in case they may throw up in the lane." Snob is
here in the best of company, and that moment perhaps the
happiest of his life ; but, not satisfied with his situation, wishing
to out-Herod Herod, and to have a fine story to tell when he
gets home, he pushes to his speed on ground on which all
regular Leicestershire men are careful, and the death-w^arrant
of the little bay horse is signed. It is true he gets first to the
gate, and has no idea of opening it ; sees it contains five new^
and strong bars, that will neither bend nor break ; has a great
idea of a fall, but no idea of refusing ; presses his hat firmly
on his head, and gets his whip-hand at liberty to give the good
little nag a refresher ; but all at once he perceives it will not
do. When attempting to collect him for the effort, he finds
his mouth dead and his neck stiff ; fancies he hears something
like a wheezing in his throat ; and discovering quite un-
expectedly that the gate would open, wisely avoids a fall,
which was booked had he attempted to leap it. He pulls up,
then, at the gate ; and as he places the hook of his whip under
the latch, John ^Vhite goes over it close to the hinge-post, and
Captain Ross, upon Clinker, follows him. The Reviewer then
walks through.

' The scene now shifts. On the other side of the lane is a
fence of this description : it is a newly plashed hedge, abound-
ing in strong growers, as they are called, and a yawning ditch
on the further side ; but, as is peculiar to Leicestershire and
Northamptonshire, a considerable portion of the blackthorn,
left uncut, leans outwards from the hedge, somewhat about
breast-high. This large fence is taken by all now with the
hounds — some to the right and some to the left of the direct
line ; but the little bay horse would have no more of it. Snob
puts him twice at it, and manfully too ; but the wind is out of
him, and he has no power to rise. Several scrambles, but only
one fall, occur at this rasper, all having enough of the killing

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

pace ; and a mile and a half further, the second horses are
fallen in with, just in the nick of time. A short check from
the stain of sheep makes everything comfortable ; and, the
Squire having hit off his fox like a workman, thirteen men,
out of two hundred, are fresh mounted, and with the
hounds, which settle to the scent again at a truly killing
pace.

' " Hold hard, Holyoake ! " exclaims Mr. Osbaldeston (now
mounted on Clasher), knowing what double-quick time he
would be marching to, with fresh pipes to play upon, and the
crowd well shaken off ; " pray don't press 'em too hard, and
we shall be sure to kill our fox.^ Have at him there, Abigail
and Fickle, good bitches — see what a head they are carrying !
I '11 bet a thousand they kill him." The country appears
better and better. " He 's taking a capital line," exclaims
Sir Harry Goodricke, as he points out to Sir James Musgrave
two young Furrier hounds, who are particularly distinguishing
themselves at the moment. " Worth a dozen Reform Bills,"
shouts Sir Francis Burdett," sitting erect upon Sampson,^
and putting his head straight at a yawner. " We shall
have the Whissendine brook," cries Mr. Maher, who knows
every field in the country, " for he is making straight for
Teigh." " And a bumper too, after last night's rain," holloas
Captain Berkeley, determined to get first to four stiff rails in
a corner. " So much the better," says Lord Alvanley, " I
like a bumper at all times." " A fig for the Whissendine,"
cries Lord Gardner ; " I am on the best water-jumper in
my stable."

' The prophecy turns up. Having skirted Ranksborough
gorse, the villain has nowhere to stop short of Woodwell-head

' One peculiar excellence in Mr. Osbaldeston's hounds was their steadiness under
pressure by the crowd (Author's note).

' Sir Francis Burdett, M.P. for Westminster 1807-]8.'^7, was prominent among the
organisers of the 'Hampden Clubs,' founded in liiKi and after, for parliamentary
reform. He »vas twice imprisoned on political charges, in 1810 and 1820.

' A favourite hunter of the baronet's, which he once honoured by coming all the way
from London to Melton to ride 07ie day with hounds (Author's note).

FOX-HUNTING

cover, which he is pointing for ; and in ten minutes, or less,
the brook appears in view. It is even with its banks, and as

" Smooth glides the water where tlie brook is deep,"

its deepness was pretty certain to be fathomed. " Yooi, over
he goes ! " holloas the Squire, as he perceives Joker and Jewell
plunging into the stream, and Red-rose shaking herself on the
opposite bank. Seven men, out of thirteen, take it in their
stride ; three stop short, their horses refusing the first time,
but come well over the second ; and three find themselves in
the middle of it. The gallant Frank Forester is among the
latter ; and having been requested that morning to wear a
friend's new red coat, to take off the gloss and glare of the
shop, he accomplishes the task to perfection in the bluish-
black mud of the Whissendine, only then subsiding after a
three days' flood. " Who is that under his horse in the brook ? "
inquires that good sportsman and fine rider, Mr. Green of
RoUeston, whose noted old mare had just skimmed over the
water like a swallow on a summer's evening. " It 's Middleton
Biddulph," says one. " Pardon me," cries Mr, Middleton
Biddulph ; " Middleton Biddulph is here, and here he means
to be ! " " Only Dick Christian," answers Lord Forester,
" and it is nothing new to him." ' " But he '11 be drowned,"
exclaims Lord Kinnaird. " I shouldn't wonder," observes
Mr. William Coke. But the pace is too good to inquire.

The fox does his best to escape : he threads hedgerows, tries
the out-buildings of a farm-house, and once turns so short as
nearly to run his foil ; but — the perfection of the thing — the
hounds turn shorter than he does, as much as to say — die you
shall. The pace has been awful for the last twenty minutes.
Three horses are blown to a stand-still, and few are going at
their ease. " Out upon this great carcase of mine ! no horse
that was ever foaled can live under it at this pace, and over
this country," says one of the best of the welter-weights, as

' ' Talk of tumbles ! 1 have had eleven iu one day down there [Melton] when I was
above seventy.' — Dick Christian's Lectures, see Post and Paddock by ' The Druid.'

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

he stands over his four-hundred-guinea chestnut, then rising
from the ground after giving him a heavy fall — his tail nearly
erect in the air, his nostrils violently distended, and his eye
almost fixed. " Not hurt, I hope," exclaimed Mr. Maxse, to
somebody whom he gets a glimpse ol' through the openings of
a tall quickset hedge which is between them, coming neck and
croup into the adjoining field, from the top bar of a high, hog-
backed stile. His eye might have been spared the unpleasing
sight, had not his ear been attracted to a sort of procumbit-
humi-bos sound of a horse falling to the ground on his back,
the bone of his left hip indenting the greensward within two
inches of his rider's thigh. It is young Peyton, who, having
missed his second horse at the check, had been going nearly
half the way in distress ; but from nerve and pluck, perhaps
peculiar to Englishmen in the hunting field, but very peculiar
to himself, got within three fields of the end of this Ibrilliant
run. The fall was all but a certainty ; for it was the third
stiff timber-fence that had unfortunately opposed him, after
his horse's wind had been pumped out by the pace ; but he
was too good to refuse them, and his horse knew better than
to do so.

The JEneid of Virgil ends with a death, and a chase is not
complete without it. The fox dies within half a mile of
Woodwell-head cover, evidently his point from the first ; the
pack pulling him down in the middle of a large grass field,
every hound but one at his brush.'

Such was fox-hunting in Leicestershire in the days of
William the Fourth. Multiply the number of the field by
three or four, stir in references to railways, ladies, and perhaps
to an overlooked strand of wire, and the story might stand as
of to-day.

Wire began to come into use in the late 'fifties : in 1862 the
Atherstone country was dangerously wired : in 1863-1804 Mr.
Tailby's was so much wired that special endeavours were
successfully made to remove it. Barbed wire was first used
in England in 1882.

FOX-HUNTING

Here are, epitomised, some of the great runs of the last
eiglity years : —

17ih March 1837.— Mr. Delme RadcHffe's Wendover Run.
Found at Kensworth at half-past two, ran their fox to Hampden
and lost him at dusk : 2 hours 35 minutes : IS^ miles point
to point, 26 as hounds ran. Fox found dead in a rick-yard
next morning.

9th February 1849. — The Old Findon (Surrey). Ran their
fox 45 miles in 4 hours 50 minutes : last 22 miles nearly
straight : killed in Dorking Glory, Surrey.

2nd February 1866. — The Pytchley, Waterloo Run. Found
in Waterloo Gorse at five minutes past two, ran to Blatston :
3 hours 45 minutes : whipped off in the dark at 5.30.
13 couples of hounds up of 17| out.^

3rd February 1868. — The INIeynell, Radburne Run. Found
in the Rough : fast but erratic run to near Biggin, 3 hours
37 minutes : 36 miles : fox believed to have been knocked
over when dead beat by a farmer.

22nd February 1871. — Duke of Beaufort's Greatwood Rmi.
Found Gretenham Great Wood : marked to ground on
Swindon side of High worth : 14 miles point to point : 28 miles
as hounds ran. 3 hours 30 minutes.

16th February 1872. — Mr. Chaworth Musters's Harlequin
Run. Found in the Harlequin Gorse, Ratcliffe-on-Trent : ran
very straight to Hoton Spinney and back to beyond Kin-
moulton Woods. Killed. Over 35 miles : 3 hours 26
minutes. 15h couples of hounds up of 17i out.

9th February 1881. — INIr. Rolleston's Lowdham Run.
Found in Halloughton Wood : ran 16 miles to Eakring Brales :
12 mile point, gave up at dusk : very fast all the way, but time
not recorded. Dead fox found in Eakring Brales two days
after.

1st December 1888. — The Grafton, Brafield Run. Found

' Mr. Robert Fellowes, who rode in this run, thinks it much overrated : ' hounds were
continually changing foxes and were never near catching one of them. It was only
a journev.'

c 17

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

in Brafield Furze on Mr, Christopher Smythe's property :
ran perfectly straight for 8 miles : turned left-handed and
killed after another 50 minutes' fast hunting. Every hound
up.

lUh December 1894. — The Quorn, Barkby Holt Run.
Found in Barkby Holt : 27 miles in 2 hours 5 minutes to ground
in Bolt Wood. Grass all the way : very fast : horses stopping
in every field.

2nd January 1899. — The Craven Sydmonton Run. Found
in Sydmonton Big Wood. Hounds stopped at Tubbs Copse
near Bramley Station. 10 miles point to point : 20 miles as
hounds ran. First ten miles so fast nobody could get near
hounds.

27th March 1903.— The Quorn Barkby Holt Run. 12 miles
to just short of Oakham Pastures. Killed.

It is the exception rather than the rule for one of these
long runs to end with a kill. The fact that six out of the
eleven occurred in February will be remarked.

These are some of the strange places wherein foxes have
been killed or left : — On the housekeeper's bed upstairs,
Catas Farm, near Heather, Leicestershire : late in October or
early November 1864 (clubbed while asleep by a waggoner).
Kitchen of a builder at Wetherby, Bramham Moor killed
31st May 1875. In Mr. Fernie's country : took refuge beside
a ploughman and his team, November 1899. Killed in
Broughton Astley Church, near Leicester, while congregation
assembling, Friday, 12th August 1900. Down farmhouse
chimney from the roof : fire raked out, and left by Essex
and Suffolk, 26th December 1903. Mineral water factory :
employes usurped function of hounds and lost : Atherstone,
March 1904.

The height from which a fox can drop without hurting
himself is very extraordinary. Foxes often seek refuge in
trees, ^ and if disturbed drop to ground without hesitation.

' This trait seems to be of modern development. I have found no mention of tree-
climbing foxes in the records of a century back.

FOX-HUNTING

The greatest drop of which I have record occurred on the
19th February 1886 in the Blackmore Vale country. The
second whipper-in ascended the shghtly slanting elm up which
the fox, helped by ivy, had climbed. The fox eventually went
nearly to the top, and as it was thought he must fall and be
killed when he tried to get down, he was dislodged. He
dropped a distance of forty-four feet, falling on his nose and
chest, but stood up before hounds for two miles before they
killed him.

A season never passes without half a dozen foxes seeking
shelter in dwellings — rather a pathetic tribute to humanity ;
but the most resolute seeker after such sanctuary is that
recorded of a fox hunted by the Border on 4th February 1904.
First he tried, and failed, to take refuge in a smithy wash-
house at Yetholm : then crossed the village and hid in the room
of a house undergoing repairs : driven out, he entered yet
another house by the kitchen window and went upstairs to a
bedroom : dislodged again, he was run into and killed in a
neighbouring garden. There is record of a fox seeking a
hiding-place in the cleaned carcase of a recently killed sheep,
but I cannot find particulars.

The strangest place in which to lay up her litter was chosen
by a Heythrop vixen in July 1874. There is at Oddington an
old disused church : the vixen established her nursery in the
pulpit.

When we consider how closely the country is hunted, it is
not wonderful that packs should occasionally clash. On
3rd April 1877 Lord Galway's, on their way to draw Maltby
Wood, after a morning run, hit off the line of a fox : he showed
signs of being beaten, and they killed him after a com-
paratively short burst. While breaking him up Lord Fitz-
william's hounds came up : Lord Galway's had ' cut in ' and
killed the fox they were hunting.

The average weight of the fox is put at from 11 to 14 lbs. :
of a vixen, 9 to 12 lbs. All the heaviest foxes recorded have
been fell foxes : the biggest actually weighed was killed by

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND I'RESENT

the Ullswater on Cross Fell Range : 23 lt)s., fom- feet four
inches from tip to tip : date not given. In March 1874 Mr.
F. Chapman weighed alive a bagman turned out at Palmer
Flat, Aysgarth, Yorkshire, 21 lbs. On 13th December 1877
the Melbrake killed two foxes, 20^ and 18J lbs. On 4th
January 1878 the Sinnington killed a lO^-lb. fox. The fox
that was too heavy for a 20-lb. scale, but was estimated to
weigh 26 lbs., must be regretfully omitted from the list.

As I write comes one having pretty talent for conundrums,
to ask when the practice of rounding the ears of hounds came
into use. The question is difficult to answer. The few hound
pictures of Francis Barlow (b. 1626, dec. 1702) show no
rounded ears : the many pictures of John Wootton (b. circa
1685, dec. 1765) show ears rounded, but in less degree than at
a later date, but also ears in the natural state. In his ' Death
of the Fox ' some of the hounds are rounded and some are not :
in his ' Portraits of Hounds ' three arc rounded and one is not.
Unfortunately none of these works are dated. Stephen
Elmer's portrait of Mr. Corbet's Trojan, entered 1780, shows
the ears closely rounded. In the engravings from Wootton's
works some hounds' ears seem to be cut to a point ; ' peaked '
would describe the shape ; but I have never seen any reference
in early hunting books to this or any other method of cutting
the ears. Peaking would answer much the same purpose as
rounding, an operation now not universally practised.

Is there anything in the literature of the chase more
delightful than this from Charles Kingsley's ' My Winter
Garden ' ? ^

' . . . Stay. There was a sound at last ; a light footfall.
A hare races towards us, through the ferns, her great bright
eyes full of terror, her ears aloft to catch some sound behind.
She sees us, turns short, and vanishes into the gloom. The
mare pricks up her ears too, listens, and looks : but not the
way the hare has gone. There is something more coming ; I
can trust the finer sense of the horse, to which (and no wonder)

' Prater's Magazine, April 1858.

FOX-HUNTING

the Middle Ages attributed the power of seeing ghosts and
fairies impalpable to man's gross eyes. Beside, that hare was
not travelling in search of food. She was not " loping " along,
looking around her right and left, but galloping steadily. She
has been frightened, she has been put up : but what has put
her up ? And there, far away among the fir-stems, rings the
shriek of a startled blackbird. What has put him up ? That,
old mare, at sight whereof your wise eyes widen until they are
ready to burst, and your ears are first shot forward toward
your nose, and then laid back with vicious intent. Stand still,
old woman ! Do you think still, after fifteen winters, that you
can catch a fox ? A fox, it is indeed ; a great dog-fox, as red
as the fir-stems between which he glides. And yet his legs
are black with fresh peat stains. He is a hunted fox : but he
has not been up long. The mare stands like a statue : but I
can feel her trembling between my knees. Positively he does
not see us. He sits down in the middle of a ride, turns his
great ears right and left, and then scratches one of them with
his hind foot, seemingly to make it hear the better. Now he
is off again and on.

' Beneath yon firs, some hundred yards away, standeth, or
rather lieth, for it is on dead flat ground, the famous castle of
Malepartus, which beheld the base murder of Lampe, the hare,
and many a seely soul beside. I know it well : a patch of
sand heaps, mingled with great holes, amid the twining fir
roots ; ancient home of the last of the wild beasts.

' And thither, unto Malepartus safe and strong, trots
Reinecke, where he hopes to be snug among the labyrinthine
windings, and innumerable starting-holes, as the old apologue
has it, of his ballium, covert- way and donjon keep.

' Full blown in self-satisfaction he trots, lifting his toes
delicately, and carrying his brush aloft, as full of cunning and
conceit as that world-famous ancestor of his, whose deeds of
unchivalry were the delight, if not the model, of knight and
kaiser, lady and burgher, in the Middle Age.

' Suddenly he halts at the great gate of Malepartus ;

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

examines it with his nose, goes on to a postern ; examines that
also, and then another and another ; while I perceive afar,
projecting from every cave's mouth, the red and green end of
a new fir-faggot. Ah Reinecke ! fallen is thy conceit, and
fallen thy tail therewith. Thou hast worse foes to deal with
than Bruin the bear, or Isegrim the wolf, or any foolish brute
whom thy great ancestor outwitted. Man, the many-coun-
selled, has been beforehand with thee ; and the earths are
stopped.

' One moment he sits down to meditate, and scratches
those trusty counsellors, his ears, as if he would tear them off,
" revolving swift thoughts in a crafty mind." He has settled
it now. He is up and off — and at what a pace ! Out of the
way. Fauns and Hamadryads, if any be left in the forest.
What a pace ! And with what a grace beside !

' Oh Reinecke, beautiful thou art, of a surety, in spite of
thy great naughtiness. Art thou some fallen spirit, doomed
to be hunted for thy sins in this life, and in some future life
rewarded for thy swiftness, and grace, and cunning by being
made a very messenger of the immortals ? Who knows ?
Not I. I am rising fast to Pistol's vein. Shall I ejaculate ?
Shall I notify ? Shall I waken the echoes ? Shall I break
the grand silence by that scream which the vulgar view-halloo
call ? It is needless ; for louder and louder every moment
swells up a sound which makes my heart leap into my mouth,
and my mare into the air. . . .

' Music ? Well-beloved soul of HuUah, would that thou
wert here this day, and not in St. Martin's Hall, to hear that
chorus, as it pours round the fir-stems, rings against the roof
above, shatters up into a hundred echoes, till the air is live
with sound ! You love Madrigals, or whatever Weelkes, or
Wilbye, or Orlando Gibbons sang of old. So do I. Theirs is
music fit for men : worthy of the age of heroes, of Drake and
Raleigh, Spenser and Shakspeare ; but oh, that you could hear
this madrigal ! If you nmst have " four parts," then there
they are. Deep-mouthed bass, rolling along the ground ;

FOX-HUNTING

rich joyful tenor : wild wistful alto ; and leaping up here and
there above the throng of sounds, delicate treble shrieks and
trills of trembling joy. I know not whether you can fit it into
your laws of music, any more than you can the song of that
Ariel sprite who dwells in the Eolian harp, or the roar of the
waves on the rock, or

" Myriads of rivulets hurrying through the lawn.
And murmur of innumerable bees."

But music it is. A madrigal ? Rather a whole opera of Der
Freischiitz — daemonic element and all — to judge by those red
lips, fierce eyes, wild hungry voices ; and such as should make
Reinecke, had he strong aesthetic sympathies, well content to
be hunted from his cradle to his grave, that such sweet sounds
might by him enrich the air. Heroes of old were glad to die
if but some " vates sacer " would sing their fame in worthy
strains : and shalt not thou too be glad, Reinecke ? Content
thyself with thy fate. Music soothes care ; let it soothe
thine, as thou runnest for thy life ; thou shalt have enough of
it in the next hour. For as the Etruscans (says Athenasus)
were so luxurious that they used to flog their slaves to the
sound of the flute, so shall luxurious Chanter and Challenger,
Sweet-lips and Melody, eat thee to the sound of rich organ-
pipes, that so thou mayest,

"Like that old fabled swan, in music die."

' And now appear, dim at first and distant, but brightening
and nearing fast, many a right good fellow and many a right
good horse. I know three out of four of them, their private
histories, the private histories of their horses ; and could tell
you many a good story of them : but shall not, being an
English gentleman, and not an American litterateur. They are
not very clever, or very learned, or very anything, except
gallant men : but they are good enough company for me, or
any one ; and each has his own specialitc, for which I like him.
That huntsman I have known for fifteen years, and sat many

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

an hour beside his fatlier's deathbed, I am godfather to that
whip's child. I have seen the servants of the hunt, as I have
seen the hounds, grow up round me for two generations, and I
look on them as old friends, and like to look into their brave,
honest, weather-beaten faces. That red coat there, I knew
him when he was a school-boy ; and now he is a captain in
the Guards, and won his Victoria Cross at Inkcrman : that
bi'ight green coat is the best farmer, as well as the hardest
rider, for many a mile round ; one who plays, as he works, with
all his might, and might have made a beau sahreur and colonel
of dragoons. So might that black coat, who now brews good
beer, and stands up for the poor at the Board of Guardians,
and rides, like the green coat, as well as he works. That other
black coat is a county banker : but he knows more of the fox
than the fox knows of himself, and where the hounds are, there
will he be this day. That red coat has hunted kangaroo in
Australia ; that one has — but what matter to you who each
man is ? Enough that each can tell me a good story, welcome
me cheerfully, and give me out here, in the wild forest, the
wholesome feeling of being at home among friends.

' And am I going with them ?

' Certainly. He who falls in with hounds running, and
follows them not as far as he can (business permitting, of
course, in a business country) is either more or less than man.
So I who am neither more nor less, but simply a man like my
neighbours, turn my horse's head to go.

' There is music again, if you will listen, in the soft tread
of those hundred horse-hoofs upon the spungy vegetable soil.
They are trotting now in " common time." You may hear
the whole Croats' March (the finest trotting march in the world)
played by those iron heels ; the time, as it does in the Croats'
March, breaking now and then, plunging, jingling, struggling
through heavy ground, bursting for a moment into a jubilant
canter, as it reaches a sound spot. . . .

' But that time does not last long. The hounds feather a
moment round Malepartus, puzzled by the windings of Rei-

FOX-HUNTING

necke's footsteps. Look at Virginal, five yards ahead of the
rest, as her stern flourishes, and her pace quickens. Hark
to Virginal ! as after one whimper, she bursts out full-mouthed,
and the rest dash up and away in chorus, madder than ever,
and we after them up the ride. Listen to the hoof-tune now.
The common time is changed to triple ; and the heavy steady
thud — thud — thud — tells one even blindfold that we are
going. ...

' Going, and " going to go." For a mile of ride have I
galloped tangled among men and horses, and cheered by
occasional glimpses of the white-spotted backs in front ; and
every minute the pace quickens. Now the hounds swing off
the ride, and through the fir trees ; and now it shall be seen
who can ride the winter-garden.

' I make no comparisons. I feel due respect for " the
counties." I have tasted of old, though sparingly, the joys of
grass ; but this I do say, as said the gentlemen of the New
Forest fifty years ago, in the days of its glory, when the forest
and the court were one, that a man may be able to ride in
Leicestershire, and yet not able to ride in the forest. It is one
thing to race over grass, light or heavy, seeing a mile ahead
of you, and coming up to a fence which, however huge, is
honest, and another to ride where we are going now.

' If you will pay money enough for your horses ; if you
will keep them in racing condition ; and having done so simply
stick on (being of course a valiant man and true), then you
can ride grass, and

" Drink delight of battle with your peers,"

or those of the realm in Leicestershire, Rutland, or Northamp-
ton. But here more is wanted, and yet not so much. Not
so much, because the pace is seldom as great ; but more,
because you are in continual petty danger, requiring continued
thought, promptitude, experience. There it is the best horse
who wins ; but here it is the shrewdest man. Therefore, let
him who is fearful and faint-hearted keep to the rides ; and
D 25

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

not only he but he who has a hot horse ; he who has no hand ;
he who has no heel, or a horse who knows not what heel means ;
for this riding is more like Australian bush-coursing, or Bombay
hog-hunting, than the pursuit of the wily animal over a civil-
ized covmtry, as it appears in Leech's inimitable caricatures.

' Therefore, of the thirty horsemen, some twenty wisely
keep the ride, and no shame to them. They can go well else-
where ; they will go well (certainly they will leave me behind)
when we reach the enclosures three miles off : but here they are
wise in staying on terra firma.

' But there are those who face terram infirmam. Off turns
our Master, riding, as usual, as if he did not know he was
riding, and thereby showing how well he rides.

' Off turns the huntsman ; the brave green coat on the
mouse mare ; the brave black coat on the black mare. Mark
those two last, if you do not know the country, for where the
hounds are there will they be to the last. Off turns a tall Irish
baronet ; the red coat who has ridden in Australia ; an old
gentleman who has just informed me that he was born close to
Billesden-Coplow, and looks as if he could ride anywhere, even
to the volcanoes of the moon, which must be a rough country,
to look at it through a telescope. Off turns a gallant young
Borderer, who has seen bogs and wolds ere now, but at present
grows mustachios in a militia regiment at Aldershot : a noble
youth to look at. May he prosper this day and all days, and
beget brave children to hunt with Lord Elcho when he is
dead and gone. And off turn poor humble I, on the old
screwed mare. I know I shall be left behind, ridden past,
possibly ridden over, laughed to scorn by swells on hundred-
and-fifty-guinea horses ; but I know the winter-garden, and
I want a gallop. Half an hour will do for me ; but it must be
a half hour of mad, thoughtless, animal life, and then if I can
go no further, I will walk the mare home contentedly, and do
my duty in that state of life to which Providence has been
pleased to call me. ...

' . . . Racing indeed ; for as Reinecke gallops up the

FOX-HUNTING

narrow heather- fringed pathway, he brushes off his scent upon
the twigs at every stride, and the hounds race after him,
showing no head indeed, and keeping, for convenience, in one
long Une upon the track, but going, head up, sterns down, at
a pace which no horse can follow. — ^I only hope they may not
overrun the scent.

' They have overrun it ; halt, and put their heads down
a moment. But with one swift cast in full gallop they have
hit it off again, fifty yards away in the heather, long ere we are
up to them ; for those hounds can hunt a fox because they are
not hunted themselves, and so have learnt to trust themselves ;
as boys should learn at school, even at the risk of a mistake or
two. Now they are showing head indeed, down a half cleared
valley, and over a few ineffectual turnips, withering in the peat,
a patch of growing civilization in the heart of the wilderness ;
and then over the brook — woe 's me ! and we must follow — if
we can.

' Down we come to it, over a broad sheet of burnt ground,
where a week ago the young firs were blazing, crackling, spit-
ting turpentine for a mile on end. Now it lies all black and
ghastly, with hard charred stumps, like ugly teeth, or caltrops
of old, set to lame charging knights.

' Over a stiff furze-grown bank, which one has to jump on
and off — if one can ; and over the turnip patch, breathless.

' Now we are at the brook, dyke, lode, drain, or whatever
you call it. Much as I value agricultural improvements, I
wish its making had been postponed for at least this one year.

' Shall we race at it, as at Rosy or Wissendine, and so over
in one long stride ? Would that we could ! But racing at it
is impossible ; for we stagger up to it almost knee-deep of
newly-cut yellow clay, with a foul runnel at the bottom.
The brave green coat finds a practicable place, our Master
another ; and both jump, not over, but in ; and then out
again, not by a leap, but by clawings as of a gigantic cat. The
second whip goes in before me, and somehow vanishes head-
long. I see the water shoot up from under his shoulders full

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

ten feet high, and his horse sitting disconsolate on his tail at
the bottom, like a great dog. However they are up again and
out, painted of a fair raw-ochre hue ; and I have to follow in
fear and trembling, expecting to be painted in like wise.

' Well, I am in and out again, I don't know how : but this
I know, that I am in a great bog. Natural bogs, red, brown
or green, I know from childhood, and never was taken in by
one in my life ; but this has taken me in, in all senses. Why
do people pare and trim bogs before draining them ? — thus
destroying the light coat of tenacious stuff on the top, which
Nature put there on purpose to help poor horsemen over, and
the blanket of red bog-moss, which is meant as a fair warning
to all who know the winter-garden.

' However I am no worse off than my neighbours. Here
we are, ten valiant men, all bogged together ; and who knows
how deep the peat may be ?

' I jump off and lead, considering that a horse plus a man
weighs more than a horse alone ; so do one or two more.
The rest plunge bravely on, whether because of their hurry, or
like Child Waters in the ballad, " for fyling of their feet."

' However " all things do end," as Carlyle pithily remarks
somewhere in his French Revolution ; and so does this bog.
I wish this gallop would end too. How long have we been
going ? There is no time to take out a watch ; but I fancy the
mare flags : I am sure my back aches with standing in my
stirrups. I become desponding. I am sure I shall never see
this fox killed ; sure I shall not keep up five minutes longer ;
sure I shall have a fall soon ; sure I shall ruin the mare's
fetlocks in the ruts. I am bored. I wish it was all over,
and I safe at home in bed. Then why do I not stop ? I
cannot tell. That thud, thud, thud, through moss and mire
has become an element of my being, a temporary necessity,
and go I must. I do not ride the mare ; the Wild Huntsman,
invisible to me, rides her ; and I, like Burger's Lenore, am
carried on in spite of myself, " tramp, tramp, along the land,
splash, splash, along the sea."

FOX-HUNTING

' By which I do not at all mean that the mare has run away
with me. On the contrary, I am afraid that I have been
shaking her up during the last five minutes more than once.
But the spirit of Odin, " the mover," " the goer " (for that is
his etymology) whom German sages connect much with the
Wild Huntsman, has got hold of my midriff and marrow, and
go I must, for " The Goer " has taken me. . . .

' . . . The hounds, moreover, have obligingly waited for
us two fields on. For the cold wet pastures we are entering
do not carry the scent as the heather did, in which Reinecke,
as he galloped, brushed off his perspiration against every
twig : and the hounds are now flemishing up and down by the
side of the brown, alder-fringed brook which parts the counties.
I can hear the flap and snort of the dogs' nostrils as they
canter round me ; and I like it. It is exciting ; but why —
who can tell ?

' What beautiful creatures they are too ! Next to a Greek
statue (I mean a real old Greek one ; for I am a thoroughly
anti-prei*aphaelite benighted pagan heathen in taste, and
intend some day to get up a Cinque-Cento Club, for the total
abolition of Gothic art) — next to a Greek statue, I say, I know
few such combinations of grace and strength, as in a fine fox-
hound. It is the beauty of the Theseus — light and yet
massive ; and light not in spite of its masses, but on account
of the perfect disposition of them. I do not care for grace in
man, woman, or animal, which is obtained (as in the old
German painters) at the expense of honest flesh and blood. . , .'

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

ODE TO THE NORTH-EAST WIND

Welcome, wild North-easter !
Shame it is to see
Odes to every zephyr ;
Ne'er a verse to thee.
Welcome, black North-easter !
O'er the German foam ;
O'er the Danish moorlands,
From thy frozen home.
Tired we are of summer,
Tired of gaudy glare.
Showers soft and steaming.
Hot and breathless air.
Tired of listless dreaming.
Through the lazy day :
Jovial wind of winter
Turns us out to play !
Sweep the golden reed-beds ;
Crisp the lazy dyke ;
Hunger into madness
Every plunging pike.
Fill the lake with wild-fowl;
Fill the marsh with snipe;
While on dreary moorlands
Lonely curlews pipe.
Though the black tir-forest
Thunder harsh and dry,
Shattering down the snow-flakes
Off' the curdled sky.
Hark ! the brave North-easter !
Breast-higii lies the scent.
On by holt antl headland,
Over heath and bent.
Chime, ye dappled darlings,
Through the sleet and snow.
Who can over-ride you .''

Let the horses go !
Chime, ye dappled darlings,
Down the roaring blast ;
Vou shall see a fox die
Ere an hour be past.
Go ! and rest to-morrow.
Hunting in your dreams,
AVhile our skates are ringing
O'er tiie frozen streams.
Let the luscious South-wind
Breathe in lovers' sighs,
While the lazy gallants
Bask in ladies' eyes.
What does he but soften
Heart alike and pen .'
'Tis the hard grey weather
Breeds hard English men.
What's the soft South-wester?
'Tis the ladies' breeze.
Bringing home their true-loves
Out of all the seas :
But the black North-easter,
Through the snowstorm hurled.
Drives our English hearts of oak
Seaward round the world.
Come, as came our fathers,
Heralded by thee.
Conquering from the eastward,
Lords by land and sea.
Come, and strong within us
Stir the Vikings" blood;
Bracing brain and sinew ;
Blow, thou wind of God !

Charles Kingslev, 1854.

STAG-HUNTING

TURBERVILE'S description of the approved methods
of harbouring, rousing and hunting a stag in the
sixteenth century would in the main apply as well
to those in vogue on Exmoor, in the Ncav Forest
and Lancashire at the present time, as they would to the
sport in the days of the Normans, when chase, by the un-
privileged, of the ' King's Great Game ' was an offence punish-
able by death or mutilation. The most noteworthy change
has been in the hounds. When Mr. Lucas, Master of the hunt
since known as the Devon and Somerset,^ in 1825 sold his pack
to go to France, the last of the old breed of staghounds left
England. ' For courage, strength, speed and tongue, they
were unrivalled : few horses could live with them in the open.
Their rarest quality perhaps was their sagacity in hunting in
the water. Every pebble, every overhanging bush or twig
which the deer might have touched was quested . , . and the
crash with which the scent, if detected, was acknowledged and
announced made the whole country echo again.' Daniel says
' the Staghound is large and gallops with none of the neatness
of the Foxhound ' : it would seem also to have been more
temperate, as he observes that its only excellence (!) 'is the
being more readily brought to stop when headed by the Hunts-
man or his assistants, altho' in the midst of his keenest pursuit.'
There is no better picture of stag-hmiting on Exmoor than
that of Dr. C. P. Collyns :—

' . , . But we must move onward ; below us we gaze on
the lovely vale of Porlock, a strip of richly cultivated land,
beyond which the plantations of Selworthy rise green and
high, hiding the cliffs against which the angry waters of the

' The name was not adopted until 1837.

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Bristol Channel chafe and surge in vain. There, in the valley,
you may see the garden and groutids of Holnicote, Sir Thomas
Acland's lovely summer abode.' Below us lie Cloutsham
farm, and the famed coverts of Horner. We descend the steep,
cross the stream, and ascend again until we reach the knoll
on which the farm-house stands. . . . But there is no time to
be lost. The covert is large and deep, and the chances are
that much time must elapse ere we see the tufters fairly settled
on their stag, and the monarch of the woods driven from his
stronghold.

' The harbourer approaches ; and around him is held a
council. He is certain that the same stag that we found in
the covert a week ago has again made that favourite haunt his
resting-place. He fed in the turnips beyond the oak copse
this morning, and, though there are many hinds and calves
in the wood, by care and perseverance we are assured that
he will be found and got away. The order is given to
draft out the tufters, and Sam proceeds to perform the duty.
Let us follow him. The hounds are shut up in a large
barn, and we hear them baying, as if to chide the delay
which takes place while preliminaries are being settled.
Cautiously Sam opens the door. A rush of hounds is
checked by the old fellow's voice and whip. " Get back, my
darlin's ! " says Sam, as he checks the impetuous advance of
the eager babblers, and singles out the staid and steady
veterans, to whom the business of " tufting " is to be confided.
Far back in the dim recesses of the hovel sits old " Shiner,"
looking as if he were ashamed to appear concerned, yet shudder-
ing all over with excitement. " Shiner," says Sam ; '' Shiner,
old man," and the noble hound springs from his place, clears
the youngsters, and in a moment is rolling on the greensward,
and giving utterance to his joy in notes loud, deep, and pro-
longed. " Constant ! Constant ! " cries Sam, and the wary
old bitch slips round the door-post as if by magic, and whence

' Holnicote, Sir T. D. Acland's residence, was destroyed by fire in August 1851. Jt
is now (18(J2) in the course of rebuilding.

Grouse Driving

fiSi

\v,

STAG-HUNTING

nobody can tell. " Rewin ! Rewin ! " cries the huntsman ;
and, after a few coy wriggles and yells, pretty " Ruin " is
emancipated, and displays her joy by knocking down a small
boy, and defacing a spotless pair of leathers, the property of
a gentleman who is very particular about his costume.
" Trojan " next responds to the summons, and the tale of the
tufters is complete. Sam shuts the door, leaves the pack under
the care of the whip, mounts his hack, tries the effect of his
voice to silence the hounds he leaves behind him, which, to
testify their disappointment, lift up their voices and lament,
but in vain ; and off we go to the edge of the covert, where,
under a friendly oak-tree, we take up our position, while Sam
and the harbourer proceed to their duties. . . .

' Hark, " Constant " speaks ! " Ruin " confirms it. The
tufters open all together, and every eye strains to catch a view
of the game. Here they come : not what we want, but it 's
a pretty sight. A yeld hind in advance, a second hind which
knoweth the cares of maternity, her calf beside her, canter up
towards the tree where we stand — stop, sniff, and trot away,
as if they thought we were dangerous and to be avoided.
" Shiner " is close upon them, the rest of the tufters follo%\ang
him. A little rating and a few cracks of the whip, and their
heads are up ; they know that they are not on the " real
animal," and as soon as Sam's horn summons them, back they
go, and resume their labours. Again they open, and again we
are on the alert. The cry increases — they run merrily, and
we are high in hope.

' " Ware fox ! " says an M.F.H., the best sportsman in the
West, as he views Charley slinking along towards the gap in
the hedgerow. Then with his stentorian voice he calls out
to Sam, " Your hounds are on a fox, Sam." Sam does not
hear, but rides up within a hundred yards of us. " ^^^lat,
Sir ? " " Your hounds aie on a fox, Sam," repeats the
M.F.H. "Think not. Sir,' says Sam. ''''My hounds won't
hunt fox ! " "I tell you they are on a fox, Sam — call them
off," says the fox-hunter. Sam looks vicious, but he obeys,

E 33

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

saying in a voice which could be heard by the Master of Fox-
hounds, but certainly not by the tufters, " Get away hounds,
get away ; ain't you ashamed of hunting of a stinking little
warmint, not half the size of yourselves ? Get away ! " Sam
still maintains his creed that his tufters were not on the fox,
and two minutes afterwards a yell announced that a different

sort of animal was afoot. Another tally : Tom W 's

voice, a guarantee that it is the right thing — for a good
yeoman is the best and truest stag-hunter that ever cheered
a hound. Every one is on the alert ; we ride forward, and
presently, in the distance, view, not a stag, alas ! but a hind
breaking towards the moor. " How is this, Tom ? You were
wrong for once." " No, Sir, not I ; I '11 swear it was a stag,
and a good one — but you see he has pushed up the hind and
gone down, and we must have him up again." So the tufters
are stopped again, and sent back on heel, and by and by that
unmistakable " yell " which announces a view is heard, and
this time the antlered monarch reveals himself to the whole
of the assembled multitude. It is but for a moment ; again
he seeks the depths of the covert, but the tufters rattle him
along, and are so close that he has no time for playing tricks,
and beyond all doubt must now face the open. We ride
towards the spot where in all probability he will break, and as
the voice of the hounds comes nearer and yet more near, you
may almost hear the pulses of the throng of spectators standing
by the gate of that large oat-stubble beat with excitement.

' Hark ! a rustle in the wood, then a pause. Then a rush,
and then — in his full glory and majesty, on the bank separating
the wood from the field, stands the noble animal ! Look at
him — mark his full, thoughtful eye — his noble bearing. Look
at his beamed frontlet — how he bears it — not a trace of fear
about his gestvu-es — all dignified and noble, yet how full of
thought and sagacity. He pauses for a minute, perfectly
regardless of the hundreds at the gate who gaze upon him.

' You need not fear that he will be " blanched," that is
headed, by the formidable array drawn up to inspect him.

STAG-HUNTING

He has too well considered his course of action to be deterred
from making good his point. Quietly and attentively he listens
to the tufters, as with unerring instinct they approach — " the
cry is still they come." His noble head moves more quickly
from side to side— the moment for action has arrived — the
covert is no longer safe. He must seek safety in flight, and
look to securer shades wherein to rest. So he gathers himself
together to run his course.

' There ! you have seen a wild stag break covert, and
stretch away over the open. Did you ever see a finer sight —
did you mark well the beauty of his action as he bounded from
the fence of the wood ? Did you not view with admiration
his stately form as he gazed on the hunters drawn up at the
gate — the momentary pause, ere he stalked a few strides, as
if to show that he feared us not ? Was not the bounding trot
into which he then broke the very " poetry of motion " ?
And when at length he exchanged it for a long, easy, steady
gallop, did you ever witness movement more elastic and
graceful ?

' Now, my friends, draw your girths, lend your aid to stop
the tufters, and make up your minds for a run. If you see
that stag again this side of Brendon Barton (unless by chance
we fall in with him, and he is " set up," brought to bay, that is,
in Badgworthy Water) I am very much mistaken. The
tufters are stopped, not without some difficulty. Sam and
his coadjutors emerge from the covert, the pack leave their
barn, and are taken carefully up to a spot where it is con-
venient to lay on. A shejDherd who has viewed the deer on the
open moor lifts his hat on a stick. We go to the signal — the
hounds press forward and are unrestrained — they dash — fling
their sterns — a whimper— a crash — they are off, and a hundred
horsemen follow as best they may across the wild open waste.

' The pace is tremendous — the ground uneven and often
deep — already a tail, and many a gallant steed sobbing. On —
on still — till we come to the Badgworthy Water, a river, or
large burn, running down by the covert bearing that name.

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Now, Sam, show yourself worthy to bear the horn, for there
are few things requiring nicer judgment and discretion than
making a cast in water. On go the pack — they reach the
stream, and check for a moment. Then half the hounds rush
through it, Avhile many swim down stream, giving tongue as
they go, and apparently hunting the deer down the water.

' Beware ! for this is a critical moment. If the stag has
gone up stream the water will carry the scent downwards, and
the hounds will go on and on for miles in a different direction
from that in which the deer has gone. In this instance I will
wager he has not gone far down stream, for from our vantage-
ground, as we come over the crest of the hill, I saw the sheep
feeding quietly in yonder coombe by the river side, not huddled
as they would have been, if our quarry had passed near them—
and, moreover, I descried a watchful heron which was fishing
in a shallow pool, while his companion flapped heavily and
securely down the water in quest of other feeding-grounds.
If our deer had passed these shy birds, they would have been
careering high above our heads in search of more quiet and
undisturbed retreats. For such signs as these the huntsman
must ever be on the look-out, if he desire to match his powers
of reasoning and observation against the cunning and sagacity
of a deer. . . .

' He has refreshed himself in a deep pool close to the spot
where he took soil, and without staying long to enjoy the
luxury of the bath, has risen, though not " fresh as the foam,"
again to stretch across the moor, and if possible, to seek safety
among the herd on Scab Hill, whose numbers saved him only
last week.

' Away ! away ! over the stone walls and across the forest.
Fortunately not one deer is in the line to divert the attention
of the hounds ; though far to the left are to be seen against the
sky-line, the forms of some fifteen or twenty deer, whose
watchful eyes and ears have seen sights and heard sounds
which bode danger, and warn them to be on the alert. The
Master goes gallantly to the fore on " Little Nell," though his

STAG-HUNTING

headdress, consisting of a bandana twisted about his brows,
looks rather " out of order." He had a hat, but in the deep
ground the other side of the last wall, he shook it off, and in
the next stride Little Nell's forefoot planted it two feet deep
in a bog. Onward stride the hounds, mute as mice, and the
select few ride anxiously and carefully, hands well down and
helping their horses as best they can, each man wishing in his
heart of hearts that there may be a friendly check ere long,
except perhaps old !Mr. Snow, of Oare, whose threescore years
and ten have not tamed the warmth of his blood or his ardour
in the chase, and who now is in the very height of his happiness,
for below him he sees his own farms and the roof of his own
homestead, and under him " Norah Creina " strides along in
her lashing, easy gallop, with the confidence which an intimate
knowledge of every sod beneath her feet inspires and creates.
The ground is open. A little on a decUne and far away, close,
close to the wall of the Scab Hill enclosure, I see something
moving along " with hobbling gait and high " which I cannot
doubt is our quarry. Unless the herd shelter him, " this day
the stag shall die." Forward ! forward ! and again the hounds
lash and stride over the long sedges, the faintest whimper
possible from time to time announcing that they are running
on a burning scent, but have too much to do to be able to
own it.

' We gain the wall of the enclosure over which the pack
scrambles with difficulty while the remaining horsemen seek
a friendly gate. A shepherd has \'iewed the stag, and to our
joy reports that he has not joined the herd, but turned to the
right to seek the covert, and take soil in the limpid waters of
the impetuous Lynn. Down rush the hounds, and we reach
the ford in time to see the body of the pack struggUng in the
foaming waters of the torrent, while the leading hounds are
carrying on the scent up the opposite steep. Onward we urge our
sobbing steeds, though some of the few who still keep their place
look as though they had had enough . . . and on Countisbury
Common catch the fresh and welcome breezes of the Channel,

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

and slacken our speed as the pack turn unmistakably towards
the sea where we know our gallant stag will stop to refresh
himself. Nor are we mistaken, for as we turn into one of the
steep paths of Glenthorne overhanging the Channel we see
below us our quarry dripping from his recent bath, standing
proudly on a rock surrounded by the flowing tide, and watch-
ing his pursuers with anxious eyes. The hounds bay him
from the land : one adventurer from the pack takes the
water and already is at the base of the cliff on which the deer
stands. Poor victim ! Scarce has he lifted himself from the
waves when he is dashed back again by an unerring blow struck
quick as lightning by the forefoot of the deer, and floats a
corpse in the waters from which a moment ago he emerged.

' Meantime the news of the chase has brought together the
rustics who are working near the spot. Their endeavours to
dislodge the stag from his stronghold by shouts and stones are
successful and, dashing through the water, he reaches the cliffs,
gains a craggy path leading along them, and stretches away
above Glenthorne House towards Yeanworth. But it is evident
his race is run. The heavy gallop, the faltering stride and the
lowered head, proclaim that his strength is failing. The check
has increased his stiffness, though it has enabled him partially
to regain his wind. His pursuers are not to be baffled, and
their speed now exceeds his. He is unable again to face the
open, runs feebly and painfully along the beaten paths, and
turning through the woods towards the sea, he reaches the
edge of the cliff, just above the boathouse and beach of Glen-
thorne. His foes are close behind. He gives one wild and
hurried look of fear, and dares the desperate leap. It is done.
He has jumped from a height of at least thirty feet on to the
shore, and in the next moment is floating in the salt sea waves.
Fortunately, one or two sportsmen on the beach keep back the
eager hounds, or some of the best of the pack would in all
probability have been sacrificed, or at least maimed, in the
attempt to follow their quarry in his deed of daring. A few
minutes suffice to man a boat, and put a rope round the horns

STAG-HUNTING

of the deer. The victim is dragged in triumph to the beach,
the knife is at his throat, and amid the baying of the pack,
and the loud whoo' whoops of the crowd, the noble and gallant
animal yields up his life.'

The generally accepted idea that carted-deer hunting is
an invention of degenerate modernity is mistaken. The Royal
Buckhounds enlarged deer from a cart at the beginning of
George ii.'s reign. There are references in the Accounts of
the Great Wardrobe to the ' deer van ' or ' deer waggon ' as
far back as 1630, but there is nothing to show that this vehicle
was used for conveying the deer to the meet. It may have
been so used : but its main purpose was to convey deer which
had been caught in other royal forests to the park at Windsor.
The earliest mention of carted deer refers to Saturday, 14th
September 1728, when ' an elk ' (presumably a wapiti) was
uncarted at Windsor and gave a brilliant run : ' and from this
time forward carted deer were frequently used by the royal
pack. Hounslow Heath, Sunbury and Richmond were often
the scenes of meets to hunt a carted deer during the years
ensuing, and there is at least one mention of the deer being
enlarged at Epsom. In those days the deer cart, or ' waggon '
as it was then called, was only brought into use when occasion
required. Until the end of the eighteenth century the system
varied : a deer was either cut out from a herd in the Park, was
turned out from Swinley paddocks and hunted therefrom, or
it was carted at Swinley and conveyed ' to such place and at
such time as may have been previously appointed.'

Some very long runs have been given by deer. On 26th
January 1899, the Ripley and Knaphill got on the line of an
outlying hind near Lord Pirbright's house and ran her for
5 hours 40 minutes till whipped off at dark near Woking :
a thirty-miles point, and much more as hounds ran. During
February of the present year the Mid Kent took an outlier
after a thirty-mile run, and the Essex a few days later enlarged
a deer which gave a run of the same length. On 20th September

' History of the Royal Buckhounds, by J. P. Hore.

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

1880 the Devon and Somerset lost their stag after a thirty-mile
run : he beat them, as many a stag has done, before and since,
by putting out to sea, whence he was rescued by fishermen.

Deer make extraordinarily big jumps on occasion. Lord
Ribblesdale says that the deer Runaway earned his name by
jumping the oak palings of Swinley paddocks, 8 feet high :
he had been startled by the crack of a whip. A fallow buck
which, having escaped from Chippenham Park, was run by
harriers, made two wonderful leaps to regain its old quarters :
the first 27 feet over a rail and bank into a road, the next over
the park wall which, with the bank on which it stood, was
9 feet in height : the two consecutive leaps covered 42 feet.

Fallow deer have given some long runs : but perhaps they
are more remarkable for their craft than for straight running.
Mr. George Race maintains that a fallow deer shows greater
resource in eluding hounds than either fox or hare. ' I have
seen them when beaten jump into a brook and submerge them-
selves till only their nose remained above water. They will
spring sideways from their tracks and crouch in covert while
hounds over-run the scent. I have seen them drop down in a
wood of a year's growth in a large bunch of grass and briars,
hiding cleverly where you would think it impossible for so large
an animal to find concealment.'

Cervine methods, in a word, have not changed during the
centuries : ' and bicause they should have no sent of him nor
vent him he wil trusse all his iiii feete under his belly and will
blow^ and breath upon ye grounde in some moyst place in such
sorte yt I have scene the houndes passe by such an Harte
within a yeard of him and never vent him ... if he have
taken the soyle in such sort, that of all his body you shal see
nothing but his nose : and I have seen divers lye so untyll
the houndes have beene upon them before they would ryse '
[The Booke of Hunting, 1576).

Grouse over Dogs

r'*

; V

■'--r^f-'

<'W^-

STAG-HUNTING

THE LORD OF THE VALLEY

A STAG-HUXTEIt's SOXG

Hunters are fretting, and hacks in a lather,

Sportsmen arriving from left and from right,
Bridle-roads bringing them, see how they gather !

Dotting the meadows in scarlet and white.
Foot-people staring, and horsemen preparing ;

Now there's a murmur — a stir — and a shout !
Fresh from his carriage, as bridegroom in marriage,

The Lord of the Valley leaps gallantly out.

Time, the Avenger, neglecting, or scorning,

Gazes about him in beauteous disdain,
Lingers to toy with the whisper of morning,

Daintily, airily, paces the plain.
Then in a second, his course having reckoned.

Line that all Leicestershire cannot surpass.
Fleet as a swallow, when summer winds follow.

The Lord of the Valley skims over the grass.

Where shall we take him .'' Ah ! now for the tussle,

These are the beauties can stoop and can flv ;
Down go their noses, together they bustle,

Dashing, and flinging, and scorning to cry !
Never stand dreaming, while vonder they're streaming;

If ever you meant it, man, mean it to-day !
Bold ones are riding and fast ones are striding.

The Lord of the Valley is Forward ! Away !

Hard on his track, o'er the open and facing.

The cream of the country, the pick of the chase,
Mute as a dream, his pursuers are racing,

Silence, you know, 's the criterion of pace I
Swarming and driving, while man and horse striving

By cramming and hugging, scarce live with them still ;
The fastest are failing, the truest are tailing.

The Lord of the \'alley is over the hill !
41

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Yonder a steed is rolled up with his master ;

Here, in a double, another lies cast ;
Thicker and faster comes grief and disaster.

All but the good ones are weeded at last.
Hunters so limber, at water and timber,

Now on the causeway are fain to be led ;
Beat, but still going, a countryman sowing

Has sighted the Lord of the Valley ahead.

There in the bottom, see, sluggish and idle,

Steals the dark stream where the willow-tree grows !
Harden vour heart, and catch hold of your bridle !

Steady him — rouse him — and over he goes !
Look ! in a minute a dozen are in it !

But Forward ! Hark Forward ! for draggled and blown,
A check though desiring, with courage untiring

The Lord of the Valley is holding his own.

Onward we struggle in sorrow and labour.

Lurching and lobbing, and 'bellows to mend';
Each, while he smiles at the plight of his neighbour.

Only is anxious to get to the end.
Horses are flagging, hounds drooping and lagging.

Yet gathering down yonder, where, press as they may.
Mobbed, driven, and haunted, but game and undaunted,

The Lord of the Valley stands proudly at bay !

Then here 's to the Baron, ^ and all his supporters —

The thrusters — the skirters — the whole of the tale ;
And here's to the fairest of all hunting quarters.

The widest of pastures — three cheers for the Yale ; ^
For the lovely she-rider, the rogue, who beside her,

Finds breath in a gallop his suit to advance ;
The hounds, for our pleasure, that time us the measure.

The Lord of the Valley, that leads us the dance !

G. J. Whyte Melvillk,
Baily^s Magazine, Feb. 1868.

' Rothschild. ^ of Aylesbury.

HARE-HUNTING

THE old system of hare-hunting with slow hounds,
which were frequently followed on foot, was going
out of fashion at the end of the eighteenth century.
Sport with the Southern hound ' or such heavy
dogs as Sussex Gentlemen use on the weald,' says William
Blaine in 1781, appealed to him ' that delights in a long chace
of six hours, often more, and to be with the dogs all the time.'
The delights of such prolonged hunts, however, had begun to
pall even on the most enthusiastic ; and really, unless the music
for which Southern hounds were so famous might be regarded
as the principal feature of the business, we cannot feel surprise.
These hounds had splendid noses, but their appreciation of
scent had drawbacks. On occasion, overcome by the delights
that were in their nostrils, the whole cry would sit down on the
line and, heeding naught else, upraise their voices in chorus of
ecstasy. This exhibition of music and emotion too frequently
resulted in the loss of the hare ; which, remarks Blaine tem-
perately, ' is by some thought necessary to complete the
sport.'

Slow and phlegmatic, ' these grave sort of dogs ' were
peculiarly amenable to discipline and were usually ' hunted
under the pole,' as the old term had it. The huntsman
carried a light leaping-pole with which to vault fences and
brooks, and he had the pack under such command that he
could stop them at pleasure by throwing down the pole before
the pack. Sir Roger de Coverley's ' Stop hounds,' described
by Budgell in the Spectator,^ were manifestly of the Southern
breed.

' 1:2th July 1711. Eustace Budfrell, cousin of Addison, was a frequent contributor.
We need not doubt that lie describes such a liunt as any country gentleman enjoyed in
Queen Anne's time.

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

' Sir Roger being at present too old for fox-hunting, to keep
himself in action, has disposed of his beagles and got a pack of
stop-hounds. What these want in speed, he endeavours to
make amends for by the deepness of their mouths and the
variety of their notes, which are suited in such manner to each
other, that the whole cry makes up a complete concert. He
is so nice in this particular, that a gentleman having made
him a present of a very fine hound the other day, the knight
returned it by the servant with a great many expressions of
civility ; but desired him to tell his master, that the dog he
had sent was indeed a most excellent bass, but that at present
he only wanted a counter-tenor. Could I believe my friend
had ever read Shakespeare, I should certainly conclude he
had taken the hint from Theseus in the Midsummer Nighfs
Dream : —

" My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flu'd, so sanded ; ^ and their heads are hung
With cars that sweep away the morning dew,
Crook-knee'd and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls,
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouths like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tunable
Was never halloo'd to, nor cheer'd with horn."

' Sir Roger is so keen at this sport, that he has been out
almost every day since I came down ; and upon the chaplain's
offering to lend me his easy pad, I was prevailed on yesterday
morning to make one of the company. I Avas extremely
pleased as we rid along, to observe the general benevolence of
all the neighbourhood towards my friend. The farmers' sons
thought themselves happy if they could open a gate for the
good old knight as he passed by ; which he generally requited
with a nod or a smile, and a kind inquiry after their fathers
or uncles.

' After we had rid about a mile from home, we came upon
a large heath, and the sportsmen began to beat.' They had

' Marked with small specks.

- 'Some huntsmen trail to a hare, others trouhle themselves not at all about trailing

HARE-HUNTING

done so for some time, when, as I was at a little distance from
the rest of the company, I saw a hare pop from a small furze-
brake almost under my horse's feet. I marked the way she
took, which I endeavoured to make the company sensible of
by extending my arm ; but to no purpose, till Sir Roger, who
knows that none of my extraordinary motions are insignificant,
rode up to me, and asked me, if puss was gone that way ?
Upon my answering yes, he immediately called in the dogs,
and put them upon the scent. As they were going off, I heard
one of the country-fellows muttering to his companion, " that
"twas a wonder they had not lost all their sport, for want of the
silent gentleman's crying Stole away."

' This, with my aversion to leaping hedges, made me with-
draw to a rising ground, from whence I could have the pleasure
of the whole chase, without the fatigue of keeping in with the
hounds. The hare immediately threw them above a mile
behind her ; but I was pleased to find, that instead of running
straight forwards, or in hunter's language, " flying the
country," as I was afraid she might have done, she wheeled
about, and described a sort of circle round the hill where I had
taken my station, in such a manner as gave me a very distinct
view of the sport. I could see her first pass by, and the dogs
sometime afterwards unravelling the whole track she had
made, and following her throvigh all her doubles. I was at the
same time delighted in observing that deference which the rest
of the pack paid to each particular hound, according to the
character he had acquired amongst them. If they were at a
fault, and an old hound of reputation opened but once, he was
immediately followed by the whole cry ; while a raw dog, or
one who was a noted liar, might have yelped his heart out,
without being taken notice of.

' The hare now, after having squatted two or three times,

to her, but proceed with the company to threshing the liedges for a wide compass, being
so sparing of their pains as often to beat over as beat a hare up. P"or my part I think
trailing fairly and starting the nicest part of the whole pastime, provided wind and
weather permit' (William Blaine).

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

and been put up again as often, came still nearer to the place
where she was at first started. The dogs pursued her, and
these were followed by the jolly knight, who rode upon a white
gelding, encompassed by his tenants and servants, and cheer-
ing his hounds with all the gaiety of five and twenty.

' One of the sportsmen rode up to me, and told me,
that he was sure the chase was almost at an end, because the
old dogs, which had hitherto lain behind, now headed the pack.
The fellow was in the right. Our hare took a large field just
under us, followed by the full cry In View. I must confess
the brightness of the weather, the cheerfulness of everything
around me, the chiding of the hounds, which was returned
upon us in a double echo from two neighbouring hills, with the
hallooing of the sportsmen, and the sounding of the horn,
lifted my spirits into a most lively pleasure, which I freely
indulged because I was sure it was innocent. If I was under
any concern, it was on the account of the poor hare, that was
now quite spent, and almost within the reach of her enemies ;
when the huntsman getting forward threw down his pole
before the dogs. They were now within eight yards of that
game which they had been pursuing for almost as many hours ;
yet on the signal before-mentioned they all made a sudden
stand, and though they continued opening as much as before,
durst not once attempt to pass beyond the pole. At the same
time Sir Roger rode forward, and alighting took up the hare in
his arms ; which he soon after delivered up to one of his
servants with an order, if she could be kept alive, to let her
go in his great orchard ; where it seems he has several of these
prisoners of war, who live together in a very comfortable
captivity. I was highly pleased to see the discipline of the
pack, and the good-nature of the knight, who could not find
in his heart to murder a creature that had given him so much
diversion.'

The ' beagles ' of which Sir Roger had disposed would be
the hounds known then and later as ' Northern Beagles,'
whose original home appears to have been Lancashire. They

HARE-HUNTING

were used for fox-hunting and, as the old slow system of hare-
hunting lost vogue, for that sport also.

Such disciphne as Budgell admired can be matched among
foxhounds. It is recorded of Mr. Meynell that one day, in the
]\Iarket Harborough country, he was drawing a thin gorse
covert, and the fox was in danger of being chopped. He called
to Jack Raven to take the hounds away, and at one of his usual
rates every hound stopped and was taken to the hedge side.
Meynell then called three steady hounds by name and threw
them into the covert. The fox was so loth to break that the
three hunted him for about ten minutes in the hearing of the
whole pack ; but so perfect was the discipline, they lay quietlv
about Raven's horse until the fox went away. Then the
Master gave ' his most energetic thrilling halloo,' and every
hound flew to him. An instance of discipline equally striking
is cited on the authority of Sir Arthur Halkett in Lord Ribbles-
dale's book. The Queen's Hounds. And let us not forget the
vast difference of temperament between Sir Roger de Coverley's
' Stop hounds ' and the foxhound.

It has been remarked by a modern writer that if Sir Roger's
rescue of the hare exemplified the usual practice, those Southern
hounds must have been above such material considerations
as blood. There is much reason to think that the chase was
far more than the quarry to the Southern hound : which
suggests the reflection that fox-flesh is an acquired taste, and
one that all hounds have not yet acquired. Welsh hounds do
not always break up their fox, unless urged on to do it or en-
couraged by English companions : the late Sir Richard Green
Price told me he had ' often known them leave their dead fox
if they kill him by themselves.' The foxhounds of the fells also
do not break up their quarry. Hounds would not eat fox-flesh
in Turbervile's day (1575) ; but when Nicholas Cox wrote in
1685 he said, ' Many hounds will eat the fox with eagerness.'
E\ddently they had learned to do it during the hundred years
preceding.

It is permissible to suspect the unqualified charity of the

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

motives which actuated Sir Roger in ordering that hare to be
turned out in the orchard. Hares are not the most desirable
live stock to maintain among fruit trees ; it is likely that in
Queen Anne's time, as at the end of the century, the practice
of hunting ' basket ' or ' trap ' hares may have been in vogue.
No more scruple was held about hunting basket hares than
bag foxes. Beckford, you remember, kept a paled warren
with brick menses, and trapped a hare whenever he happened
to want one for hunting or coursing.

To write of hare-hunting and omit at least a passage from
The Chace would savour of heresy : —

' ... As captive boys,
CowM by the ruling rod, and haughty frowns
Of pedagogues severe, from their hard tasks
If once dismissed, no limits can contain,
The tumult rais'd within their little breasts.
But give a loose to all their frolic play :
So from their kennel rush the joyous pack ;
A tliousand wanton gaieties express
Their inward ecstasy, their pleasing sport
Once more indulg''d, and liberty restored.
The rising sun that o'er th' liorizon peeps,
As many colours from their glossy skins
Beaming reflects, as paint the various bow
When April showVs descend. Delightful scene !
Where all around is gay, men, horses, dogs.
And in each smiling countenance appears
Fresh-blooming liealth, and universal joy.
Huntsman, lead on ! behind the clustVing pack
Submiss attend, hear with respect thy whip
Loud-clanging, and tliy harsher voice obey :
Spare not the straggling cur that wildly roves,
But let thy brisk assistant on his back
Imprint thy just resentments, let each lash
Bite to the quick, till howling he return
And whining creep amid the trembling crowd.
Here on this veniant spot, where Nature kind
With double blessings crowns the farmer's hopes ;
48

HARE-HUNTING

Where flowVs autumnal spring, and the rank mead

Affords the wandVing hares a rich repast ;

Throw off thy ready pack. See, where they spread

And range around, and dash the glitt'ring dew.

If some stanch hound, with his authentic voice,

Avow the recent trail, the jostling tribe

Attend his call, then with one mutual crv

The welcome news confirm, and echoinir hills

Repeat the pleasing tale. See how they thread

The brakes, and up yon furrow drive along !

But quick tiiey hack recoil, and wisely check

Their eager haste ; then o'er the fallowed ground

How leisurely they work, and many a pause

Th' harmonious concert breaks; till more assured

With joy redoubled the low valleys ring.

What artful labyrinths perplex their way !

Ah ! there she lies ; how close ! she pants, she doubts

If now she lives; she trembles as she sits.

With horror seiz\l. The withered grass that clings

Around her head, of the same russet hue.

Almost deceiv''d my sight, had not her eyes

With life full-beaming her vain wiles betray'd.

At distance draw thy pack, let all be hush'd.

No clamour loud, no frantic joy be heard.

Lest the wild hound run gadding o'er the plain

Untractable, nor hear thy chiding voice.

Now gently put her off; see how direct

To her known mews she flies ! Here, huntsman, bring

(But without hurry) all thy jolly hounds,

And calmly lay them on. How low they stoop.

And seem to plough the ground ; then all at once

With greedy nostrils snuff the foaming steam

That glads their ffutt'ring hearts. As winds let loose

From the dark caverns of the blustVing god.

They burst away, and sweep the dewy lawn,

Hope gives them wings, while she's spurr'd on by fear.

The welkin rings, men, dogs, hills, rocks, and woods.

In the full concert join. Now, my brave youths,

Stripp'd for the chace, give all your souls to joy !

See how their coursers, than the mountain roe

G 49

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

More fleet, the verdant carpet skim, thick clouds

Snorting they breathe, their shining hoofs scarce print

The grass unbruis'd ; with emulation fir'd,

They strain to lead the field, top the barr'd gate,

O'er the deep ditcli exulting bound, and brush

The thorny-twining hedge : the riders bend

Cer their arch'd necks ; with steady hands by turns

Indulge their speed, or moderate their rage.

Where are their sorrows, disappointments, wrongs,

Vexations, sickness, cares ? All, all are gone,

And with the panting winds lag far behind.

Huntsman ! her gait observe ; if in wide rings

She wheel iier mazy way, in the same round

Persisting still, she'll foil the beaten track,

But if she fly, and with the favVing wind

Urge her bold course, less intricate thy task :

Push on thy pack. Like some poor exil'd wretch.

The frighted chace leaves her late dear abodes,

O'er plains remote she stretches far away.

All ! never to return ! For greedy death

Hov'ring exults, secure to seize his prey.

Hark ! from yon covert, where those tow'ring oaks

Above the humble copse aspiring rise,

What glorious triumphs burst in ev'ry gale

Upon our ravish'd ears ! The hunters shout.

The clanging horns swell their sweet-winding notes.

The pack wide-op'ning load the trembling air

W^ith various melody ; from tree to tree

The propagated cry redoubling bounds.

And winged zephyrs waft the floating joy

Thro' all the regions near. Afflictive birch

No more the schoolboy dreads ; his prison broke.

Scamp' ring he flies, nor heeds his master's call ;

The weary traveller forgets his road.

And climbs the adjacent hill ; the ploughman leaves

Th' unfinished furrow ; nor his bleating flocks

Are now the shepherd's joy ; men, boys, and girls.

Desert th' unpeopled village: and wild crowds

Spread o'er the plain, by the sweet frenzy seized.

Look how she pants ! and o'er yon op'ning glade

HAKE-HUNTING

Slips glancing by ; while, at the further end
The puzzling pack unravel, wile by wile,
Maze within maze. The covert's utmost bound
Slyly she skirts : behind them cautious creeps,
And in that very track, so lately stain'd
By all the steaming crowd, seems to pursue
The foe she flies. . . .

Now the poor chace
Begins to flag, to her last shifts reduced.
From brake to brake she flies, and visits all
Her well-known haunts, where once she rang'd secure,
With love and plenty blest. See ! there she goes,
She reels along, and by her gait betrays
Her inward weakness. See, how black she looks !
The sweat that clogs th' obstructed pores, scarce leaves
A languid scent. And now in open view
See, see, she flies ! each eager hound exerts
His utmost speed, and stretches evVy nerve,
How quick she turns ! tiieir gaping jaws eludes.
And yet a moment lives; till round enclosed
By all the greedy pack, with infant screams
She yields her breath, and there reluctant dies.'

Passages in Somerville's poem appear hardly in accordance
with his avowed principles. His field, unless poetic Ucence
set practical knowledge at naught, had to ride for all they were
worth to live with the pack ; though granting the presence of
thrusters, we need not imagine speed comparable to that of
the modern hunter. Somerville himself could not have ridden
very hard, as we are told that he vised to pull out his favourite
hunter, Old Ball, three times a week : of this useful animal
his owner has left record that he ' would not hold out two days
together.' Old Ball was a ' real good English hunter standing
about 15 hands high, with black legs, short back, high in the
shoulders, large barrel, cropped ears, and a white blaze.'

The Royal Harriers, which had been re-established in 1730,'
seem to have been the first pack of hounds to advertise meets.
During the Regency they were kennelled at Brighton, then at

' The pack hiid been given up in James ii.'s reign.

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

the zenith of its fame as a winter resort, and met ' for the
amusement of all who choose to join the hunt ' on Mondays
near Portslade Windmill, on Wednesdays near Patcham, and
on Fridays on the Race Hill. The field was not always well
behaved : upon a day in October 1804 the huntsman was
compelled to go home ' before the accustomed time ' by reason
of the misconduct of men who persisted in riding before the
hounds.

Five or six miles is accounted a good point for a hare when
' forced to make out endwaies,' as Turbervile so happily puts it.
Mr. Fames, Master of the Cootley, has been good enough to tell
me of a run which must be unique for length. It occurred in
the time of his grandfather sixty or seventy years ago : finding
near Chard, hounds ran their hare to Wellington Monument
and killed her after a fifteen-mile point.

Mr. George Race, now in his seventieth year of Mastership
(surely the ' record ' in the whole history of hunting), once saw
a run of twelve miles. He writes : ' It took place on 28th
December 1848. We found our hare in Litlington field, and
she went straight to the bottom part of Morden Heath, where
there was a wood sale going on. The jjeople turned her to the
left, and she went over the Royston and Baldock road, up the
hill into the open, nearly to the top of Royston town. Here
she came down the hill, and was evidently going back to Litling-
ton field, but there were so many foot-people, carriages and
waggons passing, she would not cross the road, and turned up
the hill again, and leaving Mr. Thurnall's gorse just on our
right, went over the open to Seven Riders, where a waggon
turned her to the right. She went up the hill to Reed village
and straight across the fields to the Old North Road, up which
she ran as hard as she could go to just below Backland, where
a road-mender turned her to the left over the fields down to
Capon's Wood. Here hounds raced into view and bowled her
over in a rackway in the wood. The time was not taken, but
it was a fine run. Mr. William Pope, Mr. Chas. Lindsell
(Master of the Cambridgeshire for seventeen years), and myself

HARE-HUNTING

were the only people who really saw this run. The greater
part of it was in the Puckeridge country.'

Mr. Race recalls another remarkable run, straight — and
eight miles from point to point.

Mr. Baron D. Webster, for ten years master and owner of
the Haldon, has kindly sent me some interesting notes : — ' I
have, during my experience, seen less of the extraordinary
cunning of the hare than might have been expected. Where
our country is mostly moor or woodland, hares are scarce, and
they run far more like foxes than they do in an enclosed
district. . . .

' During my first season as Master of the Haldon we had
a run which for pace and distance can very seldom have been
surpassed. On jMonday, 14th February 1898, we met at
Ashwell Cross : we did no good with our first hare. It was the
second one that gave the run : we found her exactly at one
o'clock on the ojDcn moor between Lidwell and Xewtake.
She got up behind the hounds, so they did not see her, and they
were laid on the line with as little noise as possible. Our hare
made at once for Newtake, and hounds ran at a fair pace the
whole length of this lonw narrow ororse brake and checked a

O CD t^

moment at the Ashwell end. Hittinw off the line again, thev
ran well over the open part of Humber Moor and seemed to be
making for the Pheasant covert about Lindridge House, but
turning away from Lindridge they ran well down the green lane,
and skirting Luton Moor, were brought to their noses on
some plough till they came to the dreaded Luton Bottom.
Crossing this deep " goyle " or dingle, hounds hesitated a little
on the further side and gave such of the field who were inclined
to negotiate it time to find the only possible crossing. Those
who did not care to face the difficulties of the goyle saw no more
of the hunt. The hare then took us into Rixtail Moor (she
had been crossing a good deal of partly enclosed moorland)
and hence she ran the road for a very long distance. I kept
the now much reduced field well behind hounds, but had just
begun to fear we had pressed them over the point where the

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

hare had left the road, when they turned to the right and once
more we were racing on the rough moorland. It seemed
certain that the hare was making for the depths of Luscombe
Wood, an enormous covert, and the huntsman with one de-
tachment of the field rode for that, while I with the remainder
kept as near as possible to hounds, now running hard. A nasty
fence caused us almost to lose hounds, such was the pace they
were going, but I just caught sight of old black-and-tan
Gambler doing his best to catch up the body of the pack outside
the wood which hounds never entered.

" They have gone for Dawlish town," cried a labourer from a
high bank as we swept past him ; and presently one of the field
saw them "miles ahead," driving up the mound on which Dawlish
reservoir is situated. Wire and locked gates in a country then
(fourteen years ago) entirely new to us caused loss of time,
but when we got up to and beyond the reservoir I saw to my
relief the hounds at check not far below, in a large field of
wheat. Just as I was going to take hold of them, the hunts-
man— who had had a terribly rough journey from Luscombe
Wood — arrived : he made a bold forward cast and hit off the
line at a gate. From here hounds simply flew ; crossing
Secmaton Trench, which bothered us all considerably, they
raced to Langdon Lodge on the Dawlish and Starcross road,
where they came to a decided check. Something was said
about a holloa forward, but I heard nothing myself, and feeling
sure the hare had thrown up close by, persevered in trying
every hedgerow and bit of covert. It was in vain, and I had
just given the word for home when a groom, riding bare-backed,
galloped up and said he had seen the hare on the Warren, where
the golf links are : his was the holloa that had been heard.
After such a run as she had given I felt sure that if we did not
have the hare, some one else would : so to the utter astonish-
ment of the golfers and the crowd on the sea front of Exmouth
just across the Exe, we galloped up to the links and hit off the
line in a moment. The hare soon got up under my horse, and
I never saw one so black ; she ran as strong as ever, though,

HARE-HUNTING

while the high sandhills and the frequent views hounds got,
were all in her favour until we at last pressed her on to
the open beach, when we felt sure of her. Hounds, however,
had got their heads up, and feeling sure that the hare was
dodging among the sandhills they came unwillingly and slowly
to the holloa. Eventually she took the water close under
my horse : I could have jumped off and caught her easily,
but was unwilling to spoil such a run as this by an irregular
kill. Nothing we could do availed to make hounds see her :
the current was strong, and by the time I realised that they
could not be got to follow her, she was out of reach. Boats
came out from Exmouth, but were too late to pick her up,
and she sank before our eyes. I was greatly annoyed with
myself then for not having picked her up when I might have
done so.

' From Ashwell to the far end of the Warren, where the
hare went into the sea, is just over eight miles, but as hounds
ran it was very much farther : to Langdon Lodge it was nine
miles, allowing for the round by Lindridge and Luton, and as
to that point the time was an hour and a quarter, it will be
admitted that this was one of the finest runs on record.

' These exceptional runs,' Mr. Webster adds, ' happily
result almost always in a kill.'

Concerning the mancEuvre usually first tried by a hunted
hare, he gives a good example : — ' We were once hunting over
Little Haldon, an extensive open moor that marches with
Luton Moor, an enclosed area containing boggy brakes which
form excellent covert. About 150 yards from the bank
enclosing Luton Moor we ran through a small patch of gorse :
and on coming to the bank hounds checked a moment, then
turned and ran back to the gorse led by a reliable hound
named Pleader. I was near enough to see Pleader's eye,
and I knew he was right and was running for blood, so stopped
the cry of war' heel and forbade the huntsman trying over the
bank for a minute or two. I heard myself called uncompli-
mentary names, but Pleader was right. He almost had the

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

hare in the gorse : she broke under his nose, raced away up
hill, and thanks to the advantage this naturally gave, saved
her scut.

' Hares will make leaps almost incredible from the open
field into the hedge, and will do the same at a gate. They fly
to gates to escape the exertion of getting over a fence wherein
they know no certain meuse ; as soon as harriers become at
all unsteady they will forsake the line and make for the first
gate or rail forward — a very bad habit.

' The hare's peculiarity of turning up or down a fence
after passing through it instead of going straight away makes
running a fox, which does just the reverse, ruinous to harriers.
If good harriers are not pressed by horsemen they will at once
try up and down the fence : let but one horseman go over
before the pack is again settled on the line, and he spoils
everything. A steady field makes a steady pack.

' Here is a curious fact that may interest you : — There is
in our country a certain estate with a very large demesne, and
we are only allowed to hunt over an unenclosed portion of the
property. The demesne, which is luckily quite on our boundary,
is full of hares, but they are very seldom seen out of it. On
three occasions I have known hares make straight for this
demesne, all three having been found within a few yards of
the same spot which is at a considerable distance from the place
referred to and, moreover, on the further side of the river
Teign. We killed all three, one, by the way, in the river itself,
after runs as hard and straight as possible. But why should
all these three bucks have been found on that one spot ? It
may be conjectured that the gentlemen were tired of the
ladies of their own district and came hither in search of variety :
but against this must be set the fact that hares are by no
means plentiful in the district about the place where the three
were found.

' Hare-hunting, according to the Almanac, ends on 1st
March, but for my own part I like to go on till Lady Day,
25th March, because, as in fox-hunting, the best sport of the
season is obtained during February and March. And here I

HARE-HUNTING

may remark that when, after 1st February or thereabouts,
you find two hares together, be sure and lay the pack on the
line of the one that goes away first, for that is sure to be the
buck. It is true that he may keep circling round to the doe,
but on the other hand he is just as likely to fly to the district
whence he came, and may then give a straight run with an
exceptional point.'

There be those who maintain that the hare is every whit
as resourceful as the fox. Was it not Beckford who attributed
to her cunning the hare's legendary connection with witches ?
A beaten hare will go to ground in drain or rabbit hole : in
the Field of 15th February 1875 there is record of a ferret
having bolted a rabbit from a burrow, which rabbit was quickly
followed by a hare which appeared with the ferret clinging to
her. Whether harriers had recently been in the neighbour-
hood does not appear. Mr. Webster once had this same ex-
perience. The Haldon got a hare away from a dense woodland
known as Black Forest,' and after a fine gallop checked close
to a house and buildings known as Gulliford. While trying to
recover the line an astonished cry of ' A hare, a hare ' was
heard. The hunted hare had gone to ground in a bank which
was being at that moment ferreted by people without guns,
and one of the party caught the hare as she bolted (a ferret
will bolt a hare in a moment). 'Never,' says Mr. Webster,
' spare a hare that goes to ground ; she will do it again on the
next opportunity, and the habit is very likely to be hereditary.
He also remarks that anything in the shape of an open door
offers peculiar attractions to the hunted hare. ' When hounds
come to a decided check near buildings of any description,
the huntsman should be most careful to try every open door.
One may lose hares in all sorts of queer places, stables and
outhouses and the like : it is also judicious to look behind
anything like boxes or barrels or a pile of faggots. An old
aunt of mine once saved a hare from the Eton Beagles by
opening a door for her.'

' Tlie Hoodlauds in the Haldon country are seldom drawn by foxhounds as they are
full of wild fallow deer.

H 57

OTTEE-HUNTING

THE modern otter is born under a more fortunate star
than his ancestor of a century ago. The net is
barred, the spear disused, ' tailing ' is discounten-
anced : if his foes cannot kill him by fair means
he has nothing to fear from means now deemed foul.

Otter-hunting is an old sport : but there is some evidence
to show that, in parts of the country at least, the otter was
regarded as vermin the compassing of whose death was the
first consideration. This is quite comprehensible when we
consider how important a source of food supply in old days
was the fish pond or stew maintained by them who dwelt far
from sea or river.

' My servant informs me,' wrote Sir Henry Savill, of
Sothill, Yorks., to his ' cossin Plompton,' ' that in your country
there is a man that kills otters very well : wherefore I have
sent him to get him to me for a week. I assure you they do me
exceeding much harm in divers places. My folks see them
dailv, and I cannot kill them : my hounds be not used to
them.' '

This was written on 8th November ; the letter is not fully
dated, but it seems to be referable to somewhere about
154.0-1550. Sir Henry did not, it is evident, look upon the
otters as affording opportunity of sport : the ' exceeding much
harm ' to which he refers can only mean to the fish in river or
stew ; and, regarding the otters as vermin, he simply wanted
them killed down.

In the seventeenth century it would seem that hounds
found the otter and the field killed him : says Nicolas Cox : —

' The Plutnpton Letters.

OTTER-HUNTING

' Remember in the Hunting of the Otter that you and your
friends carry your otter spears to watch his vents : for that
is the chief advantage and if you perceive where the otter
SMrims under water, then strive to get to a stand before him
where he would vent and then endeavour to strike liim with
your spear : but if you miss, pursue him with the hounds
which, if they be good otter hounds and perfectly entered will
come chauntering and trailing along by the Riverside and will
beat every tree-root, every osier bed and tuft of Bull rushes :
nay, sometimes they will take the water and beat it like a
spaniel. And by these means the Otter can hardly escape
you.'

Thus if you got home with your spear-thrust, there was
nothing for the hounds to do : their task had been finished
when they found the quarry. For them to hunt in the stream
itself would seem to have been the exception.

Cox, of course, falls foul of the otter for his wasteful
habits : ' For greediness he takes more than he knows what
to do with.' The otter's shortcomings as a housekeeper have
always been cast up against him, unfairly as it seems to me.
\\Tiat do we expect of him ? Do we require of the hungrv
otter that he, reckoning the needs of the hour to a mouthful,
shall suffer to pass an eight-pound grilse because a two-pound
trout would serve his turn ? Is he blameworthy for that he,
wisely preferring fresh fish, omits to seek out what the carrion
crow and his like may have left him of the meal of vesterday ?

By the time Somerville wrote, otter-hunting had taken
upon itself a form somewhat different ; if we read him aright
hounds played a more prominent part, though the spear used,
as we gather, either to thrust or throw javelin-wise, was
always ready to help them. That portion of The Chace which
describes an otter-hunt is less familiar than the description of
hare-hunting, though no whit its inferior in vigour, spirit and
directness. It has, however, the demerit of blood-thirstiness.
Either the poet entertained for the otter none of the sense of
justice and fair play he cherished as the meed of the hare, or

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

he had quahiis concerning the legitimacy, in a sporting sense,
of the methods employed by the otter-hunter of his day.
' Give the otter a bad name and spear him,' seems to be the
keynote of the lines : and he blackened the quarry's character
by way of justifying the spear. Truly we had need be im-
pressed with a sense of the otter's iniquity ere we could share
the rejoicing when ' wriggling he hangs and grins and bites in
vain.'

' This subtle spoiler of the beaver i^ind.
Far off, perhaps, wiiere ancient alders shade
The deep still pool, within some hollow trunk.
Contrives his wicker couch ; whence he surveys
His long purlieu, lord of the stream, and all
The finny shoals his own. But you, brave youths,
Dispute the felon^s claim ; try evVy root.
And evVy reedy bank ; encourage all
The busy-spreading pack, that fearless plunge
Into the flood, and cross the rapid stream.
Bid rocks, and caves, and each resounding shore.
Proclaim your bold defiance ; loudly raise
Each cheering voice, till distant hills repeat
The triumphs of the vale. On tlie soft sand
See there his seal impressed ! and on that bank
Behold the glitfring spoils, half-eaten fish.
Scales, tins and bones, the leavings of his feast.
Ah ! on that yielding sag-bed, see, once more
His seal I view. O'er yon dank, rushy marsh
The sly goose-footed prowler bends his course.
And seeks the distant shallows. Huntsman, bring
Thy eager pack, and trail him to his couch.
Hark ! the loud peal begins, the clam Vous joy,
The gallant chiding, loads the trembling air.
Ye Naiads fair, who o'er these floods preside.
Raise up your dripping heads above the wave.
And hear our melody. Th' harmonious notes
Float with the stream ; and ev'ry winding creek
And hollow rock, that o'er the dimpling flood
Nods pendant ; still improve from shore to shore
Our sweet reiterated joys. What shouts !
60

OTTER-HUXTING

What clamour loud I What gay, heart-cheering sounds

Urge through the breathing brass their mazy way !

Not choirs of Tritons glad with sprightlier strains

The dancing billows, when proud Neptune rides

In triumph o''er the deep. How greedily

They snuff the fishy steam, tiiat to each blade

Rank-scenting clings ! See ! how the morning dews

They sweep, that from their feet besprinkling drop

Dispersed, and leave a track oblic[ue behind.

Now on firm land they range; then in the fiood

They plunge tumultuous ; or thro' reedy pools

Hustling they work their way : no holt escapes

Their curious search. ^Vith quick sensation now

The foaming vapour stings; flutter their hearts,

And joy redoubled bursts from ev'ry mouth,

In laden symphonies. Yon hollow trunk,

That, with its hoary head incurv'd, salutes

The passing wave, must be the tyrant's fort.

And dread abode. How these impatient climb,

While others at the root incessant bay :

They put him down. See, there he dives along !

Th' ascending bubbles mark his gloomy way.

Quick fix the nets, and cut off his retreat

Into the sheltering deeps. Ah, there he vents !

The pack plunge headlong, and protruded spears

Menace destruction ; while the troubled suree

Indignant foams, and all the scaly kind

Affrighted hide their heads. Wild tumult reigns,

And loud uproar. Ah, there once more he vents !

See, that bold hound has seized him ; down they sink,

Together lost : but soon shall he repent

His rash assault. See, there escap'd he flies,

Half-drown"d, and clambers up the slipp'ry bank

With ooze and blood distain"d. Of all the brutes,

Whether by nature form'd or by long use,

This artful diver best can bear the want

Of vital air. Unequal is the fight

Beneath the whelming element. Yet there

He lives not long ; but respiration needs

At proper intervals. Again he vents ;

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Again the crowd attack. Tl)at spear has pierc'd

His neck ; the crimson waves confess the wound.

Fix'd is the bearded lance, unwelcome guest

Where'er he flies; with him it sinks beneath.

With him it mounts ; sure guide to ev'rv foe.

Inlv he CToans, nor can his tender wound

Bear the cold stream. So ! to von sedgy bank

He creeps disconsolate; his numerous foes

Surround him, hounds and men. PiercVl thro' and thro'

On pointed spears they lift him high in air;

Wriggling he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain :

Bid the loud horns, in gaily-warbling strains,

Proclaim the felon's fate; he dies, he dies.

Kejoice, ye scaly tribes, and leaping dance

Above the waves, in sign of liberty

Restored ; the cruel tyrant is no more.'

Otter-hunting had gone out of fashion in the earUer years
of the nineteenth century. It ' was formerly considered
excellent sport,' says Daniel by way of introducing his account
of the method. He proceeds to say that it ' has still however
its staunch admirers, who are aj^parently as zealous in this
pursuit as in any other we read of. In 1796, near Bridgenorth,
on the River Ware, four otters were killed ; one stood three,
another four hours before the dogs and was scarcely a minute
out of sight. The hearts, etc., were dressed and eaten by many
respectable people who attended the hunt and allowed to be
very delicious.' I wonder what that ' etc' covers.

On the other hand, there were those who held a very poor
opinion of it. Mr. T. B. Johnson, who wrote the Hunting
Directory in 1826, says : ' It is at present but little followed.
Of all field amusements otter-hunting is perhaps the least
interesting. Foxhounds, harriers, or indeed any kind of hounds,
will pursue the otter : though the dog chiefly used for the
purpose has been produced by a cross between the southern
hound and the water spaniel. Those who have never witnessed
otter-hunting, may form a tolerable notion of the business by
imagining to the mind a superior duck-hunt.'

OTTEK-HUNTING

Ardent otter-hunters will hold this to be evidence in favour
of duck-hunting, a sport now forgotten.

That there was ' brave hunting this water dog ' in Devon
two hundred and fifty years ago, we have on Izaak Walton's
authority. Devonshire may claim the honour of possessing
the oldest pack of otter-hounds now in existence. Mr. Pode
of Slade established in 1825 what is now the Dartmoor pack.
The Culmstock was started in 1837 by Mr. W. P. Collier.
There were otter-hounds in Cumberland as far back as 1830,
when the Rev. Hylton Wyburgh took the mastership of the
pack now known as the West Cumberland.

Otter-hvmters began to discard the spear eighty years ago :
it had been laid aside by Mr. Bulteel and his followers in
Devonshire in 1839, in obedience to the feeling that it was not
sportsmanlike. By degrees other hunts adopted the same
view : in some cases the followers of a pack renounced their
spears and left these weapons to the Master and Huntsman,
who reserved use of them until hounds held the otter, when he
was killed to prevent unnecessary injury to the pack — for the
otter's teeth are strong and his bite may disable.

Mr. Grantley Berkeley enjoyed some otter-hunting in the
New Forest during the 'fifties and 'sixties : this is his account
of a run which ended in a fair kill : —

' The next morning Mr. Radcliffe informed me that his
man had tracked three otters, side by side, over some mud,
going up stream in the direction of my draw of the day, assert-
ing that no seal of the otter had been there impressed before.
I thought this news too good : one otter would have done ;
but my host declared he could trust to the truth of the report,
and we sallied forth in joyful expectation. I was drawing a
sort of back-water adjoining a cover, and, observing both
hounds and terriers were busy, I gave the word " to look out,
for we were about to find." I had sent on my groom, Thomas
Newman, to a shallow some distance off to watch it, when,
having hardly said that we were about to find, I heard the
most extraordinary noise proceeding from my groom and his

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

vicinity that could be imagined. The cause of it I give in liis
own words. He said " he heard me call out that we were about
to find, and at the same moment Smike, followed at some
distance by a single hound, came running down the side of the
stream, evidently on a drag directly towards him." About
fifty yards from where he stood, and about four or five paces
from the edge of the water, in a swampy spot in the meadow,
was a small mass of tangled reeds, briars and bushes, perhaps
twenty yards in circumference, or not so much. Right into
this little thicket Smike's drag took him, and, to my groom's
amazement, out on the grass rolled three otters and Smike
all fighting, Smike yelling with fury and pain at the treatment
he met with, and the young or three-parts grown otter, whom
he had fixed on, screaming in concert, to all of which Newman
added his view-halloo and whoop. The row had not lasted a
second when hand over hand raced up the old hound, and with
a rush knocked Smike and the three otters into the water,
but seizing and assisting to kill the one Smike maintained his
hold on. Having worried the first otter, I took up the chase
of the other two, finding them both, and changing from one to
the other occasionally, but at last settling to the old bitch
otter. Than the work she cvit out for us, I never saw anything
more beautiful. About the water meadows there are several
streams or rather one stream divided into several ; one of
these, a very swift but shallow one, ran by the side of a bank,
on which was a " plashed " and double-laid blackthorn hedge,
and up this stream the otter took her course, with scarce water
enough at times to hide her. When the water shoaled too
much she crept into the hedge, in which alone the terriers
could follow her, and then it was perfect to see the hounds
splashing up the water as, gazing into the hedge, they en-
deavoured to head and nick in upon the otter. When the
hounds dashed on to the top of the blackthorns down the otter
went again into the stream, and so on till other streams and
deeper water were for a time regained. The chase with this
old otter, hard at it, lasted an hour and three-quarters, in as

Pheasant Shooting:

Old Style

-«>-.. -^' lj»m7* *f r nv:^ - ' '^^^rr'

OTTER-HUNTING

hot and sunny a day in summer as needs be ; and when the
pack fairly hunted her down, forced her out of the water, and
caught and killed her in a thick hedge, I was nearly run to a
stand-still.'

In the 'sixties the propriety of using the spear under any
circumstances was challenged, with the result that it was dis-
carded altogether. There are not now hunting many men
who have seen a spear used. Few sports have gained so much
in popularity as otter-hvmting during recent years. In 1892
there were fifteen packs in existence : there are now twenty-
three ; and perhajas it is safe to assert that where ten followed
otter-hounds twenty years ago, thirty follow now. There was
a time, not so long gone, when an intending follower of otter-
hounds, anxious to be correctly turned out, received in reply
to his inquiry, ' Wliat is the uniform of your hunt ? ' the
eloquent postcard ' Rags ' from the M.O.H. Nowadays
each hunt has its distinctive uniform, neat and workmanlike.

PARTRIDGE SHOOTING

SHOOTING, as we understand it, dates from Queen
Anne's time. In the year 1700 J. Sprint, of his
practical knowledge, had given the world a very
small book entitled the Experienced Fowler, from
whose pages we obtain a lucid idea of the methods in his day.
As Mr. Sprint and his contemporaries used a flint-lock gun,
' with a barrel of five foot and a half, cleverly made taper,'
it perhaps goes without saying that a rest was necessary for its
efficient use, and shooting birds on the wing was a business
demanding some adjustment. Mr. Sprint was not wedded
to a five-foot six-inch barrel : he readily accords permission
to his readers to use a gun with one six feet long, if any might
think it possible to obtain better results therewith. And it is
evident that the more ambitious, or muscular, among the
brethren were not quite satisfied with that : ' Six foot,' says
]Mr. Sprint, ' is a sufficient length for the barrel of any piece ;
all above are unmanageable and tiresome.' One wonders how
he would have regarded sportsmen who have an idea that a
gun should fit the user, come well up to the shoulder, and who
measure its weight in ounces.

With such ' pieces ' our seventeenth-century ancestors took
the field in pairs in search of wild-fowl : and game being
descried, he who was to take the flying shot planted his rest
and levelled his gun ' three yards from the ground, a little
inclining to the way you see their heads stand.' Your pre-
parations completed, the other man fired at the birds sitting,
and you loosed off ' as soon as ever he . . . has pulled his
tricker and flashes in the pan, or at least if you are very near
as soon as you hear the report of his piece.' A shoulder shot

PARTRIDGE SHOOTING

might be taken if you could meet the birds ' in the face the
way they fly ' : in which case the sportsman took ' the under-
most and shot slaunt-wise through them.'

A century before Mr. Sprint's time the law ^ had enacted
that partridges, pheasants, grouse, and hares might not be
killed with a gun at all. Discriminating legislators realised
that marksman and matchlock made a combination too deadly
where sitting game was the mark, and forbade shooting
altogether, whether mth gun, crossbow, or other weapon.

The ' setting dog ' and hawk, the stalking horse or the
setting dog and net formed the proper means of taking game,
and these methods remained in favour long after men began
to shoot flying. With hawking we do not here deal : as regards
netting Nicolas Cox - gives instructions how to set about the
business. First you had to ascertain where a covey might be
found : as a preliminary the sportsman mastered the call of
the bird : —

' Being perfect herein, either Mornings or Evenings (all
other times being improper) go to their Haunts, and having
conveyed yourself into some secret place where you may see
and not be seen, listen a while if you can hear the Partridges
call ; if you can answer them again in the Same Note, and as
they change or double their Notes, so must you in like manner ;
thus continue doing until they draw nearer and nearer unto
you. Having them in your view, lay your self on your back, and
lie as if you were dead without motion, by which means you
may count their whole number.

' Having attained to the knowledge of discovering them
where they lie, the next thing will be a ready way how to catch
them.'

Cox held ' the Driving of Partridges ' more delightful than
any other method. This involved the use of an engine made in
form and fashion of a horse cut out of canvas and stuffed with
straw or similar material. Equipped with this artificial
horse and his nets the sportsman sought partridges where, by

' 1 Jac, c. 27, § 2 (1G03-4). - The llentteman's Recreation, 1686.

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

calling, he had ascertained a covey to lie, and pitched his nets
down-wind of them. This done, under the cover of the
stalking horse, and his face covered with something green or
dark blue, the sportsman stalked the partridges carefully lest
they took wing, and drove them slowly ' running naturally '
to the net.

Possession of a setting dog relieved the sportsman of the
necessity for learning to call. Let Cox describe the sport in
his own words : —

' Having a Dog thus qualified by Art and Nature, take him
with you Avhere Partridges do haunt, there call off your Dog,
and by some word of encouragement that he is acquainted with,
engage him to range, but never too far from you ; and see that
he beat his ground justly and even, without casting about, or
flying now here, now there, which the mettle of some will do
if not corrected and reproved. And therefore when you per-
ceive this fault, you must presently call him in with a Hem,
and so check him that he dare not do the like again for that day.
So will he range afterwards with more temperance, ever and
anon looking in his Master's face, as if he would gather from
thence whether he did well or ill. If in your Dog's ranging
you perceive him to stop on the sudden, or stand still, you must
then make in to him, (for without doubt he hath set the
Partridge) and as soon as you come to him, command him to
go nearer ; but if he goes not, but either lies still or stands
shaking of his Tail, as who would say, Here they are under my
nose, and withal now and then look back ; then cease from
urging him further, and take your circumference, walking fast
with a careless eye, looking straight before the nose of the Dog,
and thereby see how the Covey lie, whether close or straggling.

' Then commanding the Dog to lie still draw forth your
net, and prick one end to the ground, and spread your Net all
open, and so cover as many of the Partridges as you can ;
which done make in with a noise, and spring up the Partridges ;
which shall no sooner rise than they will be entangled in the
Net.'

PARTRIDGE SHOOTING

The net afforded facilities for choosing your birds when you
had got them. ' If,' says our authority, tactfully combining
appeal to our nobler feelings with reminder of material inter-
ests, ' you shall let go the old Cock and Hen, it will not only
be an act like a Gentleman, but a means to increase your
Pastime.'

Shooting on the wing made progress in the early years of
the eighteenth century. By the year 1718 the long barrels of
a few years earlier had been discarded except for wild-fowl.
' A Piece,' says Giles Jacob,^ ' of about three foot and a half
long in the Barrel, by a more perfect mixture of the Metal and
skilful Boring will do more execution in the pursuit of Land
fowl than your long guns : and no body is unsensible but it is
less Labour and Fatigue to the Bearer.' So far as we can
gather from Jacob — a somewhat unsafe guide, as certain
passages in his book bear suspicious likeness to passages in
Sprint's — the sportsman had not yet acquired the habit of
picking his bird : but this improvement was not long to be
delayed. Nine years later Mr. Markland produced his poetic
discourse on shooting : " his Preface contains evidence that
picking one's bird was then quite a new idea in England : also
that the practice was not productive of satisfactory results.
Having discussed the curious moral effect of a first miss on the
whole day's performances (it seems, he says thoughtfully, to
result in ' a Disorder of the Animal Spirits occasioned by the
Original Disappointment '), he proceeds : —

' I have often wondered why the French, of all Mankind,
should alone be so expert at the Gun, I had almost said in-
fallible. It 's as rare for a profess'd Marksman of that Nation
to miss a Bird as for one of Ours to kill. But, as I have been
since informed, they owe this Excellence to their Education.
They are train'd up to it so very young, that they are no more
surpriz'd or alarm'd with a Pheasant than with a Rattle-Mouse
[bat]. The best Field-Philosophers living : for they are always
there Masters of their Temper.'

' The Compleat Sportnynaii, 1718.

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Overcoming the temptation to speculate on the frequency
with which marksmen of the day lost their temper under trying
circumstances, we proceed to Mr. Markland's poem. An early
start was then the rule : —

'My Friend and I, with hopeful Prospect rose,
And scorned the longer Scandal of Repose :
No dull Repast allow'd : our Tackle all
0''er Night prepared, the cheerful Dogs we call :
In a close Pocket snuggs the cordial Dram,
Youth to the Old, and Crutches to the Lame.''

One cannot resist the reflection that the sportsmen would
have done more wisely to breakfast before they set out : the
cordial dram is not generally considered to improve shooting,
particularly if taken imder such circumstances. But let that
pass. The author's reference to the heels of Frenchmen's
boots is scarcely in harmony with his prefatory remarks on the
excellence of French marksmanship : —

' Low — leathern — heeled our lacquer\i Boots are made.
Mounted on tottVing Stilts raw Frenchmen tread :
Firm Footing an unshaken Level lends ;
But modish Heels are still the Woodcovl^s Friends.
Our Shot of several sorts, half round the Waste,
In Ticking semicircularly plac'd,
Embrac''d and poiz'd us well.

' No flapping Sleeves our ready Arms controul :
Short Cuff's alone prove fatal to the Fowl.
Nor, arm'd in warm Surtout, we vainly fear
The Sky's inclemency, or Jove severe :
Active and free our Limbs and Muscles are.
Whilst Exercise does glowing warmth prepare.'

A few useful hints follow : the reader is ad^'ised not to
load his gun overnight, or ' in the Morn the prime will hiss,'
i.e. a miss-fire may result. When priming you were not to put
too much powder in the pan, or the gun would hang fire : you
were to carry a partridge Aving, the feathers ser\ing to clean
out the touch-hole. The tow stuffing of an old saddle had uses

PARTRIDGE SHOOTING

for the sportsman : ' No wadding lies so close or drives so
fierce.'

Markland does not mention the device suggested by Sprint
to ' make even cartridges in moulds like serpents, but with a
very thin paper casing,' which prevented the powder getting
damp while loading in wet weather : nor does he follow the
earlier author in recommending shot cartridges fashioned to
make the pellets ' come out closer and more level.'

Censorious critics may take exception to Markland's con-
ception of rhythm, rhyme and metre, but he throws interesting
light on the ideas accepted in his time : —

' There sprung a Single Partridge — ha ! She 's gone !
Oh ! Sir, you'd Time enough, you shot too soon ;
Scarce twenty yards in oj)en Sight ! — for Shame !
Y' had shattered Her to Pieces with right Aim !
Full forty yards permit the Bird to go.
The spreading Gun will surer Mischief sow :
But, when too near the flying Object is.
You certainly will mangle it, or miss ;
And if too far, you may so sligiitly wound.
To kill the Bird, and yet not bring to Ground.

' There, if the Goodness of the Piece be prov'd,
Pursue not the fair mark till far remov'd :
Raise the mouth gently from below the Game,
And readily let fly at the first Aim.
But, without Aim admit no Random Shoot :
'Tis just to judge before you execute.'

Markland, it will be observed, took deliberate and careful
aim at his bird. ' Bird,' mark it, for shooting men had now
arrived at the stage when they chose one of the covey, and held
it unsportsmanlike to do otherwise : —

' See, Jewell stands a Point : — A Covey ! — Stay,
And take this sober caution by the way :
When in a Cloud the scatt'ring Birds arise.
And various Marks distract the Choosing Eyes,
That Choice confine to One Particular :
Most who confide in fooling Fortune, err.
71

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Young greedy Novices, who often hope
By random Fate to pick a Number up,
Amaz'd, behold none hounding on the Ground,
Whilst manv a Bird drags off her mortal ^Vonlld.
Experienced Sportsmen will of one make sure,
Rest honestly content of one secure.'

From the preface we have learned that the gunner missed
that One Particular more often than not : so it is all the more
to Markland's credit that he should preach this doctrine so
resolutely.

' Jewell,' we may take it, was a setter. Pointers were
introduced from Spain early in the eighteenth century, but a
setter of some kind had been used in England for at least two
centuries.

These lines illustrate an interesting point in the shooting
ethics of the period : —

' Halloo — Halloo — See, see from yonder Furze
The Lurchers have alarmVl and started Puss !
Hold! AVliat d'ye do? Sure you don't mean to Fire !
Constrain that base, ungenerous Desire,
And let the Courser and the Huntsman share
Their just and proper Title to the Hare.
Let the poor Creature pass and have fair Play
And fight the Prize of Life out her own way.
The tracing Hound by Nature was design'd
Both for the Use and Pleasure of Mankind ;
Form'd for the Hare, the Hare too for the Hound :
In Enmity each to each other bound ;
Then he who dares by ilifferent means destroy
Than Nature meant, offends 'gainst Nature's Law.''

That shooting hares was illegal was a detail of which
Markland was apparently unconscious. The protecting clause
in James i.'s Act, by the way, was only repealed in 1807.'
The statute had long fallen into abeyance, and in the early
years of the nineteenth century huge bags of hares were made.

' 48 Geo. II. c. 9 §1.

Modern Pheasant Shooting

rv^^j

^0'

""C

PARTRIDGE SHOOTING

In 1804 Lord Craven killed 1600 during a few days in
Ashdown Park, Berks. In 1807 upwards of 6000 were shot
on Sir Thomas Goode's lands in Suffolk. This seems to have
been done in the farmers' interest. Arthur Young, writing of
a visit to Suffolk in 1784,' says that Mr. Grose had been
accustomed to cultivate carrots on his farm at Capel St.
Andrews, but his crops were so pillaged by the enormous
number of hares that he was ' determined to sow no more.'
Preservation of the hares ' nursed up a breed of rabbits which
add to the evil.'

Partridge shooting continued very much as it had been in
Markland's time till within living memory. No doubt the
marksmanship gradually improved, but as nobody thought it
worth while to leave for posterity a diary showing how many
shots he fired and how many birds he killed during each of a
series of seasons, we can only take improvement for granted.
Aspiring game shots did not suffer from lack of printed assist-
ance : various books on Shooting Flying were published during
the eighteenth century, and at least one after, the latest I
have seen being Thomas's Guide (1809), which included
Instruction to Attain the Art. Practice at swallows was
recommended by some. Thomas considered a course of
sparrow shooting better preparation for the field.

A 14-bore gun was generally used. At a later period
sportsmen had taken advantage of the reduction in length of
barrel to try larger bores, for Mr. Lemon, ' the most able
Park and Gamekeeper,' who wrote an undated tract on shoot-
ing during the later years of the century, tells us that there is
■ not the utility in a wide bore some sportsmen use,' and it
should not exceed ' the size called fifteens,' the barrel not
more than thirty-eight inches long.

Particulars of bags made in the days of long stubbles, tall
hats and Joe Mantons — for a long period Joe Manton and
game gun were almost interchangeable terms — may be of
interest. The Sporting Magazine of 1803, among the ' returns

' Antmls of Agriculture, vol. ii.

K 73

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

of the best gentlemen shots on the first day of September, gives
the following : —

' ]Mr. Coke bagged with his own gun 22 brace of partridges
at Holkham : General Lennox brought home 14 brace at
Goodwood. Lord Fitzharris, on a visit to the Earl of Pembroke
at Wilton in Wiltshire, brought down 13 brace before breakfast,
and going out again in the course of the day he made up the
number to 20 J brace.' The best bag recorded for that ' First '
was the Hon. Thomas Coventry's 28 i brace in Gloucestershire.
On 1st September 1810 Lord Kingston shot 4l\ brace to his
own gun at Heydon, having undei'taken to kill 40 brace.

Single-barrelled guns appear to have been almost uni-
versally used at this time. Colonel Thornton, when on his
tour in Scotland ' used a double-barrelled gun, but his opinion
of it was not a high one. On 15th September ' I gave up my
double-barrel gim for the season : and here I must remark
that I look upon all double barrels as trifles rather nick nacks
than useful.' " When such a gun was used the fact was deemed
worthy of remark, if we may judge from this paragraph in the
Sporting Magazine of 1803 : —

' On the 5th of September Mr. John Walton, gamekeeper to
Henry Blundell, Esq., of Ince, went out with a double-barrelled
gun, attended by one dog, and in the course of the day killed
22 1 brace of partridges.'

A few years later a ' thoughtless Propensity to kill all the
game possible ' seemed ' to mark a new era in shooting.'
' This Rage for Destruction presents itself in the. Shape of a
Struggle for exhibiting the largest number of certain Animals
to be extirpated within a, feiv Hours.'' The bag made by Lord
Rendlesham and party during the last week of the season in
1807 is cited as an example : it comprised 3775 head.

The standard by which bags wxre tried in those days was

' A Sporting Tour, 1804. Daniel {Rural Sportu, viil. ii. p. 270) mentions 1784 as the
year in wliicli the expedition was made.

- Double-barrelled fjuns had been made in Charles ii.'s time, vide Duke of Portland's
MSS. {Hist. MSS. Comm.), vol. ii. p. 299.

PARTRIDGE SHOOTING

a very modest one by comparison with modern times. In
1811 at Holkham, ' when Earl Moira and several other Shots
of Distinction were down on a visit to Mr. Coke . . . six days
produced the following Enormous list of Slaughter, viz.
Pheasants 264, Partridges 314, Woodcocks 29, Snipes 46,
Hares 283, Rabbits 371. Total Killed 1307' (Daniel).

The ' enormous list of slaughter ' would no doubt have
been larger, had it not been that ' a Royal Duke was one of
the destructive Corps.' And His Royal Highness was an
indifferent shot. ' His return, or rather the return made for
him, was of a different kind, viz. : —

Killed of game, ....

Wounded in the legs.

Foot-marker slightly

Wounded in the face.

Groom severely.

Wounded on the head of a Friend,

Hat.

Ditto on the left Rump,

Horse.

As regards proportion of kills to shots fired in the earlier
decades of the century, the remarkable shooting journal kept
by Lord ^lalmesbury for forty seasons, 1798 to 1840, throws
light on this point. Lord ^lalmesbury during this period
killed 38,475 head, having fired 54,987 shots. His bag
included 10,744 partridges, 6320 pheasants, 4694 snipe,
1080 'cock, 5211 hares, 17,417 rabbits. The Hon. George
Grantley Berkeley estimates that Lord IMalmesbury walked
36,200 miles during the fortv seasons : and adds that he fired
away about 750 lbs. of powder and 4 tons of shot.

On 9th December 1811 the GamekeeiDcrs of Suffolk held
their annual meeting at Bury to present a large silver powder-
flask ' to the keeper who should produce the certificates for the
greatest quantity of Hares, Pheasants, and Rabbits shot at
as well as killed during any six Days from the 8th October to
the 8th December.' Richard Sharnton won the prize : his
list averaged three gims and his extent of preserve 4000
acres : —

Killed

Missed

378

199

506

301

177

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Cock Pheasants, ....

Hen „ ....

Partridges, .....

Hares, ......

This same Sharnton also produced an account of the
vermin he had destroyed during the preceding twelve months.
It included 22 foxes(!), 446 stoats, and 167 ' hawks of all
kinds ' : he also killed 7 ' Wild cats,' but we may take leave
to doubt whether these were not domestic strays from the
path of virtue.

In 1811 Mr. G. Clark of Worlingham, Suffolk, backed
himself to kill 47 birds in fifty shots : he killed 59 in sixty
shots, having missed the forty-ninth bird.

Forsyth's percussion system was invented in 1808, and a
percussion gun was successfully tested against a flint-lock ;
but we were ever slow to adopt novelties, and percussion guns
only began to come into general use during the 'twenties,
copper caps having been invented about 1825.^ Some old
hands remained faithful to the flint-lock long after it had been
discarded by the majority. Sir Richard Sutton was one of
these conservative sportsmen : his fidelity, however, to the old
style of gun was, says the late Mr. Corrance, ' a mere freak.'

The introduction of the percussion gun made no difference
in the size of bags. It was regarded as unbecoming to sell
game " in those days, and what the sportsman did not want for
his own house was given away. Large bags were made on
occasion, but such were usually the outcome of wagers. One
of the most notable of these was the match, in October 1823,
between Lord Kennedy shooting at Monreith in Wigtownshire
against Mr. William Coke shooting at Holkham, who should
make the largest bag in two days. Lord Kennedy got between

' Messrs. Kley made waterproof caps in 18;37.

2 The London market, says Daniel {Rural Sports, supp. vol., 1813), was principally
supplied by poachers ; the prices given were so hiifli that poaching- was very protitahle,
and the encounters hetween these men and the gamekeepers only too frequently had
fatal results.

PARTRIDGE SHOOTING

40 and 50 brace and Mr. Coke 93 brace on the first day : on
the second their bags were 93i and 96 brace respectively, an
attempt having been made by Lord Kennedy to kill 100 brace.
Sir William Maxwell says that his father, over whose land
Lord Kennedy shot, declared nothing would induce him to
allow another match on his ground : it was ' strewn with
cripples ' for days after. The usual sportsmanlike rule,
strictly observed in these times, never to let a wounded bird
escape, was evidently set aside for this match.

Mr. Tharp, owner of Chippenham Park, made a bag of
99 birds one day in October 1826. He began at 8 a.m., using
one dog and one gun : he was so knocked up at three o'clock
that he could not go on and complete his 50 brace.

The best partridge shooting in the days of William iv.
was in the turnips. The swede had been introduced, and
swedes sown broadcast provided much better cover than the
roots sown by drill at a later day. In the later 'fifties reaping
machines came into use and steadily ousted scythe and reap-
ing-hook, till long stubbles became a thing of the past. The
invention of the loading-rod was a great improvement, enabling
the muzzle-loader to be recharged much more rapidly than
of old. Colonel J. E. Goodall has been kind enough to give me a
description of this implement which has now, apparently, been
almost forgotten. It was made of stout Malacca cane, was two
or three inches longer than the gun-barrel and two-thirds the
diameter of the bore : flat at one end and carrying a round or
flattened ball at the other. Its superiority over the ramrod
lay in its greater strength and convenience. When the ramrod
was used, the shooter after each discharge had to stop and
reload, resting the butt on his boot-toe or on the ground, and
restore the ramrod to its place : in wet or snow, moreover, the
dirt on the heel-plate was transferred to the shoulder. The
' loading-rod ' or ' shooting-stick ' was much stronger than the
ramrod, which was liable to break if not carefully handled, and
when it was used the shooter held his gun firmly in his left
hand while he rammed home the wads with his right, without

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

stopping to rest the butt on the ground. The rod was carried
in a leather socket fastened by a lug to a button sewn at a
convenient height on the coat.

This innovation brought a change in the style of part-
ridge shooting. In ramrod days dogs dropped to the shot,
and nobody thought of advancing till the gun had been
recharged. Soon after the loading-rod came into use, the
second gun carried by a loader was introduced, and the pause
to recharge after a shot was abandoned, the advance being
continuous.

Pointer and setter held their own until the appearance of
the breech-loader : guns on this principle had been made for
twenty years before they reached a stage of ^lerfection that
gave them claim on the shooting man's notice. The Field
trials in 1858-1859 demonstrated the superiority of the breech-
loader (pin-fire) in all respects save penetration, wherein the
muzzle-loader had about five per cent, the advantage. Central-
fire guns came into use in the 'sixties.

Driving came into fashion about 1860. The system was
fiercely denounced by the old school, but it steadily gained in
popularity. The earliest detailed bag obtained by driving
I can find is that on General Hall's shooting Weston Colville,
near Newmarket. The party consisted of nine guns ; and five
days' driving, 8th to 12th January 1858 inclusive, produced a
bag of 2155 birds. The first day's total was the smallest,
327 birds, but it was blowing a hurricane : the last was the
heaviest, 724, shot in a high wind. In January 1868 General
Hall had another shoot of four days, which produced a bag
relatively heavier, namely 1940 birds, killed by nine guns.
The largest individual bag on one day was 51 J brace killed by
Lord Huntingfield on the 28th. Lord Huntingfield had also
the largest total for the four days, 162 bi-ace.^

An extraordinary bag was made by the late Maharajah
Duleep Singh at Elveden in September 1876. Shooting on
nine days between the 1st and 15th inclusive, he killed to his

' Field, 1868.

PARTRIDGE SHOOTING

own gun 1265 brace of partridges, his heaviest bag being
made on the 8th, when he killed 780 birds on Hall Farm,
Eriswell : these were hand-reared birds ; shot walking and
driving. The Maharajah — one of the quickest shots in
England — used a little over 1000 cartridges to make this bag
of 390 brace.

At Elveden in 1885 three guns, shooting on fifteen days
in September, killed 6509 birds (3254| brace) : the 23rd
yielded the heaviest bag, 428 brace. Some very heavv bags
have been made on Mr. Arthur Blyth's Essex shootings in the
parishes of Elmdon, Heydon, and Chrishall : in one day,
season 1898-1899, 1076 birds (seven guns), the record for
that season in England. This was nearly equalled in the
following season, when a day's driving (seven guns) produced
1021 birds. Some very heavy bags have been made at The
Grange, Alresford, Hants, one of the finest shootings, owned
by one of the finest shots, in England. In 1877 the bag was
11,015 partridges : in 1897 it was 9102. A wonderful bag was
made one day in November of the year last named, when
730| brace were killed.

No man has better described the modern partridge drive
than Mr. Stuart Woi'tley from his shooting stool : —

' . . . Again your thoughts fly off ; to the tropical marsh
and the snorting rush of the woimded rhino through the reeds ;
to your shares in the new drifts in IMashonaland, and their
possible value ; to the horse that failed by a short head to
land the "' 1000 to 30, twice " that might have saved you ;
to the dire confusion foUo^ang, and your flight by reason of
this to Afric's coral strand ; to the cares and complications,
the duns and dilemmas of London life. And as these almost
bring you back to consciousness, a fresher gust of breeze
sweeps down the fence, and — " Hold up those birds there, on
the left ; hold 'em up, hold 'em up ! " The clear voice of
Marlowe, prince of partridge-drivers, ringing out from the
down-wind side, the crack of his whip, and the rattle of his
horse's feet tell you that he is already round and into the

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

turnips, and with a sharp whirring rattle, Uke the flutter of a
moth's wing in a cardboard box, tliree birds are over the fence
on your left, and almost on you before you see them. Up and
round you swing, killing one stone dead, but the second was
too far, and they are gone. Involuntarily you look at your
neighbour, a man there is no deceiving, for you know you were
caught napping, and ought to have killed one of those in front
of you, and the little half-sarcastic glance out of the corner of
his right eye, though he never moves his head, tells you he
saw it all.

' " Over, gentlemen — over the right ! " is now the cry, and
with a whirr that is almost a roar, a big lot breaks all over the
fence to your right and in front. Now thoroughly awake, you
kill three neatly, quickly followed by a smart right and left^
one in front and one behind — at a brace that come straight at
you, immediately followed by misses with both barrels at one
hanging along the fence and inclined to go back over the
beaters. You strike him underneath with the second, he
winces, rises a little, and just as he seems to turn is crumpled
up dead by the professor on your left, a beautiful long cross
shot, and you are fain to touch your hat and acknowledge a
clean wipe. But now they come thick, and being just angry
enough, you settle into form ; for though your left arm feels
like iron, and your grip on the fore-end like a vice, yet your
actions are getting the looseness and your style the freedom
that good form, confidence, and lots of shooting inspire, and
you begin to " play the hose upon them " properly. Here
and there a miss, sometimes two running, generally poking
shots at birds which have passed close by while you were
changing guns, and which somehow baffle you against the
rising stubble behind. Why, you don't know, but you miss
three or four in the same place and in the same way, though
otherwise you are " all right."

' A great big lot, three or four coveys packed together,
pours out at the upper end over the left hand, and, swinging
round in the wind, heads straight down the line of guns.

PARTRIDGE SHOOTING

Here they come, streaming high and fast, getting a broadside
from each of the men on your left. " One — two " with your
first gun, " three — four " with your second — the last a beauty,
and as they come clattering down like cricket balls about the
head of your right-hand neighbour, you feel you have done
your duty.

' A hare leaps through a run in the fence bottom, sits
foolishly with ears laid back for a second, and then dashes for
it past you. Let her go, she will do to breathe the farmer's
greyhounds in February ; " here 's metal more attractive,"
for birds are still coming. But the whimpering of your
retriever at the close view of the forbidden iur, and the conse-
quent objurgations of the keeper behind, sufficiently distract
you to make you snap at and miss an easy bird in front with
your first, and turn and fiercely drive it into him much too
close with your second.

' " D — n the hare," you mutter aloud as you change your
gun ; but the men are getting near, you hear the whish and
rustle of the flags, a few more desultory lots come screaming
over, and pretty it is, looking down the line, to see them drop
out as they pass, for the performers on either side of you are
picked from the best in England. A few more " singletons "
to each gun, all killed but one, at which four barrels are fired,
and which towers far away back.

'"Anything to pick up this side, gentlemen?" sings out
Marlowe ; in another minute he and his horse come crashing
through the gap, the white smocks and flags are peeping
through unforeseen holes in the fence, all the dogs are loose
and ranging far and wide, the guns and loaders scattered,
picking up in all directions, and the drive of the season is over.

' Seventy-five brace in the single drive, of which forty
birds you can honestly claim, having laid their corpses in a fair
row ere they are hurled by the old pensioner into his sack,
and you find yourself shouted, whistled, nay, sworn at, to get
on to the next drive.'

The red-leg Avas first introduced into this country by
L 81

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Charles ii,, who turned out several pair near Windsor. It is
said that the experiment failed, though some of the birds, or
their descendants, were seen for a few years afterwards.

Daniel says : ' The late Duke of Northumberland pre-
served many, in hopes of their increasing upon his manors :
but the late Earl of Rochford and Marquis of Hertford have
been at the most expense and trouble to establish them in
this country : both these noblemen had not only numbers of
the birds sent over from France, but also imported many
thousands of their eggs, which were hatched under Hens and
set at liberty at a proper age : by this means there are now
plenty of the red birds upon the latter nobleman's estate near
Orford in Suffolk.'

Lord Rochford's experiment was less successful : they
increased, but did not remain upon his property — St. Osyth,
coveys having been found some miles therefrom, presum-
ably having wandered in search of more congenial soil. Daniel,
in 1777, found a covey of fourteen within two miles of Col-
chester, and he remarks that for half an hour they baffled
the exertions of a brace of good pointers to make them rise
from the thick turnips. He also remarks upon their pro-
pensity lor going to ground in rabbit burrows when wounded.

The red-leg nowhere gained much favour during the first
half of the century : the belief that it drove away the English
bird, added to its pedestrian habit, made it unpopular. On
soiue manors the eggs were destroyed whenever found until
driving became fairly established : then its merits began to
receive recognition again. ' Of late,' says a writer in 1861,
' it has been a practice among some manorial proprietors to
encourage the French or red-legged partridge in our island
... it is found to thrive well.'

PARTRIDGE SHOOTING

THE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER

Loiterer, arise! the morn hatli kept
For thee her orient pearls unwept ;
Haste, and tal<e them, while the light
Hangs on the dew-locks of the night.
See ! Aurora throws her fair
Fresh tinted colours through the air :
Come forth ! come forth ! 'tis very sin
And profanation to keep in !
There's jov and gladness in the skies.
Loiterer, from thy couch arise !

Our life is short, our moments run

Swift as the coursers of the Sun ;

And, like the vapour or the rain,

Once lost, can ne'er be traced again :

Each flower hath wept, and eastward bow"d

Tiie skylark, far above the cloud

To hvmn his song of praise is fled.

And all the birds their matins said ;

There's joy and gladness in the skies.

Loiterer, from thv couch arise !

Haste, ere the sun hath drunk the dews
Boon Nature to her banquet woos ;
Around the smiling field no more
Are waving with their yellow store.
Homeward bears the loaded wain
The golden glories of the plain !
And nut-brown partridges are seen
Gliding among the stubble screen :
There's joy and gladness in the skies.
Loiterer, from thv couch arise !

J. W. C, Sporting Magazine, 1834.

GROUSE SHOOTING

SHOOTING Grouse after Red Deer,' says Christopher
North, ' is for a while, at first, felt to be like writing
an anagram in a lady's album after having given
the finishing touch to a tragedy or epic poem.'
The genial Professor of Moral Philosophy included grouse
shooting among his Recreations, but in his old age he took a
hint from Daniel, who says : ' Upon the hills where a horse
can travel this is a noble diversion : to be undertaken other-
wise demands constant and hard labour, for the shooter is,
during the course of the day, ascending, that is, if he finds a
brood on the top of one eminence they will sweep over the
valley, until they reach the summit of another, up which the
sportsman has to climb : in pursuing these birds when the Dog
stands, should the Grous erect their heads and run it is a sign,
either from wet or some other cause, that they will not lie well
that day, and the Sportsman has small chance of getting a
shot, but by running and heading them.'

' Grous ' shooting conducted on the principles indicated in
the last words would partake somewhat of the nature of hard
labour.

I can find no description of grouse shooting earlier than that
given by Colonel Thornton, which refers to 1784.^ The Colonel
enjoyed his sport on terms very different from those which
grew up during the nineteenth century. He camped out where
he listed, flew his hawks, shot and fished where and when it
seemed good to him, without let or hindrance. If he asked
leave he does not mention the formality : for formality it was

' A Sporting Tour.

GROUSE SHOOTING

in those days when Southron visitors to the North were so
rare.

Thus the Colonel on his sport at Raits on 14th September : —

' We rose early, took our breakfast and, having some letters
to write, I detained Mr. Drighorn, whom I hoped to have
persuaded that all business, at the distance of two hundred
miles, should give way to the casting over fresh moors, and
plenty of game : for I submit to sportsmen, whether there is
not as much pleasure in trying fresh moors as in any other
amusement.'

Again : —

' Of game I found an immense quantity, and I am con-
vinced could have killed any number : indeed I never shot
better nor killed so many, all our nets and my ammunition pocket
being crammed full. At last I drove in the broods among some
large junipers, certainly the most capital and luxurious of all
shooting ; this tempted me to take a double shot and I killed
both. Humanity then cried stop, would you destroy the
whole race ? No. I slung my gun and contemplating found
Crosly, who was looking again for the goshawk. I had thrown
her out a wounded old moorgame cock which she had not
seen : I then threw her out a strong poult which to my surprise
she raked with ease and carried it into the junipers.'

Contrary to his custom, Colonel Thornton omits to say what
his bag totalled on this day. He and his friends were usually
content with five or six brace per gun per day, a few more being
killed by the falcons.

Bags which would be considered good measured by modern
standards were occasionally made a century ago : ' To show
the abundance,' says Daniel, ' rather than the exploit itself
(which by a sportsman, must be hoped never will be repeated),
the Earl of Strathmore's Gamekeeper was matched for a
considerable sum to shoot J orty brace of moor game in the course
of the 12th of August, upon his Lordship's moors in Yorkshire :
he performed it with great ease, shooting by two o'clock forty-
three brace : at eight o'clock in the morning owing to a thick

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

fog, he had onl\- killed three birds, and the odds ran mueh
against him : however the day eleared up by eleven, and the
work of slaughter went on rapidly.'

Robert Lascelles in Angling, Shooting and Coursing (1815)
gives this bag as 42| braee, and adds that the keeper, James
Crondace by name, used three brace of pointers and six double
guns,' which he fired in almost continuous succession.'

' In 1801 a Gentleman in Invernesshire shot JiJ'ty -two brace
of moor game in one day, never killing a bird sitting or more
than one bird at a time.'

Bowes Moor, the property of Lord Strathmore referred to,
was let at a later date. From the following letter addressed
by Squire Osbaldeston to ]\Ir. Budd, it would appear that any
man could purchase the right to shoot over the moor, in
common with others, for £'20 for the season. Having con-
ceived the ' fancy to see the fun at Bowes,' the Squire pre-
vailed upon two friends, Messrs. Inman and Wilson, to join
him ; and thus he describes that ' Twelfth ' : the date is
believed to be 1828 : —

' I walked up to the public-house where I w^as to sleep.
This was about ten o'clock, but I found such a noise and smok-
ing, that I did not go to bed until half-past eleven, and rose
again at one o'clock as we had nine miles to ride to Bowes-
moor. I never slept a wink, rose at one and started at two.
We arrived at our post at half-past three, but could not see
to shoot. There were several parties lying near us watching
for the light, and we nearly all started together. It put me
in mind of what one reads of a storming party springing from
the trenches. Owing to Wood's delay (in the night I may call
it) we were obliged to leave him behind and shoot with any of
the dogs that would follow. Inman and I and Wood contrived
so badly that neither he nor Wilson found us till six o'clock,
and would have lost us altogether, if we had not beaten back
on the same Une we began. I thought at first we should kill
nothing, but I ended the day with bagging 22 brace ; no other
man that I could hear of killing above 12| brace. I hardly

GROUSE SHOOTING

ever shot so well — I killed seven or eight quite out of all
distance. It was quite a scramble ; birds flying all directions,
men swearing and dogs howling from the whip. I walked from
half-past three until six at night, when we gave up — not a bird
to be found. The birds were as big as old ones and very wild.
The day also was wild — wind and showers. The birds got up
at sixty to one hundred yards off at times.'

But let us return to Scotland and trace the rise of grouse
shooting as a fashion before we go farther. ' When I first trod
the heather, gun in hand,' wrote Captain Horatio Ross in
1862,^ ' letting shootings in the Highlands was almost unknown.
I think the first shooting quarter ever let was Glen Dye in
Kincardineshire (extent about 36,000 acres) : for this the late
Lord Panmure, then the Hon. William Maule, gave £150 a year.
This gentleman was the proprietor of immense moors in Forfar-
shire which marched with Glen Dye, but so great was his kind-
ness and so extended his hospitality, that his own 200,000 or
300,000 acres did not suffice for all the friends to whom, to the
last hour of his life (some eight or nine years since) he gratui-
tously gave sport, and he for several years rented Glen Dye
that he might still further oblige his friends.'

Captain Ross refers to the ' forty-eight consecutive seasons
that I have shot on the moors of Scotland ' ; his first season,
therefore, would have been 1813.

Mr. Barclay of Ury, famed as a pedestrian, took some
60,000 acres in Inverness-shire soon after Lord Panmure took
Glen Dye ; and for these he paid. Captain Ross thought, only
£50 a year. Mr. Barclay was followed as tenant by the Duke
of Bedford, who paid £300 ; and Captain Ross, who succeeded
the Duke, held the shooting for five years at £400 a vear. In
1862 the shooting was rented at £1000, ' but a deer forest has
been formed, the grazings of which are worth about £300.
The actual shooting rent has, however, risen in my memory
from £50 to £700.' The cause of this rise in rents is easilv
explained : in the earlier decades of the nineteenth century

' Letter to the J-ield.
87

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

travelling was slow and expensive, and the Highlands were,
comparatively speaking, little known. For a long time after
the first shootings were rented, moreover, the Highland land-
owner considered it infra dig. to let a moor.

Here is a characteristic passage from Christopher North,
an unconventional votary of what had at this time, 1842,
become a fashionable sport : —

' . . . But let us inspect Brown Bess. Till sixty, we used
a single barrel. At seventy we took to a double ; ' — but
dang detonators — we stick to the flint. " Flint," says Colonel
Hawker, " shoots strongest into the bird." A percussion-gun
is quicker, but flint is fast enough ; and it does, indeed, argue
rather a confusion than a rapidity of ideas, to find fault with
lightning for being too slow. With respect to the flash in the
pan, it is but a fair warning to ducks, for example, to dive if
they can, and get out of the way of mischief. It is giving
birds a chance for their lives, and is it not ungenerous to grudge
it ? When our gun goes to our shoulder, that chance is but
small ; for with double-barrel Brown Bess, it is but a word and
a blow, — the blow first, and long before you could say Jack
Robinson, the garcock plays thud on the heather. But we beg
leave to set the question at rest for ever by one single clencher.
We have killed fifty birds — grouse — at fifty successive shots

one bird only to the shot. And mind, not mere pouts —

cheepers — for we are no chicken-butchers — but all thumpers —
cocks and hens as big as their parents, and the parents them-
selves likewise ; not one of which fell out of hounds (to borrow
a phrase from the somewhat silly though skilful pastime of
pigeon-shooting), except one that suddenly soared halfway
up to the moon, and then

*• Into sucli strange vagaries fell
As he would dance,'

and tumbled down stone-dead into a loch. Now, what more

1 Professor John Wilson was horn in 1785 ; he was therefore about fifty-seven years
old when this was written. He died in 1854.-(Z;/<,7. of Nat. Biography.)

GROUSE SHOOTING

could have done a detonator in the hands of the devil him-
self ? . . .

' But let us off to the Moor ! Piro ! Ponto ! Basta ! to
your paws, and O'Bronte, unfurl your tail to heaven. Pointers !
ye are a noble trio. White, O Ponto ! art thou as the foam
of the sea. Piro ! thou tan of all tans ! red art thou as the
dun-deer's hide, and fleet as he while thou rangest the mountain
brow, now hid in heather, and now re-appearing over the rocks.
Waur hawk, Basta ! — for finest scented though be thy scarlet
nostrils, one bad trick alone hast thou ; and whenever that
grey wing glances from some pillar-stone in the wilderness,
headlong goest thou, O lawless negro ! But behave thyself
to-day, Basta ! and let the kestrel unheeded sail or sun herself
on the cliff. As for thee, O'Bronte ! the sable dog with the
star-bright breast, keep thou like a serf at our heels, and when
our coiu-se lies over the fens and marshes, thou mayest sweep
like a hairy hurricane among the flappers, and haply, to-day,
grip the old drake himself, and with thy fan-like tail proudly
spread in the wind, deposit at thy master's feet, with a smile,
the monstrous mallard.

' But in what direction shall we go, callants — towards what
airt shall we turn our faces ? Over yonder cliffs shall we ascend,
and descend into Glen-Creran, where the stony regions that
the ptarmigan love melt away into miles of the grousey
heather, which, ere we near the salmon-haunted Loch so
beautiful, loses itself in woods that mellow all the heights of
Glen Ure and Fasnacloigh with silvan shades, wherein the
cushat coos, and the roe glides through the secret covert ?
Or shall we away up by Kinloch-Etive, and Melnatorran, and
Mealgayre, into the Solitude of Streams, that from all their
lofty sources down to the far distant Loch have never yet
brooked, nor will they ever brook, the bondage of bridges,
save of some huge stone flung across some chasm, or trunk of a
tree — none but trunks of trees there, and all dead for centuries
— that had sunk down where it grew, and spanned the flood
that eddies round it with a louder music ? Wild region ! yet
M 89

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

not barren ; for there are cattle on a thousand hills, that, wild
as the very red-deer, toss their heads as they snuff the feet of
rarest stranger, and form round him in a half-alarmed and
half-threatening crescent. . . .

' . . . All these are splendid schemes — but what say you,
Hamish, to one less ambitious, and better adapted to Old Kit ?
Let us beat all the best bits down by Armaddy — the Forge —
Glenco, and Inveraw. We may do that well in some six or
seven hours — and then let us try that famous salmon-cast
nearest the mansion — (you have the rods ?) — and if time
permit, an hour's trolling in Loch Awe, below the pass of the
Brander, for one of these giants that have immortalized the
name of a Maule, a Goldie, and a Wilson. Mercy on us,
Shelty, what a beard 1 You cannot have been shaved since
Whitsunday — and never saw we such lengthy love locks as
those dangling at your heels. But let us mount old Surefoot
— mulish in naught but an inveterate aversion to all stumbling.
And now for the heather ! But are you sure, gents, that ive
are on ?

' And has it come to this ! Where is the grandson of the
desert-born ? Thirty years ago, and thou, Filho da Puta, wert
a flyer ! A fencer beyond compare ! Dost thou remember
how, for a cool five himdred, thou clearedst yon canal in a style
that rivalled that of the red-deer across the chasms of Cairn-
gorm ? All we had to do was to hold hard and not ride over
the hounds, when running breast-high on the rear of Reynard
the savage pack wakened the welkin with the tumultuous
hubbub of their death-cry. . . . You are sure we are on,
Hamish ? and that he will not run away ? Come, come,
Surefoot, none of your funking ! A better mane for holding
on by we could not imagine. Pure Shelty, you say, Hamish ?
From his ears we should have suspected his grandfather of
having been at least a Zebra. . . .

' . . . Comma — semicolon — colon — full point ! All three
scent-struck into attitude steady as stones. That is beautiful.
Ponto straight as a rod — Piro in a slight curve — and Basta a

GROUSE SHOOTING

perfect semicircle. O'Bronte ! down on your marrow-bones.
But there is no need, Hamish, either for hurry or haste. On
such ground, and on such a day, the birds will lie as if they were
asleep. Hamish, the flask ! not the powder-flask, you dotterel
— but the Glenlivet. 'Tis thus we always love to steady our
hand for the first shot. It gives a fine feehng to the fore-
finger.

' Ho ! the heads of the old cock and hen, like snakes above
the heather — motionless, but with glancing eyes — and prepar-
ing for the spring. \^^lurr — whirr — whirr — bang — bang —
tapsilleery — tapsalteery — thud — thud — thud ! Old cock and
hen both down, Hamish. No mean omen, no awkward augury,
of the day's sport. Now for the orphan family— marked ye
them round

"The swelling instep of the mountain's foot.''''

' . . . Up to the time of our grand climacteric we loved a
wide range and thought nothing of describing and discussing
a circle of ten miles diameter in a day, up to our hips in heather.
But for these dozen or twenty past, we have preferred a narrow
beat, snugly seated on a shelty, and pad the hoof on the hill
no more. Yonder is the kind of ground we love — for why
should an old man make a toil of a pleasure ? 'Tis one of the
many small coves belonging to Glen Etive and looks down
from no very great elevation upon the Loch. Its bottom and
side nearly half way up, are green pastures, sheep-nibbled as
smooth as a lawn — and a rill, dropping in diamonds from the
cliffs at its upper end, betrays itself, where the water is in-
visible, by a line of still livelier verdure. An old dilapidated
sheepfold is the only building, and seems to make the scene
still more solitary. Above the green pastures are the richest
beds and bosoms of heather ever bees murmured on — and
above them nothing but bare cliffs. A stiff breeze is now
blowing into this cove from the sea loch : and we shall slaughter
the orphan family at our leisure. 'Tis probable they have
dropped — single bird after single bird — or in twos and threes —

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

all along the first line of heather that met their flight : and if so
we shall pop them like partridges in turnips. Three points in
the game ! Each dog, it is manifest, stands to a different lot of
feathers : and we shall slaughter them, without dismounting,
seriatim. No, Hamish — we must dismount — give us your
shoulder — that will do. The Crutch — now we are on our pins.
Take a lesson. Whirr ! Bang ! Bag number one, Hamish.
Ay, that is right, Ponto — back Basta. Ditto, ditto. Now
Ponto and Basta both back Piro — right and left this time —
and not one of the brood will be left to cheep of Christopher.
Be ready — attend us with the other double barrel. Whirr !
Bang — bang — bang — bang ! What think you of that, you
son of the mist ? There is a shower of feathers ! They are all
at sixes and sevens upon the greensward at the edge of the
heather. Seven birds at four shots ! The whole family is
now disposed of — father, mother and eleven children. If such
fire be in the dry wood what must it have been in green ? Let
us lie down in the sheltered shade of the mossy walls of the
sheepfold — take a drop of Glenlivet — and philosophise.'

Captain Ross said (1862) that he had never tried to make
a great bag in one day : he thought 05 brace was his heaviest,
' but that is nothing : 200 brace have since been shot in a
day by one man easily on 12th August.'

The Hon. A. E. Gathorne Hardy, in his delightful Autumns
in Argyleshire with Rod and Gun, observes that in his county
forty brace over dogs is, and always has been, a great day. Let
him speak for himself : —

' . . . The road here degenerates into a mere farm track,
very steep in places ; but we have not much further to go, for
here is Stroneska farm, where dogs and keepers are waiting for
us. Altogether there are eight dogs — six pointers and two
setters ; but two of the pointers are only young ones in their
first season, brought out more for the benefit of their educa-
tion than to help the sport. In addition to the head-keeper
and the one to whose beat the groimd belongs, there are two
gillies, one of whom bears on his back an enormous pannier,

GROUSE SHOOTING

capable of holding some thirty brace of grouse, and no light
weight, if, as occasionally happens, it is filled at the close of the
day. It is the theory of the laird that ponies cannot be taken
over the ground, and there is no doubt that there are many
excessively boggy hollows and awkward dykes ; but I confess
to being sceptical as to the alleged impossibihty, having seen
much of the instinctive capacity of a well-trained Highland
pony for finding its way across difficult country. However,
the gillies do not have a hard time of it. Their duty is to keep
out of sight of us, but within sound of a whistle, in case fresh
dogs or cartridges are wanted, and most of their time is spent
in lounging about until the end of the day's sport, when the
hamper has to be taken down to the dog-cart. Then it is a
sight to see how a tall Highlander can step out in spite of the
weight on his shoulders ; but your West Coast man is better
at an energetic spurt than at prolonged exertion.

' The first part of our beat is up a low hill, mainly grass and
rushes, with only a few patches of heather ; still, it is worth
while to hunt it, as it is on the way, and there is nothing so
tiresome as a long walk to the ground. The principal inhabi-
tants are the ubiquitous rabbits, which here and now are a
nuisance, and nothing but it. When you see the side of a hill
literally alive with them in the late evenings, it is hard to
believe that men still living remember the first artificial intro-
duction of the rabbit into Argyleshire, and the prophecies that
they would never do in such a wet climate.

' " Let Rake go ! " and off gallops a strong well-proportioned
setter, delighted to have the first turn — a distinction he owes
rather to his defects than to his merits, as it is now impossible
to spoil him. "Is that a very young dog?" says my com-
panion, rather new to the sport and misled by the frantic
activity of the debutant. " He is as old as a man," is the reply
of the keeper, — a slight exaggeration, but bordering on the
truth, for I can remember Rake almost as an institution.
What a hot day that was at Achoish, when, we ha^^ng toiled
all morning and found no birds, Rake caught the sheep by the

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

leg ! He never was known to do such a thing before or since,
and I firmly believe he thought that we ought to have some
flesh meat to take home, and that, as it appeared to be hopeless
to find grouse, mutton should serve our turn for the nonce.
But see — to-day he has turned to stone about a hundred and
fifty yards off, and my companion cocks his gun and quickens
his pace. I warn him not to hurry, that it is always better
to go slow up to a point — a counsel of perfection which he
hears but does not obey ; and while my judgment condemns,
my heart rather approves, for is he not young — lucky fellow 1
and this the first point of the season ? I have a pretty good
notion what Rake has found in that rushy bit, and if I am
right there is no hurry.

' We get close up to the dog before anything moves, and
have to force him forward, so near is he to the game ; then there
is a whirr of wings, and, just as the warning " 'Ware hen "
breaks from my lips, there is a report and a fall, and the laws of
the covmtry and of sport are outraged by the destruction of
a well-grown young greyhen. Alas for the beginning of the
season ! Yet, let those who have never committed a similar
mistake first cast a stone at my companion, who is profuse in
his apologies, and sees the old hen and seven other young birds
fly off almost in succession, presenting the most tantalising
marks. Next, two or three snipe rise one after another, and
a couple of them fall victims, while Rake — alas ! that I should
say it — more than once points at a rabbit, but in a constrained
attitude and with glaring eyes, which gives me a pretty good
idea of what he is after. We do not fire at the rabbits, not
merely for fear of spoiling the dog, but also because if we killed
all we saw the bag would be difficult to carry, and we are after
nobler game.

' We are now coming to the heather, and we might safely
hunt the younger dogs, but I cannot find it in my heart to take
Rake up until he has had a chance, which comes quickly enough.
A capital point, and a nice rise of a good covey of nine ; this
time there is no mistake made, and two brace are neatly killed

GROUSE SHOOTING

— one by each gun — the young birds well grown and feathered.
Then we whistle up the reserve dogs, and Rake is taken up
for the present — a pair of white and tan pointers, Juno and
Diomede, quartering the ground in front of them with clock-
work regularity.

' So the morning goes on with varying fortune : the sun is
rather hot, the scent not first-rate, and sometimes we go half-
an-hour without a shot ; but when we reach the wire fence by
the march of Craig-an-terrive we find that another sportsman
has been on the ground. We pick up two freshly killed grouse,
and from the condition of their heads it is easy to see that the
murder has been the work of a peregrine. Here the keeper
casts a reproachful glance at me, as I never fire my gun at the
magnificent birds, and rejoice at the laird's orders that they
should not be trapped. Inveterate poachers they are, no
doubt — but what a beautiful thing is the swoop of a wild
peregrine ! Perhaps I shall see my friend himself later on.

' By one o'clock we stop at a lovely little spring, coming
straight out of the side of the hill, and stretch our limbs and
inspect the bag while our luncheon is being unpacked. There
are eleven brace of grouse — counting the greyhen, which must
masquerade under that title, and an old blackcock — whose
illegal slaughter must, I fear, be attributed not to accident,
but design — four snipe and a hare. Altogether a fair morning's
work ; for I usuallv calculate on the afternoon bagf doubling
that of the morning — the birds are easier to find, and the even-
ing is the best time for shooting. There let them cool while we
discuss our lunch and the best pipe of the day.

' Half-an-hour — or perhaps three-quarters ! sees us once
more on the move, and here we are on some of our best ground,
just above Loch Leachan — a fair-sized loch, with a curious
little stone island near its middle. It is very calm just now,
and although it is some distance off, we can see a flock of duck
near the reeds, and the circles made by the rising trout. Here
we pick up a good many birds, and spare one or two coveys
of squeakers — second broods, to all appearance ; and here we

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

fall in with our poacher of the morning. As we round the corner
of a knoll, three curlews come flying towards us, and contrary
to the custom of these shy birds, keep going round us in circles,
close to the ground and almost within gunshot ; and, sure
enough, behind them is the falcon, who sheers off when he
observes us, but does not go far off, if I know anything of his
habits. When, later, the curlews fly off in the direction of
Loch Crinan, there is a rush of wings, and we see one of the
finest bits of wild hawking it was ever my privilege to witness.
I have seen the falcon after terns, ducks, and grouse, but I
never saw anything to equal that rapid flight after the curlew —
one of which, alas ! succumbed at last, but at such a distance
that I could only just note that the two joined and fell together.

' We now turn in the same direction as the falcon flew, for,
like the curlew, our home is by the sea ; and at half-past six
Duncan and his panniers are despatched by a straight path to
Roodel Glen, where the keeper's cart is waiting. He carries
nearly thirty brace on his back ; and we have added two or
three more to the bag, as well as a couple and a half of ducks,
by the time we reach the glen at seven o'clock.'

Mr. Gathorne Hardy says he thinks he has been colder
grouse driving than when pursuing any other form of sport ;
and he pleads extenuating circumstances for the chilly M.P.
who lighted a fire in his butt and went to sleep over it, what
time the birds were streaming over him.

Driving, much less in vogue north of Tweed than on York-
shire moors, was practised in a rough and ready way, says
Mr. Spencer Stanhope, at Cannon Hall, Barnsley, about 1805.*
Regular drives without butts were arranged in 1836, when three
brace per gun per drive was held a large bag. Lord Walsing-
ham adopted the modern system of grouse-driving on Blubber-
house Moor in the 'sixties.

The year 1872 was a wonderful grouse year and saw two
remarkable bags made. On 20tli August six guns on Wem-
mergill Moor (under 12,000 acres) killed 2070 birds : to which

' The Grouse. Fur, Feather, and Fin Series.

Modern Coaching:

In the bhow Ring

GROUSE SHOOTING

total the late Sir Frederick Milbank contributed 728 in the
eight drives : he was using three guns and had two loaders.
These bags were eclipsed in 1893 by Mr. R. H. Rimington
Wilson and his party, nine guns, on Broomhead moor near
Sheffield, on 20th August 1893, when 2648 birds were shot :
and this total was beaten by Mr. Rimington Wilson and his
party, nine guns, on 24th August 1894, when the bag totalled
2748 grouse. On 28th August 1872, Lord Walsingham, shoot-
ing alone on Blubberhouse Moor, killed 842 birds in sixteen
drives, using four guns (two breech and two muzzle loaders).
The total bag for the season on Wemmergill Moor was 17,074
grouse killed in 41 days' shooting, the average number of guns
per day being about five.

The largest bag of driven grouse ever made by one gun
was that by Lord Walsingham on 30th August 1888. Shooting
with four guns and two loaders on Blubberhouse Moor (2221
acres), he killed 1070 birds in twenty drives.

THE GROUSE-SHOOTERS CALL

Come, where the heather hell,
Child of the Highland dell,

Breathes its coy fragrance oVr moorland and lea :
Gaily the fountain sheen
Leaps from the mountain green —

Come to our Highland home, blithesome and free !

See ! through the gloaming
The young Morn is coming,

Like a bridal veil round her the silver mist curl'd.
Deep as the ruby's rays.
Bright as the sapphire's blaze,

The banner of day in the East is unfurl'd.

The red grouse is scattering
Dews from his golden wing
Gemm'd with the radiance that heralds the dav ;
X 97

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Peace in our Hii^liland vales,
Healtli on our mountain gales —
W'iio would not hie to the Moorlands away !

Far from the haunts of man

Mark the grey Ptarmigan,
Seek the lone Mooicock, the pride of our dells.

Birds of the wilderness !

Here is their resting place,
Mid the brown heath where the mountain-roe dwells.

Come then ! the heather bloom

Woos with its wild perfume.
Fragrant and blithesome they welcome shall be ;

Gaily the fountain sheen

Leaps from the mountain green —
Come to our home of the moorland and lea !

J. W. C, Sporting Magazine, 1834.

PHEASANT SHOOTING

IT is impossible to say at what date the modern system
of pheasant shooting in its simplest form came into
vogue. Daniel may have had in mind some elemen-
tary kind of ' battue ' (has any one ever heard that
word spoken ?) when he wrote the declamation against the
' thoughtless propensity to kill all the game possible ' quoted
in the last chapter ; and having regard to the fact that at
this time (1813) in any given bag partridges formed the very
large majority, it is possible that the pheasants included in
these two were hand-reared (of which more anon) and were
driven over the guns : —

' On 28th January 1812 John Moseley, Esq., of Tofts,
Norfolk, accompanied by eight friends, within Jive Hours shot
8 Partridges, 12 Hares, 1 Woodcock, 28 Rabbits, 275 Pheasants.
Total 325, notwithstanding nearly six hundred Pheasants had
before been bagged on that manor only.'

' The following is a List of Game, etc., shot this season
(1812) upon the Manor of Riddlesworth in Norfolk, the resi-
dence of Thomas Thornhill, Esq. Hares 574 : Partridges
725 : Pheasants 701 : Rabbits 492 : Snipes 49 : Woodcocks
6 : Total, 2548. About 3000 Rabbits have also been killed
by the keepers with Nets, etc'

A century ago the accepted method of shooting pheasants
was over spaniels. The principal requirement in the dog was
that he should be steady from hares : a spaniel which had
' any taint of the Hound in his pedigree, although generations
back, will be sure to hunt Hare in preference to winged game,
and the stock may be crossed everlastingly, may attain beauty,

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

strength, symmetry, yet the latent spark of the Harrier will
never be extinguished, and they will always show their pre-
dilection for Hare whenever they have opportunity.'

The breed most celebrated was that of the Duke of
Newcastle, known as the Clumber, after the ducal seat. The
progenitors of the breed had been given to the reigning Duke
by the Due de Noailles about the middle of the eighteenth
century : these Clumbers, ' springing spaniels ' or ' springers,'
were famed for their steadiness, and judging from the fre-
quency with which portraits of such dogs were painted during
the latter portion of the century, they were highly prized.
Mr. Hoare had a breed of spaniels of Avhich it was said they
would find a hare, but follow no further than they saw it : they
would ' no more run hares than they would sheep,' but they
possessed noses so fine that ' neither woodcock nor pheasant
could escape their search.' Daniel says that he himself pos-
sessed spaniels so excellent that after refusing one hundred and
fifty guineas for six brace and a half, he was asked to put his
own price on them. Daniel must have stocked a veritable
cemetery before he got dogs up to his standard, for he tells us
that he ' purchased at various times, at least four score spaniels,
all with the best of characters, but which, with the exception of
four brace, were regularly consigned to the halter for incorrigible
Hare hunting.'' The dogs which eventually brought him so
much credit were bred from Mr. Hoare's : he purchased them
on that gentleman's decease. Pointers with bells on their
collars were sometimes used in the coverts, but they did not
answer. Colonel Hawker preferred to spaniels a ' very high
couraged old pointer that would keep near (his master) and
would, on being told, break his point and dash in and put the
pheasants to flight before they could run out of shot,' and he
was not alone. A writer in the Sporting Magazine of 1815-
1816 (vol. iv.) says that well-bred spaniels have been neglected
of late years in favour of pointers, which answer all purposes
in light coverts throughout the season.

Colonel Hawker, by the way, in his Instructions to Young

100

PHEASANT SHOOTING

Sportsmen makes an observation which may contain a hin?t
at the germ of the modern system : —

' . . . Although to explore and beat several hundred acres
of coppice it becomes necessary to have a 'party with spaniels,
yet on such expeditions we rarely hear of any one getting much
game to his own share, except some sly old fellow who has
shirked from his companions to the end of the wood, where the
pheasants, and particularly the cock birds, on hearing the
approach of a rabble are all running, like a retreating army,
and perhaps flying in his face faster than he can load and fire.'

The example of the sly old fellow would be followed by
others less astute : and what more probable than that in
course of time all the guns, as a matter of course, took up their
station at the end of the wood and left it to beaters to drive
the birds over them ? ^

However this may be, the modern system, in the rough,
had come into favour by the year 1829. Hear Colonel
Cook, M.F.H.^ on the subject : the gallant colonel's antipathy
to ' grandes batues ' apparently did not extend to the refresh-
ments provided : — -

' . . . The great mania for game, and the useless quantity
of it with which we find most coverts glutted, is a great mis-
fortune to Fox-hunting. For some time (may I be allowed to
say) there has been a war between the Pheasant and the Fox ;
during which period (what may seem a little extraordinary,
and I state it with regret) the former has generally been
victorious. Still, I am no enemy to shooting, particularly
to Partridge-shooting, because it is an active amusement and
a healthy exercise, without both of which, to my mind, no
sport can exist. I never could make up my mind to go to any
of their Batues. I won't say that the danger attending them
has kept me away, though it is by no means trifling, for the
accidents we read of far exceed in number those which occur
in Fox-hunting ; and surely a fall from a horse is better than
being shot by a friend.

' Ohservaiiuiia on Fox-htDitintj.

101

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

' The feeds given on these occasions are generally capital,
though to a real sportsman there is but little amusement.
Happening to be on a journey in a mail coach one Christmas,
as we were changing horses in a small market town in the lower
part of Hampshire, I saw an immense quantity of game lying
at the coach office to be forwarded to its destination. I
inquired from whence it came ; and was informed a grande
batue had taken place not far distant. Knowing some of the
party, I naturally inquired of the landlord of the inn ivho had
bagged the most game : " I know nothing about that, Sir,"
said he, " but the men zvho beat for the Gentlemen killed one
hundred and twenty head " ; now if the foxes had only taken one
tenth of what the beaters knocked on the head, it would have
made a great noise in the country, although a single fox would
have shewn a hundred neighbouring gentlemen a day's sport.
It would be no very difficult matter to have pheasants driven
up so as to shoot them from your drawing-room window, and
thus treat Mamma and the children with a partie de Chasse ;
they may then have ocular demonstration what a good shot
Papa is ! '

High preservation was not universal at this time, whatever
the case in the districts known to Colonel Cook. On the
contrary, it is clear from Colonel Hawker's advice on the
subject of pheasant shooting that the landless man covild get
a good deal on unpreserved ground : —

' When staying in a town take care not to let every one
know where you shoot by pompously riding through it with
a display of guns and dogs ; but either send on the latter in
the dark, or take them closely shut up in your dog-cart. If
driving, cover your shooting dress with a box coat ; if on
horseback, ride out of the town on some road diametrically
opposite to where your sport lies, and then double back again
on other roads or by crossing the country. If you return by
daylight, enter the town again by this means, otherwise you
will soon have your beat (if on a neutral place) worked by
every townsman who can muster a dog and a gun.'

102

PHEASANT SHOOTING

Mr. H. A. Bryden (Victoria County History of Sussex) says
there is authentic record of two Horsham sportsmen who,
having business at Chichester, shot their way thither across
country, two days' journey, and home again after transacting
their affairs. On the other hand, there were properties in the
county where the game was carefully preserved and visitors
were kept in strict order. This is from the Sporting Magazine
of 1805 :—

' As a piece of necessary information for sportsmen, the
following rules are hung up in the breakfast-room of a shooting-
lodge in Sussex : —

Killing a hen pheasant, ..... ^1 1 0

Shooting at ditto, . . . . . . 0 10 6

Shooting at a pheasant on the ground or in

a tree, . . . . . . .110

Shooting at ditto at more than 40 yards unless

wounded, . . . . . .050

Shooting two or more partridges at one shot, . 0 10 6
Shooting at ditto on the ground, . . .110
Shooting at ditto at more than 45 yards if not

before wounded, . . . . .050

Shooting a hare in her form, . . . .050

' Half the above fines go to the poor of the parish, the other
half to the keepers.'

This document is illuminating in more ways than one :
it indicates that there still remained inept beings who had not
fully mastered the Art of Shooting Flying and were not to be
trusted within range of a sitting bird or hare.

It was in the same year (1805) that the ' principal noblemen,
gentlemen, and land owners of Kent, to the number of sixty-
three, very commendably signed and published a resolution
not to shoot partridges, on account of the backwardness of the
harvest, till the fourteenth of September.' From which it
would seem that sportsmen who might try to shoot their way
across country in Kent would have found obstacles.

Now let us make a cast forward to the period when the

103

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

' battue ' was producing huge bags of game before a mingling
of muzzle and breech-loaders, and being more fiercely anathe-
matised by those who held it unsportsmanlike than ever it was
in the days of Daniel. This bag made at Bradgate Park,
Leicestershire, by Lord Stamford and Warrington and his
party in 1864, was said to be the ' most extraordinary kill of
game on record ' : —

Part.

I'heas.

'Coi'k.

Snipe.

Hares.

lUbbits.

Various.

Jan. 4, .

690

328

812

„ 5, .

1822

• • •

258

225

n 6i

338

220

2534

,, T, .

1195

331

4045

860

3902

Grand total, 8900 head. Thirteen guns on three days, fourteen
on the 5th, when the largest number of pheasants was killed :
Lord Huntingfield and General Hall, both crack shots, were of
the party.

The bag made at Croxteth in November 1883 may be
added : —

Nov. 20, .

„ 21, . •
„ 22,
„ 23,

Woodcock, wild duck, and snipe swelled the total. Six guns
shot on three days and seven on the 22nd.

There is, however, no particular object to be gained by
enumerating heavy bags of pheasants. They are merely
matters of rearing, organisation, and marksmanship ; for
whatever its detractors may find to say against the modern
system, none denies that a ' tall ' pheasant, coming down with
a bias to right or left, is the most difficult shot any bird can
give. Here is a picture of covert shooting in the 'sixties ' : —

' Cornhill Magazine, 1866.
104

Partridges.

Pheasants.

Hares.

Rabbits.

1444

310

2373

319

123

1415

175

804

255

6036

1359

225

landem

PHEASANT SHOOTING

' Our readers will hardly require to be told that to kill five
hundred pheasants in the season admits of nothing like regular
battue shooting, at which nearly four times that number have
been ere now killed in a day. But they will give a man ten or
a dozen days of good sport, and, combined with running game,
will afford as much shooting as a reasonable man can desire,
A party of four guns, killing their thirty brace of pheasants,
forty or fifty couple of rabbits, half as many hares, and two
or three woodcocks, will have had more than fifty shots apiece.
If they began at eleven and left off at four, deducting an hour
for luncheon, they will have fired thirteen shots an hour, or
more than one every five minutes ; so that something very
much less than this would be fairly entitled to be called an
excellent day's sport. Twenty brace of pheasants, with hares
and rabbits in proportion, is, considering the shortness of a
winter's day, ample for any four men who do not differ as much
from a true sportsman as a glutton differs from an epicure.

' To one who cares for natural scenery, the best time of the
year for covert shooting is November, when the foliage is
thinned sufficiently to give you a fair chance at the pheasants,
while the woods have not yet doffed their rich autumnal robes
of gold and purple and crimson. A more utilitarian reason for
the same preference exists likewise in the fact, that the weather
in November is still tolerably warm, and that you are able to
stand still without such a coldness arising upon the part of your
toes and your fingers, that you seem to have lost all acquaint-
ance with them. Moreover, in many parts of England,
November is the best month for woodcocks. But if your only
object is to make as good a bag as possible, it is better to wait
till the leaves are quite off the trees ; when the pheasants loom
large and black between the bare poles athwart the dead
December sky.

' A certain knack is required in shooting pheasants, as in

shooting everything else, which until a man has mastered, he

will go on missing what seem to both himself and lookers-on

the easiest shots imaginable. There ought certainly to be no

o 105

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

difficulty in hitting a pheasant. He does not dodge and twist
hke a snipe or a woodcock. To shoot as one does at partridges
in the open when our bird is fifty yards away, is folly in covert,
and what none but a novice would think of. Pheasants do
not rise in covies and bother us in that way. They make a
great noise, no doubt, about launching themselves before the
public : bvit that is just a bit of bounce to which one soon gets
used, and, after a time, ceases to impress one at all, except
perhaps by lending additional gusto to the act of stopping
them. We believe the chief reason why men miss a pheasant
is, in the first place, that he flies a great deal quicker than he
seems to fly ; and, in the second place, that they do not always
wait till he has done rising, which is generally possible to do
without letting him get out of shot, and then firing just as he
steadies himself for a straight flight. To kill pheasants, or
indeed any birds coming over your head, is an art by itself.
If you wait till they are perpendicular, you must give the gun
a little swing backwards as you pull ; but it is better to breast
them if you must shoot, for the shots are unlikely to enter the
breast, and probably take fatal effects in the head, neck, or
belly.

' To shoot a covert properly, the men and beaters should all
walk in a line, gunner and beater alternately. We are here,
of course, speaking of coverts where that is possible. Many
are so thick that it is quite impossible to shoot inside them ;
and in that case the guns are stationed outside. But the other
plan is ten times the more pleasant one, as admits of a little
sociability, seasoned with a few bets, and streaked with a vein
of mild chaff. There is no trouble at all in finding pheasants
and rabbits, if you know they are there. In the coverts they
must be, or else, the latter, at least, in the hedgerows. So you
beat out the coverts before lunch, and the hedges afterwards,
unless upon a day especially set apart for the slaughter of
pheasants in all the coverts on the ground.

' A party of four or five intimate friends for a day of this
kind is uncommonly jolly. By the time the winter shooting

106

PHEASANT SHOOTING

has arrived, men have had the first keen edge of their desire
taken off ; and, though they enjoy the sport as much as ever,
they are not so nervously anxious about it as on the first of
September. The consequence is that there is generally more
fun going on with a party of this kind than in partridge shoot-
ing ; also, it is not made quite so much a toil of. You start
after a good — perhaps late — breakfast, and a lounge over the
fire afterwards, discussing anything but the subject on hand,
and giving no one to suppose, as you infallibly do in September,
that in your opinion the world was created for the sake of
shooting. There is no particular skill required in choosing
your coverts or beating your ground. The nearest is the best
to begin with.

' Here you are at the side of a nice ash spinney, intersected
with ditches, and sloping down to a brook in the middle. Will
you go inside or out ? Inside. Very well. Away goes the
stump of your cigar. Your shot-pouch is hitched round a
little ; or, if you use a breech-loader, the belt receives a final
tug. Here 's the place to get over. Now, then, are you all
right ? Very well. Let the dogs go ; and the day has begun.
The men knock at the stems of the ash-trees, and thrash the
bushes with their sticks, and probe every tuft of grass with their
nailed toes. The keeper roars venomously to some over-
zealous spaniel ; all together emit a mixture of sounds familiar
enough to shooters, but wholly indescribable in words, which
are considered calculated to invite, terrify, or deceive into
showing themselves, the birds and beasts who lurk beneath the
thick covert. Some unwary rabbit is usually the first victim.
But that one shot is always the signal, somehow or other, for
the commencement of a fusilade which is to last till sunset.
Hares and rabbits cross and recross, are killed and missed by
dozens, till at last you approach a rather thicker spot, or
perhaps a corner of the plantation. Then, from under your
feet, comes a sudden roar, as if a tiger had been sprung — so at
least it seems to you. A cock pheasant, finding further
progress impeded by the thorns, and uncomfortably pressed

107

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

by men and dogs in his rear, has determined on a bold dash
for it. The well-known whirr of his wings sets half-a-dozen
more in motion. The pheasants are rising all round you.
" Don't leg 'em," bellows some one. " Well missed,"
cries another. " Come on, sir," says the keeper ; " better have
this bit out again — there 's a lot gone back."

' Perhaps, three or four times in the course of the day, the
monotonous chant of the beaters will be varied by unearthly
shrieks of excitement, out of which is gradually evolved the
great fact of " cock — forward " — the simple meaning being
that a woodcock has been marked down in front of us. Not a
man of the party but would cheerfully pay down a sovereign
to bag him. Whereabouts was it, asks every man with a gun,
of every man with a stick, in an undertone, hoping that he
himself may obtain some exclusive information. " Oh, he
beant far off, sir ! " is the usual answer on such occasions.
" Just where us be now, a little bit further on, I thinks, sir."
At that moment, very likely, the bird gets up half-a-dozen
yards behind the whole party, dodges sharply between two
trees, wheels out of the covert, and is brought down, a long
shot, with a broken wing, by one of the outsiders. Just your
luck, you think.'

This from Daniel (1813) is interesting : — -

' There is a beautiful variety of the Pheasant with a white
ring round the neck ; of these the Earl of Berkeley has a
considerable quantity at Cranford Bridge : except the white
neck feathers they appear in size, and the rest of their plumage,
exactly to resemble the common.'

P. colchicus has almost reached the status of a ' beautiful
variety ' in our day !

P. torquatus must be, on the average, a good deal heavier
than the old English bird of a century ago. Daniel in the
supplementary volume of Rural Sports (1813) says : ' An un-
common sized Pheasant was shot in January 1810, in the
Plantations belonging to E. L. Irton, Esq., near Whitehaven,
which weighed fifty-six ounces, and measured, from the Bill

108

PHEASANT SHOOTING

to the Extremity of the Tail, one Yard five inches ! ' A former
owner of my copy has added to this a marginal note to the
effect that he, J. T. L., had killed one of 54 oz. A bird of 3i lbs.
or 3f lbs. is now considered one of normal weight. In 1859
the Field mentioned a bird which weighed 5f lbs. ; the heaviest
pheasant known {Field, 14th August 1875) weighed one ounce
under 6 lbs. Maize-fed birds attain to a greater weight than
others. The increase in size has followed development of the
hand-rearing system.

The connection of the hand-reared pheasant with sport is
rather misty until the nineteenth century. In old days the
birds were bred as poultry. Palladius, whose work on
Husbandry is assigned to about 1420, gives directions for their
management : you were to take none of more than one year
old, as birds above that age were ' infecunde ' : you were to
allot one cock to every two hens and require each hen to sit on
20 eggs : ' common hens ' might be used for hatching : one
such should be given 15 pheasants' eggs. The chicks were
fed for the first fifteen days on boiled barley sprinkled with
wine : after that, bruised wheat, locusts and ants' eggs. We
can trace the bird in its domestic character for about three
hundred years from the time of Palladius, but there is at least
room for the supposition that it was sometimes turned out for
sport. In the sixteenth century there was a royal game
preserve round London, which extended from Westminster
to St. Giles in the Fields and thence to Islington, Hampstead,
Highgate and Hornsey Park, and Henry viii. maintained at
Westminster a ' frenche Preste the fesaunt breder.' ^ Henry,
as we know, was a true sportsman, and it is only reasonable
to think that he flew his hawks at the ' fesants ' so raised.

If his Majesty hawked hand-reared pheasants, no doubt
his subjects did the same ; but whether for falconry or merely
to have their necks \vrung for the table, pheasants continued
to be kept in captivity. The act of 1603-1604 already
mentioned (1 Jac. i., c. 27, § 4) forbade the sale or purchase to

' Privy I'urse Expenses of Henry viii., 22nd December 1532.
109

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

sell again of any deer, hare, partridge, or pheasant ; but it
made an exception in favour of birds ' reared and brought up
in house or houses or brought from beyond sea.' There is
among the old accounts of Hatfield House {Victoria County
History of Herts) mention of the purchase in 1629 of ' hens to
set on pheasants' eggs,' the foster-mothers costing Is. each.
In 1727 we find Richard Bradley, in his General Treatise of
Husbandry and Gardening, combating the idea that pheasant-
rearing was difficult and expensive : he had found by experi-
ence that where pinioned birds were allowed due liberty, and
not more than one cock was put with seven hens, they ' brought
their young to perfection for a trifling expense.'

The pheasant-rearing business, however, was not much
practised thirty years later ; for the edition of Bradley's
work published in 1757 contains no reference to it, and the
omission seems to be explained by the editor's remark that
they had fovmd it possible to leave out a good deal which was
not important. J. Mortimer in 1761 {Whole Art oj' Husbandry)
says that by reason of the trouble and expense few people
reared pheasants except near London. In the neighbourhood
of the capital the business was followed by men who sold the
birds to gentlemen as ' rarities : especially those that have
the white breed and such as are very fine coloured.' In 1826,
at Chippenham Park, Cambridgeshire, Mr. Tharpe and his
party made a bag of 630 pheasants, of which 300 were either
white or pied : the white and pied birds were then much
admired as a rare variety. A writer in the Annals of Agri-
culture (vol. xxxix., 1800) remarks that pheasants may be
reared in almost any quantity ' by importing the eggs from
France and setting them under common hens. It has been
practised with great success by some noblemen and others
desirous of stocking their woods and plantations.'

Daniel bred pheasants from pinioned birds which ran with
his poultry : ' some, hatched under hens, remained in or about
the garden until the spring following, and then probably bred
at no great distance.'

110

PHEASANT SHOOTING

Raising pheasants with the assistance of hens has always
been practised, but the system of keeping birds pinioned or
in captivity for breeding purposes would seem to have fallen
into disuse for many years. At all events the Field of January
1857 contains a description of the methods whereby a gentle-
man, resident in the north, had succeeded in breeding from
captive birds ; and his communication is welcomed as indicat-
ing means whereby the too prevalent offence of game-egg
stealing might be checked. The egg-stealing industry in those
days was widespread, the system of hatching out pheasants'
eggs under hens providing a ready and profitable market.

Ill

WILD FOWLING

' f ■ ^ HIS sport ' says George Edie in his Treatise on English
■ Shooting (1772) ' though very good when wild fowl

I are plenty is very little practised by Gentlemen

"^ owing to the several disagreeable circumstances

attending it,'

It must be admitted that the account of wild fowling as
pursued on the Hampshire coast, given by the Rev. William
Gilpin,^ suggests keenness as the first essential.

' Fowling and fishing are indeed on this coast commonly
the employments of the same person. He who in summer
with his line or net plies the shores when they are overflowed
by the tide, in winter with his gun, as evening draws on, runs
up in his boat among the little creeks which the tide leaves
in the mud — lands and lies in patient expectation of his prey.

' Sea fowl usually feed by night, when in all their multitudes
they come down to graze on the Savannahs of the shore. As
the sonorous cloud advances (for their noise in the air resem-
bles a pack of hounds in full cry) the attentive fowler listens
which way they bend their course : perhaps he has the mortifi-
cation to hear them alight at too great a distance for his gun
(though of the longest barrel) to reach them : and if he can-
not edge his boat round some winding creek, which it is not
always in his power to do, he despairs of success that night :
perhaps however he is more fortunate, and has the satisfaction
to hear the airy noise approach nearer, till at length the host
settles in some plain upon the edge of which his boat is moored :
he now, as silently as possible, primes both the pieces anew
(for he is generally double-armed) and listens with all his atten-

' Remarks on Forest Scener;/ and other Woodland Views, wiitten 1781, published 1791.

112

WILD FOWLING

tion : it is so dark that he can take no aim, for if he could dis-
cern the birds they would also see him ; and being extremely
timorous would seek some other pasture : though they march
with noise they feed in silence : some indistinct noises, how-
ever, issue from so vast a concourse : he directs his piece there-
fore towards the sound, fires at a venture, and instantly catch-
ing up his other gun, discharges it where he supposes the flock
to rise on the wing : his gains for the night are now decided and
he has only to gather his harvest : he immediately puts on his
mud pattens (flat square pieces of board, which the Fowler
ties to his feet, that he may not sink in the ooze) ignorant
yet of his success, and goes groping about in the dark in quest
of his booty, picking up sometimes many, and perhaps not
one : so hardly does the poor fowler earn a few shillings,
exposed in an open boat, during a solitary winter night to
weather as it comes, rain, hail, or snow, on a bleak coast, a
league probably from the beach, and often liable, without
great care, to be fixed in the mud where he would become an
inevitable prey to the returning tide. I have heard one of
these poor fellows say he never takes a dog with him in these
expeditions, because no dog could bear the cold which he is
obliged to suffer : and after all, others frequently enjoy more
from his labours than himself, for the tide often throws next
day, on different parts of the shore, many of the birds which
he had killed, but could not find in the night.'

The pursuit of the ' Punt Shooters ' says Daniel, is haz-
ardous, especially when there is much ice as the craft may
be nipped in the fioes. The punt shooter's gun ' carried as
much as a little cannon ' and was used in the same way as
the stanchion-gun invented a few years later by Colonel Peter
Hawker ; the fowler lying in the bottom of the craft with
the gun pointed over the bow ready to pull trigger as soon
as he came near enough to ' rattle with his feet on the bottom
of his pmit,' whereby having sprung the fowl, he fired and
' cut a lane through their ranks.'

Colonel Peter Hawker had condemned the Hampshire
P 113

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

punts as unsafe, and his opinion having been confirmed by
fataUties, ' these regular western channel gunners ' adopted
an entirely new mode of getting at the birds : —

' They start off, generally in the afternoon (provided the
tide serves, so as to be low enough at the proper time), keep-
ing as close as possible to the shore, and going before the wind,
till they arrive at the leeward end of their beat ; the whole
track of which, for one night's work, may be about five or
six miles. They go ashore, and either get into a pot-house,
if they have a sixpence to spend (which is not always the
case), or lounge about the shore till day-light disappears, and
the birds begin to fly ; having first put all " in order " ; that is,
to draw out their mould shot, which they generally have in,
for the chance of a goose " going down along " ; put in smaller
shot ; and regulate their gun so that it will bear about eighty
yards, when the punt is on dry mud. No sooner are the
widgeon pitched than off they set, in tarpaulin dresses ; and
looking more like chimney-sweepers than gunners, crawling
on their knees, and shoving this punt before them on the mud.
No matter whether light or dark, few birds or many, bang!
goes the gun ; — and no sooner have they picked up what few
birds are readily to be found, or missed the fowl, which they
very frequently do, as the punt, by even a few periwinkles,
might be thrown off the line of aim, they proceed again ; thus
travelling all night (by " laimching " over the mud, and row-
ing across the creeks) in a direct line, similar to the march of
an army of coots. I should not omit to mention, that, as the
birds will seldom allow them to get into the punt to fire, some
of them draw the trigger with a string at the end of the ram-
rod, and others creep up on one side, and pull it off with the
finger. This is perhaps the most laborious, and the most
filthy work in all the department of wildfowl shooting ; and
not only that, but it so ruins the country, that in a very short
time it entirely " breaks the haunt of the birds," without
having yielded any material advantage to those who adopt
the system. As some corroboration of this, I need only

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WILD FOWLING

observe, that a family, who were the leaders in this way,
and who are by far the best launchers in Hampshire, have of
late been reduced to absolute distress for a livelihood.' . . .

Mr. A. E. Knox in his Game Birds and Wild Fowl (1850)
has given a capital description of the expert punt gunner at
work : —

' . . . . Not far from the narrow entrance to the harbour I
found a coastguard-man perched on the summit of a mud
wall, and attentively reconnoitring some distant object
through his spyglass. From this position he commanded
an extensive view of the haven which — as it was now about
full tide — spread like a great lake into the interior. The
absence of large vessels, and indeed of almost all kinds of
sailing craft, from this secluded spot, would at first strike a
stranger with surprise, but at low water the mystery would
be cleared up : the scene would then be entirely changed :
a great extent of flat mud would be left by the receding waters,
in the middle of which the shallow and devious channel might
be perceived winding like a silver thread on its way to the sea.

' At this moment, however, the tide was at the highest,
and a glance into the distance was sufficient to show me the
object which had attracted the man's observation. Several
flocks of wild fowl, apparently brent geese, widgeon, scaup
ducks, pochards, and tufted ducks, were swimming near the
further side of the estuary, while in the midst of these, like a
naval squadron among a fleet of fishing boats, sailed a noble
herd of wild swans. I soon perceived that they were too far
from the shore to admit of my getting a shot at them, and
had therefore no choice but either to wait patiently in
expectation of some of the party separating from the main
body and wandering up one of the narrow creeks on the oppo-
site side of the harbour, where by taking a circuitous route,
and availing myself of any intervening object that might
project above the flat banks of the swamp, I might perhaps
succeed in stalking them, or else to proceed in search of a less
noble quarry. I at once chose the former alternative. As I

115

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

swept the shores of the estuary with the spy-glass, I had the
satisfaction of observing that my sport was not Ukely to be
anticipated by any wandering gunner, who might have per-
ceived the birds already, and perhaps venture on a random
shot before I could commence operations, or even decide on
the best mode of carrying them into effect. There was not
a human being within sight, nor could I discover a single boat
on the surface of the water. I had hardly congratulated
myself on this fortunate circumstance, when a distant object
arrested my attention. It looked at first like a plank of wood,
or the trunk of a dead tree, as it floated down a narrow creek,
and seemed to be carried here and there at the mercy of the
current ; still there was something suspicious about it which
prevented me from looking at anything else, and I continued
to watch its movements with increasing anxiety.

' On reaching the open water it turned round, apparently
in an eddy of the tide, and gave me an opportunity of exam-
ining its outline as the broadside was turned towards me for
an instant. There was nothing, however, in this hasty
glimpse calculated to increase my alarm ; on the contrary, I
now felt more than ever convinced that I was looking at an
inanimate log, and my only fear at this moment was that it
might be drifted by the tide — which would begin to ebb — or
by the irregular course of the channel, to that part of the har-
bour where the hoopers were still sailing in apparent security,
and alarm them prematurely. On a sudden, however, it seemed
to alter its course and to move slowly under the shadow of
the bank, or, as the sailors term it, to " hug the shore " :
it was apparently propelled by some hidden power, for it no
longer wheeled about, but advanced steadily with one end
foremost, and as I watched its movements while it crept
cautiously along, I fancied every now and then that I could
distinguish the slight splash of a paddle, and my heart sank
within me. It was evidently the gun-boat of a wild-fowl
shooter, and of one who was no novice in the craft ; but when
the first feeling of disappointment had passed away, I easily

116

WILD FOWLING

persuaded myself that I should derive more pleasure from
witnessing his operations than in spoiling his sport — which
would have been the result of a premature movement on my
part, for he was yet half a mile from the objects of his pursuit
— but it occurred to me at the same moment, that I might
even manage to convert him into an unconscious but important
ally in contributing to my — the jackal's — share of it. Tak-
ing, therefore, a hasty survey of the harbour and its shores,
I saw that if I could contrive to conceal myself at a certain
point on a long and narrow belt of shingle at some distance,
over which the swans would probably fly when returning to
the sea, I might perhaps have the good luck to intercept them.
I lost no time in carrying out this plan : The coastguard-
man ferried me across the mouth of the estuary, after which,
by taking a wide circuit and availing myself of the nature
of the ground where it was possible to mask my advance, I suc-
ceeded at last in reaching the desired point, and having scraped
a hole in the loose shingle sufficiently large to conceal myself
and my dog in a crouching attitude, I placed my guns on either
side of me, and now directed all my attention to the exciting
scene in the harbour. The hoopers were still there, surrounded
by several flocks of wild ducks, some five hundred yards from
the position which I occupied, and about half that distance
beyond them was the gun-boat, as harmless a looking object
as could well be imagined, lying low in the water, and never
for a moment attracting the attention of any of the devoted
birds, who appeared to be perfectly at their ease and in the
full enjoyment of repose and jDlenty after their long and stormy
voyage. The brent geese and the widgeons were preening their
feathers, while the scaup and tufted ducks were continually
diving, or flapping their wings on their return to the surface
before they again plunged to the bottom. The swans were
also feeding, but in a different manner : with their long necks
they explored the surface of the mud beneath, where, to judge
from their perseverance and the number of tails that appeared
at the same moment directed upwards, they must have dis-

117

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

covered something well suited to their palates. I could also
distinguish some of the less common species of anatidae, among
which the males of the smew and the golden-eye were con-
spicuous in their pied plumage. The sooty scoter too was
there, but foraging by himself apart from the main body.
All this time their concealed enemy was gradually lessening
the distance between them and himself. Slowly and stealthily
did he advance, nearer and nearer, until at last I expected
every instant to hear the roar of the stanchion-gun, and fan-
cied that he must be excessively dilatory or over-cautious,
as minute after minute elapsed without the report reaching
my ears. At last a bird rose from the crowd and flew directly
towards me. I saw that it would pass tolerably near, and
when in a few seconds afterwards I perceived that it was a
male golden-eye within thirty yards of me, I almost forgot the
important — though as yet passive — part I was enacting in the
scene, and as I instinctively grasped my double gun and raised
the hammer, I felt tempted to pull the trigger. Prudence,
however, prevailed, and I followed the example of my saga-
cious dog, who lay crouched at my side without moving a
muscle of his limbs. He had seen the bird as well as myself,
and his quick eye had detected my hasty movement, but his
attention was again directed to the main body of water-fowl,
several of which had at length taken alarm and were rising,
one by one, from the water. It was an anxious moment.
The swans were still there, but they had ceased to feed ; their
heads were turned towards me, and I soon perceived that the
entire flotilla had gradually approached nearer to me. Now
or never, thought I. I glanced rapidly at the advancing gun-
boat— almost at the same instant a small puff of smoke issued
from its further extremity, succeeded by a pigmy report, and
up rose the entire host of water- fowl — swans and all — the snow-
white plumage of the hoopers standing out in bold relief against
the murky sky. Then a huge volume of smoke and a bright
flame burst from the prow, followed by the thunder of the great
gvm itself — off at last ! — and as it cleared a passage through

118

WILD FOWLING

the winged mass between us, several of the motley crowd fell
to rise no more : almost at the same instant the head and
shoulders of a man were protruded from a covering of seaweed,
under which he had hitherto been concealed, and the next
moment he was vigourously plying his paddles in all the
excitement of a regular cripple chase. My turn had at
length arrived : restraining the ardour of my dog, who only
waited for a word to take an active share in the pursuit, I
turned my attention to a detachment of swans, about five in
number, which had apparently escaped unhurt, and after
wheeling once or twice over the bodies of their dead com-
panions, uttering all the time their trumpet-like notes, were
now gradually ascending, and nearing my place of conceal-
ment. On they came, but suddenly their leader seemed to
have discovered my position and veered round in an opposite
direction, followed by all except one, who as he was passing
overhead, fell a victim to my long gun. A brent goose almost
at the same instant passed on the other side, and afforded an
easy mark for the first barrel of my heavy double, while the
second was discharged at a venture, but ineffectually, at a
party of pochards — the last detachment of the fugitives, as
they hurried back once more to the tempestuous but less
treacherous waters of the channel. . . .'

For light on the sport in our own day we naturally turn
to Sir Ralph Payne Gallwey, from whose Letters to young
Shooters ' the following is taken : —

' In this letter I will treat of Wildfowl-shooting as it exists
in unprotected places, such as the great stretches of sea shore
that are still free in many parts of our islands, and, I trust,
may ever remain at the disposal of the humble fowler. Here
we have a vastly different style of gunning : there is no
certainty of sport in this case, you may depend upon it.

' You will find neither Wild ducks nor Teal waiting to be
shot at their owner's fancy, after the fashion of a private
preserve : nor will you discover a quiet refuge on land or water,

' Third Series ; Wild Fowlintr.
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BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

that you may visit with every confidence of filhng your bag.
No : in this case you will have to work with a will for your
Ducks ; you will have to exercise all your ingenuity to pro-
cure a couple or two ; you will have to study their movements
by day and night, and learn their natural haunts : and you
will probably have to compete with a dozen other fowlers just
as eager as vourself to obtain the birds !

' Under these circumstances, small wonder the Ducks are
shy and often inaccessible, and you are forced to be satisfied
with a very few of them as your share. Yet it is a healthy
and interesting pvirsuit, and one in which a little success gives
much content : for the pleasures of fowling are in no degree
relative to the numbers slain, as three or four Ducks killed,
after a deal of thought and trouble, may easily give you greater
satisfaction than, perhaps, thrice the number obtained without
any difficulties.

' The fact is Wild duck shooting by day on unpreserved
ground or water inland is so uncertain that 'tis scarce worthy
of mention : for in daylight the birds either avoid such a
harassed neighbourhood, or select some safe retreat, as a large
lake, to rest on. The fowler has then little hope of sport till
the evening flight. It may be well worth his while though
to visit at daybreak, if the weather is exceptionally stormy, any
pools or marshes he has previously discovered the birds fre-
quent at night to feed : for in gales and snow, Ducks will
sometimes remain a half hour after daylight on their feeding
grounds, hesitating it may be, to face the strong wind or
pelting sleet that will beat against them as they fly back, per-
haps several miles, to their usual haunts for the day. Along
the shore of an estuary of the sea there is, however, always
a chance of sport, and the wilder and colder the weather
the better for the fowler.

' On the tide there is, besides, a greater variety of birds to
be seen, but few of which you are likely to shoot inland by day
or night : you not only have the Wild duck and Teal but you
may also, among others meet with Widgeon, Mergansers,

120

WILD FOWLING

Scoters, Scaup, Brent geese, the three large Sea divers and all
kinds of shore birds, such as Godwits and Curlew and a medley
of smaller Waders as well.

' You should lie in wait on that part of the shore along
which the wind blows : for as the birds fly about, which they
will continually do in boisterous weather, they are certain to
head the wind, and from your position they are then likely to
pass across you within shot. If you are posted with the wind
blowing directly from the land to the sea, you will not make a
bag, for no Ducks or shore birds will come within range except
those that intend to fly inland, which will naturally not be
many in the day time.

' If the wind blows towards the land the only birds that will
offer you shots are those which head the wind as they fly from
the land to the sea ; and these will be very few you may be
sure. But if you can dig a hole, deep enough to hide you up
to the shoulders, on some part of the shore near low-water
mark (or are able to conceal yourself behind a natural or
roughly made shelter), and it is a stormy day, with the wind
blowing, as I have explained, you will certainly obtain shots
and plenty of them, if, of course, fowl are in the vicinity.

' Your best chance of sport is when there is a gale at sea,
and a hard frost : for the Ducks, Geese, and shore birds will
then be constantly on wing in search of food, which is not
in severe weather, either by day or night, so accessible to them
as usual.

' A good position to ensconce yourself in is the extremity
of a promontory that runs some little distance from the shore :
for wild fowl of all kinds seem to make a landmark of a pro-
jecting point of rock or sand, and will fly over the end of it in
their passages from one part of an estuary to another.

' Of all favourable places for this style of shooting, none
equals the last piece of ooze-bank that is daily covered by the
flowing tide, for it is there both Ducks and Waders will betake
themselves when their other feeding and resting places are
submerged.

Q 121

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

' I have enjoyed rare sport in this position : but you will,
I need hardly explain, require a man and boat in attendance
not far distant when the flood makes a longer stay impossible.
Be sure the boat in waiting on you contains spare oars and
thowl pins : I was once nearly lost through my boatman
breaking an oar in his struggles, against wind and wave, to
arrive in time to save me from a ducking, the tide having
flowed more rapidly than usual over the small island of flat
sand I had dug my shelter-pit in.

' It was indeed more exciting than amusing to watch the
violent efforts of my rescuer in his endeavours to scull up to
me with his one and only oar, the water meantime rising
above my long boots, and nothing but the angry sea in view
for a mile on every side.'

122

COACHING

THE many boons conferred by Mr. John Palmer upon
his generation faded before the advance of the
railways ; but he has deserved well of posterity, if
only for that he altered the coach team from three
horses to four. Until that enterprising man undertook to
demonstrate that the coach could carry letters more rapidly
and safely than could the post-boy, our ancestors had been
content with the unicorn team ; but after Palmer had aston-
ished the world by making the journey from Bath to London,
in 1784, at a rate of nearly seven miles an hour, the team of
four horses gradually but steadily supplanted that of three in
the stages on almost every road in the country.

It is generally assumed that fast coaching only came into
existence after the macadamisation of the roads ; but this is
not quite the case. Under favourable conditions the speed
attained in pre-Macadam days was nearly as great as it became
later. The Sporting Magazine of June 1807 says : ' Lately one
of the stage coaches on the North road ran from London to
Stamford, a distance of 90 miles, in 9 hrs. 4 mins. The
passengers, four in number, breakfasted and dined on the
road, so it must have run at the rate of 12 miles an hour all
the time it was travelling.'

The ' old heavies ' discarded under Palmer's drastic rule
worked out their lives as ordinary stage coaches, and some of
these remained on the road until well on in the nineteenth
century.

Nimrod's description of the old-time coachman is worth
giving :—

' The old-fashioned coachman to a heavy coach — and they

123

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

were all heavy down to very recent times — bore some analogy
with the prize-fighter, for he stood highest who could hit hardest.
He was generally a man of large frame, made larger by in-
dulgence, and of great bodily power — which was useful to him.
To the button-hole of his coat were appended several whip-
cord points, which he was sure to have occasion for on the
road, for his horses were whipped till whipping was as neces-
sary to them as their harness. In fair play to him, however,
he was not solely answerable for this : the spirit of his cattle
was broken by the task they were called to perform — for in
those days twenty-mile stages were in fashion — and what was
the consequence ? Why, the four-horse whip and the Notting-
ham whipcord were of no avail over the latter part of the
ground, and something like a cat-o'-nine-tails was produced
out of the boot, which was jocularly called " the apprentice " ;
and a shrewd apprentice it was to the art of torturing which
was inflicted on the wheelers without stint or measure, but
without which the coach might have been often left on the
road. One circumstance alone saved these horses from de-
struction ; this was the frequency of ale-houses on the road,
not one of which could then be passed without a call.

' Still, our old-fashioned coachman was a scientific man in
his calling — more so, perhaps, than by far the greater part of
his brethren of the present day, inasmuch as his energies and
skill were more frequently put to the test. He had heavy
loads, bad roads, and weary horses to deal with, neither was
any part of his harness to be depended on, upon a pinch.
Then the box he sat upon was worse than Pandora's, M'ith all
the evils it contained, for even hope appeared to have deserted
it. It rested on the bed of the axletree, and shook the frame
to atoms ; but when prayers were put up to have it altered,
the proprietors said, " No ; the rascal will always be asleep
if we place his box on the springs." If among all these diffi-
culties, then, he, by degrees, became a drunkard, who can
wonder at his becoming so ? But he was a coachman. He
could fetch the last ounce out of a wheel-horse by the use of

124

COACHING

his double thong or his " apprentice," and the point of his
lash told terribly upon his leaders. He likewise applied it
scientifically ; it was directed under the bar to the flank, and
after the third hit he brought it up to his hand by the draw,
so that it never got entangled in the pole-chains, or in any
part of the harness. He could untie a knot with his teeth and
tie another with his tongue, as well as he could ^^ath his hands ;
and if his thong broke off in the middle, he could splice it with
dexterity and even mth neatness as his coach was proceeding
on its journey. In short, he could do what coachmen of the
present day cannot do, because they have not been called upon
to do it ; and he likewise could do what they never try to do —
namely, he could drive when he was drunk nearly as well as
when he was sober. He was very frequently a faithful servant
to his employers ; considered trustworthy by bankers and
others in the country through which he passed ; and as humane
to his horses, perhaps, as the adverse circumstances he was
placed in by his masters would admit.'

Time has dealt kindly with the reputation of the old stage
coachman, and jDopular tradition holds him, as Nimrod
portrayed him. a whip of unrivalled skill. That there were
such men is perfectly true ; ^ but not every stage coachman was
an expert : not all were skilful or even careful, and not all were
ci\dl : and if, as Nimrod says, they could drive as well when
drunk as when sober, the cold light of contemporary record
shows that there was ample room for improvement. Take
the following : — On the 18th ^lay 1808 the coachman of the
Portsmouth coach to London was intoxicated, and " when he
came to the foot of the hill on Wimbledon Common, instead
of keeping straight on, turned to left, and found himself in
Putney Lane, where, turning the corner of Mr. Kensington's
wall in order to get again into the road at Wandsworth, the
coach was overturned." He appears to have driven on to the
bank by the roadside. The ten outside passengers were all
more or less hurt, one dying from her injuries, and the coach-

' Robert Poynter drove the Lewes stage for thirty vears without an accident.

125

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

man himself had both legs broken. Accidents due to reckless
driving and racing were very common, despite the law ^ of
1790 which made a coachman who, by furious driving or care-
less, overturned his coach, liable to a fine not over five pounds.
The following is typical : —

' Last night occurred one of those dreadful catastrophes,
the result of driving opposition coaches, which has so stunned
the country with horror that sober people for a time will not
hazard their lives in these vehicles of fury and madness.

' Two coaches that run daily from Hinckley to Leicester
had set out together. The first having descended the hill
leading to Leicester was obliged to stop to repair the harness.
The other coachman saw the accident and seized the moment
to give his antagonist the go by, flogging the horses into a
gallop down the hill. The horses contrived to keep on their
legs, but took fright at something on the road, and became so
unmanageable in the hands of a drunken coachman, that in
their sweep to avoid the object of their alarm, the driver could
not recover them so as to clear the post of the turnpike gate
at the bottom of the hill. The velocity was so great that the
coach was split in two ; three persons were dashed to pieces
and instantly killed, two others survived but a few hours in the
greatest agony ; four were conveyed away for surgical aid
with fractured limbs, and two in the dickey were thrown with
that part of the coach to a considerable distance, and not much
hurt as they fell on a hedge. The coachman fell a victim to
his fury and madness. It is time the Magistrates put a stop
to these outrageous proceedings that have existed too long in
this part of the country ' {St. James's Chronicle, 15th July
1815).

The frequency of upsets is suggested by a letter which
appeared in the papers in 1785. The writer, who signs himself
' A Sufferer,' begs coach proprietors to direct their servants,
when the coach has been overturned, ' not to drag the
passengers out at the window, but to replace the coach on its

1 30 Geo. III., c. 36.
126

COACHING

wheels first, provided it can be accomplished with the strength
they have with them.'

After coaches began to carry the mails, accidents grew
more numerous. We can trace many to the greater speed
maintained, others to defective workmanship which resulted
in broken axles or lost wheels, many to top-heaviness, and not
a few to carelessness. The short stage drivers, on the whole,
were the worst offenders. For sheer recklessness this would be
hard to beat : —

' During the dense fog of Wednesday last, as a Woolwich
coach full of inside and outside passengers was driving at a
furious rate, just after it had passed the Six Bells on its way to
town, the coachman ran against a heavy country cart. The
stage was upset, and those on the roof were pitched violently
against an empty coal waggon ; two of them fell on the shafts,
one of whom had a shoulder badly dislocated ; the other had
his jawbone broken, with the loss of his front teeth. A
Greenwich pensioner, with a wooden leg, had an arm broken,
and some contusions on the head ' {BelVs Life, 15th December
1822).

It would be easy to compile a list of accidents due to causes
unforeseen, each one illustrating a different danger of the
road. Here are a few : —

' Tuesday afternoon, as one of the Brighton stages was
leaving London at a rapid pace, the pole broke in Lambeth,
and the coach was upset. Several passengers had limbs broken
and others were injured ' {BelVs Life, 25th August 1822).

' A fatal accident befel the Woolwich Tally Ho opposition
stage on Tuesday. Coming down the hill from the Green Man
the horses became restive, the coachman lost his command,
and immediately the whole set off at full speed. In turning
a corner the coach upset, being heavily laden outside. Out
of sixteen persons only one escaped without a leg or arm
broken, and four are not expected to sui'vive. The coach was
literally dashed to pieces. The inside passengers were more
lacerated than those outside, owing to the coach being

127

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

shattered to pieces and their being dragged along the road for
fifty yards. But little hopes are entertained of a Major
M'Leod — a very fine young man ; not a vestige of his face is
left except his eyes ' {BelVs Life, 22nd September 1822).

' A fatal accident happened to Gamble, coachman of the
Yeovil mail, on Wednesday, caused by the leaders shying at an
old oak tree. The coachman was killed on the spot, and the
guard escaped with bruises. The horses started off and
galloped into Andover at the rate of 20 miles an hour. The
single inside passenger was not aware of anything amiss until
two gentlemen, who saw the horses going at a furious rate
without a driver, succeeded in stopping them just as they were
turning into the George gateway ' {Times, 21st February 1838),
Coachmen and guards were apt to leave too much to the
honour of the horses when stopping, and it was not at all un-
common for the team to start on its journey with nobody on
the box. An old coachman told Lord Algernon St. IMaur that
on one night's drive he met two coaches without any dri^'cr !
In 1806 (46 Geo. iii., c. 36) it was made an offence punish-
able by fine to leave the team without a proper person in
charge while the coach stopped.

Organised races between public coaches were very popular :
the coachmen did not spare the horses on these occasions.
This race took place in 1808 : —

' On Sunday, August 7th, a coach called the " Patriot,"
belonging to the master of the " Bell," Leicester, drawn by
four horses, started against another coach called the
" Defiance," from Leicester to Nottingham, a distance of
26 miles, both coaches changing horses at Loughborough.
Thousands of people from all parts assembled to witness the
event, and bets to a considerable amount were depending.
Both coaches started exactly at 8 o'clock, and after the
severest contest ever remembered, the "Patriot" arrived at
Nottingham first by two minutes only, performing the distance
of 26 miles in 2 hrs. 10 mins., carrying twelve passengers.'
Mishaps were so frequent and productive of so many

128

Coursing :

The Slipper

■v^er

mMm

-<«>.

COACHING

fatalities, to say nothing of broken limbs, that at last general
outcry arose for more stringent repressive measures : and in
1820 a law (1 Geo. iv., c. 4) was passed, making coachmen
who might be guilty of ' wanton or furious driving or racing '
liable to imprisonment as well as to fine, even though their
proceedings were not brought to a close by overturning the
coach. The new law did not make an end of accidents : on
the whole there were fewer as the result of racing, but the
records of the time bear ample witness to lack of ordinary
caution.

For many years Macadam and Telford had been devoting
their ingenuity to the task of solving the secret of road-making ;
it was not until 1818 that the Macadam system was finally
approved and adopted. Then the work of remaking the roads
of the kingdom was taken in hand, and the new highways,
when constructed, ushered in the brief ' golden age ' of coach-
ing— say 1825 to 1838, the mails having been transferred to the
railways in the latter year.

Nimrod's famous essay, written in 1835, shows in con-
vincing fashion the difference between coaching in the olden
days and at its best : —

' May we be permitted, since we have mentioned the
Arabian Nights, to make a little demand on our readers' fancy,
and suppose it possible that a worthy old gentleman of this
said year — 1742 — had fallen comfortably asleep // la Dodswell,
and never awoke till Monday morning in Piccadilly ? " ^^^lat
coach, your honour ? " says a ruffianly-looking fellow, much
like what he might have been had he lived a hundred years
back. " I wish to go home to Exeter," replies the old gentle-
man mildly. " Just in time, your honour, here she comes —
them there grey horses ; where 's your luggage ? " " Don't
be in a hurry," observes the stranger ; " that 's a gentleman's
carriage." " It ain't ! I tell you," says the cad ; " it 's the
Comet, and you must be as quick as lightning." Nolens
volens, the remonstrating old gentleman is shoved into the
Comet, by a cad at each elbow, ha\dng been three times assured
R 129

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

his luggage is in the hind boot, and twice three times denied
having ocular demonstration of the fact.

' However, he is now seated ; and " What gentleman is going
to drive us ? " is his first question to his fellow-passengers. " He
is no gentleman, sir," says a person who sits opposite to him,
and who happens to be a proprietor of the coach. " He has
been on the Comet ever since she started, and is a very steady
young man." " Pardon my ignorance," replies the regener-
ated ; " from the cleanliness of his person, the neatness of his
apparel, and the language he made use of, I mistook him for
some enthusiastic bachelor of arts, wishing to become a
charioteer after the manner of the illustrious ancients." '
" You must have been long in foreign parts, sir," observes the
proprietor. In five minutes, or less, after this parley com-
menced, the wheels went round, and in another five the coach
arrived at Hyde Park gate ; but long before it got there, the
worthy gentleman of 1742 (set down by his fellow-travellers
for either a little cracked or an emigrant from the backwoods
of America) exclaimed, " What ! off the stones already ? "
" You have never been on the stones," observes his neighbour
on his right ; " no stones in London now, sir." "

' In five minutes under the hour the Comet arrives at
Hounslow, to the great delight of our friend, who by this time
waxed hungry, not having broken his fast before starting.
" Just fifty-five minutes and thirty-seven seconds," says he,
" from the time we left London ! — wonderful travelling,

' The old gentleman's conjecture was not far wrons^. At this time, 1835, it is true
fewer men of good birth occupied the box tliaii had been tlie case a few years before — if
we riglitly interpret Nimrod's own remarks on the point. Wlien the l(ox had been set
on sprinjj's or made an integral part of tlie coach-body, when the roads liad been nmde
worthy of the name and fast worl< the rule, coach-driving became popular among men of
social position. Some drove for pleasure, horsing the coaches themselves, others took
up driving as a profession and made good incomes thereby. These gentlemen coachmen
did much to raise the standard of conduct among the professionals of humble origin.
Lord Algernon St. Maur (Driving, Badminton Library) says that Mr. Stevenson, who
was driving the Brighton Age in 1830, was "the great reformer who set a good example
as regards punctuality, neatness, and sobriety.'

- Until Macadam was adopted the streets in Loudon were cobbled or paved.

130

COACHING

gentlemen, to be sure, but much too fast to be safe. However,
thank Heaven, we are arrived at a good-looking house ; and

now, ivaiter, I hope you have got breakf " Before the

last syllable, however, of the word could be pronounced, the
worthy old gentleman's head struck the back of the coach by
a jerk, which he could not account for (the fact was, three of
the four fresh horses were bolters), and the waiter, the inn,
and indeed Hounslow itself {terraeque urhesque recedunt) dis-
appeared in the twinkling of an eye. Never did such a
succession of doors, windows, and window-shutters pass so
quickly in his review before — and he hoped they might never
do so again. Recovering, however, a little from his sm-prise —
" My dear sir," said he, " you told me we were to change
horses at Hounslow ? Surely they are not so inhuman as to
drive these poor animals another stage at this unmerciful
rate ! " " Change horses, sir ! " says the proprietor ; " why,
we changed them whilst you were putting on your spectacles,
and looking at your watch. Only one minute allowed for it at
Hounslow, and it is often done in fifty seconds by those nimble-
fingered horse-keepers." " You astonish me — but really I
do not hke to go so fast." "Oh, sir ! we always spring them
over these six miles. It is what we call the hospital ground.''^
This alarming phrase is presently interpreted : it intimates
that horses whose " backs are getting down instead of vip in
their work " — some " that won't hold an ounce down hill, or
draw an ounce up " — others " that kick over the pole one day
and over the bars the next " — in short, all the reprobates,
styled in the road slang bo-kickers, are sent to work these six
miles, because here they have nothing to do but gallop — not a
pebble as big as a nutmeg on the road ; and so even, that it
would not disturb the equilibrium of a spirit-level.

' The coach, however, goes faster and faster over the
hospital ground, as the bo-kickers feel their legs, and the collars
get warm to their shoulders ; and having ten outsides, the
luggage of the said ten, and a few extra packages besides on the
roof, she rolls rather more than is pleasant, although the centre

131

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

of gravity is pretty well kept down by four not slender insides,
two well-laden boots, and three huge trunks in the slide. The
gentleman of the last century, however, becomes alarmed —
is sure the horses are running away with the coach — declares
he perceives by the shadow that there is nobody on the box,
and can see the reins dangling about the horses' heels. He
attempts to look out of the window, but his fellow-traveller
dissuades him from doing so : " You may get a shot in your
eye from the wheel. Keep your head in the coach, it 's all
right, depend on 't. We always spring 'em over this stage."
Persuasion is useless ; for the horses increase their speed,
and the worthy old gentleman looks out. But what does he
see ? Death and destruction before his eyes ? No : to his
surprise he finds the coachman firm at his post, and in the act
of taking a pinch of snuff from the gentleman who sits beside
him on the bench, his horses going at the rate of a mile in three
minutes at the time. " But suppose anything should break,
or a linchpin should give way and let a wheel loose ? " is the
next appeal to the communicative but not very consoling
proprietor. " Nothing can break, sir," is the reply ; " all of
the very best stuff ; axletrees of the best K.Q. iron, faggotted
edgeways, well bedded in the timbers ; and as for linchpins,
we have not one about the coach. We use the best patent
boxes that are manufactured. In short, sir, you are as safe in
it as if you were in your bed." " Bless me," exclaims the old
man, " what improvements ! And the roads ! ! ! " " They
are at perfection, sir," says the proprietor. " No horse walks
a yard in this coach between London and Exeter — all trotting
ground now." " A little galloping ground, I fear," whispers
the senior to himself ! " But who has effected all this improve-
ment in your paving ? " " An American of the name of
Macadam," ^ was the reply, " but coachmen call him the
Colossus of Roads. Great things have likewise been done in

' John Loudon Macadam was a Scotsman by birth. In 1770, when fourteen years old,
lie was sent to the care of an uncle in New York, whence he did not return till he was
twenty-six vears of age ; hence the mistake in describing him as 'an American.'

132

COACHING

cutting through hills and altering the course of roads : and it
is no uncommon thing now-a-days to see four horses trotting
away merrily down hill on that very ground where they
formerly were seen walking up hill."

' " And pray, my good sir, what sort of horses may you have
over the next stage ? " " Oh, sir, no more bo-kickers. It is
hilly and severe ground, and requires cattle strong and staid.
You '11 see four as fine horses put to the coach at Staines as you
ever saw in a nobleman's carriage in your life." " Then we
shall have no more galloping — no more springing them, as you
term it ? " " Not quite so fast over the next ground," replied
the proprietor ; " but he will make good play over some part
of it : for example, when he gets three parts down a hill he lets
them loose, and cheats them out of half the one they have to
ascend from the bottom of it. In short, they are halfway up
it before a horse touches his collar ; and we micst take every
advantage with such a fast coach as this, and one that loads so
well, or we should never keep our time. We are now to a
minute ; in fact, the country people no longer look at the sun
when they want to set their clocks — they look only to the
Comet. But, depend upon it you are quite safe ; we have
nothing but first-rate artists on this coach." " Artist !
artist ! " grumbles the old gentleman, " we had no such term
as that."

' " I should like to see this artist change horses at the next
stage," resumes our ancient ; " for at the last it had the
appearance of magic — ' Presto, Jack, and begone ! ' " " By
all means ; you will be much gratified. It is done with a quick-
ness and ease almost incredible to any one who has only read
or heard of it ; not a buckle nor a rein is touched twice, and
still all is made secure ; but use becomes second nature with
us. Even in my younger days it was always half an hour's
work — sometimes more. There was — ' Now, ladies and gentle-
men, what would you like to take ? There 's plenty of time,
while the horses are changing, for tea, coffee, or supper ; and
the coachman will wait for you — won't you, Mr. Smith ? '

133

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Then Mr, Smith himself was in no hurry ; he had a lamb about
his coach for one butcher in the town, and perhaps half a calf
for another, a barrel of oysters for the lawyer, and a basket of
game for the parson, all on his own account. In short, the best
wheel of the coach was his, and he could not be otherwise
than accommodating."

' The coach arrives at Staines, and the ancient gentleman
puts his intentions into effect, though he was near being again
too late ; for by the time he could extract his hat from the
netting that suspended it over his head, the leaders had been
taken from their bars, and were walking up the yard towards
their stables. On perceiving a fine thorough-bred horse led
towards the coach with a twitch fastened tightly to his nose,
he exclaims, " Holloa, Mr, Horse-keeper ! You are going to
put an unruly horse in the coach." " What ! this here 'oss ? "
growls the man ; " the quietest hanimal alive, sir ! " as he
shoves him to the near side of the pole. At this moment,
however, the coachman is heard to say in somewhat of an
undertone, " Mind what you are about. Bob ; don't let him
touch the roller-bolt," In thirty seconds more they are off —
" the staid and steady team," so styled by the proprietor in the
coach, " Let 'em go ! and take care of yoiu-selves," says
the artist, so soon as he is firmly seated upon his box ; and this
is the way they start. The near leader rears right on end ;
and if the rein had not been yielded to him at the instant, he
would have fallen backwards on the head of the pole. The
moment the twitch was taken from the nose of the thorough-
bred near-wheeler, he drew himself back to the extent of his
pole-chain — his forelegs stretched out before him — and then,
like a lion loosened from his toil, made a snatch at the coach
that would have broken two pairs of traces of 1742. A steady
and good-whipped horse, however, his partner, started the
coach himself, with a gentle touch of the thong, and away they
went off together. But the thorough-bred one Avas very far
from being comfortable ; it was in vain that the coachman
tried to soothe him with his voice, or stroked him with the crop

134

COACHING

of his whip. He drew three parts of the coach, and cantered
for the first mile, and when he did settle down to his trot, his
snorting could be heard by the passengers, being as much as
to say, " I was not born to be a slave." In fact, as the pro-
prietor now observed, " he had been a fair plate horse in his
time, but his temper was always queer."

' After the first shock was over, the Conservative of the
eighteenth century felt comfortable. The pace was consider-
ably slower than it had been over the last stage, but he was
unconscious of the reason for its being diminished. It was
to accommodate the queer temper of the race-horse,^ who, if
he had not been humoured at starting, would never have
settled down to his trot, but have ruffled all the rest of the
team. He was also surprised, if not pleased, at the quick rate
at which they were ascending hills which, in his time, he should
have been asked by the coachman to have walked up — but his
pleasure was short-lived ; the third hill they descended pro-
duced a return of his agony. This was what is termed on the
road a long fall of ground, and the coach rather pressed upon
the horses. The temper of the race-horse became exhausted ;
breaking into a canter, he was of little use as a wheeler, and
there was then nothing for it but a gallop. The leaders onlv
wanted the signal ; and the point of the thong being thrown
lightly over their backs, they were off like an arrow out of a
bow : but the rocking of the coach was awful, and more
particularly so to the passengers on the roof. Nevertheless,
she was not in danger : the master-hand of the artist kept her
in a direct line ; and meeting the opposing ground, she steadied,
and all was right. The newly-awakened gentleman, however,
begins to grumble again. " Pray, my good sir," says he
anxiously, " do use your authority over your coachman, and
insist upon his putting the drag-chain on the wheel when

' It was not unusual for retired race-horses to end their days ' on the road.' A notable
instance is that of Mendoza by Javelin. Mendoza won eight races at Newmarket in his
three seasons on the turf, 1791-2-3 ; then the Duke of Leeds bought him as a hunter ;
and after a few seasons with hounds he made one of a team in the Catterick and Greta
Bridge mail-coach. Mendoza was still at work in 1807, but had become blind.

135

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

descending the next hill." " I have no such authority," replies
the proprietor. " It is true, we are now drawn by my horses,
but I cannot interfere with the driving of them." " But is he
not your servant ? " " He is, sir ; but I contract to work
the coach so many miles in so many hours, and he engages to
drive it, and each is subject to a fine if the time be not kept
on the road. On so fast a coach as this every advantage must
be taken ; and if we were to drag down such hills as these, we
should never reach Exeter to-day."

' Our friend, however, will have no more of it. He quits
the coach at Bagshot, congratulating himself on the safety of
his limbs. Yet he takes one more peep at the change, which is
done with the same despatch as before ; three greys and a pie-
ball replacing three chestnuts and a bay — the harness beauti-
fully clean, and the ornaments bright as the sun. Not a word
is spoken by the passengers, who merely look their admiration ;
but the laconic address of the coachman is not lost on the by-
standers. " Put the bay mare near wheel this evening, and
the stallion up to the cheek," said he to his horse-keeper as he
placed his right foot on the roller-bolt — i.e. the last step but
one to the box. " How is Paddy's leg ? " It 's all right, sir,"
replied the horse-keeper. " Let 'em go, then," quoth the
artist, " and take care of yourselves."

' The worthy old gentleman is now shown into a room, and
after warming his hands at the fire, rings the bell for the waiter.
A well-dressed person appears, whom he of course takes for
the landlord. " Pray, sir," says he, " have you any slow
coach down this road to-day ? " " Why, yes, sir," replies
John ; "we shall have the Regulator down in an hour."
" Just right," said our friend ; " it will enable me to break my
fast, which I have not done to-day." " Oh, sir," observes
John, " these here fast drags be the ruin of us. 'Tis all hurry
scurry, and no gentleman has time to have nothing on the
road. What will you take, sir ? Mutton-chops, veal-cutlets,
beef -steaks, or a fowl (to kill) ? "

' At the appointed time, the Regulator appears at the door.

136

'Burning the Water'

COACHING

It is a strong, well-built drag, painted what is called chocolate
colour, bedaubed all over with gilt letters — a bull's head on the
doors, a Saracen's head on the hind boot, and drawn by four
strapping horses ; but it wants the neatness of the other. The
passengers may be, by a shade or two, of a lower order than
those who had gone forward with the Comet ; nor, perhaps, is
the coachman quite so refined as the one we have just taken
leave of. He has not the neat white hat, the clean doeskin
gloves, the well-cut trousers, and dapper frock ; but still his
appearance is respectable, and perhaps, in the eyes of many,
more in character with his calling. Neither has he the agility
of the artist on the Comet, for he is nearly double his size ; but
he is a strong powerful man, and might be called a pattern card
of the heavy coachman of the present day — in other words, of a
man who drives a coach which carries sixteen passengers instead
of fourteen, and is rated at eight miles an hour instead of ten.
" What room in the Regulator ? " says our friend to the waiter,
as he comes to announce its arrival. " Full inside, sir, and in
front ; but you '11 have the gammon board all to yourself, and
your luggage is in the hind boot." " Gammon board ! Pray,
what 's that ? Do you not mean the basket ? " ^ " Oh no,
sir," says John, smiling ; " no such thing on the road now.
It is the hind-dickey, as some call it ; where you '11 be as
comfortable as possible, and can sit with your back or your
face to the coach, or both, if you like." " Ah, ah," continues
the old gentleman ; " something new again, I presume."
However, the mystery is cleared up ; the ladder is reared to
the hind wheel, and the gentleman safely seated on the gammon
board.

' Before ascending to his place, our friend has cast his eye
on the team that is about to convey him to Hartford Bridge,
the next stage on the great western road, and he perceives it
to be of a different stamp from that which he had seen taken
from the coach at Bagshot. It consisted of four moderate-

' The early coaches were equipped vvitli a huge basket slung over the hind axle
wherein passengers were carried at lower fares.

s 137

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

sized horses, full of power, and still fuller of condition, but
with a fair sprinkling of blood ; in short, the eye of a judge
would have discovered something about them not very unlike
galloping. " All right ! " cried the guard, taking his key-
bugle ^ in his hand ; and they proceeded up the village, at a
steady pace, to the tune of " Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,"
and continued at that pace for the first five miles. " / am
landed,'''' thinks our friend to himself. Unluckily, however, for
the humane and cautious old gentleman, even the Regulator
was about to sliow tricks. Although what now is called a slow
coach, she is timed at eight miles in the hour through a great
extent of country, and must, of course, make play where she
can, being strongly opposed by hills lower down the country,
trifling as these hills are, no doubt, to what they once were.
The Regulator, moreover, loads well, not only with passengers,
but with luggage ; and the last five miles of this stage, called
the Bridge Flat, have the reputation of being the best five
miles for a coach to be found at this time in England. The
ground is firm ; the surface undulating, and therefore favour-
able to draught ; always dry, not a shrub being near it ; nor
is there a stone upon it much larger than a marble. These
advantages, then, are not lost to the Regulator, or made use
of without sore discomposure to the solitary tenant of her
gammon board.

' Any one that has looked into books will very readily
account for the lateral motion, or rocking, as it is termed, of a
coach, being greatest at the greatest distance from the horses
(as the tail of a paper kite is in motion whilst the body remains
at rest ) ; and more especially when laden as this coach was
— the greater part of the weight being forward. The situation
of our friend, then, was once more deplorable. The Regulator
takes but twenty-three minutes for these celebrated five miles,
which cannot be done without " springing the cattle " now and
then ; and it was in one of the very best of their gallops of that

' Only the mail-coach guard carried a horn ; stage-coach guards used tlie key-bugle,
and some were very clever performers on it.

138

COACHING

day, that they were met by the coachman of the Comet, who
was returning with his up-coach. When coming out of rival
yards, coachmen never fail to cast an eye to the loading of their
opponents on the road, and now that of the natty artist of the
Comet experienced a high treat. He had a full view of his
quondam passenger, and thus described his situation.

' He was seated with his back to the horses — his teeth set
grim as death — his eyes cast down towards the ground, think-
ing the less he saw of his danger the better. There was what
is called a top-heavy load — perhaps a ton of luggage on the
roof, and, it may be, not quite in obedience to the Act of
Parliament standard.^ There were also two horses at wheel,
whose strides were of rather unequal length, and this operated
powerfully on the coach. In short, the lurches of the Regulator
were awful at the moment of the Comet meeting her. A tyro
in mechanics would have exclaimed, " The centre of gravity
must be lost, the centrifugal force will have the better of it —
over she must go .' "

' The centre of gravity having been preserved, the coach
arrived safe at Hartford Bridge ; but the old gentleman has
again had enough of it. "I will walk into Devonshire," said
he, as he descended from his perilous exaltation. " What did
that rascally waiter mean by telling me this was a slow coach ?
and moreover, look at the luggage on the roof ! " " Only
regulation height, sir," says the coachman ; "we aren't
allowed to have it an inch higher ; sorry we can't please you,
sir, but we will try and make room for you in front." " Fronti
nulla fides," mutters the worthy to himself, as he walks
tremblingly into the house — adding, " I shall not give this
fellow a shilling ; he is dangerous."

' The Regulator being off, the waiter is again applied to.
" What do you charge per mile posting ? " " One and six-
pence, sir." " Bless me ! just double ! Let me see — two

' 60 Geo. III., c. 48 came iuto operation in 1810. This enacted that on a foiir-]iorso
coach bag-gajre niiglit be ])iled to a height of 2 feet. To encourage low-hung coaches
this law allowed baggage to be piled to a height of 10 ft. !) m.J'roni the ground.

139

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

hundred miles, at two shillings per mile, postboys, turnpikes,
etc., £20. This will never do. Have you no coach that
does not carry luggage on the top ? " " Oh yes, sir," replies
the waiter, " we shall have one to-night that is not allowed
to carry a band-box on the roof." ' " That 's the coach for
me ; pray what do you call it ? " " The Quicksilver mail,
sir ; one of the best out of London — Jack White and Tom
Brown, picked coachmen, over this ground — Jack White
down to-night." " Guarded and lighted ? " " Both, sir ;
blunderbuss and pistols in the sword-case ; - a lamp each side
the coach, and one under the foot-board — see to pick up a pin
the darkest night of the year." " Very fast ? " "Oh no,
sir, just keeps time, and that 's all.'' " That 's the coach for me,
then," repeats our hero ; " and I am sure I shall feel at my
ease in it. I suppose it is what used to be called the Old
Mercury."

' Unfortunately, the Devonport (commonly called the
Quicksilver) mail is half a mile in the hour faster than most in
England, and is, indeed, one of the miracles of the road. Let
us, then, picture to ourselves our anti-reformer snugly seated
in this mail, on a pitch-dark night in November. It is true
she has no luggage on the roof, nor much to incommode her
elsewhere ; but she is a mile in the hour faster than the Comet,
at least three miles quicker than the Regulator ; and she

' The conveyance of ' trunks, parcels, and other packages' on the roof of a niail-coacli
was prohibited in the Postmaster-General's circular to mail contractors of 20tli .lune
180". As the mails increased it became impossible to enforce this regulation, and the
bags were carried wherever they could be stowed. 'The Druid' says of the Kdinburgli
mail-coach : ' The heaviest night as regards correspondence was when the American mail
had come in. On those occasions the bags have been known to weigh above Ifi cwt.
Tliey were contained in sacks seven feet long and were laid in three tiers across the top,
so high that no guard unless he were a Chang in stature could look over tliem . . . and
the waist (the seat behiiul the coachman) and the hind boot were tilled as well.'

- It must be remembered that the old gentleman speaks by the light of his knowledge
of nearly a century earlier, when highway robbery was very common, and it was not usual
for coaches to run at night. At the period to wliicli Nimrod refers highwaymen had not
entirely disappeared from the roads (U'illiam Ilea was hanged for this offence, 4th July
l!i2B), and not every stage-coach carried a guard. Mail-coaches, all of which carried
guards, were, of course, uukuowu to Nimrod's old gentleman.

140

COACHING

performs more than half her journey by lampHght. Tt is
needless to say, then, our senior soon finds out his mistake ;
but there is no remedy at hand, for it is the dead of the night,
and all the inns are shut up. He must proceed, or be left
behind in a stable. The climax of his misfortunes then
approaches,

' Nature being exhausted, sleep comes to his aid, and he
awakes on a stage which is called the fastest on the journey —
four miles of ground, and twelve minutes the time ! The old
gentleman starts from his seat, having dreamed the horses
were running away with the coach, and so, no doubt, they
might be. He is determined to convince himself of the fact,
though the passengers assure him " all 's right." " Don't
put your head out of the window," says one of them, " you will
lose your hat to a certainty " : but advice is seldom listened to
by a terrified man, and next moment a stentorian voice is
heard, crying, " Stop, coachman, stop — I have lost my hat
and wig ! " The coachman hears him not — and in another
second the broad wheels of a road waggon have for ever
demolished the lost head-gear.'

That was the Road at its best : the poetic side we have in
mind when we speak of the good old days of coaching. The
following passages refer equally to the ' golden age ' ; their
very baldness has an eloquence of its own. It is true that the
winter of 1836-37 is conspicuous in history for the exception-
ally heavy snowfall ; but as Nimrod has shown coaching at its
best, there is no injustice in presenting these glimpses of coach
travel at its worst : —

' Tabor, guard of the Devonport, who left London with the
mail on Sunday and returned on Wednesday, reports that a
mile and a half from Amesbury they got completely blocked.
The leaders dropped down, but rose again ; the near wheel-
horse fell and could not be got up. The coachman procured
a pair of post horses, but they could only get the wheel horse
out of the snow ; it was impossible to get him on his legs.
Four more post horses and four waggon horses were requisi-

141

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

tioned, and with their assistance the mail was extricated by
daylight. Then they travelled with the six post horses across
the Downs. They were again blocked near Mere. About a
hundred men were at this time employed a little distance off
in digging out the Subscription and Defiance coaches. After
being extricated by some labourers they resumed their progress
from Mere with four fresh mail-horses and two posters.
Between Ilchester and Ilminster the post horse leaders fell
in a snow drift, and were run upon by the mail leaders '
{BelVs Life, January 1837).

' The Estafette coach from Manchester on Sunday morning
did not reach London initil Tuesday night, having been dug
out of the snow twelve times. It was the first coach from
Manchester of the same day that arrived in town. The guard
attributes his success to the exertions of four sailors, outside
passengers, who lent a hand at every casualty.'

' A gentleman who left Sheffield by the Hope coach of
Sunday week reports that the coach did not complete its
journey until Saturday afternoon. Between Nottingham and
Mansfield, close to the Forest, they came upon three coaches
blocked in the snow, which was lying 9 feet deep. The Hope
left Mansfield with eight horses and was driven into Notting-
ham with ten. They picked up a poor boy nearly perished
with cold. The boy was got by a gentleman jumping down
while the coach was in motion, for the coachman declared that
if he came to dead stop he would not be able to get the wheels
in motion again ' {BelVs Life, 8th January 1837).

Highway robbery was still practised at this time, but the
armed horseman with crape mask and pistols had gone out of
fashion, and thefts were accomplished by craft.

' The Stirling mail has been robbed of notes to the value of
£13,000 in the following manner, — A man took his seat at
Stirling as an outside passenger. The mail was followed
closely from Stirling by a gig containing two men. When the
mail arrived at Kirkliston the guard stopped to take out the
customary bags to leave there. The gig also stopped there,

142

COACHING

and the two men in it went into the house. The guard had
left the mail box open, in which the parcels were, and the out-
side passenger easily abstracted the one containing the notes.
He then left the coach. The gig with the two men took the
Queensferry road. The parcels were not missed until the
mail reached Edinburgh. On the Queensferry Road the two
men were joined by their accomplice, the outside passenger.
They left the gig and took a post chaise for Edinburgh. They
discharged the chaise before entering the city and gave the
post-boy £3 ' {BeWs Life, 2nd January 1825).

Great improvements in all matters connected with coaching
were made during the first two decades of the nineteenth
century : these were due to the rage for driving that prevailed
about this time. The King was deeply interested in coaching,
was himself no mean whip, and he set the fashion. It did not
last very long. Nimrod, writing in 1835, remarks that about
1825 ' thirty to forty four-in-hand equipages were constantly
to be seen about town : one is stared at now.'

The driving clubs held ' meets ' in George the Third's
time much as they do at present, but the vehicles used were
' barouche landaus,' and the drive taken was much longer
than that in vogue to-day. Bedfont beyond Hounslow, and
Windsor were favourite places whither the coaches — ' barouche
landaus ' — drove in procession to dine. Very particular
attention was paid to dress. This was the costume in which
members of the Whijj Club, founded in 1808 as a rival to the
Benson, mounted their boxes on 6th June 1808 in Park Lane,
to drive to Harrow : —

' A light, drab-colour cloth coat made full, single breast
with three tier of pockets, the skirt reaching to the ancles ;
a mother of pearl button the size of a crown piece ; waistcoat
blue and yellow stripe, each stripe an inch in depth ; small
clothes corded silk plush made to button over the calf of the
leg, with sixteen strings and rosettes to each knee. The boots
very short and finished with verj'^ broad straps which hang over
the tops and down to the ancle. A hat three inches and a half

143

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

deep in the crown only, and the same depth in the brim exactly.
Each wore a large bouquet at the breast, thus resembling the
coachmen of our nobility who, on His Majesty's birthday,
appear in that respect so peculiarly distinguished.' '

Grimaldi the clown, then at the zenith of his fame,
burlesqued this get-up so mercilessly that a less conspicuous
garb was adopted.

The fifteen barouche landaus which turned out on this
occasion, driven by ' men of known skill in the science of
charioteering,' were well calculated to set off the somewhat
conspicuous attire of the members : they were ' Yellow-bodied
carriages with whip springs and dickey boxes ; cattle of a
bright bay colour with silver plate ornaments on the harness
and rosettes to the ears.'

The meets of the driving clubs appear to have roused a
spirit of ribaldry in unregenerate youth. One day in March
1809 a young Etonian made his appearance in a low phaeton
with a four-in-hand of donkeys, with which he brought up
the rear of the procession as it drove round Grosvenor and
Berkeley Squares.

The Driving Club was the Benson, which had been founded
in 1807. Sir Henry Peyton was the last survivor of the
' noble, honourable, and respectable ' drivers who composed
it. Thackeray described him in the last of his papers on The
Four Georges as he appeared driving the ' one solitary four-in-
hand ' to be seen in the London parks. He was then (1851)
very old, and attracted attention as much by his dress, which
was of the fashion of 1825, as by his then unique turn-out.

The Benson Club came to an end in 1853. The Whip

' This refers to the ' mail-coach parade,' whicli was first held in 1799 and for the last
time in 188.5. The coaches, to the number of about twenty-five, were either new or newly
painted with the Royal Arms on the door, the stars of each of the four Orders of Knight-
hood on the upper panel, and the name of the town whither the coach ran on the small
panel over each door. Coachmen and guards wore new uniforms and gentlemen used to
lend their best teams— often also their coachmen, as appears from the passage quoted.
A horseman rode liehind each coach to make the procession longer. The 'meet' took
jilace in l/niciihi's Inn Fields and the coaches ilrove ti> St. .Fames' s, there turning to come
back to the General Post-Office, then in Lombard Street.

144

COACHING

Club, otherwise the Four Horse Club, came to an end in 1838.
The Defiance Club, for members who had been ' lately per-
mitted to retire ' from the other two, was projected in 1809,
but it does not appear to have come to anything. The
Richmond Drag Club was founded in 1838, but it did not sur-
vive for many years ; the members to the number of fifteen
or sixteen used to meet at Lord Chesterfield's house. These
were the principal clubs.

Some of the amateur whips of a century ago were addicted
to coach matches. Here is the account of such a race from the
Sporting Magazine of 1802 : —

' Mail Coach Match. — On Thursday, May 20th, the
London Mail, horsed by Mr. Laud, of the New London Inn,
Exeter, with four beautiful grey horses, and driven by Mr.
Cave Browne, of the Inniskilling Dragoons, started (at the
sound of the bugle) from St. Sydwell's for a bet of Five
Hundred Guineas against the Plymouth Mail, horsed by Mr.
Phillipps, of the Hotel, with four capital blacks, and driven by
Mr. Chichester of Arlington House, which got the Mail first to
the Post Office in Honiton. The bet was won easy by Mr.
Browne. A very great concourse of people assembled on this
occasion.'

In 1811 Mr. George Seward undertook to drive a four-in-
hand fifteen miles in fifty minutes. He selected the road from
Hyde Park Corner to Staines, and started at six in the morning.
He failed to accomplish his undertaking, but only by three
minutes twenty seconds.

There was more originality about the competition arranged
in May 1805 between Mr. Charles Buxton, inventor of the bit
known by his name and one of the founders of the Whip Club,
and a horse-dealer : —

' One of our most celebrated whips, Charles Buxton, Esq.,
has concluded a bet of 500 guineas with Mr. Thomas Hall, the
dealer in horses. The object of the wager is to decide Avhich of
the two is the best driver of four unruly horses. The wager is
to be decided by two friends of the parties, who are to pick
T 143

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

out eight horses from Spencer's, Marsden's, and ^Vhite's.
Lords Barrymore and Cranley are chosen as the umpires. The
horses selected are only to be those which have not been broken
in. The friend of each charioteer is to pick the horses alter-
nately until the number agreed on is selected. The parties are
then to mount the box and proceed to decide the wager. The
bettings already are said to be considerable. Neither the
scene of action nor the day when the contest is to take place
are yet determined on. Mr. Buxton is said to be so certain of
success that he has offered to double the bet.'

Though the law of 1820 made racing a criminal offence, the
practice was one which could not be wholly put down, and on
May-day the law was set at naught by popular consent, rival
coaches on that day racing one another without disguise :
the May-day race became an institution of the road, and seems
to have been winked at by the authorities. Some wonderful
records were made in these contests on the macadam. Thus,
on 1st May 1830, the Independent Tally-ho ran from London
to Birmingham, 109 miles, in 7 hours 39 minutes. It was
not rare for a coach to perform its journey at a rate of
fifteen miles an hour on May-day. We may compare this with
the time made in the Leicester-Nottingham race of 1808
mentioned on p. 128.

It is seventy years since the carriage of the mails was
transferred from coach to railway train, and there are yet
living men who can remember the last journeys of the mail-
coaches, some carrying little flags at half-mast, some displaying
a miniature coffin, emblematic of the death of a great institu-
tion. Yet the mail-coach survived until a much later date
in some districts, where the line was slow to penetrate. Mr.
S. A. Kinglake, in Baily's Magazine of 1906, gave an account
of the Oxford and Cheltenham coach, which only began to
carry the mails in 1848, and made its last trip in 1862, when
the opening of a new branch line ousted this lingerer on the
roads.

The interregnum between the last of the old coaches and

146

COACHING

the modern era was not a very long one : indeed, taking the
country as a whole, and accepting the coach as subsidiary to
the railway, the old and the new overlap. Modern road
coaching dates from the later 'sixties, when the late Duke of
Beaufort, with some others, started the Brighton coach.
This was the first of several private ventures of the same kind ;
their primary object was to enable the owners to enjoy the
pleasure of driving a team, and the financial side of the business
was not much regarded. The subscription coach was a later
development, with the same object in view, pleasure rather
than money-making, and the large majority of the coaches
which run from London to Brighton, St. Albans, Guildford,
and other places within an easy day's journey are maintained
by small syndicates of subscribers, who take turns on the box.
American visitors patronise these vehicles extensively, and
no doubt to their support may be traced Mr. Vanderbilt's
venture on the Brighton road.

The modern coach travels quite as fast as its predecessor
when required : as witness James Selby's famous performance
on 13th July 1888. He left the White Horse Cellar at 10 a.m. ;
arrived at the Old Ship, Brighton, 1.56 p.m. ; turned and
reached town at 5.50 ; the journey out and home again being
accomplished in 7 hours 50 minutes : part of the way
between Earlswood and Horley he travelled at a rate of twenty
miles an hour.

Nor are modern horse-keepers less ' nimble fingered '
than those of whom Nimrod wrote. At the International
Horse Show of 1908 Miss Brocklebank's grooms won the
Hon. Adam Beck's prize for ' Best coach and appointments
and quickest change of teams ' : the change was accomplished
in forty-eight seconds. During James Selby's Brighton drive
horses were changed at Streatham in forty-seven seconds.

The road coachmen of the present day do not aim at
lightning changes of team : the work is done in leisurely
fashion, and passengers enjoy the opportunity afforded them to
get down for a few minutes.

147

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

The Four-in-Hand Club, founded in 1856, for many years
used to meet in the Park at quarter to five in the afternoon,
but the hour was changed to half-past twelve in order to avoid
the inconvenience inseparable from meeting at the time when
carriages are most numerous.

The Coaching Club was foinided in 1870, and held its first
meet at the Marble Arch in June the following year.

SONG OF THE B.D.C

me, Gents, to sing

Yi)U ask me, Uents, to sing a

song,
DoiTt think me too encroaching.
I won't detain you very long,
^Vitll one of mine on Coaching.
No rivalry we have to fear.
Nor jealous need we he, Sir,
We all are friends who muster here.
And in the B.D.C., Sir.

Horace declares the Greeks of old

Were once a driving nation ;

But Sliakespeare says ' The World 's

a Stage ' —
A cutish observation.
The Stage he meant, good easy

man,
Was drawn by nine old Muses ;
But the Mews for me is the B.l).(;.,
And that 's the stage I chooses.

I call this Age the Iron Age

Of Railways and Pretension,

And coaching now is in a stage

Of horrible declension.

The (lav's gone by when on the

Fly
We roird to Alma Mater,
And jovial took the reins in hand
Of the Times or Regulator.

Those were the days when Peyton's

grays
To Bedfont led the way. Sir,
And Villebois followed with his bays
In beautiful array. Sir.
Then Spicer, too, came next in view
To join the gay procession.
Oh ! the dust we made — the cavalcade
Was neat beyond expression.

No Turnpike saw a fancy team
More neat than Dolphin sported,
When o'er the stones with Charley

Jones
To Bedfont they resorted.
Few graced the box so nnich as Cox ;
But there were none, I ween. Sir,
Who held the reins 'twixt here and

Staines
More slap up than the Dean, Sir.

Those are the men who foremost then

To Coaching gave a tone. Sir,

And hold they will to coaching still,

Tho' here they stand alone. Sir, —

Then drink to the Coach, the B.D.C.,

Sir Henry and Ins team. Sir,

.And may all be hlowt'd rigiit off the

road
Who wish to go by steam, Sir.

Benson Uriviiig Club.

148

TANDEM DKIVING

IT is said, but I must confess failure to trace authority
for the statement, that tandem driving was invented
as a convenient and sporting method of taking the
hunter to the meet. History has not handed down to
fame the name of the man who first hit upon the idea of
driving tandem ; it was in vogue over a century ago, and at
Cambridge ranked as a grave offence : witness the following
edict dated 10th March 1807 :—

' We, the Vice-Chancellor and Heads of Colleges,
DO hereby order and decree that if any person or

PERSONS /iV STATU PUPILLARl SHALL BE FOUND DRIVING ANY
tandem and SHALL BE DULY CONVICTED THEREOF BEFORE THE

Vice-Chancellor, such person or persons so offending
shall for the first offence be suspended from taking
his degree for one whole year, or be rusticated, accord-
ing to the circumstances of the case ; and for the
second offence be liable to such further punishment
as it may appear to deserve, or be expelled the uni-
VERSITY.'

Extravagantly high gigs were much in favour among the
' bloods ' of the day, and these were often used for tandem
driving, a purpose for which they were by no means unsuitable,
always provided the road was fairly level.

As a matter of course, when tandems became numerous
and drivers clever in handling them, races against time came
into fashion. Matches on the road, whether trotting in saddle
or driving, were usually ' against time ' for obvious reasons.
On 14th April 1819 the famous whip, Mr. Buxton, backed
himself to drive tandem without letting his horses break their

149

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

trot, from Hounslow to Hare Hatch, distance twenty-four
miles, in two hours. His horses, however, were not well
matched, and ' broke ' before they had gone six miles. As
breaking involved the penalty of turning the equipage round
and starting afresh, and breaks were frequent, Mr. Buxton
occupied over an hour in going ten miles and gave up, forfeit-
ing the hundred guineas he had staked on the task.

On 19th May 1824 a match was thus recorded in the
Sporting Magazine : —

' Captain Swann undertook a tandem match from Ilford
seven miles, over a part of Epping Forest. He engaged to
drive 12 miles at a trot and to back his wheels if he broke
into a gallop. This happened only once in the seventh mile,
which he nevertheless completed in 33 minutes. On his
return the pacing of the horses was a picture. The match
was won fairly with two minutes and six seconds to spare.'

A Mr. Houlston in the same year drove his tandem twelve
miles on the Winchester Road in one minute thirty-nine seconds
under the hour allowed. By this time tandem drivers had come
to the reasonable conclusion that the turning penalty (proper
enough in trotting matches, whether in shafts or saddle)
was excessive for their sport, and ' backing ' had been substi-
tuted therefor. Any one who has had occasion to turn a
tandem on the road without assistance will admit that the
abolition was wise.

Long journeys against time were sometimes undertaken.
In 1824

' Captain Bethel Ramsden undertook to drive tandem from
Theale to London, 43 miles, in 3 hours and 40 minutes. The
start took place at four o'clock in the morning, and in the first
hour the captain did 12h miles to between Twyford and Hare
Hatch. He did in the next hour 12 miles and upwards, and
got the horses' mouths cleaned at Slough. He had 5^ miles
to do in the last forty minutes, and performed it easily with
eleven minutes to spare.'

The cult of the trotting horse stood high in those days

150

TANDEM DRIVING

when so much traveUing was done in the saddle : there are
innumerable records of trotters doing their fifteen and sixteen
miles on the road within the hour, sometimes under very heavy
weights. Mr. Charles Herbert's horse, in 1791, trotted 17
miles in 58 minutes 40 seconds on the Highgate Road, start-
ing from St. Giles' Church. The road is by no means a
level one, and the only advantage the horse had was the
hour selected — between six and seven in the morning,
when the traffic was not heavy.

A famous whip of the 'thirties was Mr. Burke of Hereford —
he was also an amateur pugilist of renown, but that does not
concern us here. In June 1839 he made his thirty-fifth trot-
ting match, whereby he undertook to drive tandem forty-five
miles in three hours. The course was from the Staines end of
Sinebury Common to the fifth milestone towards Hampton :
he did it with four and a half minutes to spare. The horses
used in this match were both extraordinary trotters : the
wheeler, Tommy, had covered 20 miles in 1 hour 18
minutes two months earlier, and the leader, Gustavus, twenty-
four years old, had done his 20 miles in 1 hour 14 minutes.

Though not a tandem performance in the strict sense of
the term, Mr. Thanes' feat on 12th July 1819 is worth
mention. He undertook ' to drive three horses in a gig,
tandem fashion, eleven miles within the hour on the trot, and
to turn if either horse broke,' Fortunately none of the three
did break, and he did the eleven miles, on the road near
Maidenhead, with three minutes to spare.

Tandem driving seems to have gone out of fashion to a
certain extent about 1840, though some young men ' still
delighted in it.' The re-establishment of the Tandem Club,
soon after the close of the Crimean War, marked a revival
which made itself felt at Cambridge ; for on 22nd February
1866 the Senate passed another edict, this time forbidding
livery-stable-keepers to let out on hire tandems or four-in-
hands to undergraduates. This was confirmed in 1870,

151

COURSING

LET us pass over the early history of coursing. We
know that Arrian wrote of the sport in the second
J century, that King John accepted greyhounds in
Heu of cash for renewing crown tenures in the
thirteenth, that tliat all-round sportsman, Henry viii., allowed
twenty-four loaves a day for his greyhounds, and that Thomas,
Duke of Norfolk, bestowed his approval on the first code of
coursing laws in Elizabeth's time. It is also common know-
ledge that Thomas Goodlake assigns to Lord Orford (famed for
his four-in-hand of red deer) credit for laying the foundation
of modern coursing by his establishment of the Swaffham Club
in 1776, which club's modern namesake courses over the same
ground. Lord Orford is said to have crossed the greyhound
of his day with the bulldog, and to have persevered with this
somewhat unpromising experiment to the sixth or seventh
generation when he confounded his opponents by producing
the ancestor of the modern greyhound. ' The blood of the
late Lord Orford's Dogs,' says Daniel, ' engrafted into those of
Wiltshire and Yorkshire have turned out the best Greyhounds.'
Czarina was one of Lord Orford's breed : she ran forty-seven
courses without defeat : her son Claret was a famous dog, and
Claret's son Snowball was ' supposed to be (taken for every-
thing) the best Greyhound that ever was ' : this, despite the
fact that his brother. Major, always beat him.

The literature of coursing is curiously scant, having regard
to the antiquity of the sport. That is a picturesque account of
it given by Christopher North (1842). ' Old Kit ' held organ-
ised coursing of small account by comparison with that to be
enjoyed on the moors : —

152

COURSING

'. . . Away with your coursing on INIarlborough Downs
where huge hares are seen squatted from a distance, and the
sleek dogs, disrobed of their gaudy trappings are let slip by a
Tryer, running for cups and collars before lords and ladies,
and squires of high and low degree — a pretty pastime enough,
no doubt, in its way, and a splendid cavalcade. But will it
for a moment compare with the sudden and all-unlooked-for
start of the " auld witch " from the bunweed-covered lea, when
the throat of every pedestrian is privileged to cry " halloo —
halloo — halloo," and whipcord-tailed greyhound and hairy
lurcher, without any invidious distinction of birth or bearing,
lay their deep breasts to the sward at the same moment, to the
same instinct, and brattle over the brae after the disappearing
Ears, laid flat at the first sight of her pursuers, as with retro-
verted eyes she turns her face to the mountain, and seeks the
cairn only a little lower than the falcon's nest.

' What signifies any sport in the open air, except in con-
genial scenery of earth and heaven ? Go, thou gentle Cockney !
and angle in the New River ; — but, bold Englishman, come
with us and try a salmon-cast in the old Tay. Go, thou gentle
Cockney ! and course a suburban hare in the purlieus of
Blackheath ; — but, bold Englishman, come with us and course
an animal that never heard a city-bell, by day a hare, by night
an old woman, that loves the dogs she dreads, and, hunt her as
you will with a leash and a half of light-foots, still returns at
dark to the same form in the turf-dike of the garden of the
mountain cottage. The children, who love her as their own
eyes — for she has been as a pet about the family, summer and
winter, since that chubby-cheeked urchin, of some five years
old, first began to swing in his self-rocking cradle — will scarcely
care to see her started — nay, one or two of the wickedest among
them will join in the halloo ; for often, ere this " has she
cheated the very jowlers, and lauched ower her shouther at
the lang dowgs walloping ahint her, sair forfaquhen, up the
benty brae — and it 's no the day that she 's gaun to be killed
by Rough Robin, or Smooth Spring, or the red Bick, or the
U 153

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

hairy Lurcher — though a' fowr be let loose on her at ance, and
ye surround her or she rise." What are yoiu- great, big, fat,
lazy English hares, ten or twelve pounds and upwards, who
have the food brought to their very mouth in preserves, and
are out of breath with five minutes' scamper among themselves
— to the middle-sized, hard-hipped, wiry-backed, steel-legged,
long-winded mawkins of Scotland, that scorn to taste a leaf
of a single cabbage in the wee moorland yardie that shelters
them, but prey in distant fields, take a breathing every gloam-
ing along the mountain-breast, untired as young eagles ringing
the sky for pastime, and before the dogs seem not so much
scouring for life as for pleasure, with such an air of freedom,
liberty, and independence, as they fling up the moss and cock
their fuds in the faces of their pursuers. Yet stanch are they
to the spine — strong in bone and sound in bottom — see, see
how Tickler clears that twenty-feet moss-hag at a single spang
like a bird — tops that hedge that would turn any hunter that
ever stabled in Melton Mowbray — and then, at full speed north-
ward, moves as upon a pivot within his own length, and close
upon his haunches, without losing a foot, off within a point of
due South. A kennel ! He never was and never will be in a
kennel all his free joyful days. He has walked and run — and
leaped and swam about — at his own will, ever since he was nine
days old — and he would have done so sooner had he had any
eyes. None of your stinking cracklets for him — he takes his
meals with the family, sitting at the right hand of the Master's
eldest son. He sleeps in any bed of the house he chooses, and,
though no Methodist, he goes every third Sunday to church.
That is the education of a Scottish greyhound — and the
consequence is, that you may pardonably mistake him for
a deer dog from Badenoch or Lochaber, and no doubt in
the world that he would rejoice in a glimpse of the antlers
on the weather gleam,

" Where the hunter of deer and the warrior trode,
To his hills that encircle the sea."

COURSING

This may be called roughing it — slovenly — coarse — rude —
artless — unscientific. But we say no — it is your only
coursing. . . .

' But independently of spit, pot, and pan, what delight in
even daundering about the home farm seeking for a hare ?
It is quite an art or science. You must consult not only the
wind and weather of to-day, but of the night before — and of
every day and night back to last Sunday, when probably you
were prevented by the rain from going to church. Then hares
shift the sites of their country seats every season. This
month they love the fallow field — that, the stubble ; this, you
will see them, almost without looking for them, big and brown
on the bare stony upland lea — that, you must have a hawk's
eye in your head to discern, discover, detect them, like birds in
their nests, embowered below the bunweed or the bracken ;
they choose to spend this week in a wood impervious to wet or
wind — that, in a marsh too plashy for the plover ; now you
may depend on finding Madam at home in the sulks within the
very heart of a bramble-bush or dwarf black-thorn thicket,
while the squire cocks his fud at you from the top of a knowe
open to blasts from all the airts ; in short, he who knows at all
times where to find a hare, even if he knew no one single thing
else but the way to his mouth, cannot be called an ignorant
man — is probably a better informed man in the long run than
the friend on his right, discoursing about the Turks, the Greeks,
the Portugals, and all that sort of thing, giving himself the lie
on every arrival of his daily paper. We never yet knew an
old courser (him of the Sporting Annals included) who was not
a man both of abilities and virtues. But where were we ? —
at the Try sting-Hill Farmhouse, jocularly called Hunger-
them-Out.

' Line is formed, and with measured steps we march to-
wards the hills — for we ourselves are the schoolboy, bold,
bright, and blooming as the rose — fleet of foot almost as the
very antelope — Oh ! now, alas ! dim and withered as a stalk
from which winter has swept all the blossoms — slow as the

155

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

sloth along the ground — spindle-shanked as a lean and
slippered pantaloon !

" O heaven ! that from our bright and sliining years
Age would but take the things youth heeded not ! "

An old shepherd meets us on the long sloping rushy ascent
to the hills — and putting his brown withered finger to his
gnostic nose, intimates that she is in her old form behind the
dike — and the noble dumb animals, with pricked-up ears and
brandished tail, are aware that her hovir is come. Plash, plash,
through the marsh, and then in the dry furze beyond you see
her large dark-brown eyes — soho, soho, soho — halloo, halloo,
halloo — for a moment the seemingly horned creature appears
to dally with the danger, and to linger ere she lays her lugs on
her shoulder, and away, like thoughts pursuing thoughts — away
fly hare and hounds towards the mountain.

' Stand all still for a minute — for not a bush the height of
our knee to break our view — and is not that brattling burst
up the brae " beautiful exceedingly," and sufficient to chain
in admiration the beatings of the rudest gazer's heart ? Yes,
of all beautiful sights — none more, none so much so, as the
miraculous motion of a four-footed wild animal, changed at
once, from a seeming inert sod or stone into flight fleet as that
of the falcon's wing ! Instinct against instinct, fear and
ferocity in one flight ! Pursuers and pursued bound together
in every turning and twisting of their career, by the operation
of two head-long passions ! Now they are all three upon her —
and she dies ! No ! glancing aside, like a bvillet from a wall,
she bounds almost at a right angle from her straight course —
and, for a moment seems to have made good her escape.
Shooting headlong one over the other, all three, with erected
tails, suddenly bring themselves up — like racing barks when
down goes the helm, and one after another, bowsprit and boom
almost entangled, rounds the buoy and again bears up on the
starboard tack upon a wind — and in a close line, heel to heel,
so that you might cover them all with a sheet — again, all open-
mouthed on her haunches, seem to drive, and go with her over

13G

COURSING

the cliff. We are all on foot — and pray what horse could
gallop through among all these quagmires, over all the hags
in these peat-mosses, over all the water-cressy, and puddocky
ditches, sinking soft on hither and thither side, even to the
two-legged leaper's ankle or knee — up that hill on the perpen-
dicular strewn with flint — shivers — down those loose hanging
cliffs — through that brake of old stunted birches with stools
hard as iron^over that mile of quaking muir where the plover
breeds — and — finally — up, up, up, to where the dwarfed
heather dies away among the cinders, and in winter you might
mistake a flock of ptarmigan for a patch of snow. The thing
is impossible — so we are all on foot — and the fleetest keeper
that ever footed it in Scotland shall not in a run of three miles
give us sixty yards. " Ha ! Peter, the wild boy, how are you
off for wind ? " — we exultingly exclaim in giving Red-jacket the
go-by on the bent. But see, see, they are bringing her back
again down the Red Mount — glancing aside, she throws them
all three out — yes, all three, and few enow too, though fair play
be a jewel, and ere they can recover, she is ahead a hundred
yards up the hill. There is a beautiful trial of bone and
bottom ! Now one, and then another, takes almost imper-
ceptibly the lead ; but she steals away from them inch by
inch — beating them all blind — and suddenly disappearing,
Heavens knows how, leaves them all in the lurch. With out-
lolling tongues, hanging heads, panting sides, and drooping
tails, they come one by one down the steep, looking somewhat
sheepish, and then lie down together on their sides, as if indeed
about to die in defeat. She has carried away her cocked fud
unscathed for the third time, from Three of the Best in all
broad Scotland — nor can there any longer be the smallest
doubt in the world, in the minds of the most sceptical, that she
is — what all the country side had long known her to be — a
Witch. . . .'

One of the best coursing essays ever written is that
wherein ' The Druid ' describes Master M'Grath's second
Waterloo Cup in 1869.

157

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

' The morning finds us at Lynn's once more, and the cards
of the day sliow that Master IM'Grath has been drawn with
Borealis. The latter has been winning a good stake at Lytham,
but " the talent " have taken her measure well, as 25 to 1
can be got about her for the Cup, and it is only 6 to 1 against
the black. All is life and activity among the coursers. They
are buttoning on leggings, and lighting pipes, and driving
bargains with hansoms and coaches, into which they mount,
looking like very jolly Cromwellian pike-men, with their long
mahogany-coloured leaping poles. The route lies principally
by the dock side, and its dusky forest of masts, till we strike
rather more inland at Formby, where the greyhound trainers
keep their charges. Seven or eight miles bring us within sight
of the Altcar plains at last. On the left are interminable sand
banks, tenanted by coneys and vitriol works ; while ditches
of all degrees, high mounds, and engine houses help to break
the dreary Altcar dead level of grass and fallows, which look
as if they had merely been pared. Be that as it may, they are
full of " fur," and during one portion of the meeting. Hard
Lines, Mr. J. Hole's black dog, got among a wandering troop
of nearly a hundred hares, and didn't know what it meant.
There are a few trees, and there is a conventicle-looking church
in the distance, but even when the sun is out, it looks quite a
joyless land, inhabited by the descendants of Mat o' the Marsh.

' There is life enough at the North End Farm, where the
carriages make their halt, and the official card-seller sets up
his basket under the lee of a barn. He is wise in his generation,
as if he once faced the open there would be a rush at him, and,
like good card-sellers before him, he might be pressed into the
ditch. The trainers are here in great force, each with his
champion in hand, or snugly ensconced in a dog-van. Specu-
lation (late Red Robin) occupies the front seat of a cab, and a
large wisp of straw is spread artistically over the front window,
for fear any minute draught may visit his honoured head too
roughly. Alas ! it is of no avail, as India Rubber challenges
him to the slips ere two hours more are over, and wins a^good

158

C0UR8ING

trial cleverly at his expense. Some of the dog carriages are
drawn in great state by three donkeys, but many trainers
discard them altogether. Light Cavalry is at the ditch side
straining for the fray, and we also mark the dingy face of
Bethell (by Boanerges from Mischief), own brother to Bab at
the Bowster, and the grey features of Ewesdale, not a remark-
able dog in his day, but now of good repute among greyhounds
at the stud. The trainers are a motley lot as regards dress ;
but the real Altcar thing is supposed to be a sort of seal-skin
cap, with lappets for the ears, and a green coat, with mother-of-
pearl buttons about half the circumference of a cheese-plate.
What Lancashire Witch can stand against that ?

' It is barely five minutes past ten, and up comes Mr.
Warwick, the judge, in his scarlet coat and blue bird's-eye,
to judge for the ninth year in succession. Another bit of
scarlet shows that Tom Raper, the slipper, has also stripped to
his work. He looks very worn in the face with so hard a life,
but the heart is as good and the legs are almost as nimble as
ever. We look in vain for old Will Warner, but we are told
that he has " turned it up." The crowd thickens fast, and as
far as the eye can reach towards Formby, they come steadily
tramping on. The vehicles alone seem to stretch for more
than half a mile in the line of march, and half of them are in the
commissariat service, and laden with pies, and cheese, and
liquors. Many visitors carry their own little polished drink
barrel slung across their shoulders, and those who have the
office look out, when luncheon time is nigh, for the hospitable
red flag with the white star in the centre, which flies as a token
at the top of a private omnibus from Lytham. Half the point
of the meet of Northend was lost this year by the absence of
the house party from Croxteth, and we might well long to see
the four dark chestnuts dash up in the green drag as of yore,
with the Earl of Sefton on the box. It seems but the other
day that his father was riding off across country to Croxteth,
to tell of his Sackcloth's victory.

' The march of the cracks round and round the farm pad-

159

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

dock is one of the most beautiful sights. We have noted there
— before the first couple were called, and the hare-boys (look-
ing like tortoises erect) started on their march — the shining
bridle of Streamer, the dark black of the great bitch corps —
Spider, old Belle of the Village, Rebe, and Reliance ; the blue
of Goodareena ; the fawn of Sea Rock ; the red of Monarch and
Sea Girl ; while the brindle on the tail deftly told the difference
between the flying whites of Liverpool, Mr. Spinks's Sea Pink
and Sea Foam.

' A qviarter past ten, and there is no time to lose ; off comes
Mr. Warwick's overcoat, and he mounts a good-looking grey.
Requiem and Morning Dew are in the slips, but three hares get
away before Raper gets a slip to his mind. It was a bad
beginning, as both got unsighted before they had been long at
it, and then Requiem went on with the hare by herself, and
had such a severe singlehander, that the hearts of her backers
die within them, and any hopes of pulling off 33 to 1 become
a vanishing fraction. Then every eye is on Lobelia, as this
rare granddaughter of Canaradzo comes out bright and beauti-
ful, and not one mass of diachylon plaster as she was last year.
She hung in the slips a little, and then she warmed up and raced
past Exactly in the brilliant style of her Trovatore days, and
made a masterly kill. The Lancashire men may well shout for
her after such a performance, and wish her well through the
Cup. Now the drain jumping begins, and sorely tests the limbs
that are stiff with " age's frost." Some bound over them
in their stride like antelopes, or use the comfortable pole ;
others go at them with faces indicative of resignation and agony
combined, and if a foot slips there is a roar like a salvo of
artillery down the line. Occasionally a stout gentleman
determines, rather than be left behind, to jump or perish in the
attempt. He is gravely advised by some athlete to " pull
himself together," whatever that process may be ; he balances
his arms, rushes, regardless of family considerations, at his
works, funks, towers, is deposited with a splash, and ignomini-
ously crawls out up the opposite bank. What comfort is it

160

Salmon Fishing:

The First Jmnf)

-—^

y=^'M^

COURSING

to him to be told to " put on more powder " when all is over,
and he is wet up to his middle ? A policeman in a helmet has
a most tremendous reception when he jumps short; but still
there is not the fun there was when fewer people came, and
poor John Jackson, in his lusty manhood, went striding and
shouting, with his short stick in his hand, over the ditches, and
when Jem Mace, or Joe Goss, were putting on condition after
that fashion.

' And so the courses go on, and at last the crowd, some six
or seven thousand strong, line the high embankment on both
sides of a field where Patent ran one year. A sort of nervous
thrill goes through them when a beautiful worked course has
been run in full view between Jolly Green and Innkeeper.
" One more bye, and then the crack comes out," is the key to it.
They are so closely packed that it is difficult, as you stand, to
see right along the bank. In a minute a roar is heard at the
distance, and we know that the black, Master M'Grath, is
coming. Nearer and nearer, and the shout is taken up all
along the line, as when the St. Leger horses reach the Intake
turn, and the last struggle begins. Mr. Warwick tears along
at full gallop on the grey, almost level, and twenty yards to
the right of the hare, in order to be handy at the finish ; and
then comes the black dog with the white breast and the white
neck mark, going like a whirlwind twelve lengths ahead of
Borealis. She looks, in fact, like a mere terrier scuffling after
him, and when she did get up, the Irish dog had raced right
into his hare, and flung it up half dead into the air. Raper
said that he had never seen a greyhound go so fast, and the
Cup seemed to be over. Then Woman in Black delights the
Irish division once more, and Ask Mamma and Charming 3Iay
ran as sweetly as ever. Except Lady Lyons, there was nothing
more beautiful than " May " on the field. Ghillie Callum then
gives the Scotchmen a good turn, and fastens on his hare, when
he kills so savagely that they are obliged to bite his ear before
he will resign it. Two other dogs cannot settle the knotty
point, and so they dash away and jump a wide ditch, holding
X 161

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

the hare between them. Luncheon succeeds, and the coursers
are found in carriages, or on the top of them, on the grass, or
sitting on a rail " transacting business " with hampers and
parcels which would have done Epsom no discredit. Even a
horse and gig rolling in a ditch doesn't rouse them. They were
a singularly quiet and well-behaved crowd, and though the
stewards had left them pretty nearly to their own devices,
in despair of handling so many, they encroached but a very
few yards. It was a fine, genial day, and each man seemed
bent on good-humoured enjoyment, and an oath or coarse
word was almost unheard.

' Luncheon over, and we got into position for the last time
that day, and all along the Engine-house Meadows. For some
time it was hopeless to begin, as " fur " was too plentiful ;
but at last they came off the fallows by singles, and IMaster
M'Grath was slipped once more. There was no enthusiasm
over this course. On he sped raking lengths away from Hard
Lines, but after turning his hare he tumbled and got shaken,
as he put in no really good work afterwards, and Hard Lines
killed. The crowd were quite still and disappointed, but there
were some cheers as Lord Lurgan, who loves the sport dearly,
and boasted a huge pair of leggings, walked up to him to pat
him.

' Then arose the bronchitic strains of that comical old man
who had gone about all day with Master M'Grath blazoned on
his hat and selling sweetmeats : " Master M'Grath 'Umbugs ! "
followed by a list of the towns in which they were patronized,
one of which seemed to have an especial ludicrous suggestion
in it. We cannot say that " still his speech was song," but
on it ran, " Four a penny — / yuU it in the sinking J und — my
wife takes the money, and I niver see it noe moor.''''

' Malt Liquor, Ghillie Callimi, and Randolph, a son of
Romping Girl, went with immense fire, and some began to
fancy GhilUe for the Cup. ""' India Rubber 'Umbiigs ! —
India Rubber 'JJmbugs ! " from the old quarter, whose wares
were re-christened as each good dog won, told of the victory of

162

COURSING

another son of Ewesdale, and we could not forbear leaving our
post to see the beautiful blood-red Lady Lyons rubbed down
after winning. But the twilight draws on, and at last the
hare supply begins to fail.

' Not a beater can be seen, as they are far away, quietly
stirring up the hares, and sending them stealing over the
fallows, towards the big sough, which has been such a city of
refuge to them time out of mind. We stand waiting for
minutes while Raper has Bab and Sir William in the slips.
" Sporting Eagle 'Umbugs — niver see it noe moor,'" indicate the
last registered winner and break the reverential silence which
falls on all good coursers, when such a 'prima donna as Bab is
coming once more on to the stage. At last the word is passed
that a hare is in sight ; Bab is ready for her, and a beautiful
course, ending with a rattling kill, carries the bonnie Scotch
lassie through her second round.

' Such was the opening day, and the next night found the
puppies all beaten off, and England and Ireland each with one,
and Scotland with two champions. Ireland and Scotland
fought it out at last, and Lord Lurgan's dog could only beat
Bab about a length for speed, and get very little the best of the
working. Perhaps two such flyers never met before, as the
winner has never been beaten, and the loser, we believe, only
once. Bonfires were lighted on Friday night on the hills near
Belfast, to tell of the second Waterloo victory of their black
dog. At Waterloo it created such enthusiasm in the bosom
of one Celt, that having flung away his own hat, he rushed at
Lord Lurgan, plucked off his lordship's wideawake, flung it
wildly into the air, and kicked it when it came down again.'

We do not hear much of long courses nowadays. At the
end of the eighteenth and early in the nineteenth century the
Flixton meeting in Yorkshire was notable for the distances
run. ' The Flixton Hares,' says Daniel, ' are so stout that the
course is extended sometimes to the length of five and six
miles : they are generally found on the side of a hill to the
North, which they invariably ascend : at the top they have

163

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

flat Down for three or four miles, and then a steep descent,
after which they ascend a Hill almost perpendicular : at the
Top is a large whin cover into which then Hares beat many
capital Greyhounds, and perhaps it is the only place in England
where a Hare was ever seen to beat tor Jour miles over Turf a
brace of the best Greyhounds that could be produced.'

There is record of a course which took place in February
1798, when a pair of greyhounds belonging to Mr. James
Courtall of Carlisle killed a hare after running her seven miles :
the hare, which was given 200 yards' law, was one that had
often been coursed and had always easily beaten the grey-
hounds : she proved to be a comparatively small one, weighing
8 lbs. 11 oz.

164

SALMON FISHING

' f ■ ^HE salmon,' wrote Leonard Mascall in 1590, ' is a

I gentle fish, but he is cumbrous to take. Com-

I monly he is but in deepe places of great rivers

and commonly in the middest of the river : he is

in season from March unto Michaelmas and ye shall angle to

him with a red worme from the beginning to the ending and

with the bobbe worme that breedeth in the du[n]ghill : also

there is a soveraigne baite that breedeth on the water docke ;

the salmon biteth not at the ground but at the flote or above :

ye may also take him with the dubbe worme (fly ?) at such

time when he leapeth, but it hath seldom seen and ye shall

take him in like manner as ye do take the Trout or Grayling

or the Dace.'

It is hard to resist the conviction that ]\Iascall, having
angled to a salmon, achieved small success : the directness
of that opening remark suggests the baffled angler laying his
rod aside.

Nor do the writings of Walton indicate that he had much
acquaintance with the sport. When he speaks of salmon
tackle and salmon habit, his observations do not imply personal
experience : ' Note also that many use to fish for a salmon
with a ring of wire on the top of their rod, through which the
line may run to as great length as is needful when he is hooked.
And to that end some use a wheel about the middle of their
rod or near their hand which is to be observed better by seeing
one of them than by large demonstration of words.' Again ;
the salmon ' is seldom observed to bite at a minnow, yet some-
times he will, and not usually at a fly.' In this last observa-
tion he is not at one with General Robert Venables, whose
' Experiene'd Angler ' he so warmly approved, and with whom

165

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

he and Cotton subsequently collaborated in producing the fifth
edition of the Compleat Angler. Venables is the most reliable
authority on seventeenth-century salmon fishing. He killed
salmon in Irish rivers and fished in various counties of England.
Hear him on the subject : —

' The Salmon taketh the artificial flie very well : but you
must use a Trowl (as for the pike) or he, being a strong Fish
will hazard your Line except you give him length : his Flies
must be much larger than you use for other Fish, the Wings
very long (two or four) behind one another, with very long
tails : his chiefest Ground bait a great garden or lob worm ;
he spawneth about Michaelmas. When you strike him he
usually falleth to plunge and leap but doth not ordinarily
endeavour to run to the end of the Line as the Trout will ;
young Salmons under a quarter of a yard long have tender
mouths so as they are apt to break their hold, to obviate which
inconvenience I have known some that use to fasten two hooks
together in like manner as some double Pike hooks lately used
in Trowling are made, not with the points opposite to one
another but about a quarter of a circle from each other, and on
them they make their Flie, that if one hook break hold the
other may not fail.'

Though he found salmon took the fly very well, the General
did not disdain other lures ; it is something of a shock indeed
to find him recommend ground-baiting for ' Salmon, Trout,
Umber, (Grayling), etc.,' as though the King of sporting fish
were a gudgeon ! He prescribes a paste made of fine clay,
barley, malt ground, mixed with water, milk, or preferably,
blood, the whole flavoured with one of the ' strong scented
oyls, or Gum of Ivy.' Odorous or malodorous compounds for
anointing worms and pastes were much in favour among
anglers of old time, and he who discovered anything particu-
larly killing kejDt it a profound secret. Here is another hint
from the General's note-book : ' The eyes of those fishes you
catch, if you pull them out and use them on the Hook, are an
excellent Bait for most sort of fish.'

166

SALMON FISHING

Nicolas Cox includes in his Gentleman's Recreation some
account of salmon fishing, but his remarks, with one exception,
bear striking resemblance to those of General Venables (these
old writers had a flagitious habit of copying without acknow-
ledgement), and the exception relieves Mr. Cox from any
suspicion of personal acquaintance with the subject. When
he describes the salmon as making prodigious leaps with its
tail in its mouth, we feel justified in declining his guidance.

If we may base an opinion on the degree of attention
bestowed by the old authorities respectively upon salmon and
pike-angling, far more fishermen devoted themselves to the
latter sport than to the former ; though, it is hardly necessary
to say, salmon were plentiful in rivers where they are now
scarce, and also in rivers, as the Thames and Tyne, whence they
have long disappeared altogether. It is at least permissible
to suppose that Mascall voiced a feeling general among his
contemporaries when he described the fish as ' cumbrous to
take ' : length for length, a pike is less than half the weight of
a salmon.

The year 1821 saw the capture of the last Thames salmon :
two, weighing together 31 lbs., were that year taken at Boulter's
Lock. Twenty years before, the season's catch at this station
was sixty-six fish, weighing 1124 lbs. : in 1780, more than fifty
were caught by one fisherman in the reach opposite Clieveden
Springs, and the men working other stations killed as many.
Thames salmon always commanded a high price in the London
market, no doubt because they were fresher than those brought
from a greater distance in those days of slow transport : an
18-lb. fish was sold in 1808 for £7, 4s., or 8s. per lb.

It is not easy to choose a salmon-fishing story from the
mass of material offered by angling literature, but perhaps
Captain A. P. Gordon Cumming's letter of 20th June 1848,
to the author of Natural History and Sport in Moray, recounts
the triumph over difficulties as perplexing as any ever en-
countered by angler : —

167

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

' My dear St. John, — Do you remember saying a salmon
was as good as lost if he went over the Ess on the Findhorn at
Relugas ? A strong and active fish played me a trick last
week and contradicted your idea by taking me down from
Rannoch over the Fall as far as the Pool above the Divie
junction. The night had been stormy with heavy rain, and
although I expected " she would grow " in the course of the
day, I thought that by an early start I might get a few hours'
fishing before the water came down, especially as fish very
often take greedily just before a grow. I was at the river by
4 A.M. and commenced at Rannoch (Randolph's Leap). I
found the water much as I left " her " the night before, small
and clear, the only chance of fish being just in the white broken
water at the throats of streams, or in the deep holes amongst
the rocks. Rannoch is fishable only from one small ledge or
bench, about two feet square, and 25 feet above the level of
the water, to which bench you must scramble down the face
of the rock, and from this spot you fish the whole pool begin-
ning with the line as the fly comes off the bar of the reel, and
letting out yard by yard till the fly is working in the " spoots "
or narrow rapids, 80 to 90 feet down the stream. If you hook
him you must play and kill him in the pool, if possible, your
gillie clipping him on a small bed of gravel down below your
feet, it being impossible to follow him if he takes down the
water from the small two-feet square ledge, without first
ascending to the footpath and redescending to the bed of the
river ; this you cannot manage with a fish on, owing to trees
and projecting rocks. The pool is fished from the right bank.

' Well, I rose him at my feet almost at the first throw, to a
small fly about half an inch long ; he came deej) and shy three
times and refused to take it or any other. I guessed him at
about 17 lbs. Leaving him to his own reflections, after making
an appointment with him for a later hour, I tried the pools
above, hurrying along to the best spots in anticipation of the
water rising. I worked till eight o'clock keeping on the same
fly described before. I had more than average sport, killing

168

Trout Fishing ^

SALMON FISHING

four good new run fish, viz., one of 12 lbs., one 10 lbs., and two
of 9 lbs. At eight the water beginning to " grow," I reeled up
and rushed down to Rannoch to show my early friend another
fly : but the water having fairly commenced to grow, I put on
a fly above two inches long, and the tippet being triple gut, I,
by an interposition of Providence, put on a triple casting line.
Having cautiously descended to my stand I showed it to him
at once ; he made small bones of it this time, and rushing up
like a bull-dog, or like one of your lovely Peregrines, took the
fly greedily. I just let him feel I was at the other end of the
gear, and knew instinctively that the good steel was well into
something firm. At first he seemed not quite to realise the
situation, and after a few sulky and dangerous shakes of the
head took to sailing steadily up and down the pool, once or
twice approaching the rapids below, but turning again by gentle
persuasion. These tactics he continued for nearly an hour, my
man waiting for him on the gravel below, and out of my sight.
By this time the effect of the last night's rain had become fully
apparent, the still dark pool below my feet had turned into a
seething pot, without a quiet corner for the fish to rest in, and
the water had risen nearly twenty-four inches above its size
when I hooked him. The upshot was, he shot down the
narrows, and went rolling heels over head down the foaming
" Meux & Co.'s Entire " (this being the usual colour of our
summer floods). To stop him was impossible ; I held on above
the rapid till I thovight my good Forrest rod would have gone
at the hand, and certainly the fine single gut I had on earlier
would have parted with half the strain.

' All I could do was to give him what line he required until
he found a resting-place behind some rock ; this he did after
rattling off fifty yards of line. Waiting some minutes till he
seemed quiet, I threw off some ten yards more line, and turning
the top of the rod up stream, I darted it down to my man on
the gravel below, having cautioned him not to alarm the fish
by letting the line get taut. To scramble up the rocks and
down again to the gravel bed, to resume possession of my rod,
Y 109

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

was two or three minutes' work, and just as I seized hold of it,
the fish having ventured from liis shelter, was, in spite of his
efforts, hurried down at racing pace taking more line than I
liked, while I followed, crawling and leaping along some
impassable-looking country, such as I would not have faced in
cold blood. By this time he had nearly reached the Ess or
fall, and all seemed lost. I do not think he really intended
going over, for when he felt himself within the influence of the
strong smooth water he tried his best to return, but in vain ;
over he went like a shot, and long ere I could get round some
high rocks and down to the lower part of the fall, I had 80 or
90 yards of line out, and to follow him farther on this side of
the water was not possible, owing to the steep rock rising beside
the stream. To add to the embarrassment of my position I
found on raising the point of my rod, that in going over the fall
the fish had passed beneath some arch deep under water, thus
making my case appear very hopeless. But, determined not
to give it up yet, I sent my man up to the house of Relugas,
where he found an old three-pronged dung-fork and a garden
line, with 'which we managed to construct a grapnel, and at the
second throw in, I got hold of the line below the sunken arch ;
then fastening it to my right hand, I made my man throw the
whole line off the reel and through the rings, and having drawn
the remainder of the line through the sunken arch, and clear
of the impediment, I formed a coil, and with my left hand
pitched the end of it up to him, when he passed it through the
rings again from the top of the rod, fixed it to the axle of the
reel, and handed me down the rod to where I stood. From
the long line out, and the heavy water, I could not tell whether
the fish was on or not, but the line looked greatly chafed all
along.

' I now tried the only plan to end the business ; leaving my
man holding the rod, I went to a bridge some distance up the
river, and having crossed to the other side and come down
opposite him, he pitched the rod over to me ; I felt that, if he
was still on, I was sure of him, and reeling steadily up the

170

SALMON FISHING

80 yards which were out, I followed down to the big round pool
below, where, to my surprise, I became aware that he was still
on. He made but a feeble resistance, and after a fight of two
hours and forty minutes, we got the clips into as gallant a fish
as ever left the sea — weight, 19i lbs. and new run. The last
hour and a half was in a roaring white flood. The fly was, as
you may imagine, well " chained up." '

Let us, forgoing a picture of salmon fishing to-day, glance
at the long proscribed sport of Burning the Water as pictured
by William Scrope. Should the well-ordered mind be shocked
by this tale of carnage, be it remembered that the author lived
in an age when thirty fish might be caught where one is killed
now.

' The boat in general use for burning at night is larger than
the rod-fishing boats, as more room and steadiness is required.
In the centre of it, close to the side on which the leisterers strike
the fish, is a pole fixed vertically, with a frame at top of it
formed of ribs of iron, to contain the combustibles. Three
men are sufficient to man the boat ; one at the head, another at
the stern, as boatmen and leisterers, and the third at the centre
to kill the fish and trim the fire. But it will contain more men,
if necessary.

' The remainder of the day having been spent in making the
arrangements, and the proper hour being now come, Harry Otter
and Charlie Purdie went out from the Pavilion to meet the
party, who were to assemble at eight o'clock about a mile and
a half up the river. The night was most favourable, it being
utterly dark, and not a sough of air stirring. With caution
and with difficulty they felt their way step by step at the rocky
base of the Scaur, where it dips into the river, till they descried
the boat which was to take them across it at the Brig-end pool.
The clanking of the chain as it was loosened and flung on the
planks sounded harshly in the silence of night ; the oars dipped
dully, and they were soon on the opposite side of the river, by
which means they cut off a great sweep of the haugh, " a huge

171

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

half moon, a monstrous cantle out," and proceeded in a more
direct line to their mark. They went on in darkness through
the chilhng dews, now and then stumbhng into the patches of
furze which were scattered over the haugh ; soon they begin
to hear the rushing of the waters through the gorge of the
Carry wheel ; now it breaks full and loud upon the ear, for they
are arrived at the base of the wooded brae that overhangs the
cast.

' Two groups of men, but dimly seen, here await their
arrival ; one consists of spectators lying on the ground with
their plaids thrown athwart their bodies, and the other of the
heroes who were to figure in the grand operation : these latter
were sitting on the boats, and on the masses of rock beside
them on the water edge.

' All being now ready, a light was struck ; and the spark
being applied to rags steeped in pitch, and to fragments of
tar-barrels, they blazed up at once amid the gloom, like the
sudden flash from the crater of a volcano. The ruddy light
glared on the rough features and dark dresses of the leisterers
in cutting flames directly met by black shadows — an effect
which those will best understand who in the Eternal City have
seen the statues in the Vatican by torch-light. Extending
itself, it reddened the shelving rocks above, and glanced upon
the blasted arms of the trees, slowly perishing in their struggle
for existence amongst the stony crevices ; it glowed upon the
hanging wood, on fir, birch, broom, and bracken, half veiled,
or half revealed, as they were more or less prominent. The
form of things remote from the concentrated light was dark and
dubious ; even the trees on the summit of the brae sank in
obscurity.

' The principals now sprang into the boats. Harry Otter
stood at the head, and Charlie Purdie at the stern. These
men regulated the course of the craft with their leisters ; the
auxiliaries were stationed between them, and the light was in
the centre by the boat side. The logs, steeped as they were in
pitch, crackled and burned fiercely, sending up a column of

172

SALMON FISHING

black smoke. As the rude forms of the men rose up in their
dark attire, wielding their long leisters, with the streaks of
light that glared partially upon them, and surrounded as they
were by the shades of night, you might almost have fancied
yourself in the realms below, with Pluto and his grim associates,
embarked on the Stygian lake. But as the sports began, and
as the Scotch accent prevailed, the illusion passed away ; for
no poet, that I am aware of, has made the above swarthy and
mysterious personages express themselves in the language of
Tweedside ; nor could one fancy salmon in the Styx, though
they might well disport in the streams of the happy fields
beyond.

' " Now, my lads," says the master, " take your places.
Tom, stand you next to me : Sandy, go on the other side of
Tom ; and do you, Jamie, keep in the middle, and take tent to
cap the boats well over the rapids. Rob, do you and Tom
Purdie keep good lights and fell the fish. Halloo, Tom, you
have smuggled a leister into the boat for your own use."

' " Ay, ay, that have I, joust for mine ain deversion, ve
ken."

' " Well, well, you may just keep it, for you are a stout
chiel, and it would be hard work to get it from you ; besides,
no one can use it more dexterously than yourself. Now, then,
we will pvish the boat up the cheek of the stream till we come
to the head of it. That Avill do. Now shoot her across the
gorge, and down she goes merrily, broadside foremost, accord-
ing to rule. Cap, Charlie, cap, man ! we are drifting down
like mad ; keep back your end of the boat."

' " Aweel, aweel, she gangs cannily now ; look, uncle, a
niuckle fish before ye ; or ever ye kent, the maister's leister
gaed through him, and played auld dife. That side, that side,
Jamie ; — he 's rinnin up to get past. Od, ye have him ; and
I hae anither, and anither. Keep a gude light, Tom. Now
let us tak up the boat to the head of the stream, or ever we
look the stanes, for there war a muckle fish gaed bv that none
o' ye gomrells ever saw. There, we are high eneuch now ;

173

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

baud ycr hand, and let her faw doon again : hey, but I see him
the noo afore me ; — ou, what an awfu' beast ! "

' So saying, Charhe drove his leister furiously at him ; but
whether one of the prongs struck against the edge of the rock
above him, which prevented its descent to the bottom, or from
whatever other cause, the stroke was unsuccessful, and as he
lifted the barren weapon out of the water, there arose a merry
shout and guffaw from the spectators on the shore.

' " Cap ! cap ! " cried Charlie, " now baud yer hand ; gie
me up the boat ; — od, but I '11 hae him yet ; he 's gone amangst
thae hiding stanes."

' So saying, Charlie brought the head of the boat to the
stream, pushed her higher up, and pulled her ashore ; he then
landed, and seizing a brand out of the fire, put it into
Jamieson's hand, who preceded his eager steps like a male
Thais, or one of the Eumenides in pantaloons. He now stood
upon a rock which hung over the river, and from that eminence,
and with the assistance of the firebrand, examined the bottom
of it carefully. His body was bent over the water, and his
ready leister held almost vertically ; as the light glared on his
face you might see the keen glistening of his eye. In an instant
he raised up his leister, and down he sprang from the rock right
into the river, and with that wild bound nailed the salmon to
the channel. There was a struggle with his arms for a few
seconds ; he then passed his hands down the pole of the weapon
a little way, brought himself vertically over the fish, and lifted
him aloft cheered by shouts of applause from his friends on the
shore.

' Two or three more fish were taken amongst the stones at
the tail of the cast, and the sport in the Carrywheel being now
ended, the fish were stowed in the hold of the boat, the crew
jumped ashore, and a right hearty appeal was made to the
whisky bottle. It was first tendered to the veteran, Tom
Purdie, to whom it was always observed to have a natural
gravitation, but to the astonishment of all, he barely put his
lips to the quaigh, and passed it to his nephew.

174

SALMON FISHING

' " Why, uncle, mon, what the deil 's come owre ye ? I
never kent ye refuse a drappie afore, no not sin' I war a callant ;
I canna thole to see ye gang that gait."

' " Why, I '11 tell ye what it is, Charlie. I got a repreef
from Sir Walter for being fou the ither nicht. ..."

' Tom Purdie's forbearance, however, was not of an endur-
ing quality ; his eyes glistened as he followed the course of the
bottle ; three times was his arm extended to make a grap at it,
and thrice did he draw it back with modest confusion. At
length when all were served he could hold out no longer, but
elongating his dexter, he laid fast hold of the bottle, and filling
the quaigh to the brim, " Here goes," said he, " to the lousy
stranger." After he had drank, and mended his draught, he
kept the bottle in his own custody with a pretty smart allow-
ance in it, in the character of residuary legatee. I had an
account, however, to settle with him ; for being the only
stranger in company, I fancied his toast meant a reflection
upon my cleanliness. What did he mean by the dirty and
degrading epithet ? This I demanded, advancing with a
warlike countenance, and leister in the rest ; and had not Tom
been in a very benign humour, this book might never have been
inflicted on the public, for the man was well armed and resolute,
and might have leistered me according to art. But putting
on his sweetest smile, he assured me that by the " lousy
stranger " he meant a newly-run fish with tide lice on it,
" which," said he, " are far the best, ye ken." This I well
knew, though the application did not occur to me at the
moment. And here, by the way I beg to observe, however odd
it may seem, that you may know the best clean fish, by their
having tide lice upon them.

' " All hands to the boat again. Come, Bob, give us a
merry blaze ; never spare the tar barrel ; well done, Vulcan !
Now we have a splendid light on the water, and can see well
enough to read small print at the bottom of it."

Sandy Trummel, ye great bear, what gars ye stamp and
scream at that rate."

175

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

' Sandy in fact not only stamped and screamed, but swore
that he was dreadfully brunt with the pieces of charcoal and
drops of flaming pitch which insinuated themselves between
his shirt and cape of his jacket behind ; whereat Tom Purdie,
who was a considerate and humane man, took up the scoop
which was used for ladling out the boat, and, filling that
capacious utensil with water to the extent of its capacity, came
behind the aggrieved, and emptied the whole contents down
his back. " And now Sandy, mon," says he, " I hae made ye
quite comfortable, and ye owe me a gude turn." But, who
would have thought it ? The blood of the Trummels was up ;
and seizing a firebrand in a style that did little honour to his
gratitude, the diluted one rushed forward intent on vengeance.
Grim looked Tom Purdie, and, charging with his leister, he
held the foeman at bay. Who can say what Homeric deeds
might not have been done, had not Charlie, first whispering
to the master to stand fast, given the boat a sudden whirl
round with the stroke of an oar, which laid Tom Purdie flat
upon his back at the bottom of the boat, and canted Sandy
Trummel fairly overboard ? He fell in rather a picturesque
attitude, for which I cannot in candour give him much credit,
as the affair seemed to be quite involuntary and too sudden for
him to study effect. His right hand held the torch aloft for a
moment, Marmion fashion, which soon fell and hissed in the
current with a train of smoke which trailed along the surface
of the water. Sandy's feet were actively employed in kicking
his best, by which means he agitated the water in such a manner
that, with the assistance of the light, it made a very brilliant
and imposing appearance. The stream here being very shallow,
he soon began to emerge, and about two-thirds of his fair
proportions rose up from the channel ; his mouth seemed
full of water and abuse ; he soon got rid of the one ; but before
he could vent the other, he was anticipated by the boat's crew,
who all shouted out shame upon him for his awkwardness,
and for having nearly upset the boat in his fall, and endangered
the lives of several worthy individuals. Thus a sort of balance

176

SALMON FISHING

was struck between faults on both sides, and Tom Purdie
himself assisted him to regain the boat ; " and Sandy, mon,"
said he, as he lifted him in, " I shall be always willing to do ye
the same good service when ye need it ; so yee'l let me ken
when the burning pick gets aboard ye again."

' They now passed over some bare streams where no salmon
would lie ; the navigation amongst the rocks was somewhat
intricate, there being barely room for the width of the boat
in some of the rapids ; but Charles Purdie hit the thing off to
a nicety. They then burned the Glass-wheel Pot, the Oak
Tree, and the Noirs, in all of which they got a few fish. . . .

' " Come, come, lads," says the master, " hold your clish-
ma-clavers, for we are just going into Brig-end Pool ; so keep
back the boat as well as you can, or we shall go fiery fast over
the stream."

' As the boat neared the pool, the men shouted out, " Auld
Michael ! auld Michael ! the charm for auld Michael Scott :
trim the boat, and take care the muckle wizard doesna loup
intill her." " Od, lads ! " cried Tom Purdie, " pit yer best fut
foremost ; they are lying afore us like sacks, and will be as
thick as you can dab them up. Mind the light, Sandy, and
take care that kipper doesna wallop out o' the boat. See what
a muckle fish Charlie has got ! "

' In fact the men were making a great slaughter ; and when
they had gone over the pool two or three times, had half filled
the boat with the spoil ; so as they found they were well laden,
they called to Rob Colyard to come forward with his cart and
take them home.

' " Shove the boat to the shore ; Colyard, come forrat wi'
yer cart ; that '11 do, mon ; aw bonds to wark, count the fish
as ye pit them in ; Charlie, how many hae ye coonted ? "

' " There jest a hunder and twa, great and sma' — whitling,
bull-trout, saumonts, and a' theigither."

' The men passed round the whisky bottle, and we resumed
our sport ; I, Harry Otter, stood as before at the head of the
boat, and the other men in their allotted places ; we passed
z 177

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

pretty swiftly down the streams, broadside in front, striking
many fish, till we came near the Elfin Burn, when, observing
that the water-break in the centre of the river, caused by a
concealed rock, was more gentle than usual, I thought the boat
would strike, so I called out to Charlie for caution.

' " Hout, tout ! he mun let her gang : there is plenty of
water to take her over."

' Charlie Purdie was never more mistaken in his life ; the
stream drove us downward at a rapid race, notwithstanding
we in some measure moderated it by capping our best with the
leisters. Bang went the boat's broadside right against the
rock, to which she stuck fast till the stream above poured into
her in the most effective possible style, and down she went of
course. The water, however, was by no means deep ; but
those fish, which we had taken since the load went home,
found their way again into the river, and began to vanish down
the streams. Being deprived of life, they Avent passively
along, followed by all the boat's crew, who rushed about and
charged with their leisters, " Hurry, hurry, splash, splash,"
till they fished out most of them, the remainder being left to
solace the eels. This in common parlance would be called a
disaster ; a sort of shipwreck in miniature ; but judging from
the merriment it excited, it might be deemed the best sport of
the night.'

The heaviest salmon ever landed by an angler was one of
69^ lb. killed by the then Earl of Home on the Tweed. The
late Mr. Henry Ffennell thought this might be accepted as
authentic. Other large fish killed in Scottish rivers are :
Mr. Haggard, 61 pounder on the Stanley water of the Tay,
1870 ; Mr. J. B. Lawes' 54 pounder on the Awe, near Dalmally,
1877 ; the keeper on the Ardoe water. Dee, 57 pounder ; Mr.
Pryor on the Floors water, Tweed, 57| pounder, 1886; Mr.
Bruton at Mertoun, 55 poimder, 1889; and the Marquis of
Zetland on the Stanley water, Tay, 55 pounder, 15th October
1895.

These are some of the heaviest Irish fish : a 58 pounder on

178

SALMON FISHING

the Shannon, 1872 ; a professional fisherman on the Suir, 57
pounder, 1873 ; Mr. F. Milburn, Doonass Water, Castle Connell,
54 pounder.

The heaviest English fish are : a 55^ pounder on the Cum-
berland Derwent in 1874 ; Mr. G. Mackenzie's 56 pounder on
the Warwick Hall water of the Eden, 1892.

The heaviest British salmon recorded was that taken in
the Haggis Station nets below Newburgh in 1870 : it weighed
70 lb. when it reached Mr. Frank Buckland's hands in London,
and was probably 1 lb. heavier when caught : this fish was 53
inches long, and girthed 31 1 inches. A 68 povmder was taken
in the nets below Perth in June 1893 : it also was 53 inches
long : girth 30i inches. Fish of over 60 lb. have been netted
in both Shannon and Severn,

THE TAKING OF THE SALMON

A Birr ! a whirr ! a salmon 's on ;
A goodly fish ! a thumper !
Bring up, bring up the ready gaff,
And if we land him we shall quaff'
Another glorious bumper !
Hark, tis the music of the reel ;
The strong, the quick, the steady ;
The line darts from the active wheel :
Have all things right and ready.

A birr ! a whirr ! the salmon "s out

Far on the rushing river :

Onward he holds with sudden leap,

Or plunges through the whirlpool deep,

A desperate endeavour !

Hark to the music of the reel !

The fitful and the grating ;

It pants along the breathless wheel.

Now hurried — now abating.

A birr ! a whirr ! the salmon 's off I —
No, no, we still have got him :
179

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

The wily tish is sullen grown,

And, like a bright imbedded stone.

Lies sleaniing at the bottom.

Hark to the music of the reel !

Tis hush't, it hath forsaken ;

With care we'll guard the magic wheel

Until its notes re waken.

A birr ! a whirr ! the salmon 's up !

Give line, give line and measure ;

But now he turns ! keep down ahead,

And lead him as a child is led,

And land him at your leisure.

Hark to the music of the reel !

'Tis welcome ; it is glorious ;

It wanding through the winding wheel.

Returning and victorious.

A birr ! a whirr ! the salmon \s in

Upon the bank extended ;

The princely tish is gasping slow.

His brilliant colours come and go,

All beautifully blended.

Hark to the music of the reel !

It murmurs and it closes ;

Silence is on the conquering wheel ;

Its wearied line reposes.

No birr ! no whirr ! the salmon 's ours.

The noble fish — the thumper:

Strike through his gills the ready gaft,

And bending homewards we shall quaff

Another glorious bumper I

Hark to the music of the reel !

We listen with devotion ;

There's something in that circling wheel

That wakes the iieart's emotion.

T. T. STODDAR'r,

Songs and Poems, 1839.

180

TROUT FISHING

' M ^ UT now I must come to the second way of Angling at
B_^^ the top : which is with an artificial fly . . . with
I ^ this you are to angle with a line longer by a yard
'^^~^^ and a half, or sometimes two yards, than your
rod. . . . For the length of your rod you are always to be
governed by the breadth of the river you shall choose to angle
at : and for a Trout river one of five or six yards is commonly
enough, and longer, though never so neatly and artificially
made it ought not to be, if you intend to fish at ease ; and if
otherwise where lies the sport ? . . . The length of your line
is a mighty advantage to the fishing at distance : and to fish
fine and far off is the first and principal rule for Trout-
angling. . . .

' Now to have your whole line as it ought to be, two of the
first lengths nearest the hook should be of two hairs apiece :
the next three lengths above them of three ; the next three
above them of four : and so, of five and six and seven to the
very top : by which means your rod and tackle will in a manner
be taper from your very hand to your hook.' Thus far, Cotton.

General Venables described the end to be sought in fashion-
ing rod and line in words that have never been bettered :

' The slenderness I conceive principally serveth to make the
fly-rod long and light, easy to be managed with one hand, and
casteth the fly far, which are to me considerations chiefly to be
regarded in a fly-rod, for if you observe, the slender part of the
rod, if strained, shoots forth in length as if it were part of the
line, so that the whole stress and strength of the fish is borne
or sustained by the thicker part of the rod.'

Such was the equipment of the trout fisherman in

181

BRITISH SPOET PAST AND PRESENT

Waltonian times. The hair most approved, by the way, was
that ' taken from the middle of the tail of a young and healthy
grey or white stallion.' It must have been an efficient tool,
that rod and line in one, or they were deft anglers who used it ;
for ' he that cannot kill a Trout of twenty inches long with two
(hairs next to the hook) in a river clear of wood and weeds . . ,
deserves not the name of an Angler.'

The brook trout would be in poor condition which, measur-
ing twenty inches, does not scale 3| to 4lbs. We might arrive
at a fair idea of seventeenth-century trout-fishing by tying to
the top ring of a salmon rod the prescribed length of hair-line
duly graduated to the fly.

The line was not always of hair. IMr. Thomas Barker,^
it will be remembered, used one of silk and hair for night fish-
ing : ' My lord sent to me at sun-going-down to provide him a
good dish of Trouts against the next morning by six o'clock.
... I went presently to the river and it proved very dark. I
threw out a line of three silks and three hairs twisted for the
uppermost part ; and a line of two hairs and two silks twisted
for the lower part — with a good large hook. I baited my hook
with two lob worms, the four ends hanging as meet as I could
guess them in the dark. I fell to angle. It proved very dark
so that I had good sport : angling with the lob worms as I do
with the flies on the top of the water : you shall hear the fish
rise at the top of the water : then you must loose a slack line
down to the bottom as nigh as you can guess ; then holding
your line straight, feeling the fish bite : give time, there is no
doubt of losing the fish, for there is not one among twenty
but doth gorge the bait : the least stroke you can strike
fastens the hook and makes the fish sure, letting the fish take
a turn or two ; you may take him up with your hands. Then
the night began to alter and grow somewhat lighter : I took
off the lob worms and set to my rod a white palmer fly made of
a large hook : I had good sport for the time, until it grew
lighter : so I took off the white palmer, and set to a red

' Art of Angling, Kj.'il.

182

TROUT FISHING

palmer made of a large hook. I had good sport until it grew
very light ; then I took off the red palmer and set to a black
palmer. I had good sport and made up the dish of fish, so I
put up my tackles and was with my lord at the time appointed
for the service.'

3Ir. Barker used a stronger line for night angling than he
did by day : he knew, as Walton knew, that ' in the night
the best Trouts come out of their holes.'

General Venables. before mentioned, was the first angler
to improve upon the hair cast. In his Experienced Angler
(1662) he refers to the superior strength of ' the smallest lute
or \'iol strings,' the principal objection to which was that they
rotted so quickly in the water. It was reserved for Mr. William
Caesar, the lute master, to get over this objection: you would
remember that he told Pepys (18th March 1667) of a ' pretty
experiment of angling with a minnikin, a gut string varnished
over which keeps it from swelling ' ; in other words keeps it
from saturation and the resultant rotting. Mr. Cjaesar may
have obtained the idea from Venables' book ; on the other hand
it is quite likely he conceived it himself ; lute player as well as
angler, he well may have done so.

I trust it may be not heresy to suggest that Walton had
leanings towards the worm rather than the fly. \Mien he
takes the education of his pupil in hand he puts worm-fishing
first : ' The Trout is usually caught with a worm, a minnow,
which some call a penk, or with a fly, ^^z. either a natural or an
artificial fly.' Wlien Cotton begins his pupil's education it is in
these Avords : ' Why then, first of fly-fishing.' It seems at least
arguable that Walton preferred the worm while Cotton most
esteemed the fly.

There is one passage in Walton which has ever been as a
first line of defence to him who, defying later or minor lawgivers
of the angle, prefers to fish down stream. ' And let me again
tell you that you keep as far from the water as you can possibly,
whether you fish with a fly or worm : and fish down stream.
And when you fish with a fly, if it be possible, let no part of

183

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

your line touch the water but your fly only : and be still mov-
ing your fly upon the water, or casting it into the water, you
yourself being also always moving down the stream.'

Walton speaks more warmly of dry fly-fishing than other
angling ' at the top ' — ' And now I shall tell you, that the fish-
ing with a natural fly is excellent, and affords much pleasure.
They may be found thus : the May-fly, usually in and about
that month, near to the river-side, especially against rain :
the Oak-fly, on the butt or body of an oak or ash, from the
beginning of May to the end of August ; it is a brownish fly
and easy to be so found, and stands usually with his head
downward, that is to say, towards the root of the tree : the
small black-fly, or Hawthorn-fly, is to be had on any hawthorn
bush after the leaves be come forth. With these and a short
line, as I showed to angle for a Chub, you may dape or dop, and
also with a grass-hopper, behind a tree, or in any deep hole ;
still making it to move on the top of the water as if it were alive,
and still keeping yourself out of sight, you shall certainly have
sport if there be Trouts ; yea, in a hot day, but especially in
the evening of a hot day, you will have sport. . . .'

Cotton's advice on ' daping, dabbling or dibbling ' (it is
' dapping ' in Ireland unto this day) holds good in the main as
when he gave it : ' First, then, of the Natural Fly ; of which
we generally use but two sorts ; and those but in the two
months of May and June only ; namely, the Green-drake, and
the Stone-fly : though I have made use of a third, that way,
called the Camlet-fly, with very good success, for Grayling, but
never saw it angled with by any other, after this manner, my
master only excepted, who died many years ago, and was one
of the best anglers that ever I knew.

' These are to be angled with a short line, not much more
than half the length of your rod, if the air be still ; or with a
longer, very near, or all out, as long as your rod, if you have
any wind to carry it from you. And this way of fishing we call
daping, dabbing, or dibling ; wherein you are always to have
your line flying before you up or down the river, as the wind

184

TROUT FISHING

serves, and to angle as near as you can to the bank of the same
side whereon you stand, though where you see a fish rise near
you you may guide your quick fly over him, whether in the
middle or on the contrary side ; and if you are pretty well out
of sight, either by kneeling or the interposition of a bank or
bush, you may almost be sure to raise, and take him too, if it
be presently done : the fish will, otherwise, peradventure be
removed to some other place, if it be in the still deeps, where
he is always in motion, and roving up and down to look for
prey, though, in a stream, you may always almost, especially
if there be a good stone near, find him in the same place. Your
line ought in this case to be three good hairs next the hook ;
both by reason you are, in this kind of angling, to expect the
biggest fish, and also that, wanting length to give him line
after he has struck, you must be forced to tug for it : to which
I will also add, that not an inch of your line being to be
suffered to touch the water in dibling, it may be allowed to
be the stronger.'

Cotton declaimed against the destruction of angling by
' the basest sort of people ' addicted to those ' unlawful ways
of fire and netting in the night, and of damming, groping,
spearing, hanging and hooking by day ' ; ' but his own account
of the sport he enjoyed in the May-fly season which immedi-
ately precedes, shows that the poachers could not have done
much harm :

' But with these two, the Greendrake and the Stone-fly, I
do verily believe I could some days in my life, had I not been
weary of slaughter, have loaden a lusty boy : and have some-
times, I do honestly assure you, given over upon the mere
account of satiety of sport : which will be no hard matter to
believe, when I likewise assvu-e you, that with this very fly, I

' Cotton's remark that to prevent such practices ' we have very good laws,' which had
fallen into abeyance, probably refers to the Statutes 1 Eliz. c. 7 and 1 Eliz. c. 17. The
former forbade the use of nets and specified the minimum size of pike, salmon, trout,
and barbel that might be taken ; the latter proliibited nets of mesh less thau two and a
half inches.

2 A 185

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

have, in this very river that runs by us, in three or four hours
taken thirty, thirty-five and forty of the best Trouts in the
river.'

Had Cotton's ideas of legitimate fishing been as those of a
later day he might have cast a dubious eye upon the principles
of his ' father Walton ' who held that ' fishing with a dead rod,
and laying night hooks, are like putting money to use ; for they
both work for their owners when they do nothing but sleep, or
eat or rejoice as you know we have done this last hour.' And
while upon this subject of methods now held unlawful it may
be recalled that Mr. Thomas Barker was the discoverer of the
deadly nature of salmon-roe ; which secret he kept to himself,
greatly sorrowing that he had not possessed it twenty years
earlier ; for then ' I would have gained a hundred pounds onely
with this bait.'

Which reticence on Barker's part invites the reflection
that the love of seventeenth-century anglers one for another,
insisted upon by Walton, even as the affection among them
of a later day, stopped short of disclosures relating to craft
secrets.

This is from one of Charles Kingsley's Chalk Stream
Studies :''... Now we will walk down the meadows some
half mile,

" While all the land in flowery squares.
Beneath a broad and equal-blowing wind
Smells of the coming summer,"

to a scene, which, as we may find its antitype anywhere
for miles round, we may boldly invent for ourselves. A red
brick mill (not new red brick, of course) shall hum for ever
below giant poplar-spires, which bend and shiver in the
steady breeze. On its lawn laburnums shall feather down like
' dropping wells of fire,' and from under them the stream shall
hurry leaping and laughing into the light, and spread at our
feet into a broad bright shallow, in which the kine are standing

' Fraser's Magazine, 1858.

186

TROUT FISHING

knee-deep already, a hint alas ! that the day means heat.
And there, to the initiated eye, is another and a darker hint
of glaring skies, perspiring limbs and empty creels. Small fish
are dimpling in the central eddies ; but here, in six inches of
water, on the very edge of the ford road, great tails and back-
fins are showing above the surface, and swirling suddenly
among the tufts of grass, sure sign that the large fish are pick-
ing up a minnow-breakfast at the same time that they warm
their backs, and do not mean to look at a fly for many an hour
to come.

' Yet courage ; for on the rail of yonder wooden bridge sits,
chatting with a sun-browned nymph, her bonnet pushed over
her face, her hayrake in her hand, a river-god in coat of vel-
veteen, elbow on knee and pipe in mouth, and rising when he
sees us, lifts his wideawake, and holloas back a roar of comfort
to our mystic adjuration : — " Keeper ! Is the fly up ? "

•"Mortial strong last night, gentlemen."

' Wherewith he shall lounge up to us, landing-net in hand,
and we will wander up stream and away.

' We will wander — for though the sun be bright, here are
good fish to be picked out of sharpe and stop holes — into the
water tables, ridged up centuries since into furrows forty feet
broad and five feet high, over which the crystal water sparkles
among the roots of the rich grass, and hurries down innumer-
able drains to find its parent stream between tufts of great blue
geranium, and spires of purple loose-strife, and the deUcate
white and pink comfrey-bells, and the avens — fairest and most
modest of all the water-side nymphs, who hangs her head all
day long in pretty shame, with a soft blush upon her tawny
cheek. But at the mouth of each of those drains, if we can get
our flies in, and keep ourselves unseen, we will have one cast
at least. For at each of them, on some sharp-rippling spot,
lies a great trout or two, waiting for beetle, caterpillar, and
whatsoever else may be washed from the long grass above.
There, and from brimming feeders, which slip along, weed-
choked, under white hawthorn hedges, and beneath the great

187

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

roots of oak and elm, shall we pick out full many a goodly
trout. There, in yon stop-hole underneath that tree, not ten
feet broad nor twenty long, where just enough water trickles
through the hatches to make a ripple, are a brace of noble fish,
no doubt ; and one of them you may be sure of, if you will go
the proper way to work, and fish scientifically Avith the brace
of flies which I have put on for you — a governor and a black
alder. In the first place, you must throw up into the little
pool, not down. If you throw down, they will see you in an
instant, and besides, you will never get your fly close under
the shade of the brick work, where alone you have a chance.
What use throwing into the still shallow tail, shining like oil in
the full glare of the sun ?

' " But I cannot get below the pool without — "
' " Without crawling through that stiff shrubbed hedge, well
set with trees, and leaping that ten-foot feeder afterwards.
Very well." It is this sort of thing which makes the stay-at-
home cultivated chalk-fishing as much harder work than
mountain angling, as a gallop over a stiffly-enclosed country
is harder than one over an open moor. You can do it or not,
as you like ; but if you wish to catch large trout on a bright
day, I should advise you to employ the only method yet
discovered.

* There, you are through ; and the keeper shall hand you
your rod. You have torn your trousers, and got a couple of
thorns in yovu* shins. The one can be mended, the other
pulled out. Now, jump the feeder. There is no run to it, so —
you have jumped in. Never mind : but keep the point of
your rod up. You are at least saved the lingering torture of
getting wet inch by inch ; and as for cold water hurting any
one — Credat Judaeus. Now make a circuit through the
meadow twenty yards away. Stoop down when you are on
the ridge of each table. A trout may be basking at the lower
end of the pool, who will see you, rush up and tell all his neigh-
bours. Now, kneel down, take off that absurd black chimney-
pot, which you are wearing, I suppose, for the same reason as

188

TROUT FISHING

Homer's heroes wore their koruthous and phalerous, to make
yourself look taller and more terrible to your foes.

' Shorten your line all you can — you cannot fish with too
short a line up-stream ; and throw, not into the oil-basin
near you, but right up into the darkest corner. Make your fly
strike the brick-work and drop in. So ? no rise ? Then, don't
work or draw it, or your deceit is discovered instantly. Lift it
out, and repeat the throw.

' What ? You have hooked your fly in the hatches ? Very
good. Pull at it till the casting line breaks, put on a fresh one,
and to work again. There ! you have him. Don't rise !
fight him kneeUng ; hold him hard, and give him no line, but
shorten up anyhow. Teat and haul him down to you before
he can make to his home, while the keeper runs round with
the net. . . . There he is on shore. Two pounds, good
weight. Creep back more cautiously than ever, and try again.
. . . There. A second fish, over a pound weight. Now
we will go and recover the flies off the hatches ; and you will
agree that there is more cunning, more science, and therefore
more pleasant excitement, in ' foxing ' a great fish out of a stop-
hole, than in whipping far and wide over an open stream, where
a half-pounder is a wonder and a triumph. And as for physical
exertion, you will be able to compute for yourself how much
your back and knees, and fore-arm will ache by nine o'clock
to-night, after some ten hours of this scrambling, splashing, leap-
ing and kneeling upon a hot June day. This item in the day's
work will of course be put to the side of loss or of gain, accord-
ing to your temperament ; but it will cure you of an incUna-
tion to laugh at us Wessex chalk-fishers as cockneys. So we
will wander up the streams, taking a fish here and a fish there,
till — Really it is very hot. We have the whole day before us ;
and the fly will not be up until five o'clock at least ; and then
the real fishing will begin. \Miy tire ourselves beforehand ?
The Squire will send us luncheon in the afternoon, and after
that expect us to fish as long as we can see, and come up to the
hall to sleep, regardless of the ceremony of dressing. For is

189

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

not the green drake on ? And while he reigns, all hours,
meals, decencies, and respectabilities must yield to his caprice.
See, here he sits, or rather tens of thousands of him, one on
each stalk of grass. Green drake, yellow drake, brown drake,
white drake, each with his gauzy wings folded over his back,
waiting for some unknown change of temperature, or some-
thing else, in the afternoon, to wake him from his sleep, and
send him fluttering over the stream ; while overhead the
black drake, who has changed his skin and reproduced his
species, dances in the sunshine, empty, hard, and happy, like
Festus Bailey's Great Black Crow (the only humorous thing he
ever wrote), who all his life sings :

" Ho, ho, ho.
For no one zvill eat him, he well doth know.''''

' However, as we have insides, and he has actually none, and
what is more strange, not even a mouth wherewith to fill the
said insides, we had better copy his brothers and sisters below
whose insides are still left, and settle with them upon the grass
awhile beneath yon goodly elm.

' Comfort yourself with a glass of sherry and a biscuit, and
give the keeper one, and likewise a cigar. He will value it at
five times its worth, not for the pleasure of it, but because it
raises him in the social scale. " Any cad," so he holds,
" smokes pipes ; but a good cigar is the note of a gentleman,"
and of them who " keep company with the quality," as
keepers do. He puts it in his hat-crown, to smoke this even-
ing in presence of his compeers at the public-house, retires
modestly ten yards, lies down on his back in a dry-feeder,
under the shade of the long grass, and instantly falls fast
asleep. Poor fellow ! he was up all last night in the covers,
and will be again to-night. Let him sleep while he may, and
we will chat over chalk-fishing.

' The first thing, probably, on which you will be inclined
to ask questions, is the size of the fish in these streams. We
have killed this morning four fish averaging a pound weight

190

TROUT FISHING

each. All below that weight we throw in, as is our rule here ;
but you may have remarked that none of them exceeded half
a pound ; that they were almost all about herring size. The
smaller ones I believe to be year-old fish, hatched last spring
twelve months ; the pound fish two-year olds. At what rate
these last would have increased, depends very much, I suspect,
on their chance of food. The limit of life and growth in cold-
blooded animals seems to depend very much on their amount
of food. The boa, alligator, shark, pike and I suppose the
trout also, will live to a great age, and attain an enormous size,
give them but range enough ; and the only cause why there
are trout of ten pounds and more in the Thames lashers, while
one of four pounds is rare here, is simply that the Thames fish
has more to eat. Here, were the fish not sufficiently thinned
out every year by anglers, they would soon become large-
headed, brown, and flabby, and cease to grow. Many a good
stream has been spoilt in this way, when a Squire has unwisely
preferred quantity to quality of fish.'

Let us turn from the chalk stream of the south to the lake
of the north. This is Mr. Gathorne Hardy's story of a day on
Loch-na-Larich : —

' Travellers who have been in the Holy Land describe the
Sea of Galilee as being of the shape of a harp, and the same
simile will give a good idea of the little mountain tarn which
breaks upon my view in a cup of the hills below Cruach Lussa.
There is no bloom yet upon the heather which clothes the moors
around it, as it is early June, but the young bracken is shooting
up through last year's withered fronds ; and the small birch
trees which fringe the opposite side of the little bay at the near
end are brilliant with their early green. Great kingcups shine
like stars among the stones at the side, and the sandpipers
busily flit from rock to rock, while the air is musical with their
voices, and the louder bubbling breeding-season note of the
curlew which hovers over the opposite brae. Two or three
mallards fly away as we approach, and a matronly duck leads
a numerous brood of some eleven tiny balls of down into the

191

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

reeds at the far end for shelter. The boat is moored to a small
pier below me, padlocked to a chain and rope, and I sit down
and, put my rod together, while my attendant unfastens the
padlock and prepares to get all ready for a start. And now
occurs the first misfortune of the day. The gillie has duly un-
fastened the padlock, but the chain is broken, and at the first
pull it comes away in his hands, leaving the boat still floating
out of reach. I ask him what is to be done, and he replies
that he must wade for it ; and after I have vainly endeavoured
to move it by throwing my light line across it, we determine
that wading is the only plan likely to succeed. He is for going
in at once, accoutred as he is, but I impress upon him that there
is no hurry, and he so far indulges my weakness as to consent to
take off his shoes and stockings. This does not, however, pre-
vent his getting wet, for the water is not merely well over his
knickerbockers, but nearly up to his shoulders, before he is able
to reach the boat with a long stick. While he is baling, I see a
rise a little to the left, just within reach of the shore, and as I
drop my fly with a longish line into the circle, a little fellow
rises boldly and takes the dropper, although there is no ripple
on the water. I haul him out, pulling and struggling man-
fully considering his size, and, as I land him, find that there is
a second one attached to the tail-fly, and that I have caught
two with my first cast. They are not so long as my hand, but
I do not put them back again, for there are really too many
fish in the loch, and it would be a good thing to reduce the
stock. Besides, they are excellent for breakfast, and if I am
too particular about size, it is quite probable that there may
not be enough for a fry. The ordinary run of fish in this loch
is about three to a pound, and one is lucky if one gets one of
over a pound in a good day's fishing.

' And now commences the familiar but imsatisfactory
process of hunting the breeze. We gaze round the loch, and
make up our minds that the best chance will be in the little
bay under the birches, where there appears to be a tiny ripple.
As soon as we arrive there, it has entirely disappeared, and

192

Deer-Stalking:

'A Royar

C^ ' - ,/i^?^^

■- ^z-

TKOUT FISHING

seems to have turned its attention to the very spot we have
just left. It is not hard work either for rower or fisherman,
and the former just holds the boat within reach of shore, while
I keep dropping my three flies as lightly as possible a few yards
from the rocks, and am occasionally rewarded with a shy rise,
and get a few fish, some of them of quite a decent size. ^Vhat
determined fighters they are ! They bend my light rod, and
even run out a little line. If the lazy South-Country giants
of the Test or Mimram had half their energy and strength, few
indeed in those weedy streams would succumb to the tiny
hooks and gossamer gut necessary for effecting their capture
at any time but the May-fly season. I see a few alders on the
water, and am most successful with an imitation of that fly,
dressed pretty large and sunk rather deep. In spite of the
weather, I nearly always get an offer from any fish I see rise
within reach and manage to put my fly over ; but although I
strike very quickly, I do not succeed in touching one in three,
as they see too much, and turn before they actually touch the
fly. One little fish of about a quarter of a pound is hooked
foul, near the ventral fin, and makes for the weeds near the
bottom so stubbornly that, until I see where he is hooked, I
try to persuade myself that I have at last got hold of a monster
of the deep. The most productive spot is the end near the
reeds, where a line of water-lily leaves are just showing. There
I get one fish of nearly three-quarters of a pomid, beautifully
shaped and marked, which really makes a determined struggle
for liberty, actually reaching the weeds and for a moment
attaching the dropper to one of them, which, fortunately, is
not sufficiently firm to break the casting-line.

' And now for a few moments a change comes over the
scene. Hitherto there has been nothing but the lightest
possible ripple, and often not even that ; but now a sudden
blast beats down from the hills, and the light boat is flying
down the loch almost too rapidly for fishing, and, in spite of
the utmost exertions of the man at the oars, the boat is down
over the flies almost as soon as they touch the water. Two or
2 b 193

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

three fish move at the fly in the course of the drift, but none
of them are hooked, as it is really impossible to keep the line
properly straight and strike in a workmanlike manner. It
is but an easterly squall, and falls as rapidly as it rises ; and,
when a toiling and laborious pull up-wind has got us nearly
back to the far end of the loch, all is calm once more, and rock,
hill, and reed are reflected double in the glassy surface. The
basket at the end of the day contains only thirteen trout, and
although there are one or two big ones, the average weight
of the whole cannot be more than a quarter of a pound — a bad
day both in number and size. At this time of the year I ought
to be sure of a couple of dozen in an afternoon of about three
to the pound. I have not changed my flies much, as the
rising fish have seemed contented with what was offered them
— a teal and green, a zulu and an alder. My cast was a very
fine one, and when for a short time I tried burn-trout flies
of the smallest size on drawn gut, I did not meet with suffi-
cient success to encourage me to persist in the experiment.
I also condescended to a minnow for a short time while I en-
joyed my after-luncheon pipe, but not a touch rewarded the
poaching expedient. Altogether the pleasure of the day con-
sisted rather in the delicious air, the beautiful landscape,
and the life and music around me, than in the moderate sport
enjoyed. All day the birds have been busy and noisy, and I
have noted fourteen varieties — herring-gull, kittiwake, heron,
curlew, lapwing, sandpiper, duck, coot, moorhen, blackcock,
grouse, rook, jackdaw, and cuckoo, without counting the
smaller birds, such as swallows, martins, pipits, and warbler,
the latter of which I find it difficult to identify with certainty
at any distance.

' I do not, of course, record the above day's sport as a
typical or satisfactory sample of the pleasures of loch-fishing.
I have had many days in various spots where the basket has
been heavy at the end of the day, and fish up to two pounds,
with an occasional monster even larger, have rewarded my
exertions. But just as marmalade has been described as "an

194

TROUT FISHING

excellent substitute for butter at breakfast," so to my mind
fishing in a loch from a boat is only a substitute for the real
thing, and except for a change occasionally, I would rather
have indifferent sport in a river or burn than fish the finest loch
in the Highlands. . . .'

SPRING

Now when the first foul torrent of the brooks,
Sweird with the vernal rains, is ebb'd away,
And, whitening, down their mossy-tinctured stream
Descends the billowy foam ; now is the time,
While yet the dark-brown water aids the guile,
To tempt the trout. The well-dissembled fly.
The rod fine tapering with elastic spring,
Snatch'd from the hoary steed the floating line,
And all thy slender wat'ry stores prepare. . . .
Just in the dubious point, where with the pool
Is mix'd the trembling stream, or where it boils
Around the stone, or from the hollowed bank
Reverted plays in undulating flow.
There throw nice-judging the delusive fly
And as you lead it round in artful curve,
With eye attentive mark tlie springing game.
Straight as above the surface of the flood
They wanton rise, or urged by hunger leap,
Then fix with gentle twitch the barbed hook ;
Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank.
And to the shelving shore slow dragging some.
With various hand proportioned to their force.
If yet too young, and easily deceived,
A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod ;
Him, piteous of his youth and the short space
He has enjoy 'd the vital light of Heaven,
Soft disengage, and back into the stream
The speckled captive throw. But should you lure
From his dark haunt, beneath the tangled roots
Of pendent trees, the monarch of the brook.
Behoves you then to ply your finest art.
19'5

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly ;
And oft attempts to seize it, but as oft
The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear.
At last, while haply o'er the shaded sun
Passes a cloud, he desperate takes the death,
With sullen plunge. At once he darts along.
Deep struck, and runs out all the lengthened line ;
Then seeks the farthest ooze, the sheltering weed.
The cavern'd bank, his old secure abode ;
And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool.
Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand
That feels him still, yet to his furious course
Gives way, you now retiring, following now
Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage :
Till floating broad upon his breathless side.
And to his fate abandon'd, to the shore
You gaily drag your unresisting prize.

James Thomson, 1728.

196

PIKE AND OTHER FISHING

HAVE you ever read Gervase Markham on the
Inward Qualities of the Angler's Mind ? The
mental equipment held necessary by this authority
was elaborate, and, it is to be feared, few, even in
this hour, could satisfy Mr. Markham of his fitness to wield
rod. Hear him : —

' A skillful angler ought to be a generall scholler and scene
in all the liberal sciences as Gramarian to know eyther how
to write a discourse of his art in true tearmes eyther without
affection or rudeness. He should have sweetnesse of speech
to persuade and intice others to delight in an exercise so much
laudable : strength of argument to defend and maintain his
profession : knowledge of the Sunne Moone and Starres that
by their aspects he may guesse the seasonableness or unseason-
ableness of the weather : a good knower of Countries and well
used to high waves that by taking the readiest paths to every
Lake, Brooke or River his journeys may be more certaine and
lesse wearisome. He should have a knowledge of proportion
of all sorts whether Circular, Square or Diametricall, that when
hee shall be questioned of his diurnall progresses he may give
a Graphicall description of the Angles and Channells of Rivers,
how they fall from their heads and what compasses they fetch
in the several windings. He must also have the perfect Art
of Numbering that in the sounding of Lakes or Rivers he may
know how many foot or inches each severally containeth, and
by adding subtracting or multiplying the same he may yield
the Reason of every River's swift or slow current. He would
not be unskilfuU in Musique, that whenever eyther Melancholy,
heavinesse of thought or the perturbations of his own fancies,
stirreth up sadnesse in him he may remove the same with some

197

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

godly Hymme or Antheme. He must be of well settled and
constant belief e to injoy the benefit of his expectations for
than to dispayre it were better never to put in practice.'

Good Master Markham, thou sayest well ! ' to injoy the
benefit of expectations ' is phrase most happy : for what weigh
fish caught against fish yet to catch ? Proceed, Master Mark-
ham : be the angler neither Gramarian, rhetorician, mathema-
tician, surveyor nor skilled in musique, yet Hope ever is his.
Proceed : —

' . . . Exceeding patient and neyther vext nor excruciate
himselfe with losses and mischances, as in losing the prey
when it is almost in the hand. Must be full of humble thoughts,
not disdayning when occasion commands to kneele, lye downe
or wet his feete or fingers as oft as there is any advantage given
thereby.'

Now, Master Markham, weigh this utterance. Who, losing
fish at the net's edge, shall, at your bidding, fail to excruciate
himself ? Your ideal angler too : if he mean to go fishing,
yet blench when he should kneele or lye downe or wet his feete
or fingers, he must, for all the accomplishments afore cata-
logued, be a sorry 'prentice. What manner of man, further-
more, is this your angler-in-the-making to be conjured thus : —

' He must be strong and valiant neyther to be amazed with
stormes nor affrighted with Thunder, but to hold them accord-
ing to their naturall causes . . . must be of strong constitu-
tion of body and able to endure much fasting and not of a
gnawing stomacke, observing houres in which if it be unsatisfied
it troubleth both the mind and the body and loose that
delight which maketh the pastime only pleasing.'

We cavil not at admonition to be of good courage in the
storm : knowing that in an elder day Thunders and Lightnings
were phenomena right mysterious and awful. But lacked this
angler wit to put bread and cheese in his wallet that he must
be taught endurance of fasting and the virtues of a stomacke
that shall not unseasonably gnaw ?

It would seem that Markham was hardly a practical angler ;

198

PIKE AND OTHER FISHING

nevertheless he knew something of fish — of coarse fish, at all
events. He thinks it not amiss to begin with the ' Goodgin
Roch and Dace which, being fishes of eager bit, most foolish,
least affrightful and soonest deceived, are the first fittest prayes
for young schollers and such as are but learners in the Art of
Angling : for the easiness of their gaining will not only settle
an unresolved mind, but give unto ignorance both comfort and
encouragement. '

It is to be regretted that so few of the old anglers realised
Markham's ideal, in so far, at all events, as writing a discourse
of their art in true terms. What they wrote when they did
take pen in hand was to the point, lacking descriptive em-
broidery : the characteristics of fish and baits suitable for
the various species practically monopolised their endeavours.
Thus Leonard Mascall on the ' Barbyll ' for example, ' a subtill
and straunge fish to take and very daintie to take his baite.'
Walton recommends that rod and line be both long and strong
for barbel fishing, as ' you will find him a heavy and a dogged
fish to be dealt withal.'

The carp (said by Mascall to have been introduced into this
country by a namesake of his own, but mentioned in the Boke
of St. Albans, published at an earlier date than he assigns to its
arrival) was too wary to be popular among anglers, however
conspicuous its merits for the pond or stew. ' If you will fish
for Carp,' says Walton, ' you must put on a very large measure
of patience, especially to fish for a river Carp. I have known
a very good fisher angle diligently four or six hours in a day,
for three or four days together, for a river Carp and not have
a bite. . . . But you are to remember that I have told you
there is no rule without an exception : and therefore being
possest with that hope and patience which I wish to all fishers,
especially to the Carp angler, I shall tell you with what bait
to fish for him. . . . And some have been so curious as to say
the tenth of April is a fatal day for Carp.' One of the suitable
pastes for carp, it may be observed, includes the flesh of a rabbit
or cat, cut small.

199

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

The perch is commended by Walton as a ' bold biting fish ' :
for ' if there be twenty or forty in a hole they may be, at one
standing, all catched one after another. They being . . .
like the wicked of the world, not afraid though their fellows
and companions perish in their sight.'

The chub we ever remember as the fish which afforded
Walton opportunity of displaying his knowledge of fish life
and his skill in applying it.

' The worst fish that swims,' exclaims Venator. ' I had
hoped for a Trout to my dinner.'

' Though a Chub be by you and many others reckoned the
worst of fish, yet you shall see I '11 make it a good fish by
dressing it.'

' Why, how will you dress him ? ' asks the pupil.

' I '11 tell you by and bye when I 've caught him,' responds
Piscator the cautious.

But Walton knew his chub : he bids Venator mark, among
a number, one with a white mark on his tail : ' that very
chub I mean to put into your hands presently.' And the
' fearfuUest of fishes ' is caught with a grasshopper as promised.
Walton preferred the grasshopper above all baits for chub.

' Our forefathers,' says Daniel, ' were wont to pursue even
their amusements with great formality. An angler a century
and a half back must have his Fishing Coat, which, if not black,
was at least of a very dark colour, a black velvet cap like those
which jockeys now wear, only larger, and a Rod with a stick
as long as a Halbert : thus equipped he stalked forth followed
by the eyes of a whole neighbourhood : but in these days bag-
rods have been invented, which the Angler may easily convey,
so as not to proclaim to every one he meets where he is going.'

The bag or case may have been an invention of Daniel's
age, but ' angle rods of many pieces ' with brass sockets and
ferrules were in use when Gervase Markham wrote in 1614.
Such were ' approved ' ; but there is every reason to suppose
that the spliced rod was by far the most generally used.

Markham anticipated Walton in advising the beginner to

200

Deer Cotirsing

PIKE AND OTHER FISHING

devote himself to the ' Goodgin,' Says Izaak : ' He is an
excellent fish to enter a young angler, being easy to be taken
with a small red worm, on or very near the ground. He is one
of those leather mouthed fish that has his teeth in his throat
and will hardly be lost off the hook if he be once stricken.
They be usually scattered up and down every river in the
shallows, in the heat of summer : but in autumn, when the
weeds begin to grow sour and rot, and the weather colder, then
they gather together, and get into the deepest parts of the
water : and are to be fished for there, with your hook always
touching the ground, if you fish for him with a float or with
a cork. But many will fish for the Gudgeon by hand with a
running line vipon the ground without a cork as a Trout is
fished for : and it is an excellent way if you have a gentle rod
and as gentle a hand.'

The roach and dace were in Walton's esteem ' inferior fish
which make the angler excellent sport, for you know there is
more pleasure in hunting the hare than in eating her.' Par-
ticularly does he commend the ' great Roaches about London,
where I think there be the best Roach anglers.'

Concerning pike, Markham has not much to say beyond
telling us that ' your best Anglers use most commonly a chaulke
line,^ hair not being strong enough.' Walton's advice on the
subject of catching the ' mighty Luce or Pike, the tyrant of the
fresh waters,' is minute in its detail, and bears out the belief
that this was the most desired among coarse fish.

' You may fish for a Pike, either with a ledger or a Walking
bait ; and you are to note, that I call that a Ledger-bait, which
is fixed or made to rest in one certain place when you shall be
absent from it ; and I call that a W^alking-bait, which you take
with you, and have ever in motion. . . .

' First, for your Live-Bait. Of fish, a roach or dace is,
I think, best and most tempting ; and a perch is the longest
lived on a hook, and having cut off his fin on his back, which
may be done without hurting him, you must take your knife,

' 'Chalk line' as used by carpenters (?).

2c 201

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

which cannot be too sharp, and betwixt the head and the fin
on the back, cut or make an incision, or such a scar, as you may
put the arming-wire of your hook into it, with as httle hurting
or bruising the fish as art and dihgence will enable you to do ;
and so carrying your arming-wire along his back, unto or near
the tail of your fish, betwixt the skin and the body of it, draw
out that wire or arming of your hook at another scar near to his
tail ; then tie him about it with thread, but no harder than of
necessity, to prevent hurting the fish ; and the better to avoid
hurting the fish, some have a kind of probe to open the way for
the more easy entrance and passage of your wire or arming ;
but as for these, time and a little experience will teach you
better than I can by words. Therefore I will for the present
say no more of this ; but come next to give you some directions
how to bait your hook with a frog, . . . Now of these water-frogs,
if you intend to fish with a frog for a Pike, you are to choose
the yellowest that you can get, for that the Pike ever likes best.
And thus use your frog, that he may continue long alive : —

' Put your hook into his mouth, which you may easily do
from the middle of April to August ; and then the frog's
mouth grows up, and he continues so for at least six months
without eating, but is sustained, none but He whose name is
Wonderful knows how : I say, put your hook, I mean the
arming-wire, through his mouth, and out at his gills ; and then
with a fine needle and silk sew the upper part of his leg, with
only one stitch, to the arming-wire of your hook ; or tie the
frog's leg, above the upper joint, to the armed-wire ; and, in
so doing, use him as though you loved him, that is, harm him as
little as you may possibly, that he may live the longer.

' And now, having given you this direction for the baiting
your ledger-hook with a live fish or frog, my next must be to tell
you, how your hook thus baited must or may be used ; and it is
thus ; having fastened your hook to a line, which if it be not
fourteen yards long should not be less than twelve, you are to
fasten that Une to any bough near to a hole where a Pike is,
or is likely to lie, or to have a haunt ; and then wind your line

202

PIKE AND OTHER FISHING

on any forked stick, all your line, except half a yard of it or
rather more ; and split that forked stick with such a nick or
notch at one end of it as may keep the line from any more of
it ravelling from about the stick than so much of it as you
intend. And choose your forked stick to be of that bigness
as may keep the fish or frog from pulling the forked stick under
the water till the Pike bites ; and then the Pike having pulled
the line forth of the cleft or nick of that stick in which it was
gently fastened, he will have line enough to go to his hold and
pouch the bait. And if yovi would have this ledger-bait to
keep at a fixt place undisturbed by wind or other accidents
which may drive it to the shore-side, for you are to note, that
it is likeliest to catch a Pike in the midst of the water, then
hang a small plummet of lead, a stone, or piece of tile, or a turf,
in a string, and cast it into the water with the forked stick to
hang upon the ground, to be a kind of anchor to keep the forked
stick from moving out of your intended place till the Pike
come ; this I take to be a very good way to use so many ledger-
baits as you intend to make trial of.

' Or if you bait your hooks thus with live fish or frogs, and
in a windy day, fasten them thus to a bough or bundle of straw,
and by the help of that wind can get them to move across a
pond or mere, you are like to stand still on the shore and see
sport presently, if there be any store of Pikes. Or these live
baits may make sport, being tied about the body or wings
of a goose or duck, and she chased over a pond. And the like
may be done with turning three or four live baits, thus fastened
to bladders, or boughs, or bottles of hay or flags, to swim down
a river, whilst you walk quietly alone on the shore, and are still
in expectation of sport. The rest must be taught you by
practice ; for time will not allow me to say more of this kind
of fishing with live baits.'

Touching those methods of angling (if angling it be) with
bough or bundle of straw or with the pressed service of goose
or duck, at a later date these were known as ' Huxing,' The
latter, according to Daniel, was formerly practised ' in the

203

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Loch of Monteith in Scotland, which abounds with very large
Perch and Pike. Upon the islands a number of Geese were
collected by the Farmers who occupied the surrounding banks
of the loch ; after baited lines of two or three feet long had been
tied to the legs of their geese they were driven into the water ;
steering naturally homewards in different directions, the baits
were soon swallowed : a violent and often tedious struggle
ensued in which, however, the geese at length prevailed, though
they were frequently much exhausted before they reached the
shore. This method has not been so long relinquished, but
there are old persons upon the spot who were active promoters
of the amusement.'

Trimmers, beloved of Colonel Thornton as ' Foxhounds.'
were much in use for pike ; but that ardent sportsman, assidu-
ous as he was in the use of these contrivances, enjoyed a fair
struggle with a big fish. This is his account of the killing of
the great pike in Loch Alvie : —

' On the second trip, I saw a very large fish come at me,
and, collecting my line, I felt I had him fairly hooked ; but
I feared he had run himself tight round some root, his weight
seemed so dead ; we rowed up, therefore, to the spot, when he
soon convinced me he was at liberty, by running me so far
into the lake, that I had not one inch of line more to give him.
The servants, foreseeing the consequences of my situation,
rowed, with great expedition, towards the fish, which now
rose about seventy yards from us, an absolute wonder ! I
relied on my tackle, which I knew was in every respect excellent,
as I had, in consequence of the large pike killed the day before,
put on hooks and gimp, adjusted with great care ; a precaution
which would have been thought superfluous in London, as it
certainly was for most lakes, though here, barely equal to my
fish. After playing him for some time, I gave the rod to
Captain Waller, that he might have the honour of landing him ;
for I thought him quite exhausted, when, to our surprise, we
were again constrained to follow the monster nearly across
this great lake, having the wind too much against us. The

204

PIKE AND OTHER FISHING

whole party were now in high blood, and the delightful Ville
de Paris ^ quite manageable ; frequently he flew out of the
water to such a height, that though I knew the uncommon
strength of my tackle, I dreaded losing such an extraordinary
fish, and the anxiety of our little crew was equal to mine.
After about an hour and a quarter's play, however, we thought
we might safely attempt to land him, which was done in the
following manner : Newmarket, a lad so called from the place
of his nativity, who had now come to assist, I ordered, with
another servant, to strip and wade in as far as possible, which
they readily did. In the meantime I took the landing-net,
while Captain Waller, judiciously ascending the hill above,
drew him gently towards us. He approached the shore very
quietly, and we thought him quite safe, when, seeing himself
surrounded by his enemies, he in an instant made a last
desperate effort, shot into the deep again, and, in the exertion,
threw one of the men on his back. His immense size was now
very apparent ; we proceeded with all due caution, and, being
once more drawn towards land, I tried to get his head into the
net, upon effecting which, the servants were ordered to seize
his tail, and slide him on shore : I took all imaginable pains
to accomplish this, but in vain, and began to think myself
strangely awkward, when, at length, having got his snout in,
I discovered that the hoop of the net, though adapted to very
large pike, would admit no more than that part. He was,
however, completely spent, and in a few moments we landed
him, a perfect monster ! He was stabbed by my directions
in the spinal marrow, with a large knife, which appeared to
be the most humane manner of killing him, and I then ordered
all the signals with the sky-scrapers to be hoisted ; and the
whoop re-echoed through the whole range of the Grampians.
On opening his jaws to endeavour to take the hooks from him,
which were both fast in his gorge, so dreadful a forest of teeth,
or tusks, I think I never beheld ; if I had not had a double
hnk of gimp, with two swivels, the depth between his stomach

• The name of the boat.
20.5

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

and mouth would have made the former quite useless. His
measurement accurately taken was Jive feet four inches from
eye to fork.'

The weight of this fish was estimated by Colonel Thornton
at between 47 and 48 lbs., which estimate is borne out by com-
parison of its dimensions with those of other pike that have
been weighed. Large pike killed of recent years are two of
40 lbs. each : one taken at Epton House, Edgehill, in 1879, the
other from Suffolk waters in 1896.^ These were far outdone
by the pike caught in an inlet of Lough Corrib in 1905, par-
ticulars of which Major A. E. Mainwaring sent to the Field
(16th May 1905). This pike weighed 48 lbs. : it was a spent
female in poor condition ; had it been caught before spawning
it would have weighed at least 60 lbs. It was caught with a
gaff.

Reference to monster pike suggests inclusion here of that
which is surely the Earliest Fish Story. Marred though it be
by the parish clerk's escape, this from the Gazetteer and New
Daily Advertiser of 25th January 1765 compares favourably
with modern enterprise in the same field : —

' On Thursday last, at Lilleshall Lime Works, near New-
port (Shropshire) the water of a jdooI about nine yards deep was
drawn off, when an enormous pike was found. He was drawn
out by a rope fastened round his head and gills in the presence
of hundreds of spectators, many of whom assisted. He
weighed upwards of 170 lb. and is thought to be the largest
pike ever seen. Some time ago, the clerk of the parish was
trolling in the above pool when his bait was seized by this
ferocious creature, and doubtless it would have devoured him
also, had he not by wonderful agility and dexterous swimming
escaped the dreadful jaws of this voracious animal.'

Let us turn from daring fiction to homely fact. Among
its thousand modern scribes the late Mr. Frank Buckland
remains unsurpassed in his description of Thames angling.

' See 'The Big Pike List' compiled by the late Lord Inverurie and published iu the
Fishing Gazette of 13th November 1897.

206

PIKE AND OTHER FISHING

Hairbreadth 'scapes of parish clerks from such pike as never
were had no attractions for him : naturaUst first and angler
after, this from Curiosities of Natural History shows him in
both capacities : —

' We well remember, one fine day in August last, going out
on a gudgeon-fishing expedition. A liixurious dog-cart carried
us quickly to Surley Hall, well known to Etonians. There we
found the Charon of this part of the river, Finmore by name,
waiting for us in his punt. This old man's family has had the
fishing of the water for more than a hundred years ; and the
old man himself knows every hole and patch of weeds in the
river just about Windsor as well as a Londoner does the shops
of Regent Street.

' In the punt were placed three chairs and three fishing-
rods, two punt-poles with sharp iron spikes on their ends,
called in these parts " ry pecks " : why or wherefore they have
received this name we cannot ascertain ; lastly, an enormous
iron rake. Three anglers occupied the three chairs : two of
them were great salmon-fishers, who, but a few weeks ago,
thought a fish under twenty poimds nothing ; they were now
pleased by catching a little gudgeon not a quarter of an ounce
in weight. The laziness of gudgeon-fishing is indeed laziness,
" If " (as most aptly remarked at the time) " you exert your-
self in the least, the whole thing is spoilt." It is quite contrary
to the rules to put on one's own bait, to alter one's own float, to
take the captured fish off the hook ; all is done by Charon,
who not unfrequently has quite enough to do. Everything
prepared, the boat is pushed out into the middle of the river,
the two rypecks are fixed firmly into the ground at the bottom,
and the boat is fastened to them across the stream. The first
operation is to rake up the bottom well with the big rake.
Immediately this is done, all the gudgeon in the neighbour-
hood flock to the place, and if they are in a biting humour,
begin instantly to be caught. Bold biters are these gudgeon ;
they take the hook with a rush, and down goes the float deep
into the water. This is capital fun when the fish are on the

207

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

feed ; so pleased, indeed, was one of the salmon-fishers afore-
said, that he exclaimed, " Well, there are only two kinds of
fishing, salmon fishing and gudgeon fishing," a dictum worthy
of the respected speaker. When we first went out, not a fish
could we catch, though we knew there were plenty close under
the punt. The reason was that we had not got the hook at the
proper depth ; it ought to be an inch, or rather less, from the
bottom ; if it is more, the fish, who feed only at the bottom,
don't see it, and it passes over them untouched. Gudgeon are
curious fish as regards biting ; some days they will bite furi-
ously, another day they won't look at the bait. Even when
they are biting well, they will suddenly leave off. The remedy
then is to " scratch their backs," as Charon says, " with the
rake." This will often make them begin again. We have been
out and caught eight or ten fish in one day, and a few days
afterwards, with two rods in the same place, we catch fifteen
dozen — the best day's sport we ever had. Much, however,
depends on the bait ; worms, we find, are decidedlj' the best,
and those the small red worm from the dunghill. They will
be taken by the fish better if they are kept in moss a day or two
beforehand, than if used directly they are dug up. We have
found that a little cream poured on the moss causes the fish
to bite at them with eagerness ; the reason probably is, that
the worms feed on the cream and thereby acquire a fine trans-
parent look. Something, too, depends on the line ; this must
not be too thick, nor of a colour easily seen in the water. The
finest line that can be used is made of human hair ; it is much
finer and much stronger than gut made from silk-worms ; but
it must be made by the fisherman himself ; it cannot be bought
anywhere that we know of. It is difficult, also, to get human
hair long enough ; the hair-merchants in the City are the only
people who sell it ; it is, moreover, very expensive.

' When the gudgeon are caught, they are placed in the well
of the boat, which communicates with the water outside by
means of an open grating. The fish seem to know they are
captives, for they all crowd to the grating when one attempts

208

PIKE AND OTHER FISHING

to take them out of the well. I have also observed, about all
the kinds of fresh-water fish that I have caught, that they will,
when placed on the bank, always junip towards the water.
I once saw a fine barbel, that was covered with grass by the
waterside and thought to be quite defunct, suddenly begin a
series of jumpings towards the river ; and a fine race I had to
prevent his getting back again into the hole whence he had
just been taken. How is this to be accounted for? I have
placed a fish where he can neither see nor hear the water,
even supposing that he has the power of seeing and hearing
when out of his own element ; yet he has always jumped in the
proper direction towards it.'

THE SOUTH WIND

A fisherman's blessings

O blessed drums of Aldersliot I

O blessed South-west train !
O blessed, blessed Speaker's clock,

All prophesying rain !

O blessed yaffil, laughing loud I

O blessed falling glass !
O blessed fan of cold grey cloud !

O blessed smelling grass.

0 blest South wind that toots his horn
Through every hole and crack !

1 'm off at eight to-morrow morn

To bring sitch fishes back !

Charles Kingsley, 1856.

2d 209

POLO

IF the history of polo in England be short, the history
of the game elsewhere is of the longest. Mr. T. F.
Dale ' says it was played as far back as 600 B.C.
among the Persians. There is in existence a curious
old picture, which was taken from the palace of the King of
Oude, representing an early game of polo : and whatever rules
may then have been in vogue, the resemblance of the imple-
ments to those of the present day is noticeable ; the shape of
the stick used suggests a lighter ball ; and, unless the players
were very small men, the horses they ride are at least fifteen
hands. Mr. Dale cites The Tale of the Wazir and Sage Duban
as containing the tale of the genesis of the game. Yuan, King
of Fars in the land of Roum, being afflicted with leprosy,
permitted the Sage Duban to undertake his case, all other
physicians having failed ; and the sage, according to the
chronicler translated by Sir Richard Burton, ' set to work
at choosing the fittest drugs and simples, and he fashioned
a bat hollow within and furnished with a handle without, for
which he made a ball : the two being prepared with con-
summate art. On the next day, Avhen both were ready for
use and wanted nothing more, he went up to the King ; and
kissing the ground between his hands bade him ride forth on
the parade ground, there to play pall and mall. He, the King,
was accompanied by his suite, Emirs and Chamberlains, wazirs
and lords of the realm, etc. Ere he was seated the sage Duban
came to him, and handing him the bat said, " Take the mall and
grip it as I do ; so ! and now push for the plain, and leaning
well over thy horse drive the ball with all thy might until thy

' The Game of Polo.
210

POLO

palm be moist and thy body perspire, then the medicines will
penetrate though thy palm and will permeate thy person.
When thou hast done with playing and thou feelest the effects
of the medicine, return to thy palace and make the ablution in
the Hammam bath and lay thee down to sleep, so shalt thou
become whole, and peace be with thee.

' Thereupon King Yuan took the bat from the sage and
grasped it firmly, then mounting steed he drove the ball before
him and galloped after it till he reached it, when he struck it
well A^'ith all his might, his palm gripping the bat handle the
while, and he ceasing not mailing the ball till his hand waxed
moist and his skin perspiring, imbibed the medicine from the
wood.'

' There is only one cure for all maladies sure ' : but the most
ardent may doubt whether leprosy would yield even to a course
of fox-hunting. Let that pass, however : King Yuan and his
malady, whatever it may have been, are faded into oblivion ;
the cure remains. That Sage Duban should have escaped
beatification for five-and-twenty centuries, alljcit his pre-
scription had been adopted by half the nations of the East ere
it was vouchsafed to our knowledge, is melancholy proof of
the ingratitude of mankind.

The Chinese would seem to have taken kindly to the game,
when it was brought to their notice about 1400 years ago.
' Polo,' says Mr. Herbert Giles, Professor of Chinese at
Cambridge,^ ' seems to have become known to them under
the T'ang Dynasty, or from about a.d. 600 onwards, when it
was at first considered by some writers ... to be a revival of
football, though it was no doubt quite a separate game, learnt,
most probably, by the Chinese from the Tartars. The earliest
mention of the game is by Shin Chiianch'i, a poet who died in
713.' More than one Chinese Emperor took part in the game.
Professor Giles quotes from a memorial presented to a reigning
sovereign of the tenth century, in which the following reason
among others is urged against the participation of royalty :

' Xitteteentfi Caitury and After, March 1906.

211

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

' To jump on a horse and swing a club, galloping madly here
and there with no distinction of rank, but only eager to be
first and win, is destructive of all ceremony between sovereign
and subject.' The risk of accident was also urged. ' The
Emperor sighed over its excellence for a long time ' when this
memorial was handed in. What his Imperial Majesty said
concerning the relative importance of ceremony and polo,
unhappily, has not been recorded ; but perhaps we can guess.
Professor Giles has unearthed a brief description of the game
as played by the Tartars, to whom China is thought to have
owed introduction of it : —

' The players mounted well-trained ponies, and each one was
provided with a club (ball-staff) of a good many feet in length
and shaped at one end like the crescent moon. They were
then divided into two teams, the object of contention to both
sides being a ball. Previously, at the south end of the ground
two poles had been set up, with boarding in between, in which
a hole had been cut, having a net attached to it in the form of
a bag. That side which could strike the ball into the bag were
the winners. Some say that the two teams were ranged on
opposite sides of the ground, each with its own goal, and that
victory was gained by driving the ball through the enemies'
goal. The ball itself was as small as a man's fist, made of a
light but hard wood and painted red.'

Perhaps there were two varieties of the game, and the latter,
being the better, outlived the single goal and net-bag arrange-
ment. However this may be, the latter is the game played by
the Chitralis and other frontier tribes, including the Munipuris,
from whom we learned it.

Polo was first played in British territory by the planters
in the tea districts of Cachar in 1854-1855. The tea-planting
district was full of Munipuris who had settled there, political
refugees from their own states. These had brought with them
among other things their polo ponies, and each group of villages
had its own little club, a circumstance which naturally pro-
duced frequent matches. In the early 'fifties, when the planters

212

POLO

came into the station of Caehar at Christmas, matches would be
arranged on the parade ground between them and the Muni-
puris : three of the former against half a dozen of the latter
was the usual thing. Between 1854 and 1859 the European
population of Caehar increased greatly, and after the interrup-
tion caused by the Mutiny the game had become so popular
that steps were taken to form the first club. The first meeting
was held in the bungalow of Captain Robert Stewart, Deputy
Commissioner of Caehar, in March 1859. Captain Stewart
was a keen player, as also was the Assistant Commissioner,
Captain ' Joe ' Sherer : these two, with Messrs. James
Davidson, Julius Sandeman, James Abernethy, Ernest Ekhart,
Arthur Brownlow, W. Walker and J. P. Stuart, were the
original members of the first British Polo Club.

The game was first played in the plains of India, towards
the close of the cold season of 1862, The players were officers
of the 7th Hussars, 2nd Bn. Rifle Brigade, and 89th Regiment
at Umballa ; and ' hockey on horseback ' was adopted as an
acceptable alternative to the paperchases which had served as
substitute for the hunting which for the season had been
abandoned owing to scarcity of fox and jackal.

Business connected with the tea industry brought to Caehar
young men from Calcutta, and these, entered to polo, brought
the game with them on their return. The real establishment of
polo in the capital dates from February 1864, when Major
Sherer, as he then was, brought down a team of six Munipuris
to show how the game should be played. The game caught
on at once : Major Sherer was canonised as ' Father of Polo,'
was entertained at a great banquet in the Indigo ]Mart, and
presented with a very handsome silver tankard and salver.

Here is an account of the match which was played on the
Calcutta maidan before the King on 1st January 1876 when,
as Prince of Wales, he visited India. It was contributed to the
Oriental Sporting Magazine by a writer who subscribes himself
' Marc O'Polo.' The match was arranged at the special request
of Lord Lytton, the Viceroy, who took a keen interest in

213

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

the game and maintained, contrary to the generally received
opinion, that the Europeans would make a good fight of it.

' The afternoon of Saturday, 1st January 1876, was fixed
for the match, and the noise of it having been bruited abroad,
at the appointed hour a vast concourse of people assembled
(on foot, on horseback, and in carriages), and whilst the players
were girding up their loins and their ponies' girths for the
coming contest, took up their places round the four sides of
the ground, forming a boundary line of living bodies more
distinguishable than the cut in the turf. The Prince arrived
with punctuality, and on taking up a prominent position in the
centre of the ground, surrounded by his staff and large party
from Government House, the rival champions cantered into
the lists. Imagine, if it is possible, the Eton and Harrow
match transported from Lord's to the Calcutta maidan, and
instead of 22 cricketers, 12 polo players the centre of attraction,
and you have the scene before you.

' Calcutta was represented by Mr. W. L. Thomas (Captain),
Mr. G. E. Thomas, Mr. C. R. Hills, Mr. C. H. Moore, xAIr. G. Fox,
Captain D. A. J. Wallace, R.E. ; and Munipore by Bedam Sing,
(Captain), and five others, whose names I have been unable
to discover. I hear one was named Chai Tai Yar No Hazaree,
and no doubt the others were gentlemen of equally high degree,
and with names equally unspellable and unpronounceable.
The two sides formed a marked contrast. The fair-skinned
amateurs were clothed in white breeches and top boots, and
flannel racing jackets of the club colours, viz. white with a
broad scarlet sash crossing over the left and vmder the right
shoulder, and compared to their antagonists were the personi-
fication of elegance and agility, their attire being natty in the
extreme, and their ponies, on which they sat with ease and
grace peculiar to the European seat, being sleek and well-
groomed. The dusky professionals were clothed in a costume
striking to the European eye, from its originality of design,
unique though hardly picturesque. Their heads were muffled
up in dirty puggeries ; their bodies were covered with jackets

214

POLO

of divers colours all of a dingy hue and the inevitable dhootee ;
and between the knee and the ankle they wore things somewhat
resembling cricket pads. The unusual quantity of clothing we
conclude was donned in honour of the Belatee Rajah/ for when
they first appeared in public they wore little except a hockey
stick. Their ponies were shaggy, unkempt and ungroomed,
and the saddle gear almost beyond description. The saddles
were a kind of cross between a pillion and an elephant howdah.
They have a frame-work of skin and wood which rests on the
ponies' backs, and above it soft leather for the rider. At the
back is a sort of hollow, to sit in ; in front of this comes a kind
of mound, goodness knows what for, and in front of this is a
curved frame like a pair of bull's horns over which their reins
are hitched now and again. They cling to their saddles like
monkeys, their naked feet rammed into rough iron stirrups
braced up so short that their thighs are at right angles to their
hips. Hanging from each side of the saddle are articles of the
same colour and material, and very much the same shape, as
carriage splash boards. The stirrups hang inside them and
the two sides of the articles are curved round, away from the
ponies' sides and in front of the players' legs, the object of
them being apparently two-fold, viz. to protect the players'
legs, and to extract the speed of terror out of the ponies, for
when they get into action the splash-boards make a noise
hideous enough to frighten the most stout-hearted tat. The
prettiest part of the get-up was the ponies' headstalls, which
were made of scarlet cloth dotted over with white worsted balls,
and the reins were of a thick plaited substance and light blue
colour.

' The men were a strong wiry-looking lot, but wore an
anxious expression, arising perhaps from excess of keenness to
win, rumour saying that they get ' toko ' from the Rajah if
they do not distinguish themselves. The Calcutta team, in
perfect confidence of being utterly beaten, had no anxiety on
this score, and commenced the game therefore in a more

1 Euglish Priuce.
215

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

favourable frame of mind. The order of battle was as follows :
Calcutta, forwards — Hills, Moore, Wallace ; half-hacks, W. L.
Thomas and Fox ; back — G. E. Thomas. The Munipoories
ranged very differently, and the order they took showed the
peculiarity of their game. They had one man, back, and three
forwards, and of the remaining two, one posted himself between
Calcutta half-backs, and the other alongside the Calcutta back.
This rather astonished the world in general and the players
alluded to in particular. Wherever the vicissitudes of the
game took the latter there went also attendant sprites, and
would not be shaken off. It had one good effect, for it made
the Calcutta backs keep their eyes open and most careful to see
that their back territories were never left for an instant un-
guarded. The game commenced as usual from the centre of
the ground, and from the start until the close may well be
described as fast and furious, high pressure being maintained
throughout without abatement. It was one of the quickest
and most interesting games I have ever witnessed, and the play
was admirable. It was expected that the sides would be most
unequal, and this being the impression there was not at the
outset much enthusiasm, the only feeling in the bosoms of the
spectators being one of curiosity ; but as the game got into full
swing and it was seen, that instead of being overpowered, the
Calcutta men were fully holding their own, it gave way to
excitement, which became intense when after a short struggle
the Calcutta scored " first blood " by making a goal.

' Loud cheering then arose, and the other members of the
club, who had hitherto been depressed and almost silent on-
lookers, awoke as from a trance, and for the rest of the match
encouraged and aided their representatives by cheering advice
and enthusiastic shouts. The Munipoories who were looking
on grunted guttural dismay when the first goal was made, and
looked as if they did not altogether like the appearance of
things. After a brief respite the second game was begun.
Like the first game it was obstinately contested, but unlike
the previous game the goal was secured by the Munipoories,

21(3

POLO

whose dismay in consequence changed to guttural glee. One
goal all. Excitement was great as the third game began.
The Munipoories came up smiling. Calcutta men serious but
determined. Again a long exciting struggle, but eventually
a resolute rush of the Calcutta team carried the ball right up to
their adversaries' goal, and after a short sharp scuffle it was
smacked through the posts. Two goals to one ; Europeans
triumphant. Aboriginals growling gloomy expletives.

' After a change of ponies the fourth game began, and it
was soon apparent that the second horses of the Calcutta
men were not equal to the first, the result of which was that the
ball remained throughout the game in unpleasant proximity
to their goal, through which it was eventually hit, the Muni-
poories thus winning the fourth game, and again putting them-
selves on an equality with Calcutta, the state of the match in
commencement of the fifth game being two goals all. Time
was now short, and both sides buckled to in earnest for the
final tussle, a slight gleam of the savage breaking out on the
one side, whilst the aspect of the other was one of dogged
determination. The Munipoories, who had a herd of ponies
to choose from, had a decided pull after the change of nags,
which was again evident from the play, and throughout the
last game the ball was more often at the end of the Calcutta
goal than the other. The defence, however, was staunch, and
several vigorous sorties were made by the Calcutta men into
the enemy's country. The Munipoories, however, would not
be denied and pressed the siege close, but the Calcutta team
successfully repelled all attacks, and at last, dusk setting in,
time was called and the victory was neither to the black man
nor the white.

' Thus did the memorable and exciting match end in a draw,
both sides having scored two goals.

' The noticeable feature of the play of the Munipoories was

their quickness, their good position, and the wonderful accuracy

of their back shots whether made on the near side or the off

side of their ponies. In making a run, however, they did not

2e 217

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

strike me as being so good as some of the Calcutta players,
sometimes galloping over the ball, and not making such long
hits. The Calcutta team played very well, both individually
and collectively, and quickly got into the Munipoorie style of
play. The experience of this match leads to the conclusion
it is much the best game, for had strict "off side" rules been
in force the same free game could not have been played, and
the principal science of the Munipoorie would have been of
little effect.'

The significance of the Munipuris' method of placing their
men will not be lost upon modern players.

The first match ever played in England was that between
the 9th Lancers and 10th Hussars at Hounslow Heath in the
summer of 1871. Major St. Leger Moore, of the former regi-
ment, writing to The World of 27th July 1894, says, ' We played
eight a side and with a small ivory or bone ball which I have
now in my possession, and ash sticks.'

To whomsoever credit is due, polo received its social
benison on 16th July 1872, when a team of the Blues played a
team of the 9th Lancers before the Prince and Princess of
Wales, the Duke and Duchess of Teck, and a number of guests
in the Home Park, Windsor. The ground was kept by a
hundred men of the Blues, and as there was a large crowd
present the scene must have been imposing. This is from The
Field's account of the game : —

' On behalf of the Blues, the INIarquis of Worcester, Lord
Arthur Somerset, the Hon. T. and Hon. C. Fitzwilliam, Lord
Kilmarnock, and Mr. A. Egerton took the field. The 9th
Lancers were represented by Lord W. Beresford, Capt. Clayton,
Capt. Palairet, Mr. Moore, Mr. Green, and Mr. Wheeler. Mr.
Hartojip and Capt. Ewart acted as umpires. The competitors
were mounted on strong and active ponies, and each man was
armed with a hockey stick about 4 ft. long, the handle of which
was of bamboo, with the head flat and fixed on at an angle. . . .
The ball was little larger than a cricket ball, and painted white
to be easily distinguishable when rolling. The ground marked

218

POLO

off was about 400 yards in length by 200 in width, and consisted
of good level turf, a goal being marked at either end with flags,
as at football.

' Play commenced about half-past three o'clock, the Lancers
winning choice of ground by a toss ; but before the game began
the competitors, at the desire of the Princess of Wales, fell in
and passed in a body before the tent where the royal party
were seated. A trumpeter having given the signal, the ball
was thrown into the centre of the ground by a mounted out-
sider, and was charged at immediately by both parties. The
scene which followed, as both sides endeavoured to drive the
ball towards the goal of their opponents, and their nimble
ponies were turned deftly or urged swiftly in pursuit of it, was
eagerly watched by the spectators ; and there could be no
question as to the correctness of an opinion we heard expressed,
that to get a good hit at the ball, under the circumstances of
the contest, " required some jockeying." After play had
continued for about an hour, during which the ball Avas several
times driven out of the bounds, and the ponies were rested for
a few minutes, the first goal was scored for the Lancers by a
dexterous stroke on the part of Captain Clayton. The ponies
were now refreshed, and when play was recommenced, no
indications of weariness appeared in either the animals or their
riders. The ball was driven from side to side of the ground
repeatedly for something like twenty minutes, when the Blues
were skilful enough to score a goal against that of their op-
ponents. Mr. Egerton this time had the credit of the success
on behalf of his party. In the meUe preceding the goal the
Marquis of Worcester, in stooping at the ball, received a stroke
on the head which caused the blood to flow freely ; but until
his attention was called to it he was unaware that he had been
hit, and by his good spirits after the match it was evident that
the wound was not serious. A third time play was com-
menced, but at half-past five, the hour appointed for its
termination, the trumpeter gave the signal, and the sport of
the day ended in a drawn game. . . .

219

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

' It was certainly the general opinion that the inauguration
of the eastern game as a public spectacle had been a great
success ; and there can be little doubt that we shall find " polo "
ranking henceforth among established sports, at least among
the officers of our cavalry, to whom it is especially suited. We
did not observe that the animals ridden in the game of Tuesday
were in any way distressed, although they were not changed
during the play ; but then, as before remarked, they were
rested for a few minutes as opportunity offered.'

The team of six was soon reduced to one of five, and in
1883 the Hurlingham Rules restricted the number to four.
The Sussex Club, whose team included the three brothers
Peat, well-nigh invincible in the 'eighties, were the first to
recognise the supreme importance of combined play so strenu-
ously inculcated by the late Mr. Moray Brown.

In Mr. Moray Brown polo lost a chronicler whose place has
never been filled. His account of the final of the County Cup
Tournament of 1894 at Hurlingham, in which Edinburgh beat
Rugby by three goals to two, was one of the best of many
descriptions he contributed to Land and Water : —

' Good as the first " twenty " had been, the succeeding one
was no whit behind it in point of excellence, and began by
Edinburgh attacking and hitting behind. Twice then Rugby
made the mistake of trying to take the ball round instead of
back-handing it, and the mistake was the more unpardonable
from the fact of their missing it. But fortune favoured them,
and their opponents also missed, thereby losing two chances of
scoring. But what will you ? We are all prone to make
mistakes, and after all it will be more charitable, after pointing
out the tactical error on the part of Rugby, to put down the
missing to rough and bumpy ground. But Edinburgh meant
business ; they had got their adversaries fairly penned, and
had no intention of allowing them to break through the cordon
of investment. At length out of the scuffle shot Mr. " Jack "
Drybrough on Robin. With neat near-side strokes he
manceuvred the ball past more than one aggressive foe, and,

220

POLO

passing it on to Captain Egerton-Green most beautifully,
enabled the gallant Lancer, who was on Sultan and anxiously
awaiting his opportunity, to score. On ends being changed,
some not very interesting play took place under the boards
by the band-stand — why does the ball always go there, by the
bye ? — during which Edinburgh got the best of the fight, and
eventually hit behind, and soon after Rugby, who were sorely
pressed, did the same in self-defence.

' Ah ! now see Rugby will no longer brook being placed on
the defensive. The ball, well hit out by Mr. G. A. Miller, is
carried on by his comrades : Lord Shrewsbury, easily dis-
tinguishable by his lighter-coloured shirt, is making the running
on Lo-Ben, and with Mr. " Jack " Drybrough weaponless —
he had dropped his stick — the chances seem in favour of
Rugby. On they sweep ; a back-hander of Mr. G. A. Miller's
lands the ball on the very threshold of Edinburgh's goal,
and — ? No, it wasn't a goal, but only saved by Mr. T. B.
Drybrough, who, in the nick of time, hit behind in self-defence.
Now surely Rugby has a chance, as they meet the charge out
in line of their opponents. Back goes the ball ; Lord Shrews-
bury clears the front for his comrades, dropping into Mr,
Beatty's place as if the pair had been playing No. 1 and No. 2
respectively all their lives, whilst Mr. E. D. Miller, intent on
goal-hitting, comes up with a rattle on The Snipe. But he
makes a bad shot, and soon Rugby hits behind. Shortly
after, however, he had his revenge and scored ; this was a
smart bit of play, as coming up with a wet sail and foiled by
the hard-smacked ball hitting a pony, he followed it up through
the wheeling crowd, tapping it here and dribbling it there,
till, in spite of all, he put it between the posts. It was pretty,
I tell you. But a moment after Edinburgh went to the front
again, and Mr. " Jack " Drybrough scored with a fine angle-
shot through a perfect forest of ponies' legs. Emboldened by
this success the Northern team forced the fighting after the
change of ends, but Mr. E. D. Miller promptly foiled them.
A glance at the scattered forces convinced him of the practica-

221

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

bility of a scheme which had flashed across his brain, and that
scheme he promptly put into execution. On one flank foes
mustered strong, on the other there was only one, so he rightly
went for the weak spot and made his dash, which deserved a
better fate than being spoilt by the ball going over the boards.
Again it went out of play, and then Edinburgh attacked in
earnest. Their play was combined, and nothing could have
been better than their valour, but they met their match ; the
Messrs. Miller frustrated their every attempt, and, directly
the slightest opportunity presented itself, turned defence into
attack.

' Then the ball went out, and I am going to take refuge in
Notes with an apology for their incoherent brevity. Thus
they read : " Scrimmage, and soon Green has shot at goal,
but wide of posts ; slow scuffle, till " Jack " Drybrough a
dart on Wriggler (Al pony this), but E. D. Miller equal to
occasion, ousts him, and works up to pavilion, when Younger
hooks stick illegally, and foul given again Edinburgh, who have
to go back to own goal line. Soon after a sharp bit of fighting."
Ay, was it indeed, and would that I could put as much life
into my narrative as did Mr. E. D. Miller into the game. Into
an opening he shot on Johnnie with heels going almost in the
good Arab's haunches as he urged him to fresh effort. On
with never a swerve or shy the brave pony swept, with his
long chestnut tail flung to the wind. On, ever on ; Khalifa
gallops his hardest to catch him ; so does Lady D., whose
twinkling feet hardly seem to touch the greensward ; so does
Charlton, but none can catch him. He has the vis viva, his
rider smites straight and true, a second more the " whoo-
whoop " announces a goal, a lovely one, gained for Rugby.
Score — two goals all.'

222

DEER-STALKING AND COURSING

KFORE fire-arms came into use at all the Scottish
herds of deer were made to afford sport of a kind.
In Sutherland it was the practice to drive them
into the ' deer dykes,' two rough stone walls about
a quarter of a mile long, a hundred yards apart at one end and
gradually approaching till the further ends formed a narrow
exit. The deer were driven into the width of the V, and the
sportsmen awaited them at the other end to kill at their
pleasure as the animals strove to escape.

More picturesque, if not less like butchery, was the system
prevalent in another part of Sutherland, where the conforma-
tion of the coast lent itself to the business. A strong force of
men with dogs surrounded the herds on the land side and drove
them into the sea : boats were lying in concealment among the
rocks, and when the deer took the water, the attack was made
with spear and bow.

Organised drives on a large scale were undertaken early
in the seventeenth century. Taylor, the ' Water Poet,' has this
account of one such, to which the Earl of Mar invited numer-
ous guests, in 1618 : —

' The manner of the hunting is this : — five or six hundred
men doe rise early in the morning, and they doe disperse them-
selves divers wayes, and seven, eight, or ten miles compass,
they doe bring or chase in the deer in many heards (two, three,
or four hundred in a heard) to such or such a place as the noble-
men shall appoint them ; then when the day is come, the lords
and gentlemen of their companies doe ride or go to the said
places, sometimes wading up to the middles through bournes

223

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

and rivers ; and then they being come to the place, doe lye
down on the ground till those foresaid scouts, which are called
the Tinckhell, do bring down the deer ; but as the proverb says
of a bad cooke, so these Tinckhell men doe lick their own fingers ;
for besides their bows and arrows, which they carry with them,
wee can heare now and then a harquebusse or musket goe off,
which they doe seldom discharge in vaine : then after we had
stayed three houres, or thereabouts, we might perceive the
deer appeare on the hills round about us (their heads making
a shew like a wood) which being followed close by the Tinckhell,
are chased down into the valley where wee lay ; then all the
valley on each side being waylaid with a hundred couple of
strong Irish greyhounds, they are let loose as occasion serves
upon the hearde of deere, that with dogs, gunnes, arrowes,
durks, and daggers, in the space of two houres, fourscore fat
deere were slaine, which after are disposed of some one way and
some another, twenty or thirty miles ; and more than enough
left for us to make merry withall at our rendevouse.'

The ' strong Irish greyhounds ' were without doubt
Scottish deerhounds.

Deer-stalking foimd favour with Scottish landowners and
others during the last quarter of the eighteenth century ; but
few men who lived elsewhere than near the forests took any
part in the sport. Captain Horatio Ross was one of the most
successful stalkers of the earlier days before the example of
the Prince Consort made deer-stalking the fashion. In the
season of 1828 he shot 87 deer to his own rifle on ' a large
range of shooting called Feloar,' which he rented from the Duke
of Athol : in 1837 he killed 75 head in Sutherlandshire : and
in 1851 his bag on Mar Forest was 118. Captain Ross's name
lives in history principally as that of a magnificent shot with
the rifle ; and it is worth noticing that in one day on Mar
Forest he had fourteen chances and killed thirteen deer.

Scottish resident sportsmen introduced their English
friends to the game : and Squire Osbaldeston said that Mr.
William Coke ' was the first man that went in earnest deer-

224

DEER-STALKING AND COURSING

stalking in the Highlands. He had a pair of corduroy breeches,
and I believe he never took them off for a fortnight.'

The Prince Consort's opinion of the sport, as expressed in a
letter to Charles, Prince Leiningen, in 1848, is familiar to every

one : —

' Without doubt it is one of the most fatiguing, but it is also
one of the most interesting pursuits. There is not a tree or a
bush behind which you can hide yourself ... one has therefore
to be constantly on the alert in order to circumvent them :
and to keep under the hill out of their wind, crawling on hands
and knees and dressed entirely in grey.' ^

The Prince was an enthusiastic and successfiol stalker, and
his devotion to it speedily gained for the sport the foremost
place it deserves.

This is from St. John's Wild Sports of the Highlands (1846) :
' ... On we went, taking a careful survey of the ground
here and there. At a loch whose Gaelic name I do not re-
member, we saw a vast number of wild ducks, and at the
further extremity of it a hind and calf feeding. We waited
here for some time, and I amused myself in watching the two
deer as they fed, unconscious of our neighbourhood, and from
time to time drank at the burn which suppUed the loch. We
then passed over a long dreary tract of brown and broken
ground, till we came to the picturesque-looking place where
we expected to find the deer— a high conical hill, rising out of
rather flat ground, which gave it an appearance of being of a
greater height than it really was. We took a most careful
survey of the slope, on which Donald expected to see the deer.
Below was an extensive piece of heather with a burn running
through it in an endless variety of windings, and fringed with
green rushes and grass, which formed a strong contrast to the
dark-coloured moor through which it made its way, till it
emptied itself into a long narrow loch, beyond which rose Bar
Cleebrich and some more of the highest mountains in Scotland.
' In vain we looked and looked, and Donald at last shut up

> Leaves from the Journal oj our Life in the Highlands.

2 F 225

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

his telescope in despair : " They are no here the day," was his
remark. " But what is that, Donald ? " said I, pointing to
some bluish-looking object I saw at some distance from us
rising out of the heather. The glass was turned towards it,
and after having been kept motionless for some time, he pro-
nounced it to be the head and neck of a hind. I took the glass,
and while I was looking at it, I saw a fine stag rise suddenly
from some small hollow near her, stretch himself, and lie down
again. Presently six more hinds and a two-year-old stag got
up, and after walking about for a few minutes, they, one by
one, lay down again, but every one seemed to take up a
position commanding a view of the whole country. We crept
back a few paces, and then getting into the course of the burn,
got within three hundred yards of the deer, but by no means
whatever could we get nearer. The stag was a splendid fellow,
with ten points, and regular and fine-shaped horns. Bran
winded them, and watched us most earnestly, as if to ask why
we did not try to get at them. The sensible dog, however,
kept quite quiet, as if aware of the importance of not being
seen or heard. Donald asked me what o'clock it was ; I told
him that it was jvist two. " Well, well. Sir, we must just wait
here till three o'clock, when the deer will get up to feed, and
most likely the brutes will travel towards the burn. The Lord
save us, but yon 's a muckle beast."

' Trusting to his experience, I waited patiently, employing
myself in attempting to dry my hose by wringing them, and
placing them in the sun. Donald took snuff and watched the
deer, and Bran laid his head on his paws as if asleep, but his
sharp eye, and ear pricked up on the slightest movement,
showed that he was ready for action at a moment's warning.
As nearly as possible at three o'clock they did get up to feed :
first the hinds rose and cropped a few mouthfuls of the coarse
grass near them ; looking at and waiting for their lord and
master, who, hoAvever, seemed lazily inclined and would not
move ; the young stag fed steadily on towards us. Fre-
quently the hinds stopped and turned back to their leader,

226

DEER-STALKING AND COURSING

who remained quite motionless, excepting that now and then
he scratched a fly off his flank with his horn or turned his head
towards tlie hiU-side when a grouse or a plover whistled. The
young stag was feeding quietly within a hundred and fifty
yards of us, and we had to lie flat on the ground now and then
to escape his observation. The evening air already began
to feel chill, when suddenly the object of our pursuit jumped up,
stretched himself and began feeding. Not liking the pasture
close to him, he trotted at once down into the flat ground right
away from us. Donald uttered a Gaelic oath, and I fear I
added an English one. The stag that had been feeding so
near us stood still for a minute to watch the others, who were
all now several hundred yards away, grazing steadily. I
aimed at him, but jvist as I was about to fire he turned away,
leaving nothing but his haunch in view, and went after the rest.
Donald applauded me for not shooting at him, but told me that
our case was hopeless, and that we had better make our way
home and attempt no more, as they were feeding in so open a
place that it was impossible to get at them : even Bran yawned
and rose, as if he too had given up all hope. " I will have one
try, Donald ; so hold the dog." " You needna fash yoursel'.
Sir ; they are clean out of all hope and reason."

' I determined to make an effort before it became dusk, so
leaving Donald, I set off down the burn, looking for some
hollow place that might favour my getting up to them, but I
could find none ; at last it struck me that I might by chance
get up within a long shot by keeping a small hillock, which
was in the middle of the plain, between me and the deer. The
hillock was not two feet high, and all depended on the animals
keeping together, and not outflanking me. On I went, not on
my hands and knees, but crawling like a snake, and never
rising even to my knee. I could see their hind-quarters as
they walked away, feeding, however, most eagerly, and when
they looked up I lay still flatter on the ground with my face
buried in the heather. They appeared, however, not to
suspect danger in the open plaiiL, but often looked anxiously

227

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

towards the burn or the rocky side of the mountain. One old
long-legged hind kept me in a constant state of alarm, as she
frequently looked in my direction, turning her head as if to catch
some suspicious sound. As for the stag, he never looked about
him once, leaving that to the hinds. I at last got within about
a himdred yards of the whole of them : as they fed in a group
turned away from me, I could not get a shot at anything but
their hind-quarters, and I did not wish to shoot unless I could
get a fair broadside towards me. While waiting for an oppor-
tunity, still flat on the ground, a grouse cock walked out of the
heather close to me, and strutted on with head erect and his
bright eye fixed on me till he came to a little hillock, where he
stopped and began to utter a note of alarm. Instantly every
deer left off eating. I saw that no time was to be lost, and
raised myself on my elbow, and with cocked rifle waited for the
hinds to move, that I might get at the stag, who was in the
midst of them. The hinds soon saw me and began to trot away,
but their leader seemed determined to see what the danger was,
and before he started turned round to look towards the spot
where the grouse was, giving me a good slanting shot at his
shoulder.

' I immediately touched the trigger, feeling at the same
time sure of my aim. The ball went true, and down he fell.
I began reloading, but before I had half done the stag was up
again and making play after the hinds, who were galloping up
a gentle slope of the hill. The poor beast was evidently
moving with the greatest difficulty and pain ; sometimes
coming to his knees, and then recovering himself with a strong
effort, he still managed to keep not far behind them. I sat
in utter despair : looking round too for Donald and Bran I
could see nothing of them. Between anxiety and vexation I
did not know what to do. All at once I saw the hinds dash
away in different directions, and the next moment my gallant
Bran appeared in the midst of them. I shouted with joy.
On came the dog, taking no notice of the hinds, but making
straight for the stag, who stood still for one instant, and then

228

DEER-STALKING AND COURSING

rushed with apparently full vigour down the hill, Down they
came towards the burn, the dog not five yards behind the stag,
but unable to reach his shoulder (the place where he always
struck his game). In a few minutes deer and hound went
headlong and seemingly both together into the burn. Donald
appeared running like a lunatic : with good judgment he had,
when I left him, gone to cut off the deer in case I wounded one
and it took up the hill. As good luck would have it, the hinds
had led off the stag right up to where Donald and Bran were,
notwithstanding his inclination to go the other way.

' I ran to see what had become of them in the burn, expect-
ing to find the stag at bay. When I got there, however, it was
all over. The deer had probably tumbled from weakness, and
Bran had got his fangs well into the throat of the poor brute
before he could rise again. The gallant dog, when I was up
with him, lay down panting, with his fore-paws on the deer,
and wagging his tail, seemed to congratulate me on my
victory, and to expect to be caressed for his share in it. A
fine stag he was, in perfect order, with noble antlers. Donald
added to my satisfaction by applauding my manner of getting
up to him, adding that he never would have thought it possible
to kill a stag on such bare and flat ground. Little did I feel
the fatigue of our three hours' walk, two of them in the dark
and hard rain.

' We did not go home, but went to a shepherd's house,
whose inhabitants were at evening prayer when we arrived :
we did not interrupt them, but afterwards the wife prepared
us a capital supper of eggs and fresh trout, which we devoured
with vast relish before the bright peat-fire, our wet clothes
steaming like a boiler. Such was the death of my first stag.'

Changed conditions brought about the disappearance of
the deerhound from the side of the stalker. In the old days
forests were comparatively few, but deer in small groups of six
or eight were to be found, says Captain Ross, scattered over
the higher mountains throughout Scotland. It did not greatly
matter if so small a party were disturbed ; therefore, if a stalker

229

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

happened to wound a deer and it sought refuge with one of
these small herds, there was no scruple about slipping stag-
hound or lurcher to bring the wounded quarry to bay. When
the old unprofitable sheepwalks were abandoned as such, and,
in obedience to the demand for forests, given over to the deer,
the herds increased in size, as many as two or three hundred
banding together. If under such circumstances a wounded
deer joined the herd pursued by a dog, the whole crowd would
be frightened away, and probably take up its quarters on a
neighbouring forest where dogs were not allowed.

The deerhound was a very necessary assistant in the days
when sporting rifles were much less accurate than they have
since been made. A hundred yards, says Captain Ross, was
the limit of range, practically speaking, and many stalkers
used a smoothbore, which could be depended on up to seventy
yards : some smoothbore users put ball in one barrel and slugs
in the other. Thus a vast number of deer were wounded and
would have escaped, had not deerhound or other fast dog been
held ready to slip and bring it to bay.

Great attention was bestowed on the dogs employed for
this work. Lord Breadalbane had a famous kennel of dogs
which he used exclusively for bringing deer to bay : these were
mostly a cross between foxhound and greyhound, but some
were foxhound-deerhound cross.

Deer-coursing was a very old sport in England. Turber-
vile says : ' We here in England do make great account of such
pastime as is to be seen in coursing with Greyhounds at Deare,
Hare, foxes or such like. . . . First for the course at the Deare
(especially if it be a red Deare) you may devide your Grey-
hounds into three sundry parts, viz. Teasers, Side-layes and
Back sets or Receytes. By this worde Teasers is ment the first
Greyhounde or brase or lease of Greyhoundes which is let slip
either at the whole hearde, to bring a Deare single to ye course
or els at a lowe (lone) deare to make him streine before he come
at the sidelayes and backsets. For a deare is of this nature,
that when he once hath set his head forwarde any way he will

230

DEER-STALKING AND COURSING

hold on the same waye and never turneth and wrencheth as a
Hare will do. . . .'

The ' sidelayes ' took up the chase midway — it would make
considerable demand on the knowledge of deer and their
habits possessed by the man in charge to choose his station
— and the ' receytes or backsets ' came into action ' towards
the latter end of ye course.' These last were ' commonly let
slip full in the face of the Deare, to the end they may the more
amaze him : and so they with the help of the other teasers and
sidelayes may the better take hold on him all at once and pull
him doune.'

The same sport was pursued under artificial conditions in
parks, hounds being slipped at deer in racecourse-like en-
closures constructed for the purpose : in this ' sidelayes and
backsets ' of hounds were not used.

Deer-coursing was considered the noblest of all the High-
land sports, and had long been a favourite in the north and
west of Scotland ; but when Scrope wrote his famous Art of
Deer-Stalking in 1838 it had fallen into disuse, though pursued
in some parts of the country. This is the account of the
manner in which the sport was conducted as given to Scrope
by one of the few sportsmen who had had the good fortune to
enjoy it. The course described took place on the Isle of Jura
in August .^1835. Buskar, it may be mentioned, stood 28
inches at the shoulder, girthed 32 inches, and weighed, in
running condition, 85 lbs. : —

' The direction in which we should proceed being agreed
upon, Finlay (than whom a better deer-stalker never trod the
heath) set out about fifty yards in advance, provided with a
telescope ; while the rest of the party followed slowly and
silently with the dogs in slips. We had thus proceeded up a
rocky glen for some miles, gradually ascending from the sea,
when the stalker descried (without the aid of his glass) a stag
about a mile off. He immediately prostrated himself on the
ground, and in a second the whole party laj^ flat on the heath ;
for even at that great distance we might have been discovered

231

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

by the deer. Finlay then returned, crawUng along the ground,
to the spot where we were lying, and directed us to creep back
for a short distance until we were out of sight. As yet, the rest
of the party had seen nothing of the stag, and although the
stalker pointed steadily in the direction in which he was,
not one of the party could discover him with the naked eye ;
but Buskar, who had hitherto followed quietly, now com-
menced a low whining noise, and with ears erect, gazed steadily
at the spot where the deer was lying. On taking the glass, we
were soon satisfied of the correctness of the stalker's vision,
for we could distinctly perceive a fine stag lying on the side of
the valley to our left, quietly chewing the cud, and looking
round in all directions. We immediately retreated, and
following our guide, got into the channel of a mountain
stream, which (though the stag was in a situation that com-
manded a greater part of the valley) enabled us, from its depths
and windings, to approach towards him until we should be
screened by some intervening rocks.

' We then left the channel of the stream, and finding that
we could proceed no farther in that direction without being
observed or scented by the deer, whose power of smell is most
acute, we turned to the left, and, keeping the lowest ground,
proceeded some way up the side of the valley on which he lay,
when Finlay informed us that we should soon be again in
sight ; and that, in order to keep ourselves concealed, it was
necessary to throw om-selves on our faces, and creep through
some rushes that lay before us. This we did, following each
other in a hne, and closely observing the motions of our guide,
for the distance of a 100 yards, until a rising ground inter-
vening between us and the deer permitted us to regain an
upright posture. Having gained this point, Finlay thought
it necessary to take another view of the deer, in case he might
have changed his position, and thus, perhaps, be brought into
sight of us when we least expected it. It was proper also to
ascertain whether or not there were any deer in his neighbour-
hood, who might be disturbed by our approach, and communi-

232

Modern Racing:

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DEER-STALKING AND COURSING

cate their alarm to him. For this purpose, unbonneted, his
hair having been cut close for the occasion, he slowly ascended
the rising ground betwixt us and the deer, looking at every
step to the right and to the left, and raising himself as if by
inches, with his head thrown back so as to bring his eyes to as
high a level as possible. Having, at length, caught a view of
the deer's horns, he satisfied himself that he had not moved,
and having sunk down as gradually and slowly as he rose, that
he might not by any sudden movement attract the attention of
the deer, he returned to us, and again led the way ; and after
performing a very considerable circuit, moving sometimes
forwards, and sometimes backwards, we at length arrived at the
back of a hillock, on the opposite side of which, he informed us
in a whisper, the deer was lying, and that, from the spot where
we then stood, he was not distant 100 yards. Most of the party
seemed inclined to doubt this information, for they verily
believed that the deer was at least half a mile to the right ;
but Finlay's organ of locality was so visibly and strongly
developed, and his practice in deer-stalking so great, that the
doubts of the party were suppressed, if not altogether removed.
Buskar, however, soon put the matter beyond question, for
raising his head, he bounded forwards, and almost escaped
from the person who held him. No time was to be lost : the
whole party moved forward in silent and breathless expecta-
tion, with the dogs in front, straining in the slips ; and on our
reaching the top of the hillock, we got a full view of the noble
stag, who having heard our footsteps, had sprung to his legs,
and was staring us full in the face at the distance of about sixty
yards. The dogs were slipped ; a general halloo burst from
the whole party, and the stag, wheeling round, set off at full
speed with Buskar and Bran straining after him.

' The brown figure of the deer, with his noble antlers laid
back, contrasted with the light colour of the dogs stretching
along the dark heath, presented one of the most exciting
scenes that it is possible to imagine.

' The deer's first attempt was to gain some rising ground to
2g 233

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

the left of the spot where we stood, and rather behind us ; but,
being closely pursued by the dogs, he soon found that his only
safety was in speed ; and (as a deer does not run well up hill,
nor, like a roe, straight down hill), on the dogs approaching
him, he turned, and almost retraced his footsteps, taking,
however, a steeper line of descent than the one by which he
ascended. Here the chase became more interesting ; the dogs
pressed him hard, and the deer, getting confused, found himself
suddenly on the brink of a small precipice, of about fourteen
feet in height, from the bottom of which there sloped a rugged
mass of stones. He paused for a moment, as if afraid to take
the leap, but the dogs were so close that he had no alternative.
' At this time the party were not above 150 yards distant,
and most anxiously waited the result, fearing, from the rugged-
ness of the ground below, that the deer would not survive
the leap. They were, however, soon relieved from their
anxiety ; for though he took the leap, he did so more cunningly
than gallantly, dropping himself in the most singular manner,
so that his hind-legs first reached the broken rocks below : nor
were the dogs long in following him ; Buskar sprang first, and
extraordinary to relate, did not lose his legs ; Bran followed,
and on reaching the ground, performed a complete summerset ;
he soon, however, recovered his legs ; and the chase was con-
tinued in an oblique direction down the side of a most rugged
and rocky brae, the deer apparently more fresh and nimble
than ever, jumping through the rocks like a goat, and the dogs
well up, though occasionally receiving the most fearful falls.
From the high position in which we were placed, the chase was
visible for nearly half a mile. When some rising ground
intercepted our view, we made with all speed for a higher point,
and, on reaching it, we could perceive that the dogs, having
got upon smooth ground, had gained on the deer, who was
still going at speed, and were close up with him. Bran was
then leading, and in a few seconds was at his heels, and im-
mediately seized his hock with such violence of grasp, as seemed
in a great measure to paralyse the limb, for the deer's speed

234

DEER-STALKING AND COURSING

Avas immediately checked. Buskar was not far behind, for
soon afterwards passing Bran, he seized the deer by the neck.
Notwithstanding the weight of the two dogs which were hang-
ing to him, having the assistance of the slope of the ground, he
continued dragging them along at a most extraordinary rate
(in defiance of their utmost exertions to detain him), and svic-
ceeded more than once in kicking Bran off. But he became at
length exhausted : the dogs succeeded in pulling him down,
and, though he made several attempts to rise, he never com-
pletely regained his legs.

' On coming up, we found him perfectly dead, with the
joints of both his fore-legs dislocated at the knee, his throat
perforated, and his chest and flanks much lacerated.

' As the ground was perfectly smooth for a considerable
distance round the place where he fell, and not in any degree
swampy, it is difficult to account for the dislocation of his
knees, unless it happened during his struggles to rise. Buskar
was perfectly exhausted, and had lain down, shaking from
head to foot much like a broken-down horse ; but on our
approaching the deer, he rose, walked round him with a
determined growl, and would scarcely permit us to come near
him. He had not, however, received any cut or injury ; while
Bran showed several bruises, nearly a square inch having been
taken off the front of his fore-leg, so that the bone was visible,
and a piece of biu-nt heather had passed quite through his foot.

' Nothing could exceed the determined courage displayed
by both dogs, particularly by Buskar, throughout the chase,
and especially in preserving his hold, though dragged by the
deer in a most violent manner. This, however, is but one of
the many feats of this fine dog. He was pupped in autumn
1832, and before he was a year old killed a full-grown hind
single-handed.'

235

FALCONRY

' ■ ■ E that will be a falconer,' wrote Simon Latham in

M m 1615, ' must be no sluggard, he must be up early

I I and down late or else he shall never see how his

Hawk rejoiceth : neither must he be tempted with

other mutabilities or wandering affection but remain and

continue in the art he protesteth.'

This is a view of the practical side of the art to which clings
an old-world savour that has faded from sports as ancient :
for who shall see hawk on fist without recalling the days of
romance and chivalry, though the fist appear from sleeve of
Norfolk jacket ?

Enclosure of lands and reclamation of wastes have made
an end of falconry over the greater part of England. Colonel
Thornton, you will remember, forsook Thorn ville Royal and
Sportsman's Hall when the Yorkshire wolds were given over
to the plough, and sought a new home in Wiltshire, on whose
downs he might still fly the hawks he loved. An enthusiast
was Colonel Thornton : how lovingly he dwells on the doings
of his hawks on the moors during his Scottish tour ! Thus, for
instance : —

' We rode, and the falconer attended with a cast and a
half of hawks, one of which I took on my fist and hunted, to
oblige Mr. Drighorn, with a brace of my pointers. The road,
as I imagined, he would find very indifferent : game abounded.
I had long resisted the solicitations of Mr. Drighorn to fly a
hawk whenever we happened to mark in a poult near us, which
was frequently the case. At length one came so near that I
could not deny him this breach of the law in a country which
requires none. I consented. Determined to follow up the bird,
a tercel was unhooded and took a very handsome place, killing

236

FALCONRY

his bird at the first flight. Having once broken the law,
grown bolder in iniquity, as is usually the case, we stuck at
nothing, and had a very pleasant day's sport indeed : for the
hawks were well broke in to ptarmigants and flew well. We
killed twenty-two birds and had a most incomparable flight
at a snipe, one of the best I ever saw, for full sixteen minutes.
The falcon flew delightfully, but the snipe got into a small
juniper bush near us, her only resource. I ordered the tercel
to be leached down, and I took the other falcon, meaning at
any rate that they should succeed with this snipe. When
flushing it I flew my falcon from the hood ; the other was in a
very good place, and on the falconer's head. A dreadful,
well-maintained flight they had, and many good buckles in the
air. At length they brought her like a shot from the clouds,
into the same juniper bush she had saved herself in before, and
close to which we were standing. Pluto stood it, and so closely
that I fortunately took it alive : and throwing out a moor
poult to each falcon as a reward, and preventing by this means,
the two hawks fighting for the snipe and carrying it away, we
fed them up, delighted beyond measure at this noble flight.
We minuted them very accurately both times, when they took
the air, and the last flight was eleven minutes ; during which
time, moderately speaking, they could not fly less than nine
miles, besides an infinite number of buckles or turns.' ^

Like a good sportsman, Colonel Thornton spared the snipe
which had given such a flight and let it go, as the bird had
received only a slight stroke from one of his pursuers and,
though very stiff, was little hurt. The power of the falcon's
stoop is exhibited in the author's remark that he once saw a
bird of his ' at one stroke cut a snipe in two parts, so that they
fell separate.'

' The noblest of all possible flights in which the powers of
a trained hawk could be engaged,' says Major Hawkins Fisher,
' were those of the wild kite and heron.'

' The late .Major Hawkins Fisher timed one of his falcons to travel a mile in fifty-eight
seconds, so Colonel Thornton's estimate may be less extravagant than it appears.

237

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

The esteem in which our ancestors held the heron is proved
by the many Acts of Parhament placed on the statute-book to
protect the bird, its eggs and nest ; but heron-hawking has
long been a thing of the past. It is not that herons are lack-
ing ; on the contrary we have them in plenty. Mr. J. E.
Harting {Hints on Hawks) says : —

' Nothing would be easier than to walk out into the marshes
" with great Goshawk on hand," find a heron in a drain, stalk
it, and on its rising fly the hawk and capture it. But this is
not heron-hawking in the proper sense of the term. There
would be no sport at all in taking the quarry in this way.
What is wanted is a heron passing on the wing at a moderate
height so that the hawk or hawks (formerly both falcons and
ger falcons were used for this sport) on being hooded off would
have to " ring up " to get above the heron, an advantage which
the latter would always endeavour to prevent by rising also,
and a fine ringing flight would be the result. But to effect this
it is necessary to have good open country in the neighbour-
hood of a heronry where the falconer may wait with his hawks
and watch for a heron going out light {i.e. empty) or returning
laden, intercepting the heron, as it were, on its passage and
thus ensuring a good flight.'

Norfolk saw the last of English heron-hawking. This is
from the Norfolk Chronicle of 12th June 1823 : —

' The ancient pastime of heron-hawking is still carried on
in this county. The casts of hawks, with four falconers,
natives of Holland (to which country they repair annually to
catch hawks for the ensuing season) are kept at Didlington
Hall, the seat of Major Wilson, near to which place there is an
extensive heronry.'

The season {i.e. May and June) of 1822 was a very good
one ; no fewer than 172 herons were taken. A flight which
took place in 1823 is thus described : — '

' The heron on its way from the heronry to the fens was seen

' Quoted in Uijils on Ilawkx, by J. E. Hartinp.
238

FALCONRY

at a considerable distance going down the wind. He was so
far off that the falconers hesitated whether they would venture
to unhood their hawks, but one of them ha\dng luckily upon
his wrist a famous hawk in whom he had great confidence,
cast him off alone. It instantly made at the heron, who
mounted higher in the air, though still advancing rapidly in
his course. The whole field was instantly in motion, and those
only who have hunted with our crack packs of foxhounds can
form an idea of the ardour with which each person including
the ladies strove to be foremost. The hawk made numberless
stoops at the heron, which his activity and stoutness enabled
him to avoid, and it was not until some time after the birds
had ceased to be visible to the chief part of the field that the
hawk was able, after repeatedly striking his quarry, to bring
him to the ground. The flight lasted twenty-six minutes, and
the distance from point to point exceeded six miles. The
height to which the birds rose was so great that, to use the
expression of the falconers, " they were six steeples high in the
air — no bigger than bimible-bees." '

By the way, ]\Ir. Harting remarks upon the common belief
that ' a heron when hard pressed and stooped at by the falcon
will point his beak upward and receive the descending hawk
upon its sharp extremity, thereby disabling, if not killing it
outright, Somerville represents the heron adopting this
method of defence — surely calculated to result in a broken
neck ! — and Sir Walter Scott has done the same. ' There is
not only no authority for this pretty story,' says Mr. Harting,
' but we have the direct testimony of eye-witnesses that it
has never happened within their experience.' Adrien MoUen,
head falconer of the Loo Club, stated that in all the hundreds
of flights at heron he had seen, he never saw this mode of
defence adopted.

Sir John Sebright, who wrote in 1826, held that the magpie
gave better sport with hawks than any other bird : —

' Magpies may be flown with eyess slight falcons, and
afford excellent sport. A down or common, where low trees

239

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

or thorn bushes are dispersed at the distance of from 30 to 50
yards apart, is the place best calculated for this diversion.

' When a magpie is seen at a distance, a hawk is immediately
to be cast off. The magpie will take refuge in a bush, the
moment that he sees the falcon, and will remain there until the
falconer arrives, with the hawk waiting on in the air. The
magpie is to be driven from his retreat, and the hawk, if at a
good pitch, will stoop at him as he passes to another bush,
from whence he is to be driven in the same way, another hawk
having been previously cast off, so that one or the other may
always be so situated as to attack him to advantage.

' The second hawk is necessary, for the magpie shifts with
great cunning and dexterity to avoid the stoops ; and when
hard pressed, owing to the bushes being rather far apart, will
pass under the bellies of the horses, flutter along a cart rut,
and avail himself of every little inequality of the ground in
order to escape.

' Four or five assistants, besides the falconer (who should
attend solely to his hawks) are required for this sport. They
should be well mounted, and provided with whips ; for the
magpie cannot be driven from a bush by a stick ; but the crack
of a whip will force him to leave it, even when he is so tired as
hardly to be able to fly. Nothing can be more animating than
this sport : it is, in my opinion, far superior to every other
kind of hawking. The object of the chase is fully a match for
its pursuers — a requisite absolutely necessary to give an
interest to any sport of this kind ; and it has the advantage of
giving full employment to the company, which is not the case
in partridge-hawking. The magpie will always endeavour to
make his way to some strong cover ; care, therefore, must be
taken to counteract him, and to drive him to that part of the
ground where the bushes are farthest from each other. It is
not easy to take a magpie in a hedge. Some of the horsemen
must be on each side of it ; some must ride behind, and some
before him ; for, unless compelled to rise, by being surrounded
on all sides, he will flutter along the hedge, so as to shelter

240

Steeple-Chasing

FALCONRY

himself from the stoops of the falcon. Many requisites are
necessary to afford this sport in perfection — a favourable
country, good hawks, and able assistants.'

The curlew is held the most difficult bird to kill with trained
hawks. The late Major Hawkins Fisher gave an admirable
account of a flight at curlew in the address he delivered before
the Cotteswold Naturalists' Field Club ' twenty years ago :
here it is, with his description of a flight at grouse and a
noteworthy one at a woodcock : —

' The nearest approach to a heron flight that I have ever
seen, occurred in this wise. In October 1889, my old grouse
hawk, " Lady Jane," was waiting on at a height so great, that
though she is upwards of three feet across from tip to tip of
expanded wings, she appeared in the sky, like a pin's head,
over the moor, the dogs being unable for some time to find her
a grouse. Presently they stood, and on the men moving
forward to put them up for her, I perceived her in the act of
stooping. I called out, to prevent their purpose, and fixed my
glasses on the hawk expecting to see her in pursuit of other
grouse, raised accidentally. Presently she was down, and
instantly engaged with some large bird, which I deemed, and
the men asserted to be, a carrion crow. As it looked large and
Ught-coloxired, I said, " then it is a hoody (Royston) crow " ;
but in a moment, as the excited couple rose high in air — at it
ding dong — I knew it was no crow. No ; none of that ignoble
brood ever flew, or held the air, like this strange quarry, which,
in a few seconds more, I made out to be Numenius arquata,
the common or long-billed curlew. I know no instance of this
grand flier having been taken by a trained hawk, and it is
generally deemed beyond the power of any such. Of course
it is occasionally slain by a wild falcon ; but then, doubtless,
the worst wild falcon is far before the best trained one, and, if
inclined and meaning it, can take most fowls that wing the air
with more or less ease. My poor trained bird (I should add,
the best I have ever had of her sex) was in very indifferent

' Proceedings, vol. x. parti., 1889-90.

2 H 241

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

plumage then, but she stuck to her work for more than twenty
minutes, during the whole of which time the curlew (in desper-
ate earnest) was quite unable to get away from her. Stoop
succeeded stoop, and, as I thought, too rapidly ; and when it
is considered that the sole effort of the curlew was to avoid the
deadly bloAV, and mount higher than her adversary after its
failure, and that every failure placed tlie stooping falcon
60 yards and more below the curlew, rapidly mounting on the
best of wings, and that she had to regain her position, and get
100 yards above her hoped-for quarry, before she could again
return to the attack, the courage, ability, and perseverance
with which she kept at it, until both were out of sight of two
of the best pair of eyes I have known, fairly astonished me.
My excellent field glasses still shewed me two little black dots
in the clear blue sky : the falcon even then repeating her
unavailing efforts, by ringing widely against the wind, and so
mounting laboriously over the curlew, whose upward pro-
gression was accomplished by the most extraordinary bounds
(I can call her movements nothing else) I ever saw. Only two,
of these many stoops, " told " all through this long contest.
Twice I saw the curlew knocked round and up, and twice her
feathers floated in the air like tiny dust ; but the harm done
was not enough, and the two dots finally separated, and the
disappointed falcon was shortly recalled to us (though she
needed no " lure," and seldom or never gets one shown, as she
is perfectly willing to stay and work with us). It may be of
interest to remark, that on looking round, we saw the pointer
and setter (which on another occasion stood for half an hour
by the watch) Avere still " on the point " ; and when the hawk
came over, still at a vast elevation, the long-suffering dogs were
relieved.

' The grouse (three or four) were sprung, and " Lady Jane,"
tired as she was, stooped and killed one with her usual ease.
Needless, I hope, to say she did not go hungry to bed that
night, for want of a meal on grouse ! We were all convinced
that, with a companion to help her (two falcons are always

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FALCONRY

flown together at a heron, as two greyhounds are usually
slipped at a hare), the curlew would have been taken in five
minutes, and with such a complete suit of new and good
feathers as the old falcon now possesses, I should myself be
very sorry indeed to be a curlew in front of her.

' Shall I mention again a singular flight I once saw worked
at a woodcock ? This bird, when put to it, jjossesses remark-
able powers of flight, as its extended migrations, and splendid
shape and length of wing, abundantly warrant. It occurred
in this wise, in October 1866. I found myself with hawks
(eyesses), dogs, gillies, a keeper, and my gun, on the moor near
the western end of Loch-Eil, in Argyle, at a place called Fassie-
fern, not far from the place where Prince Charlie met his
devoted Highland clansmen in arms for his crown, only to lose
the day, and their lives, at fatal, and bloody, CviUoden. I made
a line to beat out a wide bank of bracken, then brown with early
autumn, and saw a bird which I believed then to be a cock,
and the keeper, a winged grouse, jump up in front. Had I
but had the courage of my convictions, and put my favourite
falcon, called " Taillie " from her broken tail — a Welsh hawk
she from the Glamorgan precipices, of the Worms Head —
aloft, then she would have probably been saved much trouble,
and we should have lost a glorious sight, and flight, for the day
was stilly, bright, and lovely, and the sea loch and its waves
sparkled in the sun. No ; I took her on my fist, and struck her
hood in readiness, half disposed to believe in McPhee the game-
keeper. Just where I saw the bird spring, suddenly up went
a fine woodcock. No winged bird she, but in full possession
of the excellent pair, that had not long before brought her
(I suppose, for we do not know) from Finland, or elsewhere
in the North, to Argyle. I unhooded and cast "Taillie"
after her, and the flight began. This woodcock would have
much astonished sportsmen only used to their actions in a
thick cover. Up and up she went in long zig-zags, and with
precisely the style and action of her small relative, Scolopax
Gallinago, the common snipe, but mute. The falcon mounted

'2rs

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

rapidly in her train, though at a considerable disadvantage at
first. I saw it was going to be a long affair, got out my
glasses, and lay down on the heather, and on one side was my
then falconer, Jamie Barr, one of the well-known family of
Scotch falconers, — there were once a father and three sons of
that name (all falconers by profession), with most acute and
trained vision, — and on the other side the proud possessor of the
best pair of eyes in all Argyle, if not in the West of Scotland —
the so-called " fox-hunter's " son, my gillie, Sandy Kennedy.
This man got much employment in seeking sheep lost on the
hills and mountains, and long practice had rendered his
ancestral eyesight (his father's had been as good) equal to most
glasses on the moor. The woodcock, with the falcon below
and behind her, did not dare to come down or return — vestigia
nulla retrorsum was her motto — and soon the pair of dots were
high over the sea loch, there a mile wide, the cock's point being
evidently Morven, on the other side of the strait. Soon I
called out, " I can see but one." Presently from Barr came —
" I canna see them ; " from Kennedy, " I ken 'em fine ! " I
hardly believed he could, for my own eyes were then far above
the average, and aided by the best of Voigtlaender's field
glasses, it was as much as I could do. Presently, methought
that the single dot in the sky, which I still discerned, became,
instead of fainter, faintly more visible. " They are coming
back," quoth Kennedy ; and before long the spot had visibly
increased, and the falconer Barr declared that he saw them
once more. So did we, and so did all, before long, for the wood-
cock, finding herself over the water, and unable to shake off
her pursuer, or gain the distant haven of Morven, had no
alternative but to seek the shelter of the bracken on our side,
from whence she sprang ; so the poor fowl turned tail, and
" went for it " in a long slanting descent from an incredible
altitude. As they both neared us, they presented the appear-
ance of two little balls falling out of the sky right towards us,
and quite straight, with the difference (fatal to the poor wood-
cock) that " Taillie," that began below her, was now well

•244

FALCONRY

above. The hawk was evidently unwilling or afraid to stoop
over the water, but the moment the cock was over the land
she shot herself forward, and straight in air, instead of slanting,
half perpendicularly down, like her quarry (both moving with
incredible speed) turned over, and stooped. No one knows the
speed of a falcon's stoop, but it must be very great, as I have
seen it bring a hawk up to old grouse flying hard down wind,
just as though they had been sitting still, with absurd ease,
if only she be but high enough. Anyhow, it was fatal this
time to the woodcock, for, leaving a cloud of feathers behind,
she tumbled head over heels before us, into the very patch of
bracken she came from, and meeting there with an old ant-hill,
bounded off it, many a yard, and lay still. The hawk soon
recovered herself, and dashed on to her well-earned quarry.
Needless to say, I did not disturb her thereon, but served out
the whiskey, and drank her health, all round.'

Major Hawkins Fisher preferred grouse to partridge-
hawking : —

' The partridge is a jolly little fowl, though not to be
compared with the denizen of the heather. (I have usually
three coveys of partridges on my moor, where they appear to
feed on the seeds of a rush, and are smaller and darker than
the type.) I hawked them regularly for many years on the
open downland arable expanse of South Wilts, using good
dogs, and possessing two of the best partridge hawks — tiercels
or males, and nestling peregrines — possible. Of course it is
indispensable to possess or rent a sufficient quantity of suitable
ground, well stocked with partridges, and the right to preserve
them upon it : 2000 or 3000 acres is quite necessary, if not more,
for good sport and success. The fixed idea that " hawking
drives birds off the land " is everywhere prevalent, and utterly
unremoveable. This prejudice militates heavily, against even
renting grouse, or partridge ground, for our present purpose.
It happens to be a perfectly incorrect idea, from a common-
sense point of view, but it is useless to attempt to discuss it,
nor will I write about it here. Suffice it to say that the

245

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

constant presence of two or more wild peregrine falcons, living
very much indeed on my own and neighbours' partridges, not
only never drove our numerous partridges away, but was not
thought to do so ; whereas two or three miserably inferior
tame hawks, not to be named in the same week with the wild
ones, with reference to their ability to take partridges, were
believed to drive all our game away. Luckily it did not. On
the contrary, when hard shot, it was our neighbour's lands that
were bare, whilst ours, being kept quiet from the report of the
gun, were a land of plenty (for partridges) to our great content,
and I hope to our neighbour's disgust. But they stuck to
their text just the same !

' Every single flight, even at partridges, throughout the
day differs considerably from its predecessor and its successor.
The two best days I can remember were twelve partridges one
day and fourteen on the next (both in October). I once
remember killing a partridge with a nearly perfect game hawk
called " Lundy," from his birthplace in the Bristol Channel,
and who, before a bad neighboui" killed him, to deliver a pigeon
from his clutches, had taken in his four years of service more
than 400 partridges, besides two kestrels, some falcons being
desperately fond of going at any wild hawk. This little fellow
had done enough one day, when a neighbour's keeper came up
and asked to see a flight. Too late, said I, the other hawks
being fed up. Just then the dog employed, a ceaseless worker
and finder, came to a dead point in some high clover. Quite
forgetting what I was about I struck the hawk's hood and cast
him off, but to my horror with his swivel in his jesses, and the
leash, a yard and a quarter long, and its button attached and
dangling down. Few hawks, I hope, thus adorned or en-
cumbered, have ever been asked to take partridges. But it
seemed to make little difference to this old hand. Up he went
in wide rings, and as fast, apparently, as ever, with his ridicu-
lous appendages ; when high enough, the partridges were
moved, and he stooped and killed one (for the keeper) with
little ado.'

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FALCONRY

When such a quarry as the woodcock, which of course can
fly far as well as fast, ' takes the air,' an extraordinary distance
may be covered by pursued and pursuer. One of the most
remarkable flights recorded, is that mentioned by the late
Mr. Knox {Gamehirds and Wild Fowl, 1850). He was hawking
with the Hon. R. Westenra in Rossmore Park, Co. Monaghan,
when a woodcock was put up. The bird, after a short chase,
took the air closely pursued by the falcon — the property of
Mr. Westenra — whose name and address were engraved on her
bells and varvels. In a short time both birds had attained
such an elevation that they were with difficulty kept in view.
At last, just as they had become like specks in the sky they were
observed to pass rapidly towards the north-east under the
influence of a strong south-west wind, and were soon completely
out of sight. Some days elapsed without any tidings of the
truant falcon : but before the week had expired, a parcel
arrived at Rossmore Park accompanied by a letter, bearing a
Scotch postmark. The first contained the dead body of the
falcon, the latter the closing chapter of her history from the
hand of her destroyer, a farmer, who resided within ten miles of
Aberdeen. Upon comparison of dates it was found that she
had been shot near Aberdeen, within forty-eight hours after
she had been flown at the woodcock in a central part of the
province of Ulster,

247

RACING

DESCRIPTIVE accounts of races until the nineteenth
century are curiously few. Their paucity is to be
regretted, for the occasional sidelights we obtain
from the old Calendars — Pond, Cheney, Heber,
and Tutting and Falconer — suggest that eighteenth-century
meetings were conducted in a happy-go-lucky fashion as
regards management, while the glimpses we get of racing and
its surroundings from other sources indicate the loss of a
peculiarly interesting chapter of English social life. The
crowd that lined the course in the days when four-mile heats
were started by beat of drum offered large possibilities to
the descriptive writer.

In an earlier day ' crossing and jostling ' were recognised
methods of spoiling the chances of a competitor ; but by the
middle of the eighteenth century these heroic methods of race-
riding were falling into disuse on English courses. In 1751
the Articles relating to His Majesty's Plates included the
proviso that ' as many of the Riders as shall cross, jostle, or
strike or use any other foul play, shall be made incapable of
ever riding — for any of His Majesty's Plates hereafter.' The
Rules concerning Racing published in 1752 provide, it is true,
that ' Crossing and Jostling is allowed in matches if no agree-
ment to the contrary ' ; but from the absence of comment such
as would show that crossing and jostling were practised, it
would seem that an ' agreement to the contrary ' was usual
at this time. At the Epsom November meeting of 1769,
Mr. Bishop's Pancake beat Lord Milsington's Surry, ' but being
accused of crossing of Surry the match was given to Surry.'
These methods were continued in Ireland : at the Trim,
Co. Meath, meeting in March 1752, Messrs. Moore and Scott's

24.8

RACING

bay mare was 'thrown down by a jostle and killed, and the rider,
Mr. Scott, violently bruised.' Again at Loughrea, Co. Galway,
in August of the same year, ' Mr. Daly's Gelding was thrown
down in the third heat and killed by the fall.'

Such incidents grow rarer as we look through the Calendars,
and twenty years later their total cessation suggests that
crossing and jostling had been given up in Ireland also.

Matches formed a prominent feature of most meetings in
the latter half of the eighteenth century. Taking a Calendar
at random (it happens to be that of 1772) and turning to the
Newmarket Second Spring meeting, we find that the six days'
racing, 11th to 16th May inclusive, consisted of fifteen sweep-
stakes, ' subscriptions ' and plates, and twenty-nine matches ;
while in eighteen other matches which had been arranged
forfeit was paid. At most meetings the stake was usually
the £50 minimum allowed by law (13 Geo. ii., c. 19), and the
big prize of the meeting fortunate enough to secure it was a
Royal Plate worth a hundred guineas. Far more valuable
prizes might, of course, be won at Newmarket, where sweep-
stakes of a hundred guineas each figured at every meeting :
matches were arranged for any stake from £50 a side to
£2000 or more. In those days when enclosed meetings and
gate money were unknown, the greatest proportion of the cash
was found by the men who ran horses ; but at minor meetings
the authorities looked to the winner to contribute something
out of the stakes towards the sport. Thus at Barnet in 1751
the winner of each of the three races was required to pay six
guineas ' towards Repairing the Course, Setting up Posts and
keeping them in Repair.' At the Canterbury meeting of the
same year the winner of the County Plate, £50, was ' enjoin'd
to pay three guineas towards the expense attending the
Race, and of the City Plate, £50, ten Pounds towards a Purse
to be run for in the following year.'

Reference has been made to the happy-go-lucky fashion in
which racing was carried on. Here is an example : at the
Newmarket October meeting of 1752, Mr. Edward Popham ran

2 1 249

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

his grey filly by Crab against Mr. Valentine Knightley's
Marplot over the Beacon Course for £50 a side ; but they, or
the stewards, had omitted to appoint a judge, and unfortun-
ately they made so close a race of it that they could not decide
between themselves who had won. ' As it occasioned some
Disputes it was by Agreement left to Lord Godolphin, who
determined it to be a drawn Match.' An extraordinary case
occurred at the Farn (Cheshire) meeting of 1761, when Mr.
Egerton's Dionysius and the Hon. Harvey Ash ton's Wildair
were entered for the Second Annual Prize of twenty-one
guineas.' Says the Calendar: ' Dionysius started alone between
12 and 3. Wildair started alone between 3 and 5. A dispute
arose which was entitled to the Plate, and was not settled when
this went to Press.' We must svippose that a time was
appointed for starting that race ; but if this trifling formality
had been overlooked, the point was indeed a knotty one for the
authorities to determine, supposing them to regard the per-
formance as a race at all.

The hard case presented to the judge by an accident at the
Oxford meeting of 1731 probably arose from a too successful
jostle. Conqueror and John Trot fell together so near the
' ending post ' that the judge could not determine whether
either horse had carried his rider past the post. The method
adopted to decide the point was curious : ' a person making an
affidavit that before John Trot fell his weight at least had
passed the post,' his evidence was accepted and the race
awarded to that horse. The proceeding displays confidence in
the disinterestedness of that person.

One or two races sufficed for a day's sport when the event
was decided in heats of two, three, or four miles with half an
hour ' for rubbing ' between. Three heats usually revealed
the winner, but when fields were large, more were often re-
quired. At the Beverley meeting held in May 1751, nine
five-year-olds started for a £50 purse, three-mile heats : each

' All endowed race: and therefore exempted from operation of the Act wliicli pre-
scribed a £50 minimum stake.

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RACING

of the first three heats was won by a different horse, so a fourth,
in which these tliree started, was run to decide it. At tlie
CarUsle meeting of May 1761, nine four-year-olds started for a
£50 stake, two-mile heats, weight 9 stone. Cadabora won the
first ; Stella, the second ; Cadabora and Heart of Oak ' were
so near together the judges could not tell which won ' the
third ; Bold Burton won the fourth ; Cadabora and Bold
Burton ran a dead heat for the fifth ; and the sixth and last
was won by Cadabora, Bold Burton second, and Stella third.
In their later days these long heats were not always ridden
out from start to finish. Nimrod, writing of the early decades
of the nineteenth century, says : ' So much is the system of a
four-mile heat disliked, that when it does occur the horses often
walk the first two miles.' Sir Charles Bunbury is said to have
been the man who brought about the discontinuance of races
in four-mile heats.

Thus were handicaps made under mid-eighteenth-century
rules : 'A Handy-Cap Match is for A. B. and C. to put an
equal sum into a Hat. C, which is the Handy-Capper, makes
a match for A. and B., which when perused by them they put
their Hands into their Pockets and draw them out closed, then
they open them together, and if both have money in their
hands, the match is confirmed : if neither have money it is no
Match. In both Cases the Handy- Capper draws all the money
out of the Hat : but if one has INIoney in his Hand and the other
none, then it is no Match : and he that has the money in his
Hand is entitled to the Deposit in the Hat.'

The Handy-Capper under these conditions had induce-
ment to make a match which should be accepted by both
parties.

The thoroughbred of this period, it is hardly necessary to
remark, was a very different animal from his modern descend-
ant. As Sir Walter Gilbey has pointed out in his Thorough-bred
and Other Ponies, ' fourteen hands was the normal or average
height of the race-horse ' during the latter half of the eighteenth
century. The racing career of the thoroughbred then began

251

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

at an age when his descendant of our own day is retiring from
active life. The practice of racing two-year-olds (I quote again
from Sir Walter Gilbey) was introduced about the end of the
eighteenth century, ' bringing with it the inevitable process
of forcing the growth of young stock.' Staying power and
ability to carry weight were the distinguishing character-
istics of these old-time race-horses, not speed as we understand
it. Could Eclipse and Ormonde be recalled to life together,
Eclipse would hardly be able to keep Ormonde in sight.

The behaviour of the race-going crowd in old times left
much to desire. We can draw our own conclusions from a
passage in the Act of 1740 (13 Geo. ii., c. 19) already referred
to. The object of this statute was not only to make an end
of racing worthless horses at small local meetings by pre-
scribing the weights to be carried ^ and the value of stakes ;
it declared another purpose with a candour incompatible with
a low franchise qualification ; seeking ' to remove all tempta-
tion from the lower class of people who constantly attend
these races to the great loss of time and hindrance of labour,
and whose behaviour still calls for stricter regulation to curb
their licentiousness and correct their manners.'

The manners of the crowd in George ii.'s time must indeed
have stood in urgent need of correction if those of the crowd
sixty years later exhibited any improvement. Small local
meetings in Kent may have been attended by a mob more
disorderly than that which patronised others ; but if this
description of the behaviour of the mob at two meetings on the
south-west coast is representative, we have to congratulate
ourselves on a very vast improvement. Thus the famous
painter, George Morland, then a young man of one or two and
twenty, wrote to his friend, Philip Dawe, in the autumn of
1785 :—

' You must know I have commenced a new business of
jockey to the races ; I was sent for to Mount Pleasant [East of

' The clauses which related to weights were repealed five years later by 18 Geo. ii.,
c. 34.

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RACING

Minster five miles from Margate] by the gentlemen of the turf,
to ride a racer for the silver cup, as I am thought to be the best
horseman here. I went there and was weighed and afterwards
dressed in the tight-striped jacket and jockey's cap, and lifted
on the horse, led to the start, placed in the rank and file ; three
parts of the people laid great bets that I should win the cup,
etc. Then the drums beat and we started : 'twas a four-mile
heat, and the first three miles I could not keep the horse behind
them, being so spirited an animal : by that means he soon
exhausted himself, and I soon had the mortification to see them
come galloping past me, hissing and laughing, whilst I was
spurring his guts out. A mob of horsemen then gathered
round, telling me I could not ride, which is always the way if
you lose the heat : they began at last to use their whips, and
finding I could not get away, I directly pulled off my jacket,
laid hold of the bridle, and offered battle to the man who began
first, though he was big enough to eat me : several gentlemen
rode in, and all the mob turned over to me, and I was led away
in triumph with shouts. But, however, I did not fare near so
well at Margate races, and was very near being killed ; I rode
for a gentleman and won the heat so completely, that when I
came into the winning post the other horses were near half
a mile behind me, upon which near four hundred sailors,
smugglers, fishermen, etc., set upon me with sticks, stones,
waggoners' whips, fists, etc., and one man, an innkeeper here,
took me by the thigh and pulled me off the horse : I could not
defend myself : the sounds I heard all were, " Kill him ! "
" Strip him ! " " Throw him in the sea ! " " Cut off his
large tail ! " and a hundred other sentences rather worse than
the first. I got from them once, and ran into the booth :
Michiner rode in to me, dismounted and took me up in his arms,
half beat to pieces, kept crying to the mob to keep back, and
that his name was Michiner and he would notice them : at
last, a party of light horsemen and several gentlemen and their
servants, some post-boys, hairdressers, bakers, and several
other people I knew armed themselves with sticks, etc., and

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BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

ran in to my assistance and brought nie a horse, though the
mob pressed so hard 'twas long before I eould mount.'

The methods permitted at Mount Pleasant were evidently
not such as would be approved at more strictly ordered meet-
ings : Morland, it will be noticed, weighed out first and donned
his colovu's afterwards.

Twenty years later we obtain another glimpse, brief but
eloquent, of the state of affairs prevailing on a very different
course. Thus the Sporting Magazine of 1806 : —

' From the number of accidents that have happened by the
intemperance of drivers and the crowds on the course at Epsom,
it has been agreed that there shall not be any races run after
dinner, and it is imagined that the Derby and Oaks Stakes
will shortly be transferred to some other place.'

It is worth reproducing this by way of showing the contrast
between those days and our own. Accidents occur on Epsom
Downs, and not every man of the crowd — ten times the size
of the 1806 crowd, we may be sure — goes home sober ; but the
multitude takes its pleasure in cleaner fashion now than it did
a century ago.

Turning to more recent times, here is ' The Druid's '
account of the St. Leger of 1850, famous for the dead heat
between Voltigeur and Russborough : —

' At last the flags were lowered, and away went the eight in
a cluster, Nat going in front at once and cutting out the work
with Beehunter ; Chatterbox and Russborough well up, and
Voltigeur settling down about seventh. Along the flat the
pace was very slow, but when they reached the foot of the hill
Beehunter seemed to warm to his work, and led them up and
over it at cajaital speed. No change took place in their Indian-
file positions until they approached the Red House, when
Marson took Voltigeur well by the head and administered a
couple of smart strokes of the whip to rouse him to a sense of
his position. The gallant brown answered immediately, and
at the Intake Farm was fifth, with Pitsford and Beehunter on
his left, Bolingbroke on his right, and Russborough and

'254:

RACING

Italian at his quarters. Just at this point BoUngbroke looked
formidable ; but in another hundred yards he began to hang
towards the rails, and Marson, seeing at a glance that he would
be shut out, promptly shot his horse through the gap and took
the lead at the distance, Russborough being handy on the off-
side. Half way up the distance Marson steadied his horse, who
seemed to be in slight difficulties from the severe pace, and just
when he got him extended again Jim Robinson, with a well-
timed effort, swooped down upon Marson, and after a thrilling
finish made a dead heat.

' As Russborough was nearest to the Judge the great
majority of spectators thought that he had won, and when the
fielders learnt the decision their joy knew no bounds.

' The two antagonists made their way back to the enclosure,
and were keenly scrutinised as their jockeys dismounted and
unsaddled them. Some strong suspicions were expressed that
Russborough was a four-year-old, and an examination of his
mouth was demanded by Lord Zetland. The horse was
examined by Mr. George Holmes, the well-known veterinary
of Thirsk, and by Mr. J. Shaw of the 3rd Dragoon Guards, who
pronounced him all right. A little after five, when all the other
races were over, the two champions of the day were again seen
approaching the enclosure in their sheets. Robinson jumped
into the pigskin with a jaunty air, and a whisper went round
that he was going to make it hot for the Richmond-trained
horse, by forcing the running. Marson then came out from
the weighing house, looking very pale but full of quiet con-
fidence, and mounted his horse on the course. Another
canter, and another parade, and the two were again alongside
Mr. Hibburd, the starter, waiting for the signal. Robinson
at once showed that his cutting down intentions had not been
misrepresented. The moment that the flag dropped he was
off like a shot, and Marson as quickly got Voltigeur on his legs
and laid off two lengths. The pace quickened as they rose the
hill, and the fielders were in high hopes that the two lengths
would become four when the T. Y. C. post was reached. They

255

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

reckoned, however, without their host, as the two steeds kept
in exactly the same position till the Red House was passed.
Into the straight running Russborough came with the same
strong lead, Robinson glancing over his shoulder at Marson,
who sat with his hands well down on his horse's withers, and as
cool as an iceberg. The vast crowd closed in upon them, and
the roar of a hundred thousand iron voices fairly rent the air.
" Voltigeur 's beat ! " and " Is 'er beat ? " was Bob Hill's
response ; " You maun't tell me that ; I knaws 'im better —
Job 's a coming ! " And sure enough, Job, half way within
the distance, slipped a finger off his rein, gave the Derby winner
a sharp reminder with his spurs, had him at Russborough's
girths in the next three strides, and landed him home a clever
winner by a length. The hurrahs that greeted horse and
jockey as they returned to the Stand were perfectly deafening,
and became, if possible, louder when the Countess of Zetland
descended with her husband and patted the conqueror's neck.
Spotted handkerchiefs, symbolising Lord Zetland's colours,
were waving everywhere, hats were flung recklessly in the air,
and even the fielders cheered because one of the right sort had
won. This was Voltigeur's third race, all of which he has won,
and it is remarkable that Charles xii., the only other son of
Voltaire who ever gained the St. Leger, had to run two heats
for it.'

They who speak with authority maintain that a south-
country crowd does not take the close interest in the horses
and the racing that is taken by the men of the north : an
Epsom crowd discusses anything but the racing : a Knavesmire
or Doncaster crowd has thought and word for nothing else.
But the south-country crowd is roused to an extraordinary
pitch of enthusiasm on occasion.

One of the most memorable among Derbies was that of
1896 : those who saw — and heard — are never likely to forget it.

' The mingled clamour on the Downs is dying away : the
course has been cleared : the inevitable dog, a mongrel Irish
terrier this time, has been hunted into private life among the

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RACING

legs against the ropes, and the horses are coming out, while
from the enormous throng rises the murmur of expectation.
Here they come, one, two, three — eight of them. Where 's
Persimmon and Bradwardine and Earwig ? Leave has been
given for them to go straight to the start, says somebody behind
us ; they are being saddled at Sherwood's and won't take part
in the parade. The preliminary over, the eight take a short
cut across to the starting post where Mr. Coventry is waiting.
Somebody wants to know why Regret isn't running, and does
not seem consoled when it is suggested that the hard ground
probably explains his absence. Now the field of eleven has
come under the starter's orders and the tense minutes of
waiting begin : you feel the pent-up excitement through the
comparative silence. It seems an hour — seven or eight
minutes it proves — before the roar of " Off ! " heralds the
vain rush of the crowd from the starting post across the
Downs : it is a wonderful sight that advancing wave of
humanity, but every eye is on the race. Who 's that in front ?
Toussaint. Only for a moment : Woodburn has steadied him,
and Bay Ronald, Bradwardine, Spook, Earwig, and Teufel
draw out from the rest. Persimmon and St. Frusquin to-
gether whipping in. Now Gulistan leads ; Bradwardine over-
hauls him as they ascend the hill, passes him at the top,
followed by St. Frusquin, Ba}- Ronald, and Teufel : Persimmon
behind them, with Toussaint and Tamarind ("neither of those
two, Derby horses," mutters a voice at our elbow) bringing
up the rear, already out of it. Down the hill they come ; as
they near Tattenham Corner, Bradwardine falls behind. Bay
Ronald and St. Frusquin draw to the front with Persimmon
in waiting. Bay Ronald leads round the Corner into the
straight, but falls back leaving St. Frusquin and Persimmon
to draw clear at the distance. It is between those two, and
as the pair single themselves out the Downs find voice again
in a swelling roar. St. Frusquin leads ! St. Frusquin ! St,
Frusquin wins ! No ! Persimmon ! Persimmon ! for a
hundred yards from home Watts on the Prince's horse
2 K 257

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

challenges, and the pair fight it out amid a roar of excitement
which, when Persimmon wins by a neck, culminates in an
outburst of cheering compared to which the previous uproar
was a whisjDcr. The hubbub that follows the winning of the
Derby generally dies away as the horses pull up to return to
scale ; not so to-day. The purple and scarlet of the Heir to
the Throne has been borne past the post first by a neck after a
splendid race, and it is not a vast crowd of racegoers but of
loyal subjects that is cheering. Now it lulls for a moment,
now swells again, while hats by hundreds are thrown in the air
by men fairly beside themselves. The crowd floods the course
and surges, a dense mass, round the winner as Marsh leads him,
escorted by mounted police, to the gate where the Prince is
waiting. Another roar as Watts doffs his cap to His Royal
Highness. Another lull. " All right ! " from the weighing
room, is acknowledged by yet another deafening storm of
cheering. The crowd seems unable to leave off. " Well,"
says an old racegoer, " I have seen a good many Derbies, and
I thought the demonstration when Ladas won couldn't be
beaten ; but it was nothing to this." '

The Derby crowd of Persimmon's year was one of the
largest — some estimated it to be quite the largest — ever
seen on Epsom Downs : the police maintained that there were
a quarter of a million people present.

The Derby of 1901, Volodyovski's year, was the first in
which the starting gate was used. The field was a large one,
twenty-five horses, and only one, Orchid, made any objection
to the barrier he was required to face.

The origin of the starting gate can be traced to the Arabs.
The famous Emir Abd-el Kadir in the account of racing he gave
General Daumas (The Horses of the Sahara) says: 'The horses
are grouped together by tens, but before allowing them to
start and to prevent false starts, the following precaution is
taken. A rope is stretched across touching the animals' chests,
the two ends of which are held by two men. This rope is
called el mikbad and el mikouas.' The gate had been an

258

EACING

institution on Australian courses for some few years before its
adoption in this country : every one remembers the animated
discussion which followed the Jockey Club's decision to
estabhsh it on English courses two years after it had first been
experimentally tried. The Tathwell Stakes at the Lincoln
meeting of 1900 was the first race to be started by the gate
under the compulsory rule which applied to the two-year-old
events of that season, by way of progressively introducing the
appliance to all races. Few of those connected with the turf
would care to revert now to the old flag system of starting.

The autumn of 1897 saw the appearance at Newmarket of
Sloan the American jockey, whose peculiar seat on a horse
furnished food for abundant merriment — for a time. ' That
Sloan,' says INIr. Charles Richardson in The English Turf,
' won races was at first regarded as a benevolent freak of
Providence : for who, taking the accepted English seat as the
model of perfection, could do justice to the race-horse in the
monkey-on-a-stick attitude assumed by the American ? '
Jocular criticism was silenced, however, when, in the autumn
of 1898, Sloan came to England again, and in 98 races rode
41 winners, 21 seconds, and 7 thirds. The peculiarity of his
seat perhaps did something to blind the majority to the fact
that he was an extraordinarily good judge of pace and had
exceptionally good hands. Sloan's success revolutionised the
style of race-riding in Britain, but the change has not been all
for the better. Races are now run from start to finish more
frequently than they used to be, and this is attributed to the
impossibility of properly controlling the horse when the
' monkey-on-a-stick ' seat is assumed. To the same cause may
be traced the frequent interference with one another of horses
and ' bumping finishes.' After all, the old-fashioned seat in the
saddle which allowed the jockey to ride his horse had much
to recommend it over the attitude said to have been copied
from North American Indian horsemen.

259

STEEPLE-CHASING

THE modern steeplechase or point to point race might
hardly recognise the original parent of both. When
the ardent ' bruiser ' of the mid-eighteenth century
felt moved to run his horse against another across
country he challenged the owner of that other to a ' wild goose
chase ' : whereof let old authority speak. It was : —

'A sort of racing on horse-back, iised formerly, which resem-
bled the flying of wild geese, those birds generally going in a
train one after another, not in confused flocks as other fowls
do. In this sort of race the two horses after running twelve-
score yards had liberty, which horse soever could get the lead-
ing, to ride what ground the jockey pleased, the hindmost
horse being bound to follow him within a certain distance
agreed on by articles, or else be whipped in by the tryers and
judges who rode by : and whichever horse could distance the
other won the race.'

The obvious objection to this style of racing wrought its
vmdoing. If the leader could not distance his rival — i.e. gain
a lead of 240 yards — and the rival, faint yet pursuing, scorned
to pull up, the horses might be galloped to death and yet leave
the match drawn. Hence some daring innovator suggested
the advantages of a race run over a specified distance : a plan
which had hvimanity and common-sense to recommend it.

There is record of a cross-country race in Ireland in the
year 1752, between Mr. O'Callaghan and Mr. Edmund Blake ;
four miles and a half ; bvit this we must suppose was merely
a solitary incident. Cross-country races, in England at all
events, did not become a recognised form of sport until the
early years of the nineteenth century ; and they were not

260

STEEPLE-CHASING

frequent then if we may base an opinion on this note in the
Sporting Magazine of January 1804 : —

' Curious Horse Race. A wager betwixt Captains
Prescott and Tucker of the 5th Light Dragoons was deter-
mined on Friday, 20th inst., by a singular horse-race which we
learn is denominated steeple-hunting. The race was run from
Chapel Houses on the west turnpike, to the Cowgate, New-
castle, a distance of three miles in a direct line across the
country, which Captain T. gained by near a quarter of a mile.
The mode of running such races is not to deviate more than
fifteen yards from the direct line to the object in view notwith-
standing any impediments the rider may meet with, such as
hedges, ditches, etc : the leading horse has the choice of road
to the extent of the limits, and the other cannot go over the
same ground, but still preserving those limits must choose
another road for himself.'

A genuine point to point race you will observe : Captains
Prescott and Tucker rode ' the direct line to the object in
view,' just as in modern point to point races during the later
'seventies and early 'eighties, the field were lined up and de-
spatched on their journey to some distant mark, church steeple
or the like.

A famous race was that run on 30th March 1826 between
Captain Horatio Ross and Captain Douglas. ' Nimrod ' was
among those present and he wrote an account of it — the first
detailed description of a steeplechase extant : —

' . . . The following was the origin of the match — As
Lord Kennedy, Captain Ross, and Mr. Cruickshank were on
their road to Epsom races, last spring, the merits of a Captain
Douglas (who hunts in Forfarshire) as a rider, became the
topic of conversation, and a comparison was hazarded between
him and some of the crack Melton men. Captain Ross ob-
served that a tip-top provincial rider will generally be found
in the crowd in a Leicestershire field — a truism which can
never be dovibted. It was then hinted that Captain Ross,
with his stable of horses, ought to be always in the first flight

261

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

in the Quorn country. In short, to use an humble phrase,
one word produced another ; and the argument, as arguments
among EngUshmen generally do, concluded in a bet ; and
Captain Douglas was matched to ride four miles over Leicester-
shire against Captain Ross. . . . The ground run over —
from Barkby Holt to Billesden Coplow — is generally supposed
to want about a quarter of a mile of four miles, and is, for
the most part, of very uneven surface. From the repeated
trials each party had had over it, the fences were considerably
broken ; and were, indeed, not in a state to have stopped the
commonest hack. Nevertheless, though the ground was dry
enough to bear the horses, and all grass, it was distressing.

' The weight of the parties was as follows : — Douglas,
previous to training, 14 st. ; but he rode the race 12st. 9 lb.
Ross, previous to training, 13 st. 5 lb. ; and he rode the match
list. 8 lb. ; in a 10 lb. saddle. Mr. White was umpire to the
former, and Sir Vincent Cotton to the latter, with Mr. Maxse
as judge. When Captain Ross came to Melton for the winter,
he found himself not only without a horse, in his own stable,
which he considered fit for such a match, but he knew not
where to go to find one. His friends, however, were par-
ticularly kind to him, and offered him the picking of their
studs. After several trials a horse called Clinker, the pro-
perty of Mr. Holyoake, was fixed upon ; and as in his trial
he went over the ground — then very deep — in eleven minutes
and fifteen seconds, with Dick Christian, weighing 13st. 4 lb.
on his back, little doubt, barring accidents, was entertained
of his being the winner. Clinker was purchased by Mr.
Holyoake from Mr. J. Leeds, a celebrated rider with the
Oakley hounds ; and is got by Clinker, dam by Sancho, grand-
dam by Fidget, out of Lily of the Valley, by Echpse. If any
proof were wanting to shew the effect of condition on good
form and high breeding it would be found in the remarkable
instance of this horse having been formerly in Mr. Musters'
stable and considered too bad to be kept at fifty poimds.

' The following facts should be stated to the very great

262

STEEPLE-CHASING

credit of Mr. Holyoake. From fear of accidents, he gave up
hunting Clinker for two months before the race ; and three
weeks previous to the day of starting, he refused twelve hun-
dred guineas for him' — declaring, that, as he had promised
him to Captain Ross, five thousand should not purchase him.

' The same difficulty attended my Lord Kennedy in select-
ing a horse for this arduous undertaking. He first purchased
a brown horse from Colonel Wallace, for £400 ; Why not, a
horse that ran pretty well three years ago, as a cocktail ; a
brown horse, at a pretty large price, from the Hon. Mr. More-
ton ; and Radical, — the horse that started — from Mr. Thomas
Assheton Smith, for £500. Radical, also got by Chnker, is
quite thoroughbred ; and Mr. Smith, who has ridden him
three seasons, considered him the fastest horse he ever had.
Lord Kennedy also deputed Captain Douglas to go to Lord
Lynedoch, and offer him £800 for Whitestockings, the horse
his Lordship purchased the season before last from Lord
Kintore.

' The concourse of people upon the ground on the morn-
ing of the race was very great, and a considerable display of
carriages was to be seen in the grounds of Quornby Hall,
situated about a mile fi'om the Coplow, and through which
the riders were to pass.

' A little after two o'clock the gentlemen started ; and as
nearly as I could collect, the following is a statement of the
race : — Mr Holyoake's instructions to Captain Ross were,
that he should let Captain Douglas go first, provided he went
off at a slapping pace ; but if not, Clinker was to take the lead.
Douglas, however, took the lead, and kept for about four
fields, when Radical, refusing a fence, swerved against a gate,
and threw his rider over it. Chnker followed him to the gate,
and here some confusion arose. Ross was not shaken from
his seat ; but in consequence of the wrists of both these
gentlemen being strapped to their bridle reins — with a view
of preventing their losing their horses in case of falls — he got

' Mr. Holyoake afterwards sold Clinker to Captain Ross for 600 guineas.

263

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

entangled in those of his adversary, but soon extricated him-
self, and went on at a killing pace. In attempting to catch
him, it is generally considered that Douglas pumped the wind
out of Radical, which occasioned him to fall at a small fence ;
and, by all accounts, his rider had a narrow escape of being
seriously injured. Nothing daunted — for few men are harder
or have better nerve — Douglas was in his saddle again, and
charged a very large place (to get back into his line), which
Radical cleared in a most workmanlike manner. His chance,
however, was now out ; Ross was gotten more than half a
mile ahead of him ; and when he passed me, about a mile
from home — he was going quite at his leisure, not three parts
speed.

' The scene at the Coplow beggars description. I can only
compare it to a charge of cavalry, without the implements of
destruction, although those who were in the thick of it were not
free from danger. I never saw so much hajipiness depicted in
one man's face as shewed itself in that of the winner, and the
acclamations of his friends rent the air.

' That Captain Ross appeared the favourite of the field,
truth compels me to state ; and I think it was to be attri-
buted, among others, to these causes : — first, the unassuming
conduct he has invariably observed on the occasion ; and
secondly, to the great and never ceasing exertions of his
friend Mr. Holyoake, to pull him well through. My old
acquaintance, Mr. Frank Needham of Hungerton, exerted
himself most powerfully in his favour, and no doubt his friends
were pretty numerous on the ground.

' Some idea may be formed of the pace these gentlemen
must have gone over the first part of the ground, when I state
the fact, that the distance was performed by Clinker in eleven
minutes thirty seconds ; ^ although, as I have before stated,
he was going quite at his ease for the last mile, or more. Dur-
ing this part of the race I rode by the side of, and conversed

' Captain Ross says the time 'by stop-watch was 11| minutes; a good pace over
a very hilly country."

264

STEEPLE-CHASING

with, my friend Captain Ross, who also appeared quite at his
ease ; and when he pulled up at the Coplow, I narrowly
observed the state of his horse. There were no symptoms of
fatigue ; no tottering on his legs ; no poking out his nose ;
no quivering of the muscles ; no distress for wind ; but he
walked down the hill with his rider upon him, in full possession
of his powers, and fit to have carried him over a large fence
at the bottom of it. His condition, it must be allowed, was
perfect.

' Not being able to be in two places at one time, I did not
see Radical till some minutes after he had come in, when I
perceived no symptoms of distress. He has all the appear-
ance of a hunter, with immense powers in his thighs and hocks.
He was ridden in a snaffle bridle, and I understand he will go
in no other. Indeed, I should imagine from an expression of
his late owner, that he is not every one's horse. . . .'

Concerning that incident at the gate, Captain Ross gave
an account which puts it in a somewhat different light. The
evening before the race, he says. Lord Kennedy sought an
interview with him and, urging the desirability of leaving no
loophole for misunderstanding, suggested that each rider
should do just as he pleased. ' In short,' rejoined Captain
Ross, ' I understand that we may ride over each other and
kill each other, if we can. Is that so ? ' ' Just so,' was Lord
Kennedy's answer. ' Odd enough,' continues Captain Ross,
' the first jump was a five-barred gate. I lay with Clinker's
head about Douglas's knee. When within forty or Mix yards
of the gate I saw clearly that Radical meant to refuse : so
recollecting last night's bargain, I held Clinker well in hand.
Radical, as I expected, when close to the gate turned right
across Clinker. I stuck the spur in, knocked Douglas over
the gate and sent Radical heels over head, and lying on this
side of it.'

The foundation-stone of organised steeple-chasing was laid
in 1830 when certain officers of the 1st Life Guards asked the
well-known trainer ' Tommy ' Coleman, then landlord of the
2l 265

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Chequers Inn, or Turf Hotel, at St. Albans, to arrange the
matter. It was a thoroughly sporting affair : the ' articles ' pro-
vided for a sweepstakes of 25 sovereigns, each horse to carry
12 stone over not less than four miles of fast hunting country,
to be chosen by Coleman within forty miles of London. No
rider was to be told the line until at the starting-post, and no
rider to pass through an open gateway or traverse road or
lane for more than 50 yards. Coleman chose a genuine point
to point course, starting the field of fifteen from the hill where
Harlington Church stands, the winning post being the Obelisk
in Wrest Park near Silsoe. Here is ' The Druid's ' account of
the race : — ' Coleman so managed the line, that he could start
them, and then by making a short cut, judge them as well.
Lord Ranelagh's grey horse Little Wonder, with Colonel
Macdowell up, won the stake, which was worth about 300
sovereigns. The Colonel's orders were to watch nothing but
Lord Clanricarde, who was on a little Irish chestnut ; and one
of the Berkeleys was third. ^ The rest found their way into
the Park from all quarters ; with the exception of poor Mr.
Stretfield on Teddy the Tiler, who had a fall in jumping a
gate back on to a bridge after he had missed his line, and died
in consequence.'

Coleman's general idea of a steeplechase was two miles
out and two miles in, and ' keeping the line quite dark.'
Hence he concealed men in the ditches, with flags, which
they raised at a given signal, as soon as the riders were ready.
Other managers liked four miles straight, and after erecting
scaffold poles, with a couple of sheets to finish between, they
left the riders to hunt the country for their line, with no
further directions than ' leave that church on your right,
and the clump on your left, and get to the hill beyond.'

The St. Albans meeting lasted only a few years : its own
success was its undoing. Steeple-chasing was a novelty, and
such large and unmanageable crowds collected that the

' Lord Clanricarde's 'little Irish chestnut' was Nailer, who came in second: the
Hon. A. Berkeley rode Mr. AVombwell's grey Rockingham.

266

STEEPLE-CHASING

farmers over whose land the sport took place rebelled, and
in 1838 the last St. Albans race was run.

There had been a selling steeplechase at Aintree (nine
runners; won by the Duke) in 1836, but, as 'The Druid' says,
' Liverpool began its Grand National in earnest ' in 1839,
and the glory that had been St. Albans' was translated to the
Aintree course.

Commander W. B. Forbes, R.N., sends the following
account of the Grand National of 1882, famous in the annals
of the great race as having been won by a man who rode
his own horse, after one of the closest finishes ever seen : —

' " That must be the happiest man on the top of the earth
at the present moment," said the late Mr. John Watson to me
in his own emphatic way, as we watched the mud-bespattered
Lord Manners strip the saddle from the back of the gallant
Seaman after the race. And though Lord Manners seemed
very calm amid the uproarious cheering and overwhelming
congratulations of those who crowded round him, I feel
pretty sure that my old friend was right ; for not to many
comes, even once in a lifetime, the intense and satisfying joy
that follows the accomplishment of some great deed upon
which the heart is set.

' Never shall I forget the scene as the owner- jockey
emerged from the weighing room when " all right " had been
pronounced after the most exciting struggle I ever witnessed
on a steeplechase course. There were many circumstances
connected with the race which made it in every way one of
the most memorable contests on record : and not even when
His Majesty's royal purple was borne first past "the post on
Ambush II was victory more popular. For it was known to
all that Lord Manners, then a young Guardsman, 30 years of
age, had purchased Seaman at a long figure for the express
purpose of winning the Grand National with him and riding
him himself ; an idea, which, though it seemed quixotic to the
British Public, caused the gallant Guardsman to become a
popular idol when it was realised. Yet Lord Manners was not

267

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

the tyro at the game that he was generally represented to be,
for he owned at least one other very good horse, also an Irish
bred one and, like Seaman, from Linde's stable. This was
Lord Chancellor, by the Lawyer out of Playfair, a six year old,
on whom his Lordship had won the Grand Military Gold Cvip
at Sandown three weeks before ; so the jockey was pretty fit,
as a man must needs be to accomplish the proudest ambition
of the soldier rider — to win the Gold Cup and the National in
the same year. As a five year old Lord Chancellor had shown
good form in Ireland ; as a four year old, under the name of
Pickpocket, he had won the Farmers' race at the Ward Hunt
Meeting, and also the Bishopscourt Plate at Punchestown,
with Mr. " Harry " Beasley in the saddle on both occasions.
And now about the antecedents of the equine hero of the
Grand National of 1882.

' In that year the Linde combination — Mr. Linde to train
and the brothers Beasley to ride — was going very strong in-
deed. The stable with Empress and Woodbrook had won the
two previous Grand Nationals, those of 1880 and 1881, while
in 1879 poor Garrett Moore had done the trick on his own
Liberator, and it almost seemed as if we were never again
to see the winner of the great race trained and ridden by
Englishmen.

' The Eyrefield Lodge master had seldom a stronger hand
to play than was his when he threw away his trump card,
and sold Seaman to Captain Machell for Lord Manners. But
Mr. Linde was a very astute personage and knew that there
was a " wonder " who was little known, and a couple of
clinkers besides in his stable ; while he doubted much if
Seaman would stand a Grand National preparation — such a
preparation, at least, as he was in the habit of bestowing
upon his charges. Seaman, son of Xenophon and Lena Rivers,
in 1882 was a six year old ; he was not a very big horse nor
had he the best of legs, indeed they showed signs of the Veter-
inary surgeon's art. He was a good bay, very deep over the
heart and one of the gamest that ever looked through a bridle.

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STEEPLE-CHASING

He made a memorable first appearance as a four year old in
Ireland by winning the Members' Plate at Longford when
there was a very bumping finish between Seaman, ridden by
Mr. H. Beasley, and Mr. Croker's Sir Garnet, a crack four year
old of the time, ridden by Mr. D. Murphy. The latter came
in first by a neck, but was disqualified for unfair riding on
Mr. Murphy's part.

' Next year (1881) Seaman rose to great fame by jumping
the big fences like a deer, gaining at every fence and winning
the Conyngham Cup at Punchestown by ten lengths with his
pilot, Harry Beasley, looking back at his followers. It has
not been often remarked, I think, that Lord Manners rode his
own horse Grenadier in that Conyngham Cup, and here it was
that he probably made his first acquaintance with Seaman,
whose last race this was in the maroon and blue cap of
Mr. Linde, for he crossed the channel and went into Captain
Machell's care. But in the stable at Eyrefield remained a
brace of five year olds with either of which Linde thought he
might win another National. One of these was Cyrus, another
son of Xenophon and an unlucky horse for Mr. Linde, the
other Mohican by Uncas, the property of the late Major
Ralph Bunbury, a most cheery and amusing sportsman, a
friend of my own and one of the best men to hounds in
Kilkenny. Mohican had won a Farmers' race in Kilkenny for
Major Bunbury, but he won it by about a mile, and after the
race poor Roddy Owen, then a subaltern at Cork, thought he
saw a " soft thing " and asked Bunbury to put a price on his
horse. " 1000 golden sovereigns " instantly replied the hilari-
ous owner. The fact was that Mohican had shown great
speed on the flat when in training at the Curragh but had
developed a " pain in his temper "—with the usual result.
However he had grown into a slashing young dark brown horse,
had an immense stride and was a tremendous jumper. Here
was the trump card ! His trial with Cyrus proved him a
wonder, and I believe that he easily beat and gave weight
to the horse that was to give him 2 lb. in the National.

269

BRITISH SPORT PAST AND PRESENT

Mohican, ridden by Harry Beasley, carried most of the
money and* started favourite in a field of 12 for the Grand
National. Cyrus, 10 st. 9 \h., was ridden by Mr, T. Beasley.
Seaman by Lord Manners, 11 st. 6 tb. Adams was on
Liberator the '79 winner, Captain Smith was on " Zoedone "
— the next year's winner : Frank Wynne steered " Black
Prince," Mr. Thirlwell, " Eau de Vie " : Jewitt rode the Scot :
Waddington, Montauban : Mr. E. P. Wilson was on Fay :
Andrews on Wild Monarch, and Sensier on Ignition. It will
thus be seen that the pick of all the talent of the time was
arrayed against the venturous Lord Manners.

' Very heavy rain had fallen, and the morning of March 23rd
was as disagreeable as it often is at Aintree, the course in front
of the stands was horribly muddy, and light misty rain almost
obscured the canal turn. There was a murmur of applause
when Seaman passed in the Parade, but in the canter Harry
Beasley fetched Mohican a rib-binder to wake him up, a pro-
ceeding that I did not like, tho' his owner, who stood next to
me, took it as a " matter of course." (I beg leave to say that
no joke is intended !)

' There is nothing in racing that seems to me quite as
exciting as the start for the National. When the flag fell
away they went in splendid line into the dull grey distance.
My little money was on the favourite, but Seaman's progress
attracted me most and I watched through my glasses the
splendid style in which he sailed over what used to be called
" Fan's fence " ; but thanks to the weather our glasses be-
came of little use after that. Mohican fell at the big second
fence into the country, taking off far too soon and dropping
his hind legs into the far ditch, but Mr. Beasley rolled away
unhurt ; he was striding along in great form when he fell and
looked the giant of the cluster that led. Seaman at the water
covered a lot of space in his jump and Cyrus skimmed it " like
a swallow on a summer's eve " ; but the day grew darker as
they turned and it was difficult to see more till they came
round again for home. Then it was clear that two horses

270

STEEPLE-CHASING

were out by themselves. Though jackets and faces of riders
were of one uniform mud-colour I recognised the neat seat
of little Beasley and the other horse, I knew, was Seaman.

' Now at the Curragh three years later Fred Archer, having
been beaten in the Welter race by Tommy Beasley on Spahi
after a great set-to, declared that he had never seen an amateur
who could ride as good a finish as his opponent. So here was
the " tyro " pitted against this redoubtable race-rider in one
of the most desperate finishes ever seen at Aintree. As they
neared the last fence, however, my glasses showed me that
Cyrus was a more beaten horse than Seaman, and Beasley
took hold of him and resolutely drove him at it. I think the
fences were then not so strongly made up as they seemed to
be the last time I walked the course, for Cyrus fairly " mowed
it," while Seaman jumped it clean and well. Once over,
though, he hung a bit and lost some ground. Beasley was
" at " his mount and level again with Seaman. Locked
together they passed the stands, Lord Manners sitting still
but riding out his horse with his hands. Beasley doing all
he knew and squeezing the last ounce out of Cyrus, the last
oimce, the absolutely last ounce ! for on the very post he
drops back the merest trifle and the race is Seaman's by the
shortest of heads. " How did the Lord work ? " I heard one
of the Irish brigade ask the defeated jockey. "He made no
mistake from first to last," was the quiet reply — " Don't I
wish he had ! " The gallant Seaman broke down after passing
the post and came back on three legs to be greeted as I have
described, having run his last race. The leg "held" just a
little too long for Mr. Linde.'

271

A Specimen of Sport and Art in Colour

AN END TO "COFFEE HOUSING"

(A Sussex Cover— Crawley and Horsham)

From Ihc pamOHR bv Cilbol Halidny. reproduced from "Ihc llluilrtled Sponina ind Dnmitic Ncwi" o[ Oclobcr 20. 1^

Now vere are all your sorrows and your cares, ye gloomy souls !
Or where your pains and aches, ye complainin' ones !
One holla' has dispelled them all 1

— (Mr. Jorrocks Sporting Lecture).

REYHARO (FHYSSCSAH)

By Lionel Euxi'arJs

Ui\y

THE F

VHHCIES

The pride of the morning, the sweet, fresh scent of the earth, the soft patter of pads on the plough, the squelch of hoofs, the rate oi
the whips as hounds go to a draw, what real enthusiast cares overmuch where the scene is laid ? — whether in the classic region of
Ashby Pastures, the Belvoir Vale, the Burton Flats, or in strongly-enclosed Essex, the galloping countries of the west, so long as he )'
■^ playing the game of his heart — the world is fair, and all's well!

D 000 015 330 4

TEUE SMHIRES

(The end of a perfect day in a far from perfect setting, for smoking chimneys, even though they lend themselves as a background to the
I artist, do not somehow seem to fit in with muddy hounds, mud-plastered horses, pink coats, and muddy boots. Yet, as we know, when it's
a case of getting home to the boiling coppers, dry bandages, a warm loose box, and a bran mash, the shortest way, whether it's through

a busy manufacturing centre in the midlands or a muddy country lane, is the best

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