Fox and hounds

FOX

^^'"I-IOUNDS

VHK ISRITISH SWmr SKRIKS

JOHNA.SEAVERNS

Webster Family Library of Veterinary
Cummings School of Veterinary Mei
Tufts University

200 Westboro Road ^

North Gratton, MA 01536 ^

FoX'hunting:
** Forrard Away^

Fainting by G. D. Armcnr,

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FOX AND
H O I J N D S

BY

E.D. CUMING

AVITH ILLUSTl^VnONS BY

G.DKNHOLM ARMOUR

THE IJRITISH
SPORT SERIKS

HODDKIV AND STOTJCJHTON

FOX-HUNTING

•-p^OX-HUNTING,' wrote Beckford in 1787, *is
1^ 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

1 Letters of Sir Robert Walpole, Hist. MSS. Comm.

FOX AND HOUND

the Harriers. The first is now enjoyed by Colonel
Negus ; the latter is vacant, and if your Lordship
thinks it more agreeable to be Master of the Fox-
hounds the King has no objection to the style or name
of 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, which his Majesty is willing to grant to
your Lordship with the salary of £2,000 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 con-
sideration.

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 diflFerent 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

^ Bcckford's frequent quotations from The Chace are omitted.

6

FOX-HUNTING

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 discretion 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 steadily they draw! you
hear not a single hound, yet none of them are idle. Is
not this better than to be subject to continual dis-
appointment 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.— What a crash they make ! and echo seem-
ingly takes pleasure to repeat the sound. The

FOX AND HOUND

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

8

FOX-HUNTING

the very spot, yet the sheep stop them not, for they
dash beyond them. Now see with 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, Trwm^w is on the

scent-he feathers, yet still is doubtful-'tis right!

How readily they join him ! See those wide-castmg

FOX AND HOUND

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 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 judgment 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 overrun the scent ; have a little patience, and

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FOX-HUNTING

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 ! 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 \s
at his heels, and death is not far oflF. — Ha ! they stop
all 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 Dreadnought, how he works him ! the
terriers too, they are now squeaking at him. — How
close Vengeance persues ! how terribly she presses ! —
it is just up with him ! 'Gods ! what a crash they
make ; the whole wood resounds ! — That turn was
very short ! — There ! — now ! — aye, now they have
him ! Who — hoop ! ' . . .

11

FOX AND HOUND

The practice of trailing 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 continued in
the New Forest during the earlier years of the nine-
teenth 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 im-
proved that the majority of foxes are found and
killed . . . after twelve o'clock.'

There was, it must be said, at least one among the
improvements the Colonel did not regard as such : to
wit, 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

1 They certainly required 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 5.50 p.m., having covered a distance conscientiously affirmed to
be 58 miles 2 furlongs 10 yards.

12

Foxhounds,

Showing Rounded and

Unrounded Ear,

Painting by G. D. Armour.

FOX-HUNTING

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 happened to be scarce therein, he
might temporarily stock the country without re-
proach : —

* Mr. Fermor's excellent pack is come, or coming at
the end of this mouth (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 Suff*olk, 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 1805, 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

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FOX AND HOUND

New Mills near Whitchurch. The whole chase is
computed to be upwards of forty miles as the crow
flies, and with scarcely a check.' Mention of bag
foxes recalls a comical story told of Tom Hills, the
famous Old Surrey huntsman. He was carrying
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 respond-
ed to the demand for his money by bidding his
assailant help himself from the pocket which con-
tained the fox : and while the highwayman was be-
wailing 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 Wellesbourne 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 six-
teen-mile 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.

16

FOX-HUNTING

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, leaping 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 a 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

1 Master from 1817 to 1821, and again from 1823 to 1827.

17 c

FOX AND HOUND

immediately disappears. Five minutes more pass
away. **No fox here," says one. ** Don't be in a
hurry," cries Mr. Cradock,^ **they are drawing 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 hunts-
man ; 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

^ This gentleman resided within the limits of the Quorn hunt, and kindly
superintended the management of the covers. He has lately paid the debt of
Nature.

- Mr. Osbaldeston was popularly called ' Squire ' Osbaldeston.

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FOX-HUNTING

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 con-
spicuous situation: *'Gome 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 country-
man in a tree. ** He's gone," exclaims Lord Alvanley ;
and, clapping his spurs to his horse, in an instant is in
the front rank.

'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 a/ow^," 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."

Said to be the designer of the * billy-cock ' hat.

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FOX AND HOUND

* 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 extraordinary 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 burst 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^

^ Mr. Osbaldeston sold Ashton to Lord Plymouth for four hundred guineas
after having ridden him six seasons.

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FOX-HUNTING

looking fresh ; but only fourteen men out of the
two hundred are to be counted ; all the rest are
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 T^
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. Per-
chance one hound in five may throw his tongue as he

21 D

FOX AND HOUND

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 hounds them-
selves 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
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 elite of the field, who had come up at the
first check ; and a few who, thanks to the goodness of
their steeds, and their determination 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 flying
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 enquire. 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 BrudeneP

^ Afterwards Lord Cardigan.

22

FOX-HUNTING

to Jack Stevens. ** Can't tell, my Lord; but I
thought it was a queerish place when I came over
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 Httle 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 Rancliffe. **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 so ever she may be, if unreasonable 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 hundreds of years
since, into rather high ridges, with deep holding
furrows between each. The fence at the top is
impracticable — Meltonice, **a stopper"; nothing for
it but a gate, leading into a broad green lane, high and
strong, with deep slippery ground on each side of it.
**Now for the timber-jumper," cries Osbaldeston,
pleased to find himself upon Ash ton. **For heaven's
sake take care of my hounds, in case they may throw

23

FOX AND HOUND

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-
warrant 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 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
discovers quite unexpectedly 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
White 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, abounding 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,

24

FOX-HUNTING

leans outward 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 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. Osbaldes-
ton (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'll 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 Mus-
grave two young Furrier hounds, who are particularly
distinguishing themselves at the moment. ** Worth

1 One peculiar excellence in Mr. Osbaldeston's hounds was their steadiness
under pressure by the crowd.

25

FOX AND HOUND

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 Ranks-
borough gorse, the villain has nowhere to stop short of
Woodwell-head 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 the 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

^ Sir Francis Burdett, M.P. for Westminster 1807-1837, was prominent among
the organisers of the * Hampden Clubs,' founded in 1816 and after, for parliamen-
tary reform. He was 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 one day with hounds.

26

FOX-HUNTING

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 sub-
siding 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 has 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'll be drowned," exclaims Lord Kin-
naird. **I shouldn't wonder," observes Mr. William
Coke. But the pace is too good to enquire.'

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 1863-1864 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.

^ * Talk of tumbles ! I have had eleven In one day down there [Melton] when
I was above seventy.' — Dick Christianas Lectures^ see Post and Paddock by 'The
Druid.'

27

FOX AND HOUND

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

17th March 1837.— Mr. Delme RadcHffe's Wen-
dover Run. Found at Kensworth at half-past two,
ran their fox to Hampden and lost him at dusk :
2 hours 35 minutes: 18j 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 Hi out.i

Zrd February 1868. — The Meynell, Radbourne
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 Great-
wood Run. Found Gretenham Great Wood :
marked to the ground on Swindon side of High-
worth: 14 miles point to point: 28 miles as hounds
ran. 3 hours 30 minutes.

^ 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 journey.'

28

FOX-HUNTING

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

9th February 1881. — Mr. 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.

l5^ December 1888. — The Grafton, Brafield Run.
Found 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.

IMh 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.

27 th 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

29

FOX AND HOUND

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 house-
keeper's bed upstairs, Catas Farm, near Heather,
Leicestershire : late in October or early in 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 extraordinary. Foxes often seek
refuge in trees, ^ and if disturbed drop to ground
without hesitation. 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 slightly slanting elm up
which the fox, helped by ivy, had climbed.
The fox eventually went nearly to the top, and

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

30

FOX-HUNTING

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.

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 oflF the line of a fox: he showed
signs of being beaten, and they killed him after
a comparatively short burst. While breaking him
up Lord Fitzwilliam'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 the UUswater
on Cross Fell Range : 23 lbs., four 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, 20i and 18i lbs. On 4th January 1878 the
Sinnington killed a 19i lb. fox. The fox that
was too heavy for 20 lb. scale but was estimated
to w^eigh 26 lbs., must be regretfully omitted from
the list.

31

FOX AND HOUND

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 are rounded
and one is not. Unfortunately none of these works
are dated. Stephen Elmer's portrait of Mr. Corbet's
Trojan^ entered 1780, shows 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' P^

' . . . 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

* Fraser's Magazine, April 1858.

32

Fox-hunting :
The Vale.

Painting by G. D, Armour.

^^w/^^_.

. ^//r

m

/

#

'"^■ii

^

FOX-HUNTING

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)
the Middle Ages attributed the power of seeing
ghosts and fairies impalpable to man's gross
eyes. Besides, 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.

35

FOX AND HOUND

* 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 Male-
partus ; 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, and Isegrim
the wolf, or any foolish brute whom thy great
ancestor outwitted. Man, the many-counselled, has

36

FOX-HUNTING

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 immortals? Who knows?
Not I. I am rising fast to Pistol's vein. Shall I
ejaculate? Shall I notify? Shall I awaken 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 Hullah, 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 what-

37 F

FOX AND HOUND

ever 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 Shakespeare ; but oh, that
you could hear this madrigal ! If you must have
**four parts," then there they are. Deep-mouthed
bass, rolling along the ground ; 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

38

FOX-HUNTING

shalt have enough of it in the next hour. For as
the Etruscans (says Athenseus) were so luxurious
that they used to flog their slaves to the sound
of the flute, so shall luxurious Chanter and ChalleU'
ger^ 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 the 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 specialite, for which I
like him. That huntsman I have known for fifteen
years, and sat many an hour beside his father's
deathbed. I am a 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 gen-
erations, 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 Gross at Inkermann:

39

FOX AND HOUND

that bright 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 sabreur 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 Groats'
March (the finest trotting march in the world),

40

FOX-HUNTING

played by those iron heels ; the time, as it does
in the Croats' March, breaking now and then,
plunging, jingling, struggHng 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 Reinecke's footsteps. Look at
Virginal, five yards ahead of the rest, as her stern
flourishes, and her pace quickens. Hark to Vir-
ginal! 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 com-
mon 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

41

FOX AND HOUND

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 batde with your peers,"

or those of the realm in Leicestershire, Rutland,
or Northampton. 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 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 civilized country, as it
appears in Leech's inimitable caricatures. . . .

* . . . Racing, indeed ; for as Reinecke gallops up
the narrow heather-fringed pathway, he brushes oflF

42

FOX-HUNTING

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 Hne
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, crackHng, spitting turpentine for a
mile on end. Now it lies all black and ghastly,
with hard charred stumps, like ugly teeth, or cal-
trops 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,

43

FOX AND HOUND

or whatever you call it. Much as I value agri-
cultural 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 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
stujQF on the top, which Nature put there on purpose
to help poor horsemen over, and the blanket of

44

Fox-hunting :
Jumping the Brook.

Painting by G. D. Armour.

\

FOX-HUNTING

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 Caryle 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." '

47

COURSING

LET us pass over the early history of coursing.
^ We know that Arrian wrote of the sport
in the second century, that King John accepted
greyhounds in lieu of cash for renewing crown
tenures in the thirteenth, that that all-round
sportsman, Henry viii., allowed twenty-four loaves
a day for his grey hounds, and that Thomas, Duke
of Norfolk, bestowed his approval on the first
code of coursing laws in Elizabeth's time. It is
also common knowledge 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
SwajQFham 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

48

COURSING

defeat : her son Claret was a famous dog, and
Claret's son Snowball was * supposed to be (taken
for everything) 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). *01d Kit' held organised coursing
of small account by comparison with that to be
enjoyed on the moors :

*What are your 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 gloaming 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

49 G

FOX AND HOUND

like a bird — tops that hedge that would turn any
hunter that ever stabled in Melton Mowbray — and
then, at full speed northward, 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."

This may be called roughing it — slovenly — course
— 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

50

COURSING

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 im-
pervious 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

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FOX AND HOUND

Sporting Annals included) who was not a man
both of abilities and virtues. But where are we? —
at the Trysting-Hill Farmhouse, jocularly called
Hunger-them-Out.

*Line is formed, and with measured steps we
march towards 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
sloth along the ground — spindle-shanked as a lean
and slippered pantaloon !

**0 heaven! that from our bright and shining 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 hour 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, Hke
thoughts pursuing thoughts — away fly hare and
hounds towards the mountain.

52

COURSING

* 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 ex-
ceedingly," 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 headlong passions ! Now
they are all three upon her — and she dies ! No !
glancing aside, like a bullet 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 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

53 H

FOX AND HOUND

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
perpendicular 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
imperceptibly the lead ; but she steals away from
them inch by inch — beating them all blind — and
suddenly disappearing, heaven knows how, leaves
them all in the lurch. With outloUing tongues,
hanging heads, panting sides, and drooping tails,
they come one by one down the steep, looking

54

COURSING

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 Gup in 1869.

*The morning finds us at Lynn's once more, and
the cards of the day show that Master MGrath
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 Gup, 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 Gromwellian
pike-men, with their long mahogany-coloured leap-
ing poles. The route Hes 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

55

FOX AND HOUND

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 oflScial
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. Speculation (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 trial cleverly
at his expense. Some of the dog carriages are
drawn in great style by three donkeys, but many

56

COURSING

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 remarkable
dog in his day, but now of good repute among grey-
hounds at the stud. The trainers are a motley lot
as regards dress ; but the real Altcar thing is sup-
posed 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 suc-
cession. 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

57

FOX AND HOUND

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 Groxteth, 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 ofi* across country to Groxteth, to tell
of his Sackcloth^s victory.

•The march of the cracks round and round the
farm paddock is one of the most beautiful sights. We
have noted there — before the first couple were called,
and the hare-boys (looking 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 diff*erence between the flying
whites of Liverpool, Mr. Spinks's Sea Pink and
Sea Foam.

* A quarter 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 begin-

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COURSING

ning, 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 single-hander,
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 beautiful, and not one mass of diachyplon plaster
as she was last year. She hung in the sHps a Httle,
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 Gup. 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 ignominiously crawls out up the opposite
bank. What comfort is it to him to be told to **put
on more powder " when all is over, and he is wet

59

FOX AND HOUND

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 diflScult, 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 AfGrath, 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

60

COURSING

get up, the Irish dog had raced right into his hare,
and flung it 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
deHghts the Irish division once more, and Ask
Mamma and Charming May ran as sweetly as ever.
Except Lady Lyons, there was nothing more beauti-
ful than ^^May'^ on the field. Ghillie Galium 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 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 rolHng
in a ditch doesn't rouse them. They were a singu-
larly 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 en-
croached 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,

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FOX AND HOUND

as** fur "was too plentiful; but at last they came
oflF the fallows by singles, and Master HfGrath 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.

*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 Gelt, 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.

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COURSING

At the end of the eighteenth and early in the
nineteenth century the FHxton meeting in York-
shire was notable for the distances run. *The
FHxton 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 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 for four 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 Gourtall of CarHsle, 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 greyhounds : she proved to be a comparatively
small one, weighing 8 lbs. 11 oz.

63

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