how I have escaped from every pack by which I have been hunted, I must
add, that having for a long time had a wish to see that part of the
Northampton country hunted till last year by the Duke of Grafton’s
hounds, in which the woods were of immense size, having heard that
T. Carter and his killing pack had left the country, and thinking it
would be a place of greater security for my old age, I went there last
spring, but had not been long settled in Puckland’s woods before I was
disturbed by hearing another pack, which soon found me out, and pursued
me for some time most closely, till at length they came to a check.
When listening, I heard a person ride up and use these words to the
huntsman: “Well, what are you going to do now? You had better be doing
something; it’s no use standing still.” There was some reply which I
could not hear. However, I discovered that the man addressed was Taylor
the huntsman, and that the pack was the remainder of that by which I
had first been hunted when it belonged to Mr. Osbaldiston. The only
difference I could observe was, that they were not quite so powerful.
That they were stout enough I had reason to know; for although I
escaped after their hunting me for several hours in these large woods,
they afterwards killed another fox without leaving the covert.
On another day, when I was lying in a large covert adjoining the Forest
of Whittlebury, and the hounds had been drawing some distance beyond
the spot where I lay, I thought that I could steal away unseen, and
had nearly reached the outside of the wood when I was much annoyed by
the noise of a jay, which kept flying above me as I went on. When I
stopped I heard a man say, “There is a fox moving close to that jay,
I’ll be sworn; just look, you will see him cross that path directly.”
This talking frightened me from the spot, and on my going a little
farther and crossing a path, another man exclaimed, “There he goes! it
was a fox that jay was making such a noise about.” He then gave a loud
view-halloo; the hounds soon came up, and after running some time in
the forest, I left them following another fox.
The little I had to say is said.
“Come, Dorset, fain would we hear thy story next. Our thoughts should
be open as the heavens above, and free as the winds that follow us. We
are brethren and fellows in our way of life, and thou may’st not doubt
that we will judge thy deeds fairly but kindly.”
“Justice, then, is fled to lowly beasts, for men have none of it.
Listen to my story, friends; a plain and unvarnished one it is, and you
shall have it freely and entirely.”
DORSET’S STORY
I was born in Cranborne Chace, which is in Mr. Farquharson’s hunt,
and it was here that I first heard the sound of a huntsman’s voice,
the voice of old Ben Jennings; and melodious as it might have been
considered by others, it was any thing but agreeable to my ear when he
used it to cheer on his hounds, which appeared so well to understand
it. It frequently was the cause of my leaving this large covert. I
returned to it because the hounds were apt to get on the scent of
another fox. The voice became at last so familiar to me that I heeded
it not, but rather found amusement in it, taking little trouble to
be out of hearing of it when the hounds were hunting me; but another
season came, and great was the difference. I lay in a favourite covert
called Short Wood, when I was startled by another voice instead of old
Ben’s, that of the new huntsman, Treadwell’s, clear and beautiful—not
so powerful as that which I had been used to of late, nor was it _vox
et præterea nihil_; for his system was one which soon made me give
up listening when the hounds were pursuing. I found that I had now no
longer time to wait and hang about as I had done. I was obliged to get
away as fast as I could, and had enough to do to escape from the new
man, whose coolness and perseverance frightened me. My first escape was
owing to an imperfect cast which he made when the hounds had come to
a check in a field, where there was a flock of sheep, for instead of
taking the hounds entirely round and close under the hedge, beginning
at the left hand, he missed that corner for about fifty yards, where
it happened that I had gone through the fence, and by the time he had
taken them close all round every where else and held them on forward,
time was lost, and the hounds got on the scent exactly opposite.
Although it now became slow hunting, I did not feel safe until I heard
him blow his horn to go home. I believe that this kind of mistake, or
rather neglect, has been frequent on the part of other huntsmen by
whom I have been hunted. Be that as it may, one or two escapes from
this able man and his pack were sufficient to induce me to get quickly
into another hunt out of his way. Those escapes may be attributed to
the want of scent, and they will not seem surprising, if the time be
calculated which was lost at every check, whilst I was going on without
listening as the hare always does. Having stopped some little time in
a strong covert of gorse in an open down, in Mr. Drax’s country, south
of Blandford, and close adjoining to Lord Portman’s, I was one morning
annoyed by hearing the voice of Mr. Drax’s huntsman, John Last, who
was drawing the covert with his hounds, by which I was shortly after
surrounded. Being ignorant of the runs and tracks in the gorse, I
was so pressed by them that I sprung upon the top of the gorse, and
ran along it for a few yards, but the hallooing of the hunters soon
frightened me down again. At length I went straight away across the
down in view of all the hunters, and had not gone more than a hundred
yards before a large man on a heavy gray horse rode between me and the
covert, and began hallooing in the most frightful manner, at the same
time waving his hat as if he was out of his mind: the consequence of
which was, that the hounds, which were hunting me closely out of the
covert, immediately they saw and heard him threw up their heads and ran
wildly after him, expecting to see me, which fortunately they did not,
as I had by that time just got beyond a small elevation in the down,
which prevented the man also from seeing me. I turned directly to the
left. He now found out the mischief he had done by causing the hounds
to lift their heads, and galloped on still farther, hoping to get
another view of me, but in vain, as I had sunk into a small valley, and
he luckily turned the hounds in a direction opposite to that in which
I had gone. The scene at this time defies description. “What are you
at, you crazy old man? You have lost our fox!” and endless execrations
were lavished on him. I believe this circumstance saved my life; for
had it not occurred, the hounds would have had me in view for three
miles across the downs, and although it was some little time before
they got on my scent again, they came after me at a most terrific pace,
which fortunately, however, was slackened on their crossing the road
and having to climb over a wall into the grounds adjoining some immense
woods, through the whole of which they hunted me again at a good pace,
and straight on for nine or ten miles, till I was almost exhausted;
luckily they were stopped when crossing a field where there was a flock
of sheep, no one being there to assist them. Shortly I heard in a loud
voice, “John! Where is John?” and finding that they were not likely
to get much assistance from the huntsman, I quietly retraced my steps
towards the place from which I started, but remained there for a short
time only.
[Illustration: GONE AWAY. BY HENRY ALKEN.]
I was again lying one morning in a piece of gorse near the Down House,
when I was waked by hearing what I thought was the whistle of the
keeper, but which turned out to be that of Lord Portman’s huntsman,
whose hounds were all around me before I was aware. The men on
horseback were scattered in all directions over the down, and it would
have served them right if they had lost their day’s sport, which they
very nearly did, as I stole away to a large rabbit earth close by, into
which I ran.
Unluckily some of the hounds got on my scent and hunted it up to the
earth, where they marked it by stopping and baying. Shortly after this
two or three of the hunters rode up, and I heard the following words:
“Not worth saving: get him out and give him to the hounds; he can’t
run a yard.” However, it was decided that I should have a chance, as
they called it; and a pretty chance it was. I was dug out, put into a
sack, and given to the whipper-in, with orders to turn me out on the
down. Something was said about cutting my hamstrings, in order to lame
me, and one wished to cut off my brush; and that it was not done was
a great disappointment to the wretch. I was turned out at only about
a hundred yards from the pack, but contrived to reach a hedge just as
one of the leading hounds had got close to me, when I turned short to
the left down the narrow ditch. The hounds all sprang over the fence,
and then, not seeing me there, fortunately turned first to the right;
and before they had found out that I had gone down the ditch I had
got out on the other side again, and ran to a corner, when I turned
through it again into another cross-hedge. By these means I got clear
off before they had another sight of me, for they overran my line
of scent a little when they got back on the down on my track. I well
recollect hearing the huntsman calling loudly to the whipper-in to get
on and head the fox from going to the woods; but he, poor thing, was in
a state of too much excitement to understand what was meant, and even
if he had understood, it would have been a fruitless attempt to stop
me from making my point to reach a wood or place of safety on such an
occasion, even if my first attempts had been prevented. I may flatter
myself that a hundred witnesses are ready to pronounce it as clever an
escape as was ever effected by a fox in similar circumstances. For the
future they will not say that a fox cannot run, and condemn him to be
given to the hounds, merely for running into an earth.
[Illustration: BAGGING THE FOX. BY C. LORAINE SMITH.
_Lent by Basil Dighton._]
I now made the best of my way straight to the large woods which I had
passed through when hunted by the other pack, and luckily made good use
of my time, for they came after me as if their feet had been winged,
neither road nor wall delaying them. I had enough to do to keep out
of their way through these large woods, which they traversed nearly
as fast as if in the open country. At the extremity of the woods, to
my surprise, I met the noble master of the pack, who had succeeded in
getting to that point before me, the result of which was that I turned
back into the covert before he saw me, and caused a slight check, after
which they again approached me, just as I had reached the wall which
surrounded the wood, at the top of the hill looking into the vale,
where I descended, and looking back saw the hounds for a short time
again at a check, owing to that high ground being slightly covered with
snow. I dreaded lest they should take the hounds on beyond the snow
towards the vale where I was; but they soon turned back, and I heard no
more. It was nearly three o’clock, which some think time to go homeward
rather than from home, as would have been the case if they had followed
me, when probably I should not have lived to tell my tale. The scent
in the vale is always so much greater than on the hills from which they
had hunted me, that I must have fallen a prey to this pack. Although we
are endowed with so large a share of wisdom, it is not all-sufficient;
or else we should be aware that when pursued by hounds and nearly
beaten by them, it must be all but certain death to us to run from a
bad scenting country into a good one.
Having now openly defeated the enemies who had conspired against
me, I remained in the vale until I was tempted to move into a finer
and fairer country. Great changes are going on in the hunting of the
country which I left; and should we ever meet again there may be much
for me to tell. For the present I have done.
“We now look to thee, Warwick, to give us something good; thy country
has produced one of the most extraordinary men that ever lived. He knew
all the wiles of the wiliest creature that walks the earth. Dost thou
think that Shakespeare would have been a good huntsman?”
“By the faith of a fox I should have been most loath to try him. Did
he possess the following qualities: boldness, perseverance, activity,
enterprise, temper, and decision? Had he a keen perception of relative
place? Had he a good eye and ear? If he had all these, and more, then
might Shakespeare have been an immortal fox-hunter.
“It is little that I have seen in this country, and I have little to
tell; but I will at once proceed and state to what cause I attribute my
escape on one or two occasions lately.”
WARWICK’S STORY
In the month of March last I was lying in a strong gorse-covert,
not far from Nuneham, when after hearing the voice of Stephens, the
huntsman to the Atherstone[4] hounds, I heard the following remarks by
one sportsman to another, both being on horseback and waiting close to
where I was in my kennel.
“Well, I do hate that silent system; had Robert not been so sparing
of his voice, or had he only given one blast of his horn when he began
drawing the small spinney just now, the hounds would not have chopped
that vixen in cub; for vixens in that state are unable to run far, and
are unapt to move till pressed to do so by the approach of danger.
She probably had been so much used to see the keeper and his dogs
pass, that, not hearing the huntsman’s voice or horn, she was taken
by surprise when the hounds got round her; if she had moved before,
she might have been seen, and the hounds stopped in time to save her.
No doubt she had been there some weeks before, and, in consequence of
having a good friend at the great house not being ever disturbed, she
believed that she was safe.”
I would not venture to listen any longer, for I heard the same hounds
running another fox in the gorse close by me. It appeared that there
was also another besides, making altogether three of us. Finding
this to be the case, and thinking to be very cunning, I took an early
opportunity of quitting the covert; and had scarcely got across two
fields before I saw a multitude of men on horseback riding along the
road in a parallel direction to that which I was going. They had seen
me leave the covert without waiting for the hounds, which they ought
to have known were running still after another fox; however, when they
found that the hounds were not running after the same fox that they
were themselves, they began hallooing, and the hounds were shortly
afterwards brought and got on my scent. Of course I returned to the
covert, for I had no notion of being thus hunted by men, and wished to
let the gentlemen know that I would not go unless I chose to do so, let
them halloo as they would. I therefore punished them by running for
nearly three quarters of an hour longer in the covert. This brought
them a little to their senses, and they gave me room to make another
attempt. Not liking to remain in such close quarters with this sticking
pack, I seized an opportunity, and went away on the side of the covert
opposite to that which I had first attempted, and though I was viewed
away by several men, it happened that they were able this time to hold
their horses and their tongues until I had got fairly away, when they
certainly did halloo, so that about half the pack came to them. The
whipper-in was sent to stop them, and as soon as the huntsman had got a
few more he also came to them; but not having quite three parts of the
pack he did not go on with them, but stopped and blew his horn for the
others which he had left. Some of them shortly after came, but seeing
him stopping where he was, did not appear to be in any haste, possibly
because they were aware that they had left a fox in the covert; but,
from his stopping, it might not have appeared to them that a fox had
gone on, or they would not have taken it so leisurely.
To this, then, do I attribute my escape; for, though they did hunt me
for a mile or so, the time was lost, and so too, of course, the scent;
this, added to the impatience shown by the men who were out, settled
the business for me. An accident which had lately occurred to Stephen,
the huntsman, by which his foot was injured, prevented him, I conclude,
from being every moment close to the hounds, when these men were
so anxious to get on, and the huntsman’s presence was so absolutely
necessary to prevent their doing mischief. However, I had no reason
to regret it, for I went straight across a fine country; though it
was reported that I had returned to the covert, which was not likely;
I may add, on this occasion, that I went to the coverts at Comb, to
which place they also came to find another fox. They did not cross the
line I had come, but passed through part of a large covert where I had
stopped, without drawing it, expecting to find a fox at the other end
of it.
[Illustration: HUNTING IN COVER. BY HENRY ALKEN, ENGRAVED BY T.
SUTHERLAND.
_Lent by Basil Dighton._]
Seeing this, I slipped back behind them, and was stealing away, as I
thought undiscovered (no uncommon thing for me to do), unluckily, a
man in a red coat had stopped back, as if on purpose to see any fox
that might be left behind; and as soon as I was out of sight he gave
a loud view-halloo, by repeating which he brought the hounds after a
short time on to the line of my scent. This caused me to lose no time,
and having now a good start, I ran straight through all those large
woods until I got to the end of that near the railway, when I turned
to the right; and after stopping in an outside covert for some time,
thinking that I had escaped, I heard the hounds hunting very slowly,
till they were quite silent. But I was soon after surprised to hear the
huntsman taking them across the wood where I was, and instantly left
it in a direction opposite to that where I had seen all the hunters
ride; consequently only a few followed with the hounds when they hunted
me across the river and railway into the open, beyond Coventry. They
ran me back to near the side of the river, when they were taken to the
other side, which happening to be towards Leamington, I remained in
that part, and had got so far as Ufton Wood. I was found there a few
days afterwards by the new huntsman of the Warwickshire hounds and that
pack. Having previously heard that they had learned much from Carter,
the Duke of Grafton’s late huntsman, under whom he had been whipper-in,
and that he had been doing much mischief amongst us, I lost no time in
leaving this large covert, and was soon followed by the pack, which
hunted me at a fair pace, until they had followed me part of the way
across a dry fallow field. As my good luck would have it, there was
also another fallow in the direction which I had gone, straight beyond.
It seems that Stephen, the huntsman, made one or two casts with his
hounds across each of these fallow fields without success. In his
anxiety not to lose, I suppose he forgot that if the hounds could not
hunt scent over one fallow they could not over another. He omitted to
hold the hounds on and across the next field of wheat beyond it, and
took them back towards the covert where I came from, and thus it was
that I escaped; for after some remark was made to him on the subject,
he directly took the hounds back to the field beyond the fallow; they
there got on my line of scent, and after hunting slowly for a couple of
miles, fortunately for me gave it up; otherwise, the line I had taken
was so good that I might have fallen a victim to this persevering and
promising young huntsman. After a little more experience he will be a
dangerous enemy of ours.
“Now, Chester, tell us how they go on in thy part of the world, and
how thou hast contrived to escape from that famous hunting pack of
hounds, which we are told belonged to the late Mr. Codrington. Tell us,
moreover, is it a good huntsman they have to hunt them?”
CHESTER’S STORY
As foxes are scarce in our country, I alone could be found to travel
here, and having been hunted only one season, I am, from my own
experience, but ill qualified to reply to your question as to the
huntsman. I have as yet escaped from being hunted by him, but I do
hear that he is in all respects most excellent. Unfortunately for
him, but fortunately for us, he was lately disabled by the fracture
of a bone of his leg; and consequently could not come with the hounds
when they hunted the last week in the Namptwich country. For reasons
to be given hereafter, I had rarely lain in coverts of late, and had
preferred lying in hedgerows. I happened, however, to be lying in a
covert one day when I heard the voice of a man who was hunting hounds
which turned out to be Mr. White’s, and as they were close to me before
I heard them, my only chance was to leave the covert immediately; but
in the first field I was met by some men on horseback who frightened
me back again. I was not seen by the hounds, which ran out of the wood
on my scent as far as I had gone, but were turned back, not without a
little loss of time, which was a favourable occurrence for me. I went
straight through the wood and away on the opposite side, and soon found
that they were after me. I kept on, but not in a straight line, which
rather puzzled the gentleman who was hunting them. They came at length
to a final check, and could hunt no farther. I thought that if Marden
had been hunting them, there was one cast which he would have made,
and that was to the left of the field where they lost the scent; for
although each of the other sides were tried by casting the hounds that
way twice over, they were never taken once round beyond the field to
the left; and to this I attribute my escape, for I was nearly beaten,
and it appeared that the pack which I found such difficulty in shaking
off and defeating by turning so short as I had done during the run, was
that which belonged to the late Mr. Codrington. It is stated that they
killed every fox that they hunted during eight following weeks. They
are said not to be compared for beauty to the former pack, which is
reported to have been a magnificent one; but “handsome is that handsome
does.”
Now, my friends, I will tell you why I prefer hedgerows and
out-of-the-way places to fix on for a kennel. Listen to a matter
of fact, but a melancholy story of what took place in a part of the
country where I was bred. It happened when in a favourite little covert
near Namptwich that I was attracted by the scent of a bait which was
placed under a large iron trap, carefully covered over with some light
grass and moss; on attempting to remove these I unfortunately struck
the trap, which went off and caught me by the foot. Need I describe
the agony I endured, confined as I was by the mangled foot? Daylight
appeared, when, nearly exhausted with pain, I made a desperate effort
with my other forefoot, and succeeded in pulling out the peg that
confined to the ground the chain of the trap, which I dragged away
for some distance. I then lay down overcome with pain, and in this
deplorable condition remained for two or three days and nights. The
foot being now as it were benumbed and almost insensible, I in order to
save my life fairly bit it off with my teeth, and thus released myself
from the trap. Not long after this had occurred a more tragical affair
took place in this very same covert. In the early part of the month
of March in the present year 1843, I was lying, as was my custom, in
a thick and broad hedge, when late in the day I was much frightened by
the approach of the hounds, passing near me rather quickly to my great
relief, for it appeared that they had not found a fox all day. They
immediately begun drawing the covert, and shortly afterwards a fox was
seen with an iron trap fast to his foreleg, which was broken above the
knee. In the course of a few minutes the fatal “whoop” was heard, the
signal of his death.