Colonel W. A. Cardwell, M.F.H.
Born in the year 1847, William Alexander Cardwell was entered to
foxhunting when nine years old, having been blooded with the Southdown
in the fifties when Mr. Donovan held office. He made his mark in the
cricket-field among his contemporaries, and when he went to Harrow in
1862, took with him a reputation which gained for him the distinction of
being first choice for his House eleven. Unfortunately his health broke
down while at school, and in 1864 he had to leave and go abroad under
medical orders. After a year or two on the Continent he returned home to
finish his education at Oxford, where he found time and opportunity to
indulge his taste for sport and games. He was a member of the Bullingdon
Club, and in 1869–70 was master of the ’Varsity draghounds. He also
played in his College (St. John’s) cricket eleven, and coxed his college
eight. Colonel Cardwell was a good lightweight in his young days; he
rode in all the College “grinds,” and also in the inter-’Varsity
steeplechases at Aylesbury, with a fair measure of success. He was the
possessor of a mare named “The Kitten,” in those days, and he cherishes
for her memory the affection which is the rightful due of an animal on
which the owner won his first race, for “The Kitten” carried Colonel
Cardwell successfully in a good many steeplechases. He hunted frequently
with the Quorn and the Bicester in his younger days, and has also seen
much sport with the Badminton and Vale of White Horse; but residing, as
he does, on the south coast, he has of late years done most hunting with
the Southdown and East Sussex, after, of course, his own pack, the
Eastbourne, of which he has been master since 1895. In August and
September he usually hunts with the Devon and Somerset and the Quantock
staghounds from Minehead. Sport in Sussex is carried on under very happy
conditions; the farmers are a thoroughly good lot of sportsmen who
always have a welcome for the hounds, and do all they can to further the
interests of the Hunt. Wire, that burning question in so many more
conspicuous countries, is practically unknown in the territory of the
Eastbourne Hunt. As there is a good deal of game preservation in the
country, the Master has considerable difficulty early in the season in
arranging meets to suit the convenience of covert owners, who are also
shooting men, but his experience is that consideration on the one side
is invariably responded to by consideration on the other. Foxes are
fairly plentiful in the Eastbourne country; mange gave trouble at one
time, but the Hunt is now nearly free from it.
Colonel Cardwell has maintained his interest in cricket since his
college days, and for twenty years was captain of the Eastbourne club.
He was also captain of the Eastbourne Polo Club. Love of polo seems to
have been hereditary, for his son, Mr. H. B. Cardwell, was captain of
the Oxford Polo Club, and played in the winning team of the Eden Park
Club for the County Cup in the years 1901 and 1902.
Colonel Cardwell has always taken a great interest in Volunteer
Artillery. He raised the 2nd Sussex R.G. Artillery Volunteers, and
commanded it for twenty-seven years, having retired only in June, 1903;
he has also taken great interest in horsing and training the
sixteen-pounder batteries.
In 1872 he married a daughter of the late Sir B. C. Brodie, Bart., of
Brockham Warren, Betchworth, by whom he has four daughters and two sons,
all of whom inherit their father’s sporting proclivities, and ride very
straight to hounds.
Collection of Indian Weapons.
The eyes of the world have been lately turned to the stately progress
which has been made by the Prince and Princess of Wales through the
length and breadth of our Indian Empire. In a sense they may have had
wider and more instructive experiences than fell to the lot of our King
when, thirty years ago, he undertook the same Royal duty, and for the
first time made the peoples of our great dependency personally
acquainted with a _Shahzada_. But in some respects they have probably
found that, since that date, something of the old glamour has passed
away from the East. It has more and more assimilated Western ideas, and
the great princes and feudatories have all been anxious to show to their
future Sovereign how nearly they, their subjects, their armies, and
their various public institutions, have approached English models.
Practical value has been everywhere in evidence as much as possible, and
as the old native picturesqueness has been somewhat dimmed, the ancient
characteristics of the land may have been less sharply accentuated. In
nothing has this been more seen than in the warlike equipment of the
armies of the semi-independent states. All of these, with a view to
taking their share in the defence of the peninsula, according to the
requirements of modern war, are now trained, equipped and armed like
British Sepoys, and the quaint bravery of mediæval sword, spear, shield,
and armour has very generally disappeared. It is worth while, therefore,
to say something about these time-honoured arms before they have become
altogether things of the past.
A quarter of a century ago it was possible to find in India many of the
weapons with which the natives had been provided in the days before the
Pax Britannica secured the personal security of every individual
inhabitant from raid and outrage, before the disarming act had been put
in force in all districts under British rule, and while the military
forces of semi-independent states still preserved their Oriental
character. Now, I am told that, though many weapons may be bought, their
genuineness is in most cases more than doubtful. The stock of old
weapons has been absorbed in various ways, and there is no longer any
production of such things for practical use. The _tulwars_ and daggers
which are sold to the globe trotters who, in their thousands, sweep over
India during every cold season, are “bazaar made,” _i.e._, they are made
by inferior workmen in the bazaar for sale and not for strife, and are
very poor imitations of the real arms once worn by the old fighting men.
When I was serving in India, not long after the King’s visit, the
country was still comparatively free from the tourist, and anybody who
had a taste for Eastern art in any form was able, during his sporting
excursions or in his other peregrinations, to meet men who still owned
genuine old articles and were not indisposed to part with them, and made
acquaintance with English officials and influential natives who were
good-natured enough to assist him in his collections.
Many Europeans did not take advantage of their opportunities, but
fortunately for myself I did not altogether neglect mine, and I now reap
the reward by seeing, hanging in my modest hall, such a representative
display of Indian weapons as it would be very difficult, if not almost
impossible, to procure nowadays without the aid of great influence, much
exertion, and a very considerable expenditure of money. Many of these
weapons have been used by myself and friends in somewhat feeble attempts
to emulate the feats performed with them by natives, and I have
therefore a slight personal knowledge of their qualities and
characteristics, and may at any rate claim that they have always been to
me things of the greatest interest.
First let me notice the fact that it is not every Indian sword that can
be handled and tested by a European. Our Aryan brethren have very small
extremities, and the hilts of their swords do not, as a rule, give space
for the more massive and heavily-jointed hand of an Englishman. It seems
marvellous indeed how the sometimes ponderous weapons can have been
easily wielded by the slight limbs for whose use they were made, but it
must be supposed that well-trained wiry sinews may have as much
executive power and endurance as bulging muscle, and that the proper
method of using the individual weapon may have drawn more upon dexterity
than upon the exertion of strength. And here it must be pointed out
that, in all specially Oriental feats of arms, success is by no means to
be attained by the exertion of great force. It rather depends upon
accuracy of eye, perfect coolness of nerve, and deftness of hand. In the
particular performance which English soldiers have most eagerly adopted
from their Indian comrades and made their own, and has been found such
an admirable exercise for promoting horsemanship and soldierly
efficiency—tent-pegging—no great strength is required. And, in the same
way, the class of swordsmanship for which Indian men-at-arms have been
so remarkable is a matter of perfect mastery in handling a blade rather
than of weightily applied blows. Probably no more graphic description of
the difference which even to-day exists between Eastern and Western
swordsmanship was ever written than in the story, in Sir Walter Scott’s
“Talisman,” of Richard Cœur de Lion and Saladin giving each other proofs
of the powers of their swords. I would fain quote the passage, but it
would take up too much space, and I can only suggest that reference be
made to it, and, if the whole romance has not before been studied, I
congratulate the person who has so much available delight still
untasted.
So many spectators have watched, in England, illustrations of
tent-pegging at military tournaments and other gatherings that it is
unnecessary to describe it, but it may fairly be said that the feat
requires a higher form of skill and more consummate horsemanship than
the old English exercises of a like nature, tilting at the ring or
tilting at the quintain, neither of which appeals either to the
performer or to the spectator as an example of very formidable fighting
qualities.
The Oriental ideas about the use of the sword differ so completely from
those of Western peoples that they may be briefly referred to. In
Europe, the sword has generally been used for a trenchant cut, though
the employment of the point has also been cultivated by some nations,
especially among the higher ranks. About the only army in history that
has used the point alone was that of Rome. The legionaries did little or
no cutting, and this was the more remarkable because the Roman
broadsword was a very short weapon, and all modern experience has seemed
to point out that, if a sword is to be principally used for pointing, it
must be of more than ordinary length. But, in the East, the trenchant
cut, depending for its effect on the weight and power with which it is
delivered, has never found favour, and the use of the point has equally
been of very small consideration. The Oriental swordsman has always made
use of what may be called a drawing cut, placing against the object that
he wishes to sever the edge of his weapon, and either pulling it towards
him or pushing it away from him, preferably the latter. The action is
not, of course, in itself so instantaneous as that of the trenchant cut,
but the whole time consumed by the swordsman is no longer in one case
than the other, and may even possibly be shorter, for there is no
preliminary swing of the arm and the drawing cut can be delivered
without leaving a position of defence. The curved shape of most Oriental
sword blades has been adopted for the purpose of giving the greatest
effect to the drawing cut, as will be apparent to any one who considers
the matter, for the curve naturally follows the action in the most
complete manner, the keen edge being in contact with its object
throughout the whole length of its blade. How deep an Oriental sword
could bite in the hands of a skilful man, when used in the way that has
been described, has been proved from time immemorial. On the battlefield
it was no unfrequent circumstance to see heads and limbs cut clean off,
and the wounds were generally of a terrible character. So well known was
the deadly power of the Indian sword that, in our Eastern wars,
precaution were often taken by our soldiers to protect with chains the
shoulder and forearms (the places at which the enemy most often struck),
and this modified form of armour may still be seen in the shoulder
chains on one of the many patterns of service coat that have been issued
to our cavalry in recent years.
Among the most popular feats of swordsmanship that are to be seen even
to-day in the East are those that Saladin exhibited to Richard Cœur de
Lion, cutting in two a down cushion or severing a floating veil—feats
absolutely impossible of execution with a European sabre—and these are
done, with many variations, not only dismounted but on horseback at full
speed. Then there is the well-known performance of cutting a dead sheep
in two. The sheep is hung by its hind-legs from the arm of a sort of
gallows, and the swordsman, galloping past, delivers a back cut at it,
aiming between the ribs and the haunch, and seldom failing to sever it.
This feat, as it is now generally performed, is not so difficult as it
may appear from description, for the carcase is skinned, and the
backbone, with the slenderest portion of the body, offer really small
resistance to a keen blade. But it is understood that, in olden days, it
was not usual to skin the sheep, and the presence of skin and wool must
then have made the swordsman’s task hard indeed. Many English officers
have, with fair success, tried to cut a sheep in two, but, even though
they used the curved Eastern sword, they always seemed to perform the
feat by main force, and not by the proper use of the drawing cut, and I
have in my possession a tulwar with a notch in the blade, showing where,
in the hands of a very powerful man, it rent a sheep’s backbone. If a
native had handled the weapon no such accident could have happened, for
the drawing cut, depending only on the keen edge and the way in which it
is applied, could not possibly have chipped the blade, no sudden shock
being given by it to the highly-tempered steel. Lemoncutting, which is
now often seen in England, was introduced from India, and here again
neatness of performance is much more likely to be attained by the
drawing cut than by the swashing blow employed by so many of our
cavalrymen. True, the swords generally available for our competitions at
home are hardly ever sharp enough to be used in the best way, and indeed
the clumsy weapon now issued to English soldiers, with its absurd steel
scabbard that quickly blunts a keen edge, is ill adapted for any
practical purpose whatever.
So far, I have only talked about the most common and characteristic
swords of India, which, with many minor distinctions and under the names
of _Tulwar_, _Selappa_, _Tegha_, &c., &c., are found everywhere from
Cape Comorin to the Himalayas, but there are several other swords,
completely different, which are peculiar to individual tribes or nations
among the vast congeries of races united under British rule or
influence. First, the long, straight, double-edged blade, fitted into a
gauntlet hilt which, though found in the north and south of India, is
best known in the Punjab, where the Sikhs, in their sword play, still
practise its use. The generic name of this sword is _Pata_, and it is
said to have been the principal weapon used by the cavalry of the Great
Mogul. To a European eye, it certainly appears a somewhat unwieldy
weapon and ill-adapted to the purposes of a mounted man. Its blade is
over three feet long, and it is fixed in a handle made like a plate mail
gauntlet, which covers the arm nearly as far as the elbow. On account of
its peculiar hilt, this sword is not manipulated like others from the
wrist, but from the elbow; and, as far as I know, it is the only weapon
known in the world which does not in some degree demand flexibility of
wrist. Unlike the curved _Tulwar_, which has a rigid and rather narrow
blade, the blade of the _Pata_ is broad and flexible, and I have one
specimen before me in which the point will almost meet the hilt. The
qualities of steel from which the two kinds of swords are made are in
this respect very different, but they are alike in that both can take
the finest of edges. And all Eastern swords have this also in common,
that all have wooden or leather sheaths, so that no risk is run that the
edge of the blade shall ever be dulled from want of care. To-day, the
_Pata_ is never carried by Indian princes or nobles, even on occasions
of state and ceremony, and it is never seen in the hands of anybody
except the professional swordsmen, who give exhibitions of their skill
at the great fairs and at Mohammedan or Hindoo festivals, such as the
_Mohurrum_ or the _Dussera_. The performances of any one of these men
are wonderful. He will show the keenness of his weapon and his command
of its weight by cutting in two a leaf laid flat on the outstretched
palm of a friend, or by severing a cloth hanging loose in the air. He
will then squat down on his hams and will slice from side to side a
small nut, which is tossed on to the flat ground in front of him. He
will grasp a sword in each hand and, so armed, will spring from his feet
and throw somersaults backwards and forwards. Again, with sword and
shield in his hands, he will leap head foremost through the
stretched-out loop of a rope, held by two men at the height of their
heads, as a circus-rider leaps through a paper hoop, and alight safely
on his feet. These exhibitions are extremely popular, and the harvest of
small change collected by the plucky athlete from the crowd of gaping
spectators must do something to prevent the knowledge of the old
sword-play from dying out. I have never seen or heard of a European
essaying to handle the _Pata_, and, indeed, I have seldom seen a _Pata_
whose gauntlet hilt would admit the grasp of even a small European hand.
Another straight-bladed and double-edged sword is the _Khanda_ of the
Rajput, and as the Rajputs are the most long-descended, chivalrous, and
warlike of all the nations in India, so was the _Khanda_ held in the
highest honour and reverence, so was it worshipped yearly at the
festival of the _Karga S’hapna_ as a symbol of _Heri_, the god of
battle, and so was an oath sworn upon it the most binding of compacts.
Even to-day the _Khanda_, or indeed any sword, is recognised as an
offering showing the profoundest homage and the strictest fidelity, by
the universal Indian custom of presenting the hilt to a superior, who
touches it in acknowledgment of the implied loyalty. The _Khanda_, like
the _Pata_, is made of flexible steel of various degrees of excellence,
though all blades are of the most reliable description. A rough test may
be given, by which the merit of any particular straight blade may be
approximately gauged. If it has one groove running down its length, it
is good; if it has two, it is better, and if it has three, it is of
special worth. Sometimes the _Khanda_ has a long iron spike projecting
from the hilt, and this was probably for the purpose of using the sword
double-handed in case of need, and it could possibly also serve as an
additional weapon in a close _mêlée_. It is to be remarked that, in
using the _Pata_, _Khanda_, and other straight swords, the drawing cut
is still the favourite, though the form of the blade involves that it
must be somewhat modified.
Pass we to a class of swords which demand special remark, on account of
their appropriateness to the districts in which they have originated,
and of these there are two especially which attract our notice as being
essentially the same in character, though they differ somewhat in shape.
The _Kukri_, the national weapon of Nepal, is only eighteen or nineteen
inches in total length, and has a blade of bright steel, incurved,
heavy, and widening towards the point. It has more the qualities of a
good billhook than anything else, and it was no doubt originally devised
to do duty as a billhook as much as for fighting purposes, for the
Gorkha had to clear his way through the thickly growing vegetation of
the Terai forests. I have often lent to my shikaris, when shooting in
the Western Ghauts, a _Kukri_ for use in the jungle, and it always
proved invaluable. What a handy tool it is in the grasp of its true
proprietor, the Gorkha, is well known—how formidable it is as a weapon,
those who have been in action with our Gorkha battalions can
emphatically testify, and this can be the more clearly realised when it
is told that, with his _Kukri_, the Gorkha can strike off the head of a
bullock at one blow.
Like the Gorkha _Kukri_, the _Ayda Katti_, the big knife of the Coorg
mountaineer, derives its shape from the daily requirements of life in
dense jungles. The heavy monsoon clouds which, in their course, first
meet and void their moisture on the hilly west coast of India, nourish
an extraordinarily luxuriant vegetation, and the tribesmen there found
the constant want of an implement to cut a path through the lush bamboos
and creepers. The Coorg knife is about the same size as the _Kukri_, but
is wider and heavier. It has also an incurved blade, and is equally
useful for all the services of peace. The men of Coorg have had no
recent experience of war, but legend tells that, sword in hand, they
were in old days dreaded for their prowess in battle. The army of Hyder
Ali found the Nairs (Coorg tribesmen) the most redoubtable opponents
that it had to deal with before it had the ill-fortune to be marched
against British battalions. The Coorg knife has the peculiarity that it
alone, of all varieties of swords, never has a sheath. It is so
constantly required on the west coast that it is generally carried in
the hand ready for immediate use. When, of necessity, it is put aside,
it is carried, still with the blade uncovered, slung across the owner’s
hips.
No record of Indian swords would be complete without some mention of the
_Salawar Yataghan_, the Khyber or Afghan knife, though perhaps it more
properly belongs to the frontier. This is the weapon that in the hands
of the Ghazis, drunk with bhang and lust of slaughter, has, in the
actions on the North-West Frontier, done such stern work, and has also
been signalised as the terrible instrument with which the wounded, who
fell into Afghan hands, have ever been bloodily dispatched and
mutilated. It has a broad, heavy, single-edged, straight-backed blade
with a sharp point, and is so balanced that its trenchant cut is weighty
indeed.
The Afghan gives no drawing cut with his _Yataghan_, but cuts like a
European and, on occasion, uses the point. The weapon seems to be
especially devised for the use of desperate men who wish to kill,
without any thought of protecting themselves, for its handle being
absolutely plain and unguarded like that of an ordinary carving knife,
it can never be used effectively for warding a blow or parrying a
thrust. The blade is generally about two feet and two or three inches
long, and, made of bright steel, seems to derive its strength from its
proportions and its thickness rather than from high temper. The _Salawar
Yataghan_ cannot be classed as a weapon adapted to any of the scientific
niceties of swordsmanship, but must be thought of rather as a murderous
knife, fit alone for purposes of slaughter.
There are other forms of swords to be found on the frontiers of India,
the Burmese _Dha_, the Malay _Kris_, &c., &c., but none of them have any
special merit as warlike weapons, and they are really almost impotent
for attack or defence when opposed to the more well-considered weapons
of more cultivated peoples. All of them have their limitations of value;
they can inflict injury, but from their form they are essentially feeble
in defence.
It was natural that swords, in their hilts, their blades and their
sheaths, should, from the variety and general elegance of their shapes,
have been the basis of ornament to a very great extent. The Monarch, the
great Prince, or the warlike leader of men has, if he allowed himself
ornament at all (and here be it remarked that the most potent
individuals have almost always been remarkable for their personal
simplicity), generally lavished such ornament upon his sword, the emblem
of his power. And when he sent a gift to a brother potentate, or a man
whom he delighted to honour, it was not infrequently a sword of the most
perfect quality, adorned with jewels and workmanship of notable value.
The ornamentation of swords gives to us a strongly-marked and
trustworthy indication of the religion and often of the nationality of
the men who fashioned them. There is as much difference between the
artistic ideas of the north and south of India as there is between the
delicate and graceful architecture of the great Mohammedan shrines and
palaces, and the heavy, massive and sometimes grotesque construction of
the old Hindoo temples. To enter into all the peculiarities of ornament
would take too long, but it may shortly be said that, bearing in mind
that it is contrary to the Prophets’ law to reproduce the similitude of
any living thing, a sword ornamented with delicate tracery and a floral
pattern may generally be supposed to come from a Mohammedan race in the
North, while one bearing representations of men, beasts or birds, has
probably been made in the Brahminical South.
All kinds of materials have been used in ornamenting swords. Besides
precious jewels, gold and silver, a place has been found for Jaipur
enamel, Koftgari work, Bidri work, &c., &c., and all means have been
taken to add to artistic beauty, contrast of colour and intrinsic value.
If any one would see how rich is the effect thus produced, let him take
an opportunity of visiting one of our great national collections, those
places full of articles worthy to be “stored in some treasure-house of
mighty kings.”
There is one most invaluable quality in which all Eastern swords are
well-nigh perfect. They are all most admirably balanced and can all be
most effectively employed with the minimum of personal exertion. To
appreciate this transcendent quality at its proper value, it is only
necessary to handle an English cavalry sword, which is as much lacking
in true balance as any Indian sword possesses that most essential
character. The West has still some lessons to learn from the immemorial
East.
To talk of the swords only of India has exhausted all my space, and yet
but a very meagre sketch has been accomplished. Perhaps what has been
written may, however, induce some reader to make an exhaustive study of
the subject. He would surely be rewarded by learning much that is of the
highest artistic, historical and practical value.
The other weapons of India, and there are many, are of nearly, if not
quite, equal interest. Perhaps I may some day be allowed to say
something about them.
What Next?
Any one who has wielded his pen with the independence which you, Mr.
Editor, have permitted me to practise must expect criticism, nor should
he turn a deaf ear to it. Critics, friendly or otherwise, have passed
judgment on my Christmas dream of sport, my hazy forecast of its future,
and some have thrown at me the pertinent query of, “What next would you
have us believe, ‘you veiled old prophet of Khorassan’?” My only answer
to-day is that of the sucking dove. “Wait and see.”
In this new year I do not stand alone when the momentous question is
passed round of “What next?” among sportsmen, politicians, and
populations. Hard nuts to crack there are on every side, and we envy not
the jaws whose lot it is to deal with some of them.
Sportsmen, however, are for the most part content to sail with the
breeze—contrary winds are troublesome, and they do not like losing sight
of old landmarks, albeit in times like the present they are being wafted
farther and farther away from them. This their compass, if they will
only stop to consult it, must tell them only too truly. Ought they to
put back into harbour, or boldly dash on towards other coasts and new
scenes, of which it may profit them to know more? Does it not behove
them to live and learn in a wider sphere of life than when they started
on their life’s voyage; and, as politicians would put it, to think
Imperially, even of their sports?
Thus they must ere long come to see that in the unison of ideas, the
blending of nationalities, and the gradual bridging over of our insular
position, we are fated to learn, however unwillingly, that the past and
the future stand in an entirely different relation to one another than
they have been wont to do.
Sportsmen, I would appeal to you. Is it not in your inmost hearts a
question of what next all round the country? It was, perhaps, a bold
stroke on my part to advocate even the partial extinction of the
bookmakers, the reform of the Jockey Club, and the use of the Totaliser,
or _pari-mutuel_, so strongly as I did last month; yet common-sense,
expediency and profit seem to put this in the forefront of reforms on
the Turf in reply to the question which heads this article. Our
object-lesson on this subject is, undoubtedly, France, where, since
September last, the bookmaker as such has been totally excluded, and we
are indebted to a very lucid and exhaustive letter from a French backer,
in the _Sporting Times_, for a knowledge of the results of its first two
months’ working. He tells us that, taking the race meetings of
Longchamps, Maison-la-Flite, Chantilly, Auteuil, Colombus, St. Ouen, St.
Cloud, Compiegne and Enghien, the sum of 5,927,318 francs (£237,092)
more were taken at the _mutuel_ than in 1904, the total takings from
September 3rd to November 13th, 1905, being 66,917,515 francs
(£2,676,700), against, in 1904, 55,787,910 francs (£2,231,516), showing
an increase of over eleven million francs. It follows that the deduction
of 8 per cent., which is made for the benefit of horse-breeding,
agriculture and the poor of France, has brought an increase of 890,368
francs (£35,612)!
If the same ratio of increased receipts is maintained through next
year’s racing, the Societé des Courses alone will secure as its share of
the profit about one million two hundred thousand francs! Stubborn facts
these, which even the most inveterate Radical voter may take to heart in
choosing his candidate for whom to vote, although for this election at
least all votes will have been cast ere this article is published. If it
were possible to gauge the probable receipts in the United Kingdom of
the Totaliser as compared with France, we believe that the figures would
considerably exceed those of France, seeing that the stakes annually run
for in the United Kingdom, including steeplechasing and hurdle-racing,
amount to not far short of a million pounds, and that race-meetings in
this country are more widely distributed than in France. I am below the
mark in calculating that at least ten times the stakes are made in bets,
from which the deduction of 8 per cent, would produce a sum of eight
hundred thousand a year.
What would the poor, the sick and the honest unemployed give for a dole
out of this fund?
What would oppressed agriculture, unendowed horse-breeding, or the poor
Royal Agricultural Society, say to the chance of a dip into this lucky
bag? In almost every other country besides our own where racing
flourishes, such an opportunity of effecting an economic reform, without
increasing taxation, or interfering with vested interests, has been
hailed with delight. In fact, we stand alone as a civilised nation in
our abstention from its adoption, yet we have not, as it would seem, the
motive power. If our conscientious objectors could but be made to see
that by its adoption the worst features of our gambling pursuits would
be checked, if not abolished, and that true sport in all its branches
would thrive under its _ægis_, perhaps our legislature would throw no
obstacles in its way. Perhaps then our Jockey Club, always so slow to
lead the way, would throw off their _vis inertia_ and become its
disciples?
Perhaps, however, this important question may remain buried in the lap
of the future, unless public attention is called to it ever and again
with increasing vehemence, and we are able to see more clearly the bane
of our insular position, and the false pride which blinds and prejudices
us.
I have had the opportunity of discussing this question with many racing
men, and with scarcely an exception they have brought no arguments
forward antagonistic to it, the majority indeed being its advocates; yet
there comes the reiterated cry from those who call themselves practical
men: “My dear fellow; how are you going to act about it! What chance is
there of obtaining sanction from the legislature?”
Supposing I were to suggest the similitude of the bye-gone Welsh remedy,
which in its result swept away the multiplication of turnpikes in South
Wales some seventy years ago, which materially hindered the traffic
between Wales and England. These Welshmen donned the nightdresses of
women, calling themselves daughters of Rebecca, who was “not afraid to
meet her enemies in the Gate,” and on swift cobs they swooped down at
night on all the gates, smashing and burning them. Neither the police
nor military could catch one of them, and very soon it began to dawn on
the Government that a good reason underlaid this lawlessness. A Royal
Commission was appointed, which was the means of an Act of Parliament
being passed which swept away the objectionable gates and placed the
roads under Government supervision, and they then became the best in the
Kingdom.
And now to apply the simile. The legislature has decided by the Kempton
Park case that a racecourse is not such a public place as stated in the
last Betting Act, where betting can be prohibited. Why, therefore,
should not the Totalizer be erected there, and betting by such means be
allowed just as much and as legally as it is now carried on by
bookmakers. This cannot, to my thinking, be considered as a lottery,
pure and simple, because it does not depend upon your merely drawing out
the lucky number. You have all the prowess of the horses and the skill
of their riders weighing in the balance, and you stand in exactly the
same position as the man that speculates in stocks, or insures his
risks. Why not, therefore, erect the Totaliser on some enclosures on our
racecourses? and even should they prove targets for the attack of the
police, or possibly the bookmakers, at starting, I believe that
ultimately, sooner indeed than later, their case will prevail, and then
the greatest and most wholesome reform in racing will take effect. It
will then be time for my critics to exclaim, “What next?”
As regards hunting, I have only to appeal to your correspondent J. J. D.
J.’s article in your magazine of last month, “Is Hunting Doomed?” to
show that we cannot hope to see it carried on in many countries in the
same haphazard way as of old. Despite the fact that its devotees are as
keen and as good as ever, its facilities are narrowed year by year, and
its difficulties multiplied. Oh, that it were not so, for as your
readers, especially your elder readers, must know, in “Borderer’s” heart
as a true sport, where gain or loss has no part, hunting stands alone as
the best, most ennobling, and manliest sport that we can enjoy.
Cosmopolitan also it has hitherto been. How long it will remain so we
dread to contemplate. That also lies in the lap of the future.
When the what next of shooting is considered, I confess to being
completely carried off my legs. Gunners have of late increased so
rapidly in numbers and methods, that we know not where we may not be
within the next few years, looking at the fact that circumstances are
annually lending themselves to the extension of game preserving, and
that the _nouveaux riches_ can so easily indulge in this taste, which
requires little learning, and short practice. Its aids to introduction
into Society; its excuses for hospitality; its Royal patronage—all bring
it immeasurably to the front; and when we read, as we did last month, of
over 8,000 pheasants being slaughtered in three days at Vater Priory, we
wonder what are the probabilities, or possibilities, or the future of
shooting. Truly they can only be measured by the depth of the purse. All
else can be thrown in.
I see that the Sporting League have issued a manifesto, warning
sportsmen of dreadful things which the change in the Government is
likely to bring about. Lord Daney’s Betting Bill is to be revived in its
worst phases, and the sporting correspondent of _Truth_ vouchsafes the
opinion that he will see the sun and the moon drop from the sky before
ready money betting will be legalised! This latter declaration fills me
with hope, knowing, as we do, how often these truthful prophecies turn
out to be fallacious!
Nor do I set much value on the fears of the Sporting League, because, if
the _vox populi_ is tested, as we are given to understand that it will
be under Radical dominion, the betting question is much more likely to
take a wider range, and peer and peasant alike will have equal rights of
investing their money under perfect security on racecourses without let
or hindrance. This can only be accomplished by means of the Totaliser,
and working men will soon come to know that the usages of our Colonies
and other neighbouring countries to their own have come to appreciate
the benefits that it confers on them, and thus they will demand a vote
in its favour at home.
It will take me a long time to believe that the faddists and the working
men are destined to lie down together in perfect peace. Their ideas and
methods are so utterly opposed. Indeed, my faith in the coming about of
this great reform rests in “the tail wagging the head,” and that if the
Jockey Club are to be stirred up, and the middle classes moved to
action, it will be done by the progressive shoulder-to-shoulder pressure
of the people, when once they appreciate the position, and realise the
advantages to be gained, of which no small share will fall to their lot.
Thus perhaps the answer to “What Next?” will ring out.