The Gibraltar racing season has now come to an end, and but for a
probable Sky meeting the first week or so in January, 1906, no more
racing will be held here till March. In this article it is the endeavour
of the writer to say a few words of interest regarding the general
racing on the “Rock” and concerning the meetings during the present
year. On the whole, the racing during the year has been very
satisfactory; more meetings have been held and more patronage, both by
owners and the general public, afforded to them than has been the case
for some time. A certain portion of residents on the Rock always keep
racers. The success, however, of “Gib.” racing is, in the main,
dependent on the sport afforded to it by the officers, naval and
military, of the garrison. This year there has happily been no lack of
support, and a considerable number of officers of the Gunners and of the
three line regiments stationed here own racers. A few lines may be with
advantage devoted in explaining how the racing is carried on in the
fortress.
The racer at “Gib.” is rather hard to define. Owing to the paucity of
animals running in comparison with the number of races, it is impossible
to have open events for the ordinary animals here, and the only method
which has been found to answer is to have a system of classes. There are
no less than four of these classes at present, and there is a rumour to
the effect that a fifth class may shortly be formed. The classes are as
follows:—
Class I.—Thoroughbreds. Any animal may, however, run in this class if
the owner so wishes.
Classes II., III., IV.—Those animals classified as such by the
Classification Committee consisting of six elected members of the
various clubs. In Class II. one generally finds half-breds, English
galloways, and ponies. Classes III. and IV. are confined to Barbs and
Arabs. In Class III. animals which have been reduced from the second
class are often running, and also those horses promoted by the above
Committee from the fourth class.
The Barb pony constitutes the whole of Class IV., and naturally this
class holds by far the greatest number of animals. Polo ponies, hunters,
and, in fact, nearly all the general animals seen on the Rock, are
classified as fourth class for the purpose of racing. Every animal,
before being allowed to run in any race confined to Classes II., III.,
and IV., must be classified by the Classification Committee. This
Committee records the animal’s height, colour, breed, sex, markings,
&c., and places it in the class the various members think fit. As a
general rule Barbs under 14.2 high are put in this class. Arabs and Barb
horses in Class III., and half-breds in the second class. Animals which
prove in their running to be too good for the class which they are in
are promoted to the next higher one, or if in Classes I., II., and III.,
reduced if necessary.
To make this system of classification work properly, prizes more
valuable in proportion are given to the higher classes. This scheme also
induces owners to procure and race a better class animal. Even with this
classification, so great is the difference in speed between animals in
each special class, it is necessary to make each race a handicap. In
fact, except for a few fourth class maiden races and the weight for age
first class races, one may say that every race is a handicap.
A fifth class has been asked for by many, especially by officers of the
line regiments quartered in the station. The point urged is that unless
they have a very good Barb (and they are difficult to procure now) it is
useless to run him in an ordinary race, as they cannot, in the first
place, gallop with the majority of fourth class ponies which are raced;
and secondly, owing to gentlemen riders only being allowed in the lowest
class, capable light-weights for their ponies are impossible to be
found. However, not being a member of the advisory committee who manage
these matters, the writer will not touch any more on the subject of a
lower class, beyond mentioning the fact that the introduction of this
fifth class would give pleasure to many subalterns, and offer them an
excellent chance of riding their own ponies in public.
Stakes vary in accordance with the class. No race above 100 dollars is
allowed to be given in the fourth class, between 150 to 200 dollars is
the limit for the third, and 200 to 300 dollars for second. In first
class races the prize may be anything from 250 dollars upwards. Cups are
sometimes given in conjunction with a money prize. A hundred dollars may
be taken to average £15 English money, though the exchange varies
slightly from time to time. Entrance fees are usually one-fifteenth to
one-twentieth of the value of the stakes.
With reference to the above remarks on classes it may be of interest to
readers to know where these animals are procured from.
No animals being bred on the Rock itself, all horses are imported
privately or by dealers from Africa, Spain, England and France. The
thoroughbreds racing in the first class come from English and French
stables, and are not by any means the weedy types of broken-down platers
that one would expect. Very few are stabled and trained at “Gib.,” but
come down for the races from Madrid and Andalusia; certain well-known
owners who are interested in the racing here vying with one another to
bring down a better type of animal each successive meeting. During this
season it may safely be said that a better lot of horses have run in
first class races than ever previously, and there is every promise in
the future of the good standard being upheld. The other three classes of
horses are generally kept on the Rock itself or in the immediate
vicinity. A second class horse is, as a rule, a half-bred, and imported
from over the water or bred in the province of Andalusia.
The third class contains Barbs over 14.2, and the best class of Barb
ponies, with a few Arabs. An owner wishing to procure a third class
animal has generally to be content with buying a horse which has run at
“Gib.” previously, owing to the fact of the classification Committee
nearly always placing a raw horse (one just imported on to the Rock) in
either the second or the fourth class. Fourth class horses are imported
from Africa by the local dealer. There is only one dealer here at
present, and he holds the monopoly of selling raw animals, regulating
his supply according to the demand, thereby keeping up a fixed price. It
should be mentioned that in “Gib.” it is customary to term all animals,
whether 13 or 16 hands high, as horses. These fourth class horses are
practically all Barbs of polo height (14.2 and under), generally very
handy, but sluggish, and requiring an enormous amount of driving. They
are nearly all stallions, very few mares ever being imported. Prices
average about £30 for a raw animal from the dealer—Sant, senior, who is
to be thoroughly recommended—though regiments buying a batch of seven or
eight at a time will get them considerably cheaper. The element of luck
is brought largely into the business of buying these animals raw, for
the worst-looking Barbs often prove capable of beating those of much
better conformation.
A third class animal is, as has been stated before, rather hard to
procure raw. An Arab may be placed in this class, but the uncertainty of
the classification of this class makes owners extremely shy of importing
or having imported for them horses too good for fourth class but not up
to second class form. A third class horse which has shown good form can
be procured for £40 or £50, but prices vary according to the proximity
of the meetings. A second class half-bred coming from Oran or Algiers
may be bought for about £70. Thoroughbreds anything from £20 upwards.
All betting is done through the means of the _pari-mutuel_, the unit of
investment being one dollar (about three shillings) and five dollars.
The various clubs deduct 5 per cent. on the turnover. Lotteries are held
the night previous to racing, 250 dollars being the average pool to the
winner, though of course pools vary considerably according to the number
of speculators present.
Weights vary in handicaps from 12 st. 7 lb. downwards. Frequently,
however, 13 st. is top weight, lowest weight being seldom less than 8
st. Weight for age races when held have a scale of weights as follows:—
2 years 8 st. 7 lb.
3 years 9 st. 7 lb.
4 years 10 st. 7 lb.
5 years 11 st. 2 lb.
6 years and aged 11 st. 9 lb.
A new innovation has come into force this year, to the effect that
gentlemen riders only are allowed to ride in fourth class races. In all
other races professionals may ride, gentlemen riders (who must be
members of the Army or Navy or be given permission to ride by the Jockey
Club) receiving a 5 lb. allowance when competing against them. The new
rule above mentioned of confining fourth class races to gentlemen riders
only and excluding professionals has, in a way, done good and been a
success in bringing forward new riding blood and inducing more amateur
jockeys to figure in the pigskin, but on the other hand, owners of
horses handicapped at a low weight find it impossible to procure fit and
capable gentlemen riders. In many cases this rule has curtailed entries
and caused some dissatisfaction. Really capable professionals on the
Rock are very few in number, and four of them stand out far and above
their _confrères_—Frank Sant, Goodman, Aldorino and J. Zammit being
their names. These four jockeys are all good and naturally in great
request, especially the first named, who, having every attribute of a
first-class jockey, could without doubt hold his own in most parts of
the world. Five dollars (sixteen shillings) is the fixed fee to a losing
jockey and 10 per cent. of the stakes to the winning one, though, as is
always the case, large presents are often given.
Of gentlemen riders there are a number, though only a few are really
useful. Some new riders have been performing lately, and there are
several the writer could mention who with a little more practice will
soon be able to hold their own with the second rank of professionals
without the 5 lb. allowance. Mr. C. Larios, brother of the M.F.H., and
first whip, Captain Taylor, R.G.A. (a veteran heavy-weight, but still a
very cool rider), and Captain Salt, late of the Lancashire Fusiliers,
are perhaps the pick of those riding at present.
A word about the various clubs. In “Gib.,” perhaps unfortunately, there
are no less than three racing clubs, the Gibraltar Jockey Club, the
Calpe Turf Club, and the Civilian Racing Club. The Gibraltar Jockey Club
is the senior club in the Gibraltar racing world. It is composed mostly
of military and naval officers with a few civilian representatives. This
club practically governs the racing at “Gib.,” owning the course and
being under the authority of the English Jockey Club. The Calpe Turf
Club, founded and directed by the Messrs. Larios, and the Civilian
Racing Club, managed by a civilian syndicate.
These two latter clubs are composed mainly of civilians with a few
military and naval members. Both these two clubs conform to the rules of
the Jockey Club. A movement is being set on foot by certain influential
personages, interested in the welfare of the racing here, to combine the
three clubs into one. This movement, as may be understood, would be in
many ways beneficial. Owners, and others, however, rather welcome racing
with different clubs, as there is considerable competition between them
in the way the meetings are conducted, each trying to outdo the other in
general arrangements.
Until recently all starting has been carried out by means of a flag, but
last May the gate was first tried in five-furlong races. At the last
meeting it was used at both the five- and six-furlong starting posts,
and next year will probably be always adopted. Other improvements have
taken place during the year, and it is proposed to enlarge the stands
and premises, which will be greatly to the advantage of every one.
Concerning the course, the writer will give a brief description for the
benefit of those unacquainted with “Gib.” It is situated on the sandy
isthmus that connects the Rock with the mainland of Spain. The course is
a mile in circumference, and oval-shaped, while the going, though
nominally of grass, is for the most part of a sandy nature. The last two
furlongs constitute the straight, which is enclosed on either side by
the orthodox white rails. The remainder of the course is marked out by
means of large whitewashed stones dotted round at three yards’ interval.
On the extreme outside is situated the tan galloping track. A small
charge is made to all persons using the same by the Jockey Club.
At the Autumn meeting of the Jockey Club an objection was raised to a
horse for having gone inside three of the stones marking the course, and
to prevent a repetition of the occurrence the authorities decided that
at all future meetings movable posts, strung together with white tape,
should be used. It is, unfortunately, impossible to rail the course
right round, owing to a rifle range being situated in the centre, and
rails anywhere else, except in the straight, would interfere with the
view of the targets. Tapes being very dangerous both to horses and
riders, a scheme for the construction of permanent sockets holding
movable posts is being considered.
Altogether during this year there have been sixteen days’ racing in
“Gib.,” not including nine days at the neighbouring Spanish Club at
Campamento (four miles off), with seven or eight races per day, with an
occasional steeplechase for officers’ ponies. The Spanish Club, which is
really another edition of the Gibraltar Civilian Racing Club, holds its
meetings, as a rule, on Sundays, and is run on pretty well the same
lines as those in force on the Rock, except that the Club recognises a
fifth class with low stakes. The course is a very good one, though new,
the going being nearly always better than here. The Club does very well
in its own way, and those not averse to Sunday racing speak very well of
it. The King of Spain encourages the Club, presenting money and cups to
help the prizes. The sixteen days of racing above-mentioned were taken
up by the various clubs as follows: The Jockey and Calpe Turf clubs
seven days each, and the Civilian Racing Club two days. All the meetings
were a success, but perhaps the honours of the best meeting held during
the season lie with the Civilian Racing Club. This was the Royal Sky
Meeting, specially organised on the occasion of the visit of Her Majesty
the Queen to “Gib.” Saturday, May 6th, was the day in question, and on
the Thursday previous no racing for the following Saturday was
contemplated. Her Majesty, however, had expressed a wish to see some
racing, and with very commendable promptitude the Civilian Racing Club
obtained permission and organised the meeting. In spite of such short
notice the entries were exceptionally large, and wisely confined to
third and fourth class horses, so as to allow of the officers of the
garrison being able to participate in the meeting more largely than
usual.
Her Majesty very kindly gave and presented a cup in one of the races,
which was won by Major Labalmondiere’s (R.G.A.) black Barb horse
Dominico, carrying top weight, and ridden by Captain Taylor. Needless to
say, both owner and rider came in for many congratulations in winning
the much coveted cup.
In every way the meeting was a very great success, and it is only to be
hoped that on some near future occasion Her Majesty will again be a
spectator at a “Gib.” meeting.
The best race of the year as regards the class of animal was undoubtedly
the first class weight for age race at the Calpe Turf Club Autumn
Meeting. A field of ten better class horses has never been seen on the
“Gib.” course previously. A good finish resulted in a win for that great
supporter of the higher class racing at Gibraltar, Mr. Garvey, through
the medium of his chestnut three-year-old English-bred filly Bizantina,
closely followed home by Captain W. P. Salt’s Chartres, ridden by owner.
On the whole the various clubs have had an excellent season, and a great
improvement on previous ones. The standard of horses racing in the
various classes has improved, and the riding, especially of the
amateurs, has been much better than formerly.
With the Gunners and the three line regiments, the Yorkshire Light
Infantry, the Munster Fusiliers and the Duke of Cornwall’s Light
Infantry, keen on the “Great Game,” together with a large number of
civilian Turfites, the prospects for the racing season of 1906 are very
promising. Gibraltar and Campamento racing clubs can hardly expect to
show such racing as is seen at home, but the writer doubts whether any
stranger visiting our racecourses will have any cause to complain of the
sport and amusement shown to him.
Half a Century’s Hunting Recollections.
V.
Once in my life I have heard a fox cry out when seized by a hound; it
was a cub, at Cream Gorse, and Tom Firr jumped down and saved it. The
noise was a sort of twang! As I said at the time, it reminded me of the
snapping of a harp string. I have more than once seen a fox turn to bay
and defy a hound, and in such cases have been very sorry for him if,
later on, the end came.
By the way, in my last I was made to say that the M.F.H. often wore a
“cap.” I wrote a “hat”; not the same thing quite.
Of fatal accidents—fatal on the spot, I mean—I am happy to say that I
have had but little experience. Both victims, however, were friends of
mine. The first was Lord Somerville. We were out with Mr. Tailby, and
were running from Manton Gorse; the ground was greasy to a degree; poor
Somerville, Captain Smith, and I, all rode, I may say, together, at a
low post and rails, but wide of each other. I never knew that any one
had fallen, but Somerville’s horse, a favourite mare called Honesty,
slipped, chested the rail, and landed completely on to him. Death must
have been instantaneous. The other unfortunate was my dearest of dear
old friends, Captain David Barclay. The accident happened just in front
of my second horseman, and at a gap into the Sandy Lane, near Gartree
Hill. In this case my poor friend’s mare, a star-gazing little beast,
slid into the ditch, a deep one. The rider’s foot was caught on the top
of a stake, and he was canted out of the saddle, alighting on his head.
From all accounts he was dead when picked up.
To talk of a less sad subject, I may say that my old joke about the
Peterborough Show having caused so much bad scenting weather has become
quite a stock phrase. We have heard of going back to the bloodhound and
the Welsh hound to regain the “tender nose.” Pace “Borderer,” the faults
of the Welshmen are riot, babbling, and a disinclination to draw strong
gorse, at least this is my limited experience. Whipcord might improve
the riot, but I should fear that this class of hound would sulk under
punishment. A friend of mine is trying the cross in his kennel; I hope
he will succeed with it. As to bloodhounds, I have mentioned the North
Warwickshire of 1861–2. They were originally bloodhound and Belvoir, and
were first started in the Wheatland country. They were all that could be
desired when I saw them.
There was a half-bred bloodhound, called Bonny Lass, in the Ludlow pack,
in the days of my youth. I remember she was none of the stoutest with an
afternoon fox; but Mr. Sitwell bred from her, and put forward at least
one of her daughters, Brilliant (I think, by Harold). But the pure
bloodhound is a single-handed dog. I worked one in a scratch pack, but
she never would go to cry, nor believe a word that her comrades said. I
had a day once with the bloodhound pack started by Lord Wolverton, but
then owned by Lord Carrington. We met, by invitation, at the White Hart,
Winkfield, and took the deer near Reading, at “something” field. The
King, who was out, timed the run at “the best part of three hours,” but
the hounds had very little to do with it. I only saw them run, as a
pack, over one grass park at Binfield. Lords Carrington and Charles
Beresford “rode the deer,” or we should not have known which way she had
gone. She was taken in a pond of extra black mud. Beresford went in to
take her, thereby giving an opening for some graceful badinage about
blue water, and other hues. Except on the one occasion, hounds never
seemed to settle even for one field, and there were lots left behind.
The Berkshire yokels, who were only too fond of catching up an amiable
Ascot staghound, with a view to bucksheesh, on delivery, tried the same
game with some of the “Talbots,” but with direful results. They were
savage, sulky brutes, and murderously quarrelsome in kennel. My bitch
was good tempered enough, and, though noisy on any living scent, quite
mute on a drag, which—boys will be boys—I occasionally ran.
Twice I have seen the _haute école_ with hounds, the Quorn each time.
The first time the owner of a circus, then performing at Leicester, came
out on a trick horse. While we were drawing he cantered across the field
and dropped his handkerchief, then, dismounting, sent his horse to fetch
it, which the animal did, retriever fashion. Having thus advertised
himself, he, when we got away, “took on” all the highest timber which he
could find, but was caught by a blind ditch, “to him.” My friend, Dakin,
of the Carbineers, offered the man £150 for his horse, which was
refused, the price demanded being £300. As I said at the time, I did not
know which of the two parties to this transaction was most wanting in
wisdom. The horse was a weedy thoroughbred; and, unless one wanted
handkerchiefs retrieved, worth in a fair some £30 to £20. The other time
matters were more serious. The _venue_ was Scraptoft, as before. But the
_impresario_ brought out some half-dozen of his lady riders. Their
habits represented all the colours of the rainbow, and their behaviour
was most alarming. Their intention seemed to be to wipe out all Melton
and Harboro’. Poor Fred Archer’s half a length which he allowed to Mr.
Coupland at a fence, was considered short measure, but half a head was
more the form of these homicidal houris. At length they received, and
took, a hint to the effect that they should not over-fatigue themselves
in view of their evening performance.
I have said but little of the Belvoir, as Frank Gillard’s book deals
with the days in which I knew them best. But, if I mistake not, he
confuses the late Mr. Little Gilmour, an opulent Scotsman, who was a
great friend of the late Duke of Rutland, and who, by the way, was a
competitor in the Eglinton Tournament, with Mr. (or rather Captain),
Parker Gillmore, the explorer, big game shooter, and author (“Ubique”).
Mr. Little Gilmour, Lord Gardner, and Lord Wilton were the only ones I
knew of the heroes depicted in “The Melton Breakfast,” of which meal the
late Sir Frederick Johnstone seems to have had a monopoly. The scene of
this banquet is a disputed point. Some say that it is the dining-room at
“The Old Club” (which never was a “club” in the ordinary sense of the
word), others that it is the coffee-room at the “George.” My “key”
describes the servant as the waiter at the “George Inn.” Concerning the
many remarkable men, remarkable for other things besides the chase,
though of course they were foxhunters, I may, perhaps, be allowed to
continue my “havers” in the coming by and by. Yet, two or three men I
must crave permission to mention. One was the late Mr. Ambrose Isted,
who was mentioned by “Nimrod” in his “Hunting Tours.” Being born deaf,
he was also dumb, or nearly so. He was, however, a wonderfully good
draughtsman; and, when I stayed in a country house with him, between
pantomime and pencils, we got on as regular _compadres_. The engraving
of Mr. Osbaldeston and Sir Harry Goodricke in “Silk and Scarlet” is from
a sketch by him. I must really tell one tale about him. His property was
in the Pytchley country, and I made his acquaintance there in the spring
of 1862, when my “base” was Rugby. A brother officer of mine, poor
Walter Bagenal, long since dead, was riding at a fence, when Mr. Isted,
somewhere close by, made a sound of some kind and held up two fingers. I
should never have even guessed his meaning, and should probably have got
a “crowner,” but the Irish intuition of poor dear Bagenal rose to the
occasion. Perceiving that the warning indicated a “double,” he roused
little “Aladdin” and triumphantly cleared both ditches. In another style
Mr. Henley Greaves was a wonderful man. What his weight was no one ever
knew, but on foot he was a marvel of activity. I once came down with him
to the Smite. The squire hailed two yokels, jumped the brook clean on
foot, and then received his horse. I tried to imitate him, but “dropped
my hind-legs.” Once I, out of curiosity, tried to follow him up a bridle
road. He absolutely lost me. The pace he went between the gates, the way
they seemed to open spontaneously for him, and the manner in which he
slipped away on the further side, are beyond my powers of description.
Another remarkable man in a different way, and in his way a hero, was
Mr. Baldwin, “the lion-hunter.” He had made so good a business of a big
game shooting campaign in South Africa, that, what between the sale of
his spoils, ivory, &c., and of his book—a most clever and amusing work,
with no chronicle of the long-bow in it—he managed to have two or three
seasons’ hunting in Leicestershire. I may say that I should imagine him
to be the only man who has ever taken up a lion for a ride behind him!
He confessed that the lion had every reason for annoyance, as he had
been insulted by having dogs set on him. Anyhow, he did what I am told
that lions seldom do. He not only charged his foe, but followed him up,
and, overhauling him, jumped on to the horse’s hindquarters. Naturally
the steed disapproved of this arrangement, and then it became a mere
question as to whether the man or the lion should be kicked off first.
Luckily it was the lion. Had Mr. Leo put his claws into the man’s back,
it would have been a case of stand or fall together! Poor Baldwin lost
an eye in a most unlucky manner. He never cared what he rode, though he
rode them all in the right place; but his stud could not have been
described as animals “suitable to carry a lady.” He was trying to open a
gate, which was bushed up along the top bar, as in those days many were.
In some inexplicable manner he got a thorn into one eye, and, having
made up his mind to lose it, gave away a chance, by not only not
consulting a specialist, but by coming out hunting again, if not the
next day, at a suicidally early date. I last heard of him as hunting in
Cheshire, and trust that he is still pursuing the chase.
I can just remember a certain sportsman, who shall be nameless, but who
headed so many foxes, that Sir Richard Sutton, when Master of the Quorn,
offered to settle an annuity on him, on condition of his leaving the
country. Mr. Surtees often stayed at Quorn, and this offer is revived in
“Mr. Sponge’s Sporting Tour,” as having been made to him by Lord
Scamperdale. The history of the Quorn country is none too complete. Even
in your _Hunting Directory_, Mr. Editor, there is no mention of the
Donnington Hunt as carried on by the Marquis of Hastings, the last but
one. They had very good sport, but I seem to have heard that many of
their best things were with bagmen. These were trained, so the story
goes, and even physicked. “I know not how the truth may be, I tell the
tale as ’twas told to me.” The Marquis, like his son, was never a rider
to hounds, but “Nimrod” tells of him that when buying horses from John
Potter, of Ashby-de-la-Zouche, he took a delight in larking over all the
artificial fences which the trial ground contained. He was passionately
fond of hounds, and, judging from a sketch which he made of what he
considered a perfect foxhound’s head, a pretty good judge of them. At
his death the Hunt was carried on by Mr. J. Storey, of Lockington (the
“old Jack Storey” of my youthful days), and, I fancy, Sir Seymour Blane;
but to this I cannot swear. Sir Richard Sutton retrieved this country
when he began to find the miles rather long between Harborough and
Quorn, and put “Young Dick,” grandfather of the present Baronet, to
represent him at Billesdon; or was it Oadby? No! I cannot help thinking
that Dick Sutton’s kennels were at Skeffington. On this point I must
confess myself open to correction.
The men of old time were not so particular about country as the heroes
of to-day. Loughborough was the headquarters of the Quorn Hunt under Mr.
Meynell, by no means in the cream of the country. The late Admiral
Meynell once asked me (in the early sixties) whether Button (properly
“Buddon”) Wood, close to Quorn, was still a crack covert. At that time I
should think that very few Meltonians could have located the place at
all, and it certainly is nasty to get away from. Still, even in those
days it was not all beer and skittles. In the diary of Jones, Mr.
Meynell’s cork-legged whip, appears this entry: “Found in Mr. Kent’s
Thorns” (now generally called Cant’s Thorns). “The gentlemen over-rode
the hounds at starting, and we lost him.” I have seen something very
much like that happen at that place myself. Certainly a Leicestershire
huntsman has not a bed of roses. As poor Tom Firr once said to me, at a
check, “Most huntsmen have to think where their fox is gone, but I’ve
also to guess where my field is coming to!” And of many men, riders or
not, it may be said that, the longer they hunt the less they know about
the chase!
No doubt in old days, when foxes were really wild and stout, grand sport
was had in rough countries. Any one who has read “Nimrod’s” “Hunting
Tours” must allow that. But the men of old times worked harder than the
Agamemnons of to-day. “Nimrod,” in his northern tour, mentions the fact
of the late Sir David Baird having ridden fifty miles to covert, and the
same distance home, after hunting. And I have lived to see certain of
the silver-gilt go by train from Melton to a meet at Brooksby, six
miles. I should have thought that the bother of catching a train would
be far greater than getting on to one’s hack, and cantering to the meet,
especially as there are good grass sidings all the way. However,
“_Chacun à son gout_,” and this is supposed to be a free country.
I have tried to remember all the packs with which I have ever hunted,
not including harriers, whose name would be legion. But I have quite
forgotten one, the Surrey Union to wit. I was at a “Crammer’s,” near
Leatherhead, and as Paidogogos liked a holiday as well as I did, I got
out as often as a certain very tidy little hireling could come. Colonel
Sumner was Master, and his kennels were, I think, at Fetcham. He had a
hound called Falstaff, of which I believe he thought highly, but I do
not remember much about the pack. I _do_ remember, though, a meet at
Epsom Windmill, and also seeing a fox found on Box Hill. I see an
advertisement in a Highland paper for “freshly caught foxes.” They are
to be delivered in the Old Surrey country; I presume that the advertiser
has shot his coverts. As he is the son of an old schoolfellow of mine, I
will mention neither name nor place.
I can safely say that, out of Leicestershire, the most charming line of
country over which I ever rode was with the Meynell. The late Mr. Clowes
and Lord Waterpark were then joint masters. I cannot say exactly where
we ran, but it was an eight-mile point, all over grass. I only saw one
bit of arable, it was certainly not four acres. But I remember it
because the fox crossed it (we had no need to do so), and I noticed that
the hounds “said more about it” up that furrow than they had been doing
over the grass. This was on the Radbourne side, and I believe the cream
of the country, as well it may be. The fences, though wanting a hunter,
were “nout to boggle a mon,” to quote Mr. James Pigg, and though we had
a bit of a brook, it was also of an inviting nature. Lord Harrington
went gallantly on a three- or possibly a two-year-old thoroughbred one.
He saw the run, at the expense of two or three rolls! I much admired the
hounds, having seen the dogs on one day, and the ladies on the Radbourne
side. I thought the bitches had more muscle on them than the dogs, but
that may have been fancy. One has to see hounds on the flags before one
can pass a judgment of this kind. We did not catch our fox, which was a
pity, as the hunt, with a kill, would have been perfect.
As droll an arrangement as I ever saw was that by which, with the late
Sir Humphrey de Trafford’s Harriers, every one was mounted excepting the
huntsman. In a wired country one could understand this, but in those
happy days wire had not made its detestable appearance. However, this
man legged it to such good purpose, that perhaps a horse would have been
thrown away upon him! A certain M.F.H. once gave as his reason for not
allowing his huntsman a second horse, that this official took quite
enough out of one!
Mr. G. S. Lowe, in the January number, seems under the impression that
Osbaldeston’s “Furrier” was a mean-looking black and white hound. I
possess a portrait of him, in oils, and must repeat what I wrote about
him elsewhere: “Light of bone, and not straight, but no better topped
dog is now in the Belvoir pack, and he is the right colour too” (black,
white and tan). I do not like the custom of not rounding the ears of
foxhounds, if only that the ears are a distinction between a full-grown
puppy at walk, and a stray hound, which may be a matter of moment to a
whip going back to look for the latter. And I do not think that hounds,
in good kennels, have improved at all in the last fifty years. They
certainly cannot go faster than Bluecap and Wanton did when, in 1762,
they ran four miles in, as nearly as possible, eight minutes. I have
always thought that the Quorn couple got “cut off” on that occasion.
Besides we all know that hounds, running a drag, will often leave it if
they are pressed upon by horses. Certainly they go fast enough for most
of us now. I once, some thirty years ago, saw two Belvoir puppies,
outside Old Hills, fairly course down and catch a hare in view. Hares
are not at their strongest in October; but I said nothing, and let them
enjoy their prey, as I admired their performance, illegitimate though it
was!
I fear that we have, as I hinted before, seen the best of foxhunting.
New difficulties seem to crop up daily, but the worst of them are the
pheasant and the wire fence. Too many foxes are practically bagmen,
having been turned down a day or two before the coverts are drawn, and
if a hunt is to rent even half the shootings in its limits, hunting will
indeed be the sport of the rich, and most likely the _nouveau riche_ at
that. Let us hope for the best, but ere now Hope “has told a flattering
tale!” I have omitted to mention Mr. George(?) Grey, of Dilston(?), who
not only when some 70 years old cut down many of the young Meltonians,
but when totally blind, rode over Northumberland, after a pilot, who
described the fences as he came to them. Space prevents my saying much
about the Cottesmore. At an interval of over forty years, they ran from
Launde Wood to Kirby Park, killing each fox, one under the park wall,
the other a bit farther on, by the River Wreake. But as space is
wanting, good-bye, Brave Boys.