VIEW OF COUNTRY LIFE DURING THE AGE OF SHAKSPEARE
CONTINUED—DIVERSIONS.
The attempt to describe all the numerous rural diversions which were
prevalent during the age of Shakspeare, would be, in the highest
degree, superfluous; for the greatest part of them, it is evident,
must remain, with such slight or gradual modification as to require
but little notice. It will be, therefore, our endeavour, in the
course of this chapter, after giving a catalogue of the principal
country-diversions of the era in question, to dwell only upon those
which are now either entirely obsolete, or which have subsequently
undergone such alterations as to render their former state an object of
novelty and curiosity.
This catalogue may be taken, with tolerable accuracy, from Randal Holme
of Chester, and from Robert Burton; the former enumerating the games
and diversions of the sixteenth century, and the latter those of the
prior part of the seventeenth. If to these, we add the notices to be
drawn from Shakspeare, the sketch will, there is reason to suppose,
prove sufficiently extensive.
In the list of Randal Holme will be found the names of some juvenile
sports, which are now perhaps no longer explicable; this poetical
antiquary, however, shall speak for himself.
"—— They dare challenge for to throw the sledge;
To jumpe or lepe over ditch or hedge;
To wrastle, play at stool-balle, or to runne;
To pitch the barre or to shote offe the gunne;
To play at loggets, nineholes, or ten pinnes;
To trye it out at fote balle by the shinnes;
At ticke tacke, seize noddy, maw, or ruffe;
Hot-cockles, leape froggè, or blindman's buffe;
To drinke the halfer pottes, or deale att the whole canne;
To playe at chesse, or pue, and inke-horènne;
To daunce the morris, playe at barley breake;
At alle exploytes a man can thynke or speake;
Att shove-grote, 'venter poynte, att crosse and pyle;
Att "Beshrewe him that's last att any style;"
Att lepynge over a Christmàs bon fyer,
Or att the "drawynge dame owte o' the myre;"
At "Shoote cock, Gregory," stoole-ball, and what not:
Pickè-poynt, top, and scourge to make him hot."[247:A]
Burton, after mentioning _Hawking_, _Hunting_, _Fowling_, and
_Fishing_, says, "many other sports and recreations there be, much in
use, as _ringing_, _holding_, _shooting_, (with the bow,) _keelpins_,
_tronks_, _coits_, _pitching bars_, _hurling_, _wrestling_, _leaping_,
_running_, _fencing_, _mustring_, _swimming_, _wasters_, _foiles_,
_foot-ball_, _balown_, _quintan_, &c., and many such which are the
common recreations of the Country folks."[247:B] He subsequently adds
_bull_ and _bear baiting_ as common to both countrymen and[247:C]
citizens, and then subjoins to the list of rural amusements, _dancing_,
_singing_, _masking_, _mumming_, and _stage-players_.[247:D] For
the ordinary recreations of _Winter_ as well in _the country_ as in
town, he recommends "_cards_, _tables_ and _dice_, _shovelboord_,
_chess-play_, the _philosopher's game_, _small trunks_, _shuttle-cock_,
_balliards_, _musick_, _masks_, _singing_, _dancing_, _ule games_,
_frolicks_, _jests_, _riddles_, _catches_, _purposes_, _questions and
commands_, and _merry tales_."[247:E]
From this statement it will immediately appear, that many of the rural
diversions of this period are those likewise of the present day, and
that no large portion of the catalogue can with propriety call for a
more extended notice.
At the head of those which demand some brief elucidation, we shall
place the _Itinerant Stage_, a _country_ amusement, however, which,
in the days of Elizabeth, was fast degenerating into contempt. The
performance of secular plays by strolling companies of minstrels, had
been much encouraged for two or three centuries, not only by the
vulgar, but by the nobility, into whose castles and halls they were
gladly admitted, and handsomely rewarded. At the commencement of the
sixteenth century, the custom was still common, and Mr. Steevens, as a
proof of it, has furnished us with the following entry from the fifth
Earl of Northumberland's Household Book, which was begun in the year
1512:—
"Rewards to Players.
"Item, to be payd to the said Richard Gowge and Thomas Percy for
rewards to players for playes playd in Chrystinmas by _stranegers_ in
my house after xxd. every play by estimacion somme xxxiijs. iiijd.
Which ys appoynted to be paid to the said Richard Gowge and Thomas
Percy at the said Christynmas in full contentacion of the said reward
ys xxxiijs. iiijd."[248:A]
That these itinerants were still occasionally admitted into the
country-mansions of the great, during the reign of Elizabeth, we have
satisfactory evidence; but it may be sufficient here to remark, that
Elizabeth herself was entertained with an historical play at Kenelworth
Castle, by performers who came for that purpose from Coventry; and that
Shakspeare has favoured us with another instance, by the introduction
of the following scene in his _Taming of the Shrew_, supposed to have
been written in 1594:—
"_Lord._ Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds:—
Exit _Servant_.
Belike, some noble gentleman; that means,
Travelling some journey, to repose him here.—
Re-enter a _Servant_.
How now? who is it?
_Serv._ An it please your honour,
Players that offer service to your lordship.
_Lord._ Bid them come near:—
Enter Players.
Now, fellows, you are welcome.
_1 Play._ We thank your honour.
_Lord._ Do you intend to stay with me to night?
_2 Play._ So please your lordship to accept our duty.
_Lord._ With all my heart.—
Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,
And give them friendly welcome every one:
Let them want nothing that my house affords."[249:A]
From this passage it may be deduced, that the _itinerant_ players of
this period were held in no higher estimation than menial servants;
an inference which is corroborated by referring to the anonymous play
of _A Taming of a Shrew_, written about 1590, where the entry of the
players is thus marked, "Enter two of the plaiers, _with packs at
their backs_." The abject condition of these _strollers_, Mr. Pope has
attributed, perhaps too hastily, to the stationary performers of this
reign; "the _top_ of the profession," he observes, "were then mere
players, not gentlemen of the stage; they were led into the _buttery_
by the steward, not placed at the lord's table, or the lady's[249:B]
toilette;" a passage on which Mr. Malone has remarked, that Pope "seems
not to have observed, that the players here introduced are _strollers_;
and there is no reason to suppose that our author, Heminge, Burbage,
Condell, &c. who were licensed by King James, were treated in this
manner."[249:C]
On the other hand Mr. Steevens supports the opinion of Pope by
asserting, that "at the period when this comedy (_Taming of a Shrew_)
was written, and for many years after, the profession of a player was
scarcely allowed to be reputable. The imagined dignity," he continues,
"of those who did not belong to itinerant companies, is, therefore,
unworthy consideration. I can as easily believe that the blundering
editors of the first folio were suffered to lean their hands on Queen
Elizabeth's chair of state, as that they were admitted to the table of
the Earl of Leicester, or the toilette of Lady Hunsden. Like Stephen,
in _Every Man in his Humour_, the greatest indulgence our histrionic
leaders could have expected, would have been a trencher and a napkin in
the _buttery_."[250:A]
The inference, however, which Mr. Malone has drawn, appears to have
the authority of Shakspeare himself; for when Hamlet is informed of
the arrival of the players, he exclaims, "How chances it, they travel;
their _residence_, both in _reputation_ and profit, was _better both
ways_[250:B];" a question, the drift of which even Mr. Steevens
explains in the following words. "How chances it they travel?—i. e.
_How happens it that they are become strollers?_—Their residence,
both in reputation and profit, was better both ways—i. e. _To have
remained in a settled theatre was the more honourable as well as the
more lucrative situation_."[250:C] We have every reason, therefore, to
suppose, that the difference between the _stroller_ and the _licensed_
performer was in Shakspeare's time considerable; and that the latter,
although not the companion of lords and countesses, was held in a very
respectable light, if his personal conduct were good, and became the
occasional associate of the first literary characters of the age; while
the former was frequently degraded beneath the rank of a servant, and,
in the statute, indeed, 39 Eliz. ch. 4. he is classed with rogues,
vagabonds, and sturdy beggars.
This depreciation of the character of the _itinerant player_, towards
the close of Elizabeth's reign, soon narrowed his field of action;
the opulent became unwilling to admit into their houses persons thus
legally branded; and the _stroller_ was reduced to the necessity of
exhibiting his talents at wakes and fairs, on temporary scaffolds and
barrel heads; "if he pen for thee once," says Ben Jonson, addressing a
strolling player, "thou shalt not need to travell, with thy pumps full
of gravell, any more, after a _blinde jade and a hamper_, and _stalk
upon boards and barrel-heads_ to an old crackt trumpet."[250:D]
Many country-towns, indeed, at this period, were privileged to hold
fairs by exhibiting a certain number of stage-plays at their annual
fairs. Of these, Manningtree in Essex was one of the most celebrated;
Heywood mentions it as notorious for yearly plays at its fair[251:A];
and that its festivity on these occasions was equally known, is evident
from Shakspeare's comparison of Falstaff to a "roasted Manningtree ox
with a pudding in his belly."[251:B] The histrionic fame of Manningtree
Mr. Malone proves by two quotations from Nashe and Decker; the former
exclaiming in a poem, called _The choosing of Valentines_,
——— "Or see a play of strange moralitie,
Shewen by bachelrie of _Manning-tree_,
Whereto the countrie franklins flock-meale swarme;"
and the latter observing, in a tract entitled _Seven deadly Sinnes of
London_, 1607, that "Cruelty has got another part to play; it is acted
like the old _morals_ at _Manningtree_."[251:C]
This custom of stage-playing at annual fairs continued to support a few
itinerant _companies_; but in general, after the halls of the nobility
and gentry were shut against them[251:D], they divided into small
parties of three or four, and at length became mere jugglers, jesters,
and _puppet-show_ exhibitors. This last-mentioned amusement, indeed,
and its professors, seem to have been known, in this country, under
the name of _motions_, and _motion-men_, as early as the commencement
of the sixteenth century[252:A]; and the term, indeed, continued to
be thus applied in the time of Jonson, who repeatedly uses it, in his
_Bartholomew Fair_.[252:B] The degradation of the STROLLING companies,
by the statutes of Elizabeth and James, rendered the exhibition of
automaton figures, at this period, common throughout the kingdom. They
are alluded to by Shakspeare under the appellation of _drolleries_;
thus in the _Tempest_, Alonzo, alarmed at the _strange shapes bringing
in the banquet_, exclaims
"Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?"
a question to which Sebastian replies,
"_A LIVING drollery_,"[252:C]
meaning by this epithet to distinguish them from the wooden puppets,
the performers in the shows called _drolleries_.
A very popular annual diversion was celebrated, during the age of
Shakspeare, and for more than twenty-five years after, on the _Cotswold
Hills_ in Gloucestershire. It has been said that the rural games which
constituted this anniversary, were _founded_ by one Robert Dover on the
accession of James I.;[252:D] but it appears to be ascertained that
Dover was only the _reviver_, with additional splendour, of sports
which had been yearly exhibited, at an early period, on the same spot,
and perhaps only discontinued for a short time before their revival
in 1603. "We may learn from Rudder's History of Glocestershire," says
Mr. Chalmers, "that, in more early times, there was at Cottswold a
customary meeting, every year, at Whitsontide, called an _ale_, or
_Whitson-ale_, which was attended by all the lads, and the lasses, of
the _villegery_, who, annually, chose a Lord and Lady of the _Yule_,
who were the authorized rulers of the _rustic revellers_. There is
in the Church of Cirencester, says Rudder, an ancient monument, in
_basso relievo_, that evinces the antiquity of those games, which
were known to Shakspeare, before the accession of King James. They
were known, also, to Drayton early in that reign: for upon the map
of Glocestershire, which precedes the _fourteenth song_, there is a
representation of a _Whitsun-ale_, with a _may pole_, which last is
inscribed '_Heigh for Cotswold_.'
"Ascending, next, faire Cotswold's plaines,
She _revels_ with the _Shepherd's_ swaines."[253:A]
Mr. Strutt also is of opinion that the Cotswold games had a much higher
origin than the time of Dover, and observes that they are evidently
alluded to in the following lines by John Heywood the epigrammatist:
"He fometh like a bore, the beaste should seeme bolde,
For he is as fierce as a _lyon of Cotswold_."[253:B]
In confirmation of these statements it may be added, that Mr. Steevens
and Mr. Chalmers have remarked, that in Randolph's poems, 1638, is to
be found "An eclogue on the noble assemblies _revived_ on Cotswold
hills by Mr. Robert Dover;" and in D'Avenant's poems published the same
year, a copy of verses "In celebration of the yearely _preserver_ of
the games at Cotswold."[253:C]
The _Reviver_ of these far-famed games was an enterprising attorney, a
native of Barton on the Heath in Warwickshire, and consequently a near
neighbour to Shakspeare's country-residence. He obtained permission
from King James to be the director of these annual sports, which he
superintended in person for forty years. They were resorted to by
prodigious multitudes of people, and by all the nobility and gentry
for sixty miles round, until "the rascally rebellion," to adopt the
phraseology of Anthony Wood, "was begun by the Presbyterians, which
gave a stop to their proceedings, and spoiled all that was generous and
ingenious elsewhere."[254:A]
They consisted originally, and previous to the direction of
Dover, merely of athletic exercises, such as wrestling, leaping,
cudgel-playing, sword and buckler fighting, pitching the bar, throwing
the sledge, tossing the pike, &c. &c. To these Dover added _coursing_
for the gentlemen and _dancing_ for the ladies; a temporary castle
of boards being erected for the accommodation of the fair sex, and a
silver collar adjudged as a prize for the fleetest greyhound.
To these two eras of the Cotswold Games Shakspeare alludes in the
second part of _King Henry IV._, and in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_.
Justice Shallow refers to the original state of this diversion, when in
the first of these dramas he enumerates among the _swinge-bucklers_,
"Will Squeele, a _Cotsole_ man[254:B];" and to Dover's improvement of
them, when, in the second, he represents Slender asking Page, "How
does your _fallow greyhound_, Sir? I heard say, he was out-run on
Cotsale."[254:C]
Dover, tradition says, was highly delighted with the superintendance of
these Games, and assumed, during his direction of them, a great deal
of state and consequence. "_Captain_ Dover," relates Granger, a title
which courtesy had probably bestowed on this public-spirited attorney,
"had not only the permission of James I. to celebrate the Cotswold
Games, but appeared in the very cloaths which that monarch had formerly
worn[254:D], and with much more dignity in his air and aspect."[254:E]
In 1636, there was published at London a small quarto, entitled,
"_Annalia Dubrensia, upon the yearly Celebration of Mr. Robert Dover's
Olympic Games, upon Cotswold Hills_," a book consisting entirely of
recommendatory verses, written by Jonson, Drayton, Randolph, and many
others, and with a print prefixed of Dover on horseback.
It is probable that, at this period, and for many subsequent years,
there were several places in the kingdom which had Games somewhat
similar to those of Cotswold, though not quite so celebrated; for Heath
says, that a carnival of this kind was kept every year, about the
middle of July, upon Halgaver-moor, near Bodwin in Cornwall; "resorted
to by thousands of people. The sports and pastimes here held were so
well liked," he relates, "by Charles the Second, when he touched here
in his way to Sicily, that he became a brother of the jovial society.
The custom," he adds, "of keeping this Carnival is said to be as old as
the Saxons."[255:A]
Of the four great rural diversions, _Hawking_, _Hunting_, _Fowling_ and
_Fishing_, the first will require the greatest share of our attention,
as it is now nearly, if not altogether extinct, and was, during the
reigns of Elizabeth and James, the most prevalent and fashionable of
all amusements.
To the very commencement, indeed, of the seventeenth century, we may
point, as to the zenith of its popularity and reputation; for although
it had been introduced into this country as early as the middle of the
eighth century[255:B], it was, until the commencement of the sixteenth,
nearly, if not entirely, confined to the highest rank of society.
During the reigns of Elizabeth and James, however, it descended from
the nobility to the gentry and wealthy yeomanry, and no man could then
have the smallest pretension to the character of a gentleman who kept
not a cast of hawks. Of this a ludicrous instance is given us by Ben
Jonson, in his _Every Man in his Humour_:
"_Master Stephen._ How does my coussin Edward, uncle?
_Knowell._ O, well cousse, goe in and see: I doubt he be scarce
stirring yet.
_Steph._ Uncle, afore I goe in, can you tell me, an' he have
ere a booke of the sciences of hawking, and hunting? I would
faine borrow it.
_Know._ Why, I hope you will not a hawking now, will you?
_Steph._ No, cousse; but I'll practise against next yere uncle.
I have bought me a hawke, and a hood, and bells, and all; I
lacke nothing but a booke to keepe it by.
_Know._ O, most ridiculous.
_Steph._ Nay, looke you now, you are angrie, uncle: why
you know, an' a man have not skill in the hawking, and
hunting-languages now-a-days, I'll not give a rush for him.
They are more studied than the Greeke, or the Latine. He is for
no gallant's company without 'hem.—A fine jest ifaith! Slid a
gentleman mun show himselfe like a gentleman!"[256:A]
That the character of Master Stephen is not, in this respect,
overcharged, but represents faithfully the fashionable folly of the
age, is evident from many contemporary writers, and especially from
that sensible old author Richard Brathwait, who, speaking of dogs and
hawks, says, "they are to be used only as pleasures and recreations, of
which to speake sparingly were much better, than onely to discourse of
them, _as if our whole reading were in them_. Neither doe I speake this
without just cause; for I have noted this fault in many of our younger
brood of _Gentry_, who either for want of education in learning, or
their owne neglect of learning, have no sooner attained to the strength
of making their fist a pearch for a _hawke_, but by _the helpe of some
bookes of faulconry_, whereby they are instructed in the words of art,
they will run division upon discourse of this pleasure: whereas, if
at any time they be interrupted by occasion of some other conference,
these _High-flyers_ are presently to bee _mewed_ up, for they are taken
from their element."[256:B]
Many of the best books on the Art of Falconry were written, indeed,
as might be expected, during this universal rage for the amusement,
and the _hawking coxcombs_ of the day, adopting their language on all
occasions, became necessarily obtrusive and pedantic in a disgusting
degree. Of these manuals the most popular were written by George
Turberville, Gervase Markham, and Edmund Best.[257:A]
But the most detrimental consequence arising from the universality of
this elegant diversion, was the immense expense that attended it, and
which frequently involved those who were not opulent in utter ruin: a
result not to be wondered at, when we find, that at the commencement of
the seventeenth century, a goss-hawk and a tassel-hawk were not to be
purchased for less than a hundred marks; and that in the reign of James
I., Sir Thomas Monson gave one thousand pounds for a cast of hawks.
Brathwait, in his usual strain of propriety, advises those who are not
possessed of _good estates_, to give up all idea of this diversion, and
exposes its indiscriminate pursuit in the following pleasant manner:—
"This pleasure," observes he, "as it is a princely delight, so it
moveth many to be so dearely enamoured of it, as they will undergoe
any charge, rather than forgoe it: which makes mee recall to mind a
merry tale which I have read, to this effect. Divers men having entered
into discourse, touching the superfluous care (I will not say folly)
of such as kept _dogs_ and _hawkes_ for _hawking_; one _Paulus_ a
_Florentine_ stood up and spake: Not without cause (quoth hee) did
that foole of _Millan_ laugh at these; and being entreated to tell the
tale, hee thus proceeded; upon a time (quoth he) there was a citizen
of _Millan_, a physitian for such as were distracted or lunaticke; who
tooke upon him within a certaine time to cure such as were brought
unto him. And hee cured them after this sort: Hee had a plat of ground
neere his house, and in it a pit of corrupt and stinking water, wherein
he bound naked such as were mad to a stake, some of them knee-deepe,
others to the groin, and some others deeper according to the degree of
their madnesse, where hee so long pined them with water and hunger,
till they seemed sound. Now amongst others, there was one brought, whom
he had put thigh-deepe in water; who after fifteene dayes began to
recover, beseeching the physitian that hee might be taken out of the
water. The physitian taking compassion of him, tooke him out, but with
this condition, that he should not goe out of the roome. Having obeyed
him certaine dayes, he gave him liberty to walke up and downe the
house, but not to passe the out-gate; while the rest of his companions,
which were many, remaining in the water, diligently observed their
physitian's command. Now it chanced, as on a time he stood at the gate,
(for out hee durst not goe, for feare he should returne to the pit)
he beckoned to a yong _gentleman_ to come unto him, who had a _hawke_
and two spaniels, being moved with the novelty thereof; for to his
remembrance before hee fell mad, he had never seene the like. The yong
_gentleman_ being come unto him; Sir, (quoth he) I pray you hear mee a
word or two, and answer mee at your pleasure: What is this you ride on
(quoth he) and how do you imploy him? This is a horse (replied he) and
I keepe him for _hawking_. But what call you that, you carry on your
fist, and how do you use it? This is a _hawke_ (said he) and I use to
flie with it at pluver and partridge. But what (quoth he) are these
which follow you, what doe they, or wherein doe they profit you? These
are dogges (said he) and necessary for _hawking_, to finde and retrieve
my game. And what were these birds worth, for which you provide so
many things, if you should reckon all you take for a whole yeere? Who
answering, hee knew not well, but they were worth a very little, not
above sixe crownes. The man replied; what then may be the charge you
are at with your horse, dogges and hawke? Some fiftie crowns, said
he. Whereat, as one wondering at the folly of the yong _gentleman_:
Away, away Sir, I pray you quickly, and fly hence before our physitian
returne home: for if he finde you here, as one that is maddest man
alive, he will throw you into his pit, there to be cured with others,
that have lost their wits; and more than all others, for he will set
you chin-deepe in the water. Inferring hence, that the use or exercise
of _hawking_, is the greatest folly, unlesse sometimes used by such as
are of good estate, and for recreation sake.
"Neither is this pleasure or recreation herein taxed, but the excessive
and immoderate expence which many are at in maintaining this pleasure.
Who as they should be wary in the expence of their _coine_, so much
more circumspect in their expence of _time_. So as in a word, I could
wish yong _gentlemen_ never to bee so taken with this pleasure, as
to lay aside the dispatch of more serious occasions, for a flight of
feathers in the ayre."[259:A]
The same prudent advice occurs in an author who wrote immediately
subsequent to Brathwait, and who, though a lover of the diversion,
stigmatises the folly of its general adoption. "As for hawking," says
he; "I commend it in some, condemne it in others; in men of qualitie
whose estates will well support it, I commend it as a generous and
noble qualitie; but in men of meane ranke and religious men[259:B], I
condemne it with Blesensis, as an idle and foolish vanitie: for I have
ever thought it a kinde of madnesse for such men, to bestow ten pounds
in feathers, which at one blast might be blowne away, and to buy a
momentary monethly pleasure with the labours and expence of a whole
yeare."[260:A]
It is to be regretted, however, that the use of the gun has superseded,
among the opulent, the pursuit of this far more elegant and picturesque
recreation. As intimately connected, for many centuries, with the
romantic manners and costume of our ancient nobility and gentry, it
now possesses peculiar charms for the poet and the antiquary, and we
look back upon the detail of this pastime, and all its magnificent
establishments, with a portion of that interest which time has
conferred upon the splendid pageantries of chivalry. Of the estimation
in which it was held, and of the pleasure which it produced, in
Shakspeare's time, there are not wanting numerous proofs: he has
himself frequently alluded to it, and the poets Turberville, Gascoign,
and Sydney, have delighted to expatiate on its praises, and to adopt
its technical phraseology. But the most interesting eulogia, the most
striking pictures of this diversion, appear to us to be derived from a
few strokes in Brathwait, Nash, and Massinger; writers who, publishing
shortly after Shakspeare's death, and describing the amusement of their
youthful days, of course delineate the features as they existed in
Shakspeare's age, with as much, if not greater accuracy than the still
earlier contemporaries of the bard.
"Hawking," remarks Brathwait, "is a pleasure for high and mounting
spirits: such as will not stoope to inferiour lures, having their
mindes so farre above, as they scorne to partake with them. It is rare
to consider, how a wilde _bird_ should bee so brought to hand, and so
well managed as to make us such pleasure in the ayre: but most of all
to forgoe her native liberty and feeding, and returne to her former
servitude and diet. But in this, as in the rest, we are taught to
admire the great goodnesse and bounty of God, who hath not only given
us the birds of the aire, with their flesh to feede us, with their
voice to cheere us, but with their flight to delight us."[260:B]
"I have in my youthfull dayes," relates Nash, "beene as glad as ever
I was to come from Schoole, to see a little martin in the dead time of
the yeare, when the winter had put on her whitest coat, and the frosts
had sealed up the brookes and rivers, to make her way through the midst
of a multitude of fowle-mouth'd ravenous crows and kites, which pursued
her with more hydeous cryes and clamours, than did Coll the dog, and
Malkin the maide, the Fox in the Apologue.
"When the geese for feare flew over the trees,
And out of their hives came the swarme of bees:"
_Chaucer in his Nunes Priests Tale._
and maugre all their oppositions pulled down her prey, bigger than
herselfe, being mounted aloft, steeple-high downe to the ground. And
to heare an accipitrary relate againe, how he went forth in a cleere,
calme, and sun-shine evening, about an houre before the sunne did
usually maske himselfe, unto the river, where finding of a mallard, he
whistled off his faulcon, and how shee flew from him as if shee would
never have turned head againe, yet presently upon a shoote came in,
how then by degrees, by little and little, by flying about and about,
she mounted so high, untill shee had lessened herselfe to the view of
the beholder, to the shape of a pigeon or partridge, and had made the
height of the moone the place of her flight, how presently upon the
landing of the fowle, shee came downe like a stone and enewed it, and
suddenly got up againe, and suddenly upon a second landing came downe
againe, and missing of it, in the downe come recovered it, beyond
expectation, to the admiration of the beholder, at a long; and to heare
him tell a third time, how he went forth early in a winter's morning,
to the woody fields and pastures to fly the cocke, where having by the
little white feather in his tayle discovered him in a brake, he cast of
a tasel gentle, and how he never ceased in his circular motion, untill
he had recovered his place, how suddenly upon the flushing of the cocke
he came downe, and missing of it in the downcome, what working there
was on both sides, how the cocke mounted, as if he would have pierced
the skies; how the hawke flew a contrary way, untill he had made the
winde his friend, how then by degrees he got up, yet never offered to
come in, untill he had got the advantage of the higher ground, how then
he made in, what speed the cocke made to save himselfe, and what hasty
pursuit the hawke made, and how after two long miles flight killed it,
yet in killing of it killed himselfe. These discourses I love to heare,
and can well be content to be an eye-witnesse of the sport, when my
occasions will permit."[262:A]
To this lively and minute detail, which brings the scene immediately
before our eyes, we must be allowed to add the poetical picture of
Massinger, which, as Mr. Gifford has justly observed, "is from the hand
of a great master."
————————— "In the afternoon,
For we will have variety of delights,
We'll to the field again, no game shall rise
But we'll be ready for't——
————————— for the pye or jay, a sparrow hawk
Flies from the fist; the crow so near pursued,
Shall be compell'd to seek protection under
Our horses bellies; a hearn put from her siege,
And a pistol shot off in her breech, shall mount
So high, that, to your view, she'll seem to soar
Above the middle region of the air:
A cast of haggard falcons, by me mann'd,
Eying the prey at first, appear as if
They did turn tail; but with their labouring wings
Getting above her, with a thought their pinions
Clearing the purer element, make in,
And by turns bind with her[262:B]; the frighted fowl,
Lying at her defence upon her back,
With her dreadful beak, awhile defers her death,
But by degrees forced down, we part the fray,
And feast upon her.——
————————— Then, for an evening flight,
A tiercel gentle, which I call, my masters,
As he were sent a messenger to the moon,
In such a place flies, as he seems to say,
See me, or see me not! the partridge sprung,
He makes his stoop; but wanting breath, is forced
To cancelier[263:A]; then, with such speed as if
He carried lightning in his wings, he strikes
The trembling bird, who even in death appears
Proud to be made his quarry."[263:B]
After these praises and general description of hawking, it will be
proper to mention the various kinds of hawks used for this diversion,
the different modes of exercising it, and a few of the most interesting
particulars relative to the training of the birds.
It will be found, on consulting the _Treatise on Hawking_, by Dame
Juliana Barnes, printed by Winkin De Worde in 1496, the _Gentleman's
Academie_, by Markham, 1595, and the _Jewel for Gentrie_, published in
1614, that during this space of time, the species of hawks employed,
and the several ranks of society to which they were appropriated, had
scarcely, if at all varied. The following catalogue is, therefore,
taken from the ancient Treatyse:
"An eagle, a bawter (a vulture), a melown; these belong unto an
Emperor.
A Gerfalcon: a Tercell of a Gerfalcon are due to a King.
There is a Falcon gentle, and a Tercel gentle; and these be for a
Prince.
There is a Falcon of the rock; and that is for a Duke.
There is a Falcon peregrine; and that is for an earl.
Also there is a Bastard; and that hawk is for a baron.
There is a Sacre and a Sacret; and these ben for a knight.
There is a Lanare and a Lanrell; and these belong to a squire.
There is a Merlyon; and that hawk is for a lady.
There is an Hoby; and that hawk is for a young man.
And these _ben_ hawks of the _tour_ and ben both _illuryd_ to be
called and reclaimed.
And yet there ben more kinds of hawks.
There is a Goshawk; and that hawk is for a yeoman.
There is a Tercel; and that is for a poor man.
There is a Sparehawk; she is an hawk for a priest.
There is a Muskyte; and he is for an holy-water clerk."[264:A]
To this list the _Jewel for Gentre_ adds
A Kesterel, for a knave or servant.
Many of these birds were held in such high estimation by our crowned
heads and nobility, that several severe edicts were issued for
the preservation of their eggs. These were mitigated in the reign
of Elizabeth; but still if any person was convicted of taking or
destroying the eggs of the falcon, gos-hawk or laner, he was liable to
suffer imprisonment for three months, and was obliged to find security
for his good behaviour for seven years, or remain confined until he did.
Hawking was divided into two branches, land and water hawking, and
the latter was usually considered as producing the most sport. The
diversion of hawking was pursued either on horseback or on foot: on
the former in the fields and open country; on the latter, in woods,
coverts, and on the banks of rivers. When on foot, the sportsman
had the assistance of a stout pole, for the purpose of leaping over
ditches, rivulets, &c.; a circumstance which we learn from the
chronicle of Hall, where the historian tells us that Henry the Eighth,
pursuing his hawk on foot, in attempting to leap over a ditch of
muddy water with his pole, it broke, and precipitated the monarch
head-foremost into the mud, where, had it not been for the timely
assistance of one of his footmen, named John Moody, he would soon have
been suffocated; "and so," concludes the venerable chronicler, "God of
hys goodnesse preserved him."[264:B]
The game pursued in hawking included a vast variety of birds, many
of which, once fashionable articles of the table, have now ceased to
be objects of the culinary art. Of those which are now obsolete among
epicures may be enumerated, herons, bitterns, swans, cranes, curlews,
sheldrakes, cootes, peacocks; of those still in use, teel, mallard,
geese, ducks, pheasants, quails, partridges, plovers, doves, turtles,
snipes, woodcocks, rooks, larks, starlings, and sparrows.
Hawking, notwithstanding the occasional fatigue and hazard which it
produced, was a favourite diversion among the ladies, who in the
pursuit of it, according to a writer of the seventeenth century, did
not hesitate to assume the male attire and posture. "The [265:A]Bury
ladies," observes he, "that used _hawking_ and hunting, were once in a
great vaine of wearing breeches."[265:B] The same author has preserved
a hawking anecdote of some humour, and which occurred, likewise, at
the same place: "Sir Thomas Jermin," he relates, "going out with
his servants, and brooke hawkes one evening, at Bury, they were no
sooner abroad, but fowle were found, and he called out to one of his
falconers, Off with your jerkin; the fellow being into the wind did
not heare him; at which he stormed, and still cried out, Off with your
jerkin, you knave, off with your jerkin; now it fell out that there
was, at that instant, a plaine townsman of Bury, in a freeze jerkin,
stood betwixt him and his falconer, who seeing Sir Thomas in such a
rage, and thinking he had spoken to him, unbuttoned himself amaine,
threw off his jerkin, and besought his worshippe not to be offended,
for he would off with his doublet too, to give him content."[265:C]
That the _training_ of hawks was a work of labour, difficulty, and
skill, and that the person upon whom the task devolved, was highly
prized, and supported at a great expense, may be readily imagined. The
_Falconer_ was, indeed, an officer of high importance in the household
of the opulent, and his whole time was absorbed in the duties of his
station. That these were various and incessant may be deduced from the
following curious character of a _falconer_, drawn by a satirist of
1615.[266:A]
"A falkoner is the egge of a tame pullett, hatcht up among hawkes
and spaniels. Hee hath in his minority conversed with kestrils and
yong hobbies: but growing up he begins to handle the lure, and look a
fawlcon in the face. All his learning makes him but a new linguist;
for to have studied and practised the termes of Hawke's Dictionary,
is enough to excuse his wit, manners, and humanity. He hath too
many trades to thrive; and yet if hee had fewer, hee would thrive
lesse. Hee need not be envied therefore, for a monopolie, though he
be barber-surgeon, physitian, and apothecary, before he commences
_hawk-leech_; for though he exercise all these, and the art of
bow-strings together, his patients be compelled to pay him no further,
then they be able. Hawkes be his object, that is, his knowledge,
admiration, labour, and all; they be indeed his idoll, or mistresse, be
they male or female: to them he consecrates his amorous ditties, which
be no sooner framed then hallowed; nor should he doubt to overcome the
fairest, seeing he reclaimes such haggards, and courts every one with
a peculiar dialect. That he is truly affected to his sweetheart in her
fether-bed, appeares by the sequele, himselfe being sensible of the
same misery, for they be both mewed up together: but he still chuses
the worst pennance, by chusing rather an ale-house, or a cellar, for
his moulting place than the hawke's mew."[266:B]
The training of Hawks consisted principally in the _manning_, _luring_,
_flying_, and _hooding_ them. Of these, the first and second imply
a perfect familiarity with the man, and a perfect obedience to his
voice and commands, especially that of returning to the fist at the
appointed signal.[267:A] The _flying_ includes the appropriation of
peculiar hawks to peculiar game; thus the _Faulcon gentle_, which,
according to Gervase Markham, is the principal of hawks, and adapted
either for the field or river, will fly at the partridge or the
mallard; the _Gerfaulcon_ will fly at the heron; the _Saker_ at the
crane or bittern; the _Lanner_ at the partridge, pheasant, or chooffe;
the _Barbary Faulcon_ at the partridge only; the _Merlin_ and the
_Hobby_ at the lark, or any small bird; the _Goshawk_ or _Tercel_ at
the partridge, pheasant, or hare; the _Sparrow-hawk_ at the partridge
or blackbird, and the _Musket_ at the bush only.[267:B]
The _hooding_ of hawks, as it embraces many technical terms, which
have been adopted by our poets, and among the rest, by Shakspeare,
will require a more extended explanation, and this we shall give
in the words of Mr. Strutt. "When the hawk," he observes, "was not
flying at her game, she was usually hood-winked, with a cap or hood
provided for that purpose, and fitted to her head; and this hood was
worn abroad, as well as at home. All hawks taken upon '_the fist_,'
the term used for carrying them upon the hand, had straps of leather
called _jesses_[267:C], put about their legs; the jesses were made
sufficiently long, for the knots to appear between the middle and the
little fingers of the hand that held them, so that the _lunes_, or
small thongs of leather, might be fastened to them with two _tyrrits_,
or rings; and the lunes were loosely wound round the little finger;
lastly, their legs were adorned with _bells_, fastened with rings of
leather, each leg having one; and the leathers, to which the bells were
attached, were denominated _bewits_; and to the bewits was added the
_creance_, or long thread, by which the bird in tutoring, was drawn
back, after she had been permitted to fly; and this was called the
_reclaiming_ of the hawk. The bewits, we are informed, were useful
to keep the hawks from _winding when she bated_, that is, when she
fluttered her wings to fly after her game. Respecting the bells,
it is particularly recommended that they should not be too heavy,
to impede the flight of the bird; and that they should be of equal
weight, sonorous, shrill, and musical; not both of one sound, but the
one a semitone below the other[268:A]; they ought not to be broken,
especially in the sounding part, because, in that case, the sound
emitted would be dull and unpleasing. There is, says the Book of St.
Alban's, great choice of sparrow-hawk bells, and they are cheap enough;
but for gos-hawk bells, those made at Milan are called the best;
and, indeed, they are excellent; for they are commonly sounded with
[268:B]silver, and charged for accordingly."[268:C]
Thomas Heywood, in his play, entitled _A Woman killed with Kindness_,
and acted before 1604, has a passage on falconry, four lines of which
have been quoted by Mr. Strutt, as allusive to the toning of the Milan
bells; but as the whole is highly descriptive of the diversion, and
is of no great length, we shall venture to transcribe it, with the
exception of a few lines, entire:
"_Sir Charles._ So; well cast off; aloft, aloft; well flown.
O, now she takes her at the _sowse_, and strikes her down
To th' earth, like a swift thunder clap.—
Now she hath seized the fowl, and 'gins to plume her,
_Rebeck_ her not; rather stand still and _check_ her.
So: seize her _gets_, her _jesses_, and her _bells_;
Away.
_Sir Francis._ My hawk kill'd too!
_Sir Charles._ Aye, but 'twas at the _querre_,
Not at the _mount_, like mine.
_Sir Fran._ Judgment, my masters.
_Cranwell._ Your's miss'd her at the _ferre_.[269:A]
_Wendoll._ Aye, but our Merlin first had _plumed_ the fowl,
And twice _renew'd_ her from the river too;
Her bells, Sir Francis, had not both one weight,
Nor was one semi-tune above the other:
Methinks these Milain bells do sound too full,
And spoil the mounting of your hawk.—
_Sir Fran._ —— Mine likewise seized a fowl
Within her talons; and you saw her paws
Full of the feathers: both her petty _singles_,
And her _long singles_ griped her more than other;
The _terrials_ of her legs were stained with blood:
Not of the fowl only, she did discomfit
Some of her feathers; but she brake away."[270:A]
To hawking and the language of falconry, Shakspeare, as we have
previously observed, has frequently had recourse, and he has selected
the terms with his wonted propriety and effect; of this five or six
instances will be adequate proof. Othello, in allusion to Desdemona,
exclaims:
————— "If I do prove her _haggard_,
Though that _jesses_ were my dear heart-strings,
I'd _whistle her off_, and _let her down the wind_,
To prey at fortune."[270:B]
A _haggard_ is a species of hawk wild and difficult to be reclaimed,
and which, if not well trained, flies indiscriminately at every bird;
a fault to which Shakspeare again refers in his _Twelfth Night_, where
Viola tells the Clown that
"He must observe their mood on whom he jests—
And, like the _haggard_, check at every feather
That comes before his eye."[270:C]
The phrase to _whistle off_ will be best explained by a simile in
Burton, which opens his chapter on Air. "As a long-winged hawk when he
is first _whistled off the fist_, mounts aloft, and for his pleasure
fetcheth many a circuit in the air, still soaring higher and higher,
till he be come to his full pitch, and in the end when the game is
sprung, comes down amain, and _stoops_ upon a sudden."[270:D] To _let a
hawk down the wind_, was to dismiss it as worthless.
Petruchio, soliloquising on the means which he had adopted, in order to
tame his termagant bride, says emphatically,
"My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty;
And, till she stoop, she must not be full-gorged,
For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard,
To make her come, and know her keeper's call,
That is,—to watch her, as we watch these kites,
That _bate_, and beat, and will not be obedient."[271:A]
To _bate_ in this passage means to _flutter_ or _beat the wings_, as
striving to fly away, and is metaphorically used in the following
address of Juliet to the night:
———————— "Come, civil night,——
Hood my unmann'd blood _bating_ in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle."[271:B]
The same tragedy furnishes us with another obligation to falconry,
where the love-sick maiden recalls Romeo in these terms:
"Hist! Romeo, hist!——O, for a falconer's voice
To lure this tassel-gentle back again."[271:C]
Falstaff's page in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_ is appositely compared
to the _eyas-musket_, an unfledged hawk of the smallest species:
"_Mrs. Ford._ How now, my _eyas-musket_? What news with you?"[271:D]
_Eyas-musket_, remarks Mr. Steevens, is the same as _infant
Lilliputian_, and he subjoins an illustrative passage from Spenser:
———— "youthful gay,
Like _eyas-hawke_, up mounts into the skies,
His _newly budded_ pinions to essay."[271:E]
If the commencement of the seventeenth century, saw _Hawking_ the
most splendid and prevalent amusement of the nobility and gentry, the
close had to witness its decline and abolition; it gave way to a more
sure and expeditious, though, perhaps, less interesting mode of killing
game, and the adoption of the gun had, before the year 1700, almost
entirely banished the art of the Falconer.
The costume of the next great amusement of the country, that of
HUNTING, differs at present in few essential points from what it was
in the sixteenth century. The chief variations may be included in the
disuse of killing game in inclosures, and in the adoption of more
speed, and less fatigue and stratagem in the open chace; or in other
words, it is the strength and speed of the fleet blood-horse, and not
of the athletic and active huntsman, or old steady-paced hunter, that
now decide the sport. "In the modern chace," observes Mr Haslewood,
"the lithsomness of youth is no longer excited to pursue the animals.
Attendant footmen are discontinued and forgotten; while the active
and eager rustic with a hunting pole, wont to be foremost, has long
forsaken the field, nor is there a trace of the character known, except
in a country of deep clay, as parts of Sussex. Few years will pass
ere the old steady paced English hunter and the gabbling beagle will
be equally obsolete. All the sport now consists of speed. A hare is
hurried to death by dwarf fox-hounds, and a leash murdered in a shorter
period than a single one could generally struggle for existence.
The hunter boasts a cross of blood, or, in plainer phrase, a racer,
sufficiently professed to render a country sweepstakes doubtful. This
variation is by no means an improvement, and can only advantage the
plethoric citizen, who seeks to combat the somnolency arising from
civic festivals by a short and sudden excess of exercise."[272:A]
The mode of hunting, indeed, in the reigns of Elizabeth and James,
still continued an emblem of, and a fit preparation for, the fatigues
of war; nor was it unusual to consider the toils of the chace as
initiatory to those of the camp. "The old Lord Gray, our English
Achilles," says Peacham, "when hee was Deputie of Ireland, to inure
his sonnes for the warre, would usually in the depth of winter, in
frost, snow, raine, and what weather so ever fell, cause them at
midnight to be raised out of their beds, and carried abroad on hunting
till the next morning; then perhaps come wet and cold home, having
for a breakefast, a browne loafe and a mouldie cheese, or (which is
ten times worse) a dish of Irish butter[273:A];" and Dekkar, in his
praise of hunting, remarks, that "it is a very true picture of warre,
nay, it is a warre in itselfe, for engines are brought into the field,
stratagems are contrived, ambushes are laide, onsets are given, alarams
strucke up, brave encounters are made, fierce assailings are resisted
by strength, by courage, or by policie: the enemie is pursued, and
the pursuers never give over till they have him in execution, then
is a retreate sounded, then are spoiles divided, then come they home
wearied, but yet crowned with honour and victorie. And as in battailes,
there bee several manners of fight; so in the pastime of hunting, there
are several degrees of game. Some hunt the lyon, &c.—others pursue the
long-lived hart, the couragious stag, or the nimble footed deere; these
are the noblest hunters, and they exercise the noblest game: these by
following the chace, get strength of bodie, a free, and undisquieted
minde, magnanimitie of spirit, alacritie of heart, and unwearisomnesse
to breake through the hardest labours: their pleasures are not
insatiable, but are contented to be kept within limits, for these hunt
within parkes inclosed, or within bounded forests. The hunting of the
hare teaches feare to be bold, and puts simplicitie to her shifts, that
she growes cunning and provident; &c."[273:B]
Hunting in inclosures, that is, in parks, chases, and forests, where
the game was inclosed with a fence-work of netting stretched on posts
driven into the ground, appears to have been the custom of this
country from the time of Edward the Second to the middle of the
seventeenth century. The manuscript treatise of William Twici, grand
huntsman to Edward the Second, entitled _Le Art De Venerie, le quel
maistre Guillame Twici venour le roy d'Angleterre fist en son temps per
aprandre Autres_[274:A]; the nearly contemporary manuscript translation
of John Gyfford, with the title of _A book of Venerie, dialogue[274:B]
wise_; the tract called _The Maistre of the Game_[274:C], in manuscript
also, and written by the chief huntsman of Henry the Fourth, for the
instruction of his son, afterwards Henry the Fifth; the _Book of St.
Albans_, the first _printed_ treatise on the subject, and written by
the sister of Lord Berners, when prioress at the nunnery of Sopewell,
about 1481; the tract on the _Noble Art of Venerie_, annexed to
Turberville on Falconrie 1575, and supposed to have been written by
George Gascoigne, and the re-impression of the same in 1611, all
describe the ceremonies and preparations necessary for the pursuit
of this, now obsolete, mode of hunting, which, from its luxury and
effeminacy, forms a perfect contrast to the manly fatigues of the
_open_ chace.
This style of hunting, indeed, exhibited great splendour and pomp,
and was certainly a very imposing spectacle; but the slaughter must
have been easy and great, and the sport therefore proportionally less
interesting. When the king, the great barons, or dignified clergy,
selected this mode of the diversion, in which either bows or greyhounds
were used, the masters of the game and the park-keepers prepared all
things essential for the purpose; and, if it were a royal hunt, the
sheriff of the county furnished stabling for the king's horses, and
carts for the dead game. A number of temporary buildings, covered with
green boughs, to shade the company from the heat of the sun or bad
weather, were erected by the foresters in a proper situation, and on
the morning of the day chosen for the sport, the master of the game and
his officers saw the greyhounds duly placed, and a person appointed to
announce, by the different intonations of his horn the species of game
turned out, so that the company might be prepared for its reception
when it broke cover.
The enclosure being guarded by officers or retainers, placed at equal
distances, to prevent the multitude prematurely rousing the game, the
grand huntsman, as soon as the king, nobility, or gentry had taken
their respective stations, sounded three long mootes or blasts with
the horn, as a signal for the uncoupling of the hart-hounds, when the
game, driven by the manœuvres of the huntsman, passed the lodges where
the company were waiting, and were either shot from their bows,
or individuals, starting from the groupe, pursued the deer with
greyhounds.[275:A]
We find, from the poems of Gascoigne and Turberville, as they appear in
their Book of Hunting of 1575, that every accommodation which beautiful
scenery and epicurean fare could produce, was thought essential to this
branch of the sport. Turberville, describing the scene chosen for the
company to take their stations, says—
"The place should first be pight, on pleasant gladsome greene,
Yet under shade of stately trees, where little sunne is seene:
And neare some fountaine spring, whose chrystall running streames
May helpe to coole the parching heate, ycaught by Phœbus beames.
The place appoynted thus, it neyther shall be clad
With arras nor with tapystry, such paltrie were too bad:
Ne yet those hote perfumes, whereof proude courtes do smell,
May once presume in such a place, or paradise to dwell.
Away with fayned fresh, as broken boughes or leaves,
Away, away, with forced flowers, ygathered from their greaves:
This place must of itselfe, afforde such sweet delight,
And eke such shewe, as better may content the greedie sight;
Where sundry sortes of hewes, which growe upon the ground,
May seeme, indeede, such tapystry, as we by arte, have found.
Where fresh and fragrant flowers, may skorne the courtier's cost,
Which daubes himselfe with syvet, muske, and many an ointment lost,
Where sweetest singing byrdes, may make such melodye,
As Pan, nor yet Apollo's arte, can sounde such harmonye.
Where breath of westerne windes, may calmely yeld content,
Where casements neede not opened be, where air is never pent.
Where shade may serve for shryne, and yet the sunne at hande,
Where beautie need not quake for colde, ne yet with sunne be tande.
In fine and to conclude, where pleasure dwels at large,
Which princes seeke in pallaces, with payne and costly charge.
Then such a place once founde, the _Butler_ first appeares,—
Then comes the captaine _Cooke_"—
These gentlemen of the household, it seems, came well provided; the
farmer, with wines and ales "in bottles and in barrels," and the latter
with _colde loynes of veale_, _colde capon_, _beefe and goose_, _pigeon
pyes_, _mutton colde_, _neates tongs poudred well_, _gambones of the
hogge_, _saulsages_ and _savery knackes_.[276:A]
Of the stag-chace in the _open_ country, and of the ceremonies and
costume attending it, at the castellated mansions of the Baron and
opulent Squire, during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, a
tolerably accurate idea may be formed from the following statement,
drawn up from the ancient writers on the subject, and from the works of
the ingenious antiquary Strutt.
The inhabitants of the castle, and the hunters, were usually awakened
very early in the morning by the lively sounding of the bugles,
after which it was not unusual for two or more minstrels to sing
an appropriate roundelay, beneath the windows of the master of the
mansion, accompanied by the deep and mellow chorus of the attending
rangers and falconers. Shakspeare alludes to a song of this kind in his
_Romeo and Juliet_[276:B], which has been preserved entire by Thomas
Ravenscroft[276:C], and commences thus:—
"The hunt is up, the hunt is up,
Sing merrily wee, the hunt is up;
The birds they sing,
The deere they fling;
Hey nony nony-no; &c."
The Yeoman Keepers, with their attendants, called Ragged Robins, to
the number of ten or twelve, next made their appearance, leading the
slow-hounds or brachets, by which the deer were roused. These men were
usually dressed in Kendal green, with bugles and short hangers by their
sides, and quarter-staffs in their hands, and were followed by the
foresters with a number of greyhounds led in leashes for the purpose of
plucking down the game.
This assemblage in the Court of the castle was soon augmented by a
number of _Retainers_, or Yeomen who received a small annual pension
for attendance on these occasions; they wore a livery, with the
cognisance of the house to which they belonged, borne, as a badge of
adherence, on their arms, and each man had a buckler on his shoulder,
and a burnished broad sword hanging from his belt. Shortly afterwards
appeared the pages and squires in hunting garbs on horse-back and on
foot, and armed with spears and long and cross bows; and lastly the
Baron, his friends, and the ladies.
The company thus completed, were conducted by the huntsmen to a
thicket, in which, they knew, by previous observation, that a stag
had been harboured all night. Into this cover the keeper entered,
leading his ban-dog (a blood-hound tied in a leam or band), and as
soon as the stag abandoned it, the greyhounds were slipped upon him;
these, however, after running two or three miles, he usually threw
out, by again entering cover, when the slow-hounds and prickers
were sent in, to drive him from his strength. The poor animal now
traverses the country for several miles, and after using every effort
and manœuvre in vain, exhausted and breathless, his mouth embossed
with foam, and the tears dropping from his eyes, he turns in despair
upon his pursuers, and in this situation the boldest hunter of the
train generally rides in, and, at some risque, dispatches him with a
short hunting-sword. The _treble-mort_ is then sounded, accompanied by
the shouts of the men and the yelping of the dogs, and the huntsman
ceremoniously presents his knife to the master of the chase, in order
that he may take, as it is termed, the _say_ of the deer.[278:A]
The danger which the ancient hunter incurred, on dealing the death
stroke to the stag when he turned to bay, is strikingly exemplified by
an incident in the life of Wilson the historian, during the time he
formed a part of the household of the Earl of Essex, in the reign of
Elizabeth.
"Sir Peter Lee, of Lime, in Cheshire, invited my lord one summer, to
hunt the stagg. And having a great stagg in chace, and many gentlemen
in the pursuit, the stagg took soyle. And divers, whereof I was one,
alighted, and stood with swords drawne, to have a cut at him, at his
coming out of the water. The staggs there, being wonderfully fierce and
dangerous, made us youths more eager to be at him. But he escaped us
all. And it was my misfortune to be hindered of my coming nere him, the
way being sliperie, by a fall; which gave occasion to some, who did not
know mee, to speak as if I had falne for feare. Which being told me, I
left the stagg, and followed the gentleman who first spake it. But I
found him of that cold temper, that it seems his words made an escape
from him; as by his denial and repentance it appeared. But this made
mee more violent in pursuit of the stagg, to recover my reputation.
And I happened to be the only horseman in, when the dogs sett him up
at bay; and approaching nere him on horsebacke, hee broke through
the dogs, and run at mee, and tore my horse's side with his hornes,
close by my thigh. Then I quitted my horse, and grew more cunning
(for the dogs had sette him up againe), stealing behind him with my
sword, and cut his hamstrings; and then got upon his back, and cut his
throate."[280:A]
A still more difficult and gallant feat, however, of this kind,
was performed by John Selwyn, the under-keeper of Queen Elizabeth,
who, one day, animated by the presence of his royal mistress, at a
chase, in her park of Oatlands, pursued the stag with such activity,
that, overtaking it, he sprung from his horse on the animal; when,
after most skilfully maintaining his seat for some time, he drew his
hunting-sword, and, just as he reached the green, plunged it in the
throat of the stag, which immediately dropped down dead at the feet of
Elizabeth; an achievement which is sculptured on his monument in Walton
church, Surrey, where he is represented in the very act of killing the
infuriated beast.[280:B]
The taking the _say_ of, and the _breaking_ up, the deer, were formerly
attended with many ceremonies and superstitions.[280:C] "Touching the
death of a deare, or other wylde beast," says a writer of the sixteenth
century, "yee knowe your selves what ceremonies they use about the
same. Every poore man may cut out an oxe, or a sheepe, whereas such
venison may not be dismembered but of a gentylman; who bareheadded, and
set on knees, with a knife prepared properly to that use, (for every
kynde of knife is not allowable) also with certain jestures, cuttes
a sunder certaine partes of the wild beast, in a certain order very
circumstantly. Which holy misterie, having seen the lyke yet more than
a hundred tymes before. Then (sir) whose happe it bee to eate parte
of the fleshe, marye hee thinkes verily to bee made thereby halfe a
gentilman."[281:A]
After the process of dismemberment, and the selection of choice pieces,
the forester, the keeper, and the hounds had their allotted share, and
superstition granted even a portion to the ominous raven. "There is a
little gristle," relates Turberville, "which is upon the spoone of the
brisket, which we call the raven's bone; and I have seen in some places
a raven so wont and accustomed to it, that she would never fail to
croak and cry for it all the time you were in breaking up of the deer,
and would not depart till she had it."
Of this superstitious observance Jonson has given us a pleasing sketch,
in the most poetical of his works, the Sad Shepherd:—
"_Marian._ —————— He that undoes him,
Doth cleave the brisket bone upon the spoon,
Of which a little gristle grows——you call it—
_Robin Hood._ The raven's bone.
_Marian._ —————— Now o'er head sat a raven
On a sere bough, a grown, great bird and hoarse,
Who, all the time the deer was breaking up,
So croaked and cried for it, as all the huntsmen,
Especially old Scathlocke, thought it ominous!"[281:B]
In an age, when to hawke and to hunt formed the _Gentleman's
Academy_[281:C], the _Falconer_ and the _Huntsman_ were most important
characters; of the former we have already given an outline from
contemporary authority, and of the latter the following extract
delineates a very curious picture, in which the manners, the dress, and
the accoutrements are marked with singular strength and raciness of
touch.
"A huntsman is the lieutenant of dogs, and foe to harvest: he is
frolick in a faire morning fit for his pleasure; and alike rejoyceth
with the Virginians, to see the rising sun: he doth worship it as
they, but worships his game more than they; and is in some things
almost as barbarous. A sluggard he contemnes, and thinks the resting
time might be shortened; which makes him rise with day, observe the
same pace, and prove full as happy, if the day be happy. The names
of foxe, hare, and bucke, be all attracting sillables; sufficient
to furnish fifteene meales with long discourse in the adventures of
each. Foxe, drawes in his exploits done against cubbes, bitch-foxes,
otters and badgers: hare, brings out his encounters, platformes,
engines, fortifications, and night worke done against leveret, cony,
wilde-cat, rabbet, weasell, and pole-cat: then bucke, the captaine of
all, provokes him (not without strong passion) to remember hart, hind,
stagge, doe, pricket, fawne, and fallow deere. He uses a dogged forme
of governement, which might bee (without shame) kept in humanity; and
yet he is unwilling to be governed with the same reason: either by
being satisfied with pleasure, or content with ill fortune. Hee hath
the discipline to marshall dogs, and sutably; when a wise herald would
rather mervaile, how he could distinguish their coates, birth, and
gentry. Hee carries about him in his mouth the very soule of Ovid's
bodies, metamorphosed into trees, rockes and waters; for, when he
pleases, they shall eccho and distinctly answere; and when he pleases,
be extremely silent. There is little danger in him towards the common
wealth; for his worst intelligence comes from shepherds or woodmen;
and that onely threatens the destruction of hares; a well knowne dry
meate. The spring and he are still at variance; in mockage therefore,
and revenge together of that season, _he weares her livery_ in winter.
Little consultations please him best; but the best directions he doth
love and follow, they are his dogs. If hee cannot prevaile therefore,
his lucke must be blamed, for he takes a speedy course. He cannot
be less than a conquerour from the beginning, though he wants the
booty; for he pursues the flight. His manhood is _a crooked sword
with a sawbacke_; but the badge of his generous valour is a home to
give notice. Battery and blowing up, he loves not; to undermine is
his stratageme. His physick teaches him not to drinke sweating; in
amends whereof, he liquors himselfe to a heate, upon coole bloud, if
he delights (at least) to emulate his dog in a hot nose. If a kennel
of hounds passant take away his attention and company from church; do
not blame his devotion; for in them consists the nature of it, and his
knowledge. His frailties are, that he is apt to mistake any dog worth
the stealing, and never take notice of the collar. He dreames of a hare
sitting, a foxe earthed, or the bucke couchant: and if his fancy would
be moderate, his actions might be full of pleasure."[283:A]
Making a natural transition from the huntsman to his hounds, we have
to remark, that one great object, at this period, in the construction
of the kennel, was the modulation and harmony of the vocal powers of
the dog. This was carried to a nicety and perfection little practised
in the present day. Gervase Markham seems to write _con amore_ on
this subject, and has penned directions which partake both of the
picturesque, and of the melody on which he is descanting: thus,
speaking of the production of _loudness of cry_, he says, "if you would
have your kennel for loudness of mouth, you shall not then choose the
hollow deep mouth, but the loud clanging mouth, which spendeth freely
and sharply, and as it were redoubleth in utterance: and if you mix
with them the mouth that roreth, and the mouth that whineth, the cry
will be both the louder and the smarter;—and the more equally you
compound these mouths, haveing as many rorers as spenders, and as many
whiners, as of either of the other, the louder and pleasanter your cry
will be, _especially, if it be in sounding tall woods, or under the
echo of rocks_;" and treating of the _composition_ of notes in the
kennel, he adds, "you shall as nigh as you can, sort their mouths into
three equal parts of musick, that is to say base, counter-tenor and
mean; the base are those mouths which are most deep and solemn, and
are spent out plain and freely, without redoubling: the counter-tenor
are those which are most loud and ringing, whose sharp sounds pass so
swift, that they seem to dole and make division; and the mean are
those which are soft sweet mouths, that though plain, and a little
hollow, yet are spent smooth and freely; yet so distinctly, that a man
may count the notes as they open. Of these three sorts of mouths, if
your kennel be (as near as you can) equally compounded, you shall find
it most perfect and delectable: for though they have not the thunder
and loudness of the great dogs, which may be compared to the high
wind-instruments, yet they will have the tunable sweetness of the best
compounded consorts; and sure a man may find as much art and delight in
a lute as in an organ."[284:A]
Shakspeare, who frequently avails himself of the language, imagery, and
circumstances attendant on this diversion, has particularly noticed,
in a passage of much animation and beauty, the care taken to arrange
the notes of the kennel, and the pleasure derivable from the varied
intonations of the hounds. Theseus addressing Hippolyta, exclaims—
"My love shall hear the musick of my hounds.—
Uncouple in the western valley; go:—
Despatch, I say, and find the forester.—
We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top,
And mark the musical confusion
Of hounds and echo in conjunction.
_Hip._ —————— Never did I hear
Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves,
The skies, the fountains, every region near
Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
_The._ My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew'd[284:B], so sanded[284:C]; and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee'd, and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but _match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each_. A cry more tuneable
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn."[284:D]
It appears from a scene in _Timon of Athens_, and from a passage in
Laneham's Account of the Queen's Entertainment at Killingworth Castle,
1575, that it was a common thing, at this period, to hunt after dinner,
or in the evening. Timon, having been employed, during the morning, in
hunting, says to Alcibiades—
"So soon as dinner's done, we'll forth again;"[285:A]
and Elizabeth, twice, during her residence with the Earl of Leicester,
is described as pursuing this exercise in the cool of the evening.
Honest Laneham's narrative of one of these royal chases will amuse the
reader.
"Munday waz hot, and thearfore her Highness kept in till a five a
clok in the eevening: what time it pleazz'd her to ride foorth into
the chace too hunt the Hart of fors; which foound anon, and after
sore chased, and chafed by the hot pursuit of the hooundes, waz
fain of fine fors at last to take soil. Thear to beholl'd the swift
fleeting of the deer afore, with the stately cariage of hiz head in
his swimmyng, spred (for the quantitee) lyke the sail of a ship; the
hoounds harroing after, az had they bin a number of skiphs too the
spoyle of a karvell; the ton no lesse eager in purchaz of his pray,
than waz the other earnest in savegard of hiz life; so az the earning
of the hoounds in continuauns of their crie, the swiftness of the
deer, the running of footmen, the galloping of horsez, the blasting
of hornz, the halloing and hewing of the huntsmen, with the excellent
echoz between whilez from the woods and waters in valliez resounding;
moved pastime delectabl in so hy a degree, az, for ony parson to take
pleazure by moost sensez at onez, in mine opinion, thear can be none
ony wey comparable to this; and special in this place, that of nature
iz foormed so feet for the purpoze; in feith, _Master Martin_, if ye
coold with a wish, I woold ye had bin at it: Wel, the hart waz kild, a
goodly deer."[285:B]
So partial was Her Majesty to this diversion that even in her
seventy-seventh year she still pursued it with avidity; for Rowland
Whyte, one of her courtiers, writing to Sir Robert Sidney on September
12th, 1600, says, "Her majesty is well and excellently disposed to
hunting, for every second day she is on horseback, and continues the
sport long;" and when not disposed to incur the fatigue of joining in
the chase, she was recreated with a sight of the pastime; thus at the
seat of Lord Montecute, in 1591, she saw, after dinner, from a turret,
"sixteen bucks all having fayre lawe, pulled downe with greyhounds in a
laund or lawn."[286:A]
Nor was James the First less passionately addicted to the sport; his
journey from Scotland to England, on his accession to the throne of the
latter kingdom, was frequently protracted by his inability to resist
the temptation of joining in the chase; on his road to Withrington, the
seat of Sir Robert Cary, after a hard ride of thirty-seven miles in
less than four hours, "and by the way for a note," says a contemporary
writer, "the miles according to the northern phrase, are a wey bit
longer, then they be here in the south,—His Majesty having a little
while reposed himselfe after his great journey, found new occasion
to travell further: for, as he was delighting himselfe with the
pleasure of the parke, hee suddenly beheld a number of deere neare the
place: the game being so faire before him hee could not forbeare, but
_according to his wonted manner_, forth he went and slew two of them;"
again, "After his Majesties short repast to Werslop his Majestie rides
forward, but by the way in the parke he was somewhat stayed; for there
appeared a number of huntes-men all in greene; the chiefe of which with
a woodman's speech did welcome him, offering his Majestie to shew him
some game, which he gladly condiscended to see; and with a traine set
he hunted a good space, very much delighted."[286:B] This diversion
from his direct route is repeatedly noticed by the same author, and
proves the strong attachment of the monarch to this amusement, which
he preferred to either hawking or shooting; he divided his time, says
Wellwood, "betwixt his standish, his bottle, and his hunting; the last
had his fair weather, the two former his dull and cloudy[287:A];" an
assertion which with regard to hunting is corroborated by Wilson,
who, recording his visit to his native dominions in 1617, informs us,
that on his return he exhibited the same keen relish for the sport
which he had shown in 1603: "The King, in his return from Scotland,"
he remarks, "made his Progress through the hunting-countries, (his
hounds and hunters meeting him,) _Sherwood-Forest_, _Need-wood_, and
all the _parks_ and _forests_ in his way, were ransacked for his
_recreation_; and every _night_ begat a new _day_ of _delight_."[287:B]
In short, James was so engrossed by his passion for hunting, that he
neglected the most important business to indulge it; and even affected
the garb of a hunter when he ought to have been in that of a king.
Osborne calls him a _Sylvan Prince_, and adds, "I shall leave him
dressed to posterity in the colours I saw him in the next Progress
after his Inauguration, which was as _green_ as the grass he trod on,
with a _feather_ in his _cap_, and a _horn_ instead of a sword by his
side."[287:C]
To these brief notices of hawking and hunting, it may be necessary
to add a very few remarks on the kindred amusements of _fowling_ and
_fishing_, as far as they deviate, either in manner or estimation,
from the practice or opinions of the present day. In the pursuit of
_fowling_, indeed, there is little or no discrepancy between the two
periods, if we make an exception for two instances; and these now
obsolete modes of exercising the art, were termed _horse-stalking_ and
_bird-batting_. The former consisted originally of a horse trained for
the purpose, and so mantled over with trappings as to hide the fowler
completely from the game; a contrivance much improved upon for facility
of usage by substituting a stuffed canvas figure, painted to resemble
a horse grazing; this was so light that the sportsman might move it
easily with one hand, and behind it he could securely take his aim;
to this curious species of deception Shakspeare alludes in _As You
Like It_, where the Duke, speaking of Touchstone, says, "He uses his
folly like a _stalking-horse_, and under the presentation of that, he
shoots his wit[288:A];" and again, in _Much Ado about Nothing_, Claudio
exclaims, "Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits."[288:B] It appears from
Drayton, that the fowler shot from _underneath_ his horse, where he
was concealed by the mantle-cloth depending to the ground: thus in the
_Polyolbion_.
"One _underneath_ his _horse_ to get a shoot doth _stalk_;"[288:C]
and in the _Muses' Elysium_—
"Then _underneath_ my horse, I _stalk_ my game to strike."[288:D]
Sometimes, instead of a stuffed canvas figure, the form of a horse
painted on a cloth was carried before the sportsman: "Methinks," says a
writer of this period quoted by Mr. Reed, "I behold the cunning fowler,
such as I have knowne in the fenne countries and els-where, that doe
shoot at woodcockes, snipes, and wilde fowle, by sneaking behind a
_painted cloth_ which they carry before them, having _pictured in it
the shape of a horse_; which while the silly fowle gazeth on, it is
knockt down with hale shot, and so put in the fowler's budget."[288:E]
We have reason to suppose that Henry the Eighth often amused himself
in this manner; for in the inventories of his wardrobes, preserved in
the Harleian MS., are to be found frequent allowances of materials
for making "stalking coats, and stalking hose for the use of his
majesty."[289:A]