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"HORSES, BLESS YOU, I'VE KNOVWT "EM GET OUT OP A DITCH AITD PUT
THEIR PORE -PEET ON EAC H OF MY SHOULDER®; MY" COAT'S BEEN ALL
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SILK AND SCARLET.
BY
THE DRUID.
REVISED AND RE-EDITED.
WITH STEEL PORTRAITS AND WOODCUTS
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FREDERICK WA R N E AND CO.
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PREFACE.
FTER two years of no small labour, I have
redeemed the promise I made of writing a
companion work to The Post and the Paddock. In
the racing portion of it, my way was clear enough;
but the hunting was fraught with difficulty. It struck
me, however, that there was one mode of treating the
subject which I might legitimately pursue without
exposing myself to the charge of plagiarism, or pro-
voking a fatal comparison with those regular hunting
writers, who have learnt their experience in the
saddle. In many of the capital books which have
appeared on the subject, horses and their riders seem
to have monopolized the lion's share of notice, to the
exclusion of the hounds. I felt sure that there must
be not a few stories of the exploits and breeding of
the latter, which had been told often enough over
iv
Preface.
hunting firesides, but had never risen to type estate ;
and hence I determined to sally forth, and make a
pilgrimage with my note-book among the principal
English kennels. As regards both racing and hunting,
I cannot speak with sufficient gratitude of the kind
assistance I have received from everyone (and*from
none more than the late Will Goodall) to whom I
applied, although in nine instances out of ten we had
never met or corresponded before.
For the first two chapters I can claim no credit.
They are the verbatim recitals of the hunting deeds of
■ bygone days in Leicestershire and Northamptonshire,
as they appeared to two very different minds ; and as
Dick has had such experience as "pilot" across Leices-
tershire, I deemed it prudent to send him off at score
in the first chapter to make a pace, while, in the
words of the equally renowned Billy Pierse, "7
toddled behindAfter spending so many days with
Dick in the prosecution of our historic studies, it
would have been a sad lack of politeness not to give a
print of him. The attitude and expression is exactly
that which he assumed when I read him the proof-
sheets of his lecture ; and it 'was, I regret to say, on
one of those errands that he incautiously walked, with
Preface, v
his right hand in his breeches-pocket, and falling
against the kerbstone on a frosty night, laid .himself
up for nearly the whole winter. Tom Sebright and
Tom Ranee, as the senior foxhound huntsman and
whip of England, also claimed a portrait; and that of
poor*Will Goodall is taken from a photograph, which
his widow kindly allowed me to copy. Mr. Osbal-
deston's well-known figure will be recognised in the
sketch from the pencil of Mr. Ambrose Isted ; and
the Turf has its representative in Jem Robinson and
Dick Stockdale, the latter one of the most devoted
lovers of horses, and best-known characters in the
whole of the East Riding. His brother Yorkshiremen
would indeed be amazed, if they went to an agri-
cultural or a foal show, and did not see Dick
leading something into the ring, and making it stand
well up.
Unlike The Post and the Paddock, which was mainly
a reprint from the Sporting Magazine to begin with,
and gradually swelled into a " Hunting Edition," the
present work is, with the exception of eight or nine
pages (which I have adopted on the principle of " the
man who eloped with his own wife"), entirely original.
If it is ever fated to reach a second issue, it will
vi Preface.
receive not one line in addition ; and it goes to the
starting-post with the assurance that it has had a long
and steady preparation, and that, if it cannot at least
run to the form of its elder brother, its trainer has no
excuse to make for it.
Goodwood Cup Morning, 1859.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Dick Christian Again . • . . i
CHAPTER II.
Olden Times 70
CHAPTER III.
SILK . 83
Jockeys 97
Trials 129
The Foreign Market 142
The Godolphin Arabian 156
The Byerly Turk 171
The Darley Arabian 190
CHAPTER IV.
SCARLET 242—369
ENGRAVINGS.
Dick Christian . . .
James Robinson . . .
Dick Stockdale . . .
A Recollection of the
in 1832
Tom Rance
Tom Sebright ....
A Hound's Head . . .
The late Will Goodall
. . . . . . Frontispiece.
. . . . * . Vignette.
Page 155
Quorn and Pytchley
242
310
329
337
344
SILK AND SCARLET.
CHAPTER I.
DICK CHRISTIAN AGAIN.
" A gentleman who practically explains all the above accomplishments*
to the great edification of young horses, and the no less astonish-
ment of weak minds."
DICK CHRISTIAN had practically sounded the
depth of every ditch and brook in Leicestershire,
for more than half a century ; but its foxhunters had
never half sounded him in return. They little knew
what a capacity for authorship, which was not destined
to blossom until its seventy-eighth spring, lurked in
that thickset frame and merry twinkling eye ; and
until, when a graver task was ended, I sought him
out at Melton last summer, and discussed the chances
of a second Lecture with him, I was nearly as much
in the dark myself. Seated beneath the chestnut
shade of " Norton, by Beningboro'," I found him as
remarkable in his language as he had been when I
gave him his first trial eighteen months before, and
firmer than ever in his hero-worship of Mr. Assheton
Smith, Sir James Musgrave, and Captain White. It
was not for any lack of epistolary stimulants on his
part, that I delayed my visit so long. He fairly
thirsted to be in print once more ; and the post had
brought me an admonition to this effect, " You don't
f;
2
Silk and Scarlet.
know what injury you're doing yourself, delaying my
lecture so long." It seemed to me that we had in-
dulged enough in mere table-talk; and hence I
determined to make a gig survey of Leicestershire
with him, and ask him to point out to me the leading
hunting features in that Waterloo of his existence,
where he had so often fallen and fought again to-
morrow. The season was hardly in character with
the trip. Thorpe Trussells was radiant with dog-
roses, and honeysuckles clustered amid the hedges
of Ashby Pasture ; but he assured me that his hunting
recollections were just as vivid, summer or winter,
and soon sketched out a pretty comprehensive jour-
ney, through the Belvoir, the Cottesmore, and the
Quorn. Three sunny mornings we sallied merrily on
our way ; and although Dick added another tumble
to his Mammoth bead-roll, and the jolting occupation-
roads threatened at intervals to play havoc with my
notes, I found his geography of the most jocular
order, and travelled over his memory as follows.
RIDE THE FIRST.
" What gallant run did brave Meltonians share,
But thou wast 'forward,' or the foremost there?"
Dick gives a T 'M right glad y°u've come- What a
general sketch of ± many have been asking me when
his health. they're to have this new lecture of mine.
In Essex they were always at me. What fun I've had
down there at Sir Thomas's ! We were jumping all day,
doubles, rails, stake and bounds, never off it. Grand
horse that Sir John of his. I was there nigh three
months ; -but I got a bad cold. The doctor was sent
for to me. He comes, and I tells him my age; he
handles me. " One of your lungsf he says, " is as
sound as wax, but the other's not quite the thing
Then he asks me which side I sleeps on, and I says,
Dick Christian again.
«•»
o
" I used to sleep on my right side, now I goes on my
left." "Ah!" he says, "I have it: you're as sound
on your left side as any child ; it's a touch of the liver
bad cold, something like the agey. So I come back
to Melton.
They've got quite to call me " The The effect of
Emperor" down here. I heard nothing
of it till Mr. Kirk, he comes to me at ture on society
Croxton Races, and he says, " Why, in general;
Dick, youve got a new name. It will be from that
lecture of yours! One or two of them were on me
about it at the cricket match. The Quorn and Cot-
tesmore farmers, on a market day, they give me no
peace of my life. They've all got my lecture ; and
they learn bits out of it, and keep pitching 'em at
me ; I can't walk up the street but one or another
begins with me. It's just the same at the meet ; and
the gentlemen is quite as fond of the game. The
ladies make much of me. They've took and on the ladies
to that lecture uncommonly. They say in particular,
they never just properly know'd before what an
owdacious man I'd been.
I once jumped a whole flock of sheep He jumps a flock
near Gadesby, in Mr. Osbaldeston's time. of sheep.
I think we'd found at the Coplow. They had
scruddled into a corner, just like that near those
pens. The hounds were running like mad. I was
leading. I sends my horse at the rails, and clears
the sheep, every one of 'em. My horse he hits the
top of the rail, and goes clean bang on to his head.
The shepherd, he shouts, " Now hang you, that just
sarves you right'.' I says, " So it does, old fellow,"
and I gathers myself up, and goes on, and we kills
the fox at Ragdale. No one would credit it; it's as
true as I've this whip in my hand. Deary me ! how
horses has rolled on me times and often—squeezed—
bones broke—all that sort of thing ! If I were to tell
all the good runs I've seen, it would fill a ledger. I
"R O
4
Silk and Scarlet.
began hunting when I was eight years of age, and
I've never missed a season since. I rode second
horse for Sir Gilbert. Mr. George Watson, he once
said to him, " You'll kill that boy, riding day after day
without stirrups." I wasn't hurt a bit in that sheep
job. Bless you, I could turn a somersault in them
days, when I felt the horse going. I throwed myself
clean over his head, and always ketched on my legs ;
no end of gentlemen saw it. I sold that horse that
very day to the Duke of Montrose ; he was Marquis
of Graham then ; he lodged along with Colonel Powis,
where the lawyer lives now.
Recollections of There's Sysonby Hall, first place you
Sysonby Hall. COmes at. Wellesley Pole, they made
him Lord Maryborough, lived there. Lord Maynard
lived at it once. Wright was at Sysonby Farm. He
was a great man with Lord Plymouth. This was all
his land where we are now—(it wasn't Bill Wright, of
Uppingham, the dealer ; nothing of the sort) ; he sold
Sir Harry a many horses. Lord Plymouth gave him
Juniper to travel with, and Breny Hawken, coal-black
all over; wide in his ears ; I broke 'em both, and a
sight of trouble they gave me. Captain Ross bid my
lord a thousand guineas for Juniper, to run the steeple-
chase against Clasher. Blythe of Sysonby Hall, was
a very hard-riding man. There's a Wright at this farm
now, no relation of the other.
He discusses Now, there's Mr. Cradock ; dash me, but
ages with Mr. we must have that in. Him and I's hunted
Cradock. ^ country longest of anybody. No;
blame me, there's Lord Jersey ; I musn't forget him ;
and Parson Empson. We met at this very Sir Harry's
cover, and he says, " Well old boy, how are you f I
forget which is oldest, you or met' " I'll speak pre-
sently," I says.—" I was born in March '79, and I
think, sir, you would have corned about August '78
and he says, " I'll be bound you're right." Them were
the very words we had, plump before all the gentle-
Dick Christian again.
5
men at the side of this very cover. That Wright I
was telling you of, this was his farm we're Goodricke's
driving over. There's a litter of foxes in Gorse.
it this year. I'm glad of it. They talked of doing
away with it; it's been blank so often. There'll be
some seventeen acres of this cover. When I first
knew those trees round it, they were no higher than
my knee, now they're toppers. We'll pull up at this
gate. There you've just got a proper view of the
covers. Yonder's Ashby Pasture, right on there.
Well, I never did see so much keep in the country.
My eyes! what a crop of peas! You wouldn't like
any farming remarks ?
That's " The Great City," just below you—Welby ;
some people call it that. See what a funny old
church! There's not half-a-dozen houses in the
parish. Over there's Six Hills. I've known 'em come
from Shoby Scholes, right over all this fine country to
Belvoir. Look, what a nice view you get of that
great church now! That's Goodyer's Gorse, just over
the hill. Old Mr. Goodyer made it. I The late Mr.
knew him well; he was a terrible keen Goodyer.
foxhunter; like the stay of Melton at that time.
That's his house where Mr. Coventry is now: where
Sir Harry lived. He made a terrible noise out hunt-
ing; he used to enjoy it so; he'd holler the moment
he could; gruff rather, but very good language, only
so noisy. He was a great cock breeder; fight with
anybody. He always rode in yellow breeches, and a
groom's scarlet coat, with great laps, and a white
collar; his hat was as round as a plate ; he'd cuff
along uncommon ; heavyish man ; such a droll good
sort of fellow ; he made the gentlemen laugh ; he was
particklar noticed for hollering, all in fun ; he was a
quiet man enough ; it raised his spirits so, but he never
spoiled no hunting.
I used to come here reg'lar to practise in the
season. That's a nice little brook, Many's the time
6
Silk and Scarlet.
I've made them hop over it. When I was with Mat
His Mat Milton Milton, I've actually been here of a
engagement, morning before I could see the fences.
Mat gave me five guineas a week, board and lodging.
I just lived as he did, meat and drink ; best as was.
He lent me King Richard, by Dick Andrews. He
was Crockford's horse, and a great favourite for the
Derby, but the lad lamed his leg the night before the
race; he was, no doubt, hired to it. I used to make
all Mat's hunters. Many a thousand times I've been
three hours over these fields before we went out
hunting; two or three tumbles reg'lar before break-
fast. We had sometimes nine horses out; we' rode
three half-way to cover, then three were posted for the
other half, and three when we got there; we jumped
'em all the way; for all that, we couldn't get them
ready quick enough. He sold ninety-six horses to
the Melton gentlemen one season I was with him.
It's as true as I'm sitting in this gig alive.
Education of Poor little Matty ! I killed him. He
little Matty. use(} to cry sadly. Old Matty would
make him follow me. I well nigh drownded him two
or three times. My reg'lar orders were to "go and
ketch 'em," and the little chap was never to leave me.
Mat always said that he would lick him, if he stopped;
but he never did, that I heard of; he was a kind-
hearted man, only such a blackguard, and always
bankrupt; never out of that mess. Blame me, he
would get him home after hunting, and nurse him like
a woman. How he did take on if he was ill ! he was
such a nice little boy, only fourteen, and never an
ounce above five stone. I was ten stone then ; I never
got heavier till I had the small-pox second time, when
I was fifty years of age, just about; wasn't it curious ?
I brought him up just as I wur brought up myself.
That was what Matty wanted. I mind when old
George the Third died, he put us both in mourning
alike ; he was a loyal sort of fellow, with all his coarse
Dick Christian again. 7
talk; and gave us both -new green suits, with black
buttons,- to hunt in. Nice little lad ! he was quite
broke down with consumption early, and he only came
for a very little bit the next season. A frost come,
and I went with him as far as Northampton ; he went
on horseback ; he said he'd never see me no more. I
was grieved, just. His father lived where Quarter-
maine does now. At those very owdacious places,
poor little fellow, he used to holler out, " Where arc
you ?" He couldn't spy me, for them bulfinches ; he
didn't know if I wur up or down. We never turned
the horses' heads, but went bang at them. Lucky if
we only got three falls a day. He was so light, he
used to bound up again like a ball. Captain White
and Mr. Maxse, they did so enjoy seeing us at it.
When they got to one of them reg'lar stitchers, they
used to say, " Here's Dick and Matty coming; they 11
have it." They'd served us that way so often, we
know'd what they meant. I was not so forward in
those days, with the lad to mind. When I see them, I
says, " Matty, here's a rum un on afore us ; take fast
hold of his head, and don't fear nothingI always
put him on those I knew to be perfect. Sir James
Musgrave used to back us against the fences. Once I
sees them coming on the road to meet us, I thought
there was something up, and there it was, a great big
stile and steps, and a deep ditch. I hears Sir James
say to Mr. Maxse, " I'll bet you twenty guineas he
comes over it;" and my word we won it for him.
We've got pretty well out of this rough 0ntheTurnpike.
travelling now. There's a place we must
have a touch at. Wright's Lodge, it's called. He
was a great man with Sir Harry, bred lots of cocks,
always a good sporting chap, but he never kep a
hunter. Now, we're on the Nottingham road ; we'll
go spanging along. There's Scalford Gorse, that was,
just behind Old Hills. Them's the Duke's, mind you,
both of 'em, It's a beautiful country, but not like
8
Silk and Scarlet.
Ranksboro'. That's your country. There's a bit of a
Marigold's Mud peck I had in this hollow, if it's worth
Bath- while putting down. It was in a ditch
full of mud. I was on Marigold, the mare I jumped
down that hill with. I was only schooling of her.
She went right backards, plump in. I claps my hand
on the saddle, and vaults clean over her head. Flat
on her back she lays, and I held her head up, or she'd
have been smothered. Dal! that's the very place.
There was some of them ditching; one of 'em—
Judd—John Judd—that's it—he says, "I hear some
one a hollering; I'll lay any money it's Christian in
that'ere ditchk They gets cart-ropes, and pulled her
out. The mud was wedged in like mortar from the
pommel to the cantle. It did her good ; she never
drops short in a ditch no more. That's Old Hills—
they never miss finding ; nice great place. That's the
Holwell Honey Clump, it's a mark for fox-hunters
thirty miles away.
He does the hard- I had a queer go near here one day in
riding farmers. Matty's time. I had three horses out,
two of 'em placed for me. The first stood still with
me, going through those sheep pens on the right
yonder; the second was close by, and then I tires
it. Two farmers, John Parkes and Jack Perkins
—them were two owdacious boys at that time of
day—had been riding against me like fury, and never
left me. I gets on to my third horse, and rode him
to the end of the run. * Matty sold him for 300
guineas ; he wasn't worth a hundred. What luck it
was ! The other horses nicks in so handy that day,
they didn't know but this was the same horse I started
with ; you couldn't tell the three asunder ; all of 'em
bays. It's a real fact, I did the changing so sly ; be
hanged if they knew. How pleased old Mat was!
He popped it on stiff; but the gentlemen, they'd just
as soon then give two or three hundred as one. Blame
me, the more you asked them, the better they liked it.
Dick Christian again.
9
This is Kettleby. You see this public, the Sugar
Loaf — it was my walking ground. Gad ! it made
me puff up these hills. Many's the The Waste Walk,
time I've done it with three stone of
clothes on my back ; going into Melton so beat. I
had a drop of warm gin-and-water in here, and then
off back again. I walked hard for Clinker, not so
much to get off flesh as to keep in wind. I could do
it like nothing then. I often got off 4 or 5 lbs. in a
walk. The gentlemen used to be all along this road
before Croxton Park. Captain White was a grand
walker. " Sharpish work for me, old boy, this morn-
ingP he used to say when I meets him. They didn't
like that muzzling work. Sir Harry Goodricke and
me was in training three weeks for that match with
Mr. Osbaldeston, which never come off; he'd not have
rode less than thirteen, saddle and all together ; stout,
fine-made fellow ; always took a deal of exercise, or
he'd have been very lusty.
I've done a good deal of wasting ; hot and its sugges-
weather, hot liquor ; heat agin heat, as tions-
long as ever you live ; in hot weather gin-and-water,
strong as blazes, as hot as ever you can ; I've ex-
perienced it. I once kept to nothing but gin and
gingerbread for a whole week to get to my weight.
That steeple-chase come off close against Steeple chasing.
London. Beecher won on Eliza, and
Jem Mason was second ; and Grimaldi beat off. I
rode Caliph again at Ross. I hurt my hand ; you
see the mark there to this day. That all comes of
trying a four-pound saddle. I was in dreadful pain,
but they ties it up, and I comes out to ride Bones
for the next race. General Gilbert was the starter.
You see, he knew me so well. So I says to him,
quietly, " General! give us an item." Just as he
drops the flag, I kept a watching of him, and he tips
me the wink, and I jumps off with a thundering good
start. It was twice round, but they never fairly
io Silk and Scarlet,
reached me. One of them, a mare, I forget her
name, gets to my knee, but never no farther. They
wanted to chair me round the town ; but I says, " I II
have none of that, Fm not a Parliament man, it may
do well enough for such likes as them /" I thought
they'd have killed me with drink ; every one wanting
to stand. An apple's a grand thing to bite when
you're very much beat after a race. I had rode those
heats for Mr. Lorraine Smith, at Leicester. I wasn't
prepared, never' knew I was to ride till I got there. I
was all but fainting in the weighing-house. There
was a doctor or two wanted to be on with brandy-
and-water, and all that; but I says, " Bring me an
apple f and I bites it and comes round entirely. He
didn't write all the Billesdon Coplow song, did Mr.
Lorraine Smith. They say Mr. Bethell Cox, of Quor-
ley wrote part ;* he was such a queer old boy, with
one hand ; one day he forgets, and he unscrews the
false one while he is dancing a quadrille, and it comes
off while a lady were holding it ; she were sore afraid,
poor thing.
Tem Mason I know'd Jem Mason well. He used
1 to be at the Dove House, at Pinner, with
Tilbury, when he was a lad. I'll be bound he wouldn't
be above fifteen when he first rode up from Stilton
there. The whole place was laid out with fences, and
a race course. They tell me the railway cuts clean
across it now, somewhere nigh the Pinner Station.
Tilbury had as many as two hundred hunters at one
time. Lots of them came down here; Captain
Fairlie's Wing was one of them. He mounted Count
Sandor, did Tilbury ; him that Mr. Ferneley drew all
those pictures of. I mind Jem first rode The Poet
in the St. Alban's Steeple-chase. The boys at Har-
row rigged him out, and talked about nothing else for
* From inquiries we have made, we believe there is no doubt that
Mr. Lowth, son of Robert Lowth, Bishop of London, wrote the whole,
Dick Christian again.
a month. He had to carry three stone dead weight.
The horse stopped at his first fence, but he beat them
in a canter ; nineteen on 'em. Old Tilbury and Jem
used to come to Brixworth every year with horses.
Jem jumped Winwick mill-dam one journey, and set
the whole field. The hounds killed four fields on. My
word, Sir Thomas Whichcote regularly did H Sir T
him and a lot of hard riders two seasons whichcote
ago. They run from Colston cover. Jem P°u^e'
gets first to a high gate, near Buckminster, °n egwor
and he gets off to open it; Sir Thomas comes up,
and jumps it clean on Kegworth—him that he bought
at Sir Richard's sale. Sir Thomas says, when the
gentlemen talks of it, " Precious hard if 320 guineas
catit pound somebody." It was a deal spoke of Jem
never did no good with Lottery till he rode him with
Josh Anderson's stag-hounds. He always had a
double-reined snaffle and martingale. I see Jem once
come down here for a match ; I don't mean that
Abd-el-kader one. It was Tilbury had the match on,
but the gentleman run back ; same ground as Clinker
and Clasher; the horse had to go over the ground. I
had one of Watson of The George's horses then, and
I galloped the ground with him as if we were racing.
Blame me, if he could have licked me ; he was not a
horse of much vally, no fashion, but a clipping jumper.
He'se driving a roaring horse trade now, is Jem, in
London.
Yes, I remember Bill Wright of Upping- Affray with Bill
ham : he was a good-hearted chap, but Wright;
such very vulgar language. Bill and me were always
partickler intimate ; boys together in the racing
stables. We once quarrelled out hunting with Lord
Lonsdale ! If we didn't get to horse-whipping each
other ! We did indeed ; for three miles, and straight
across country ; cut for cut. It was from Preston
Gorse in the Prior's Coppice country; all the gen-
tlemen shouting " Well done, Dick!" " Well done, Bill!"
12
Silk and Scarlet.
It pleased them uncommonly. We took our fences
reg'lar all the time ; if he was first over he stopped for
me ; if I had fell he'd have jumped on me ; and blamed
if I wouldn't have jumped smack on top of him. We
fought back-hand—this way—any way we could cut.
Dal! I was as strong as an elephant then ; we pulled
our horses slap bang up against each other ; he gives
me such tinglers on the back and shoulders ; but I
fetches him a clip with the hook-end of my whip on
the side of the head—such a settler—and gives him a
black eye. Then I says, "Bill, will you have any
and their Happy more, Tin ready prepared for you ?" We
Reconciliation. were like brothers almost, after that. It
was all a mistake ; he thought I had been finding fault
with a grey horse he wanted to sell. It would be six
weeks before we spoke. It was Reeve, of the Falcon
Inn at Uppingham, brought that about. We had left
off at Launde Wood, and I stopped there for gruel.
Reeve says, " What's this between you and Bill I Til
stand a bottle of wine to see you make it up ; let me send
for him, and see you shake hands in this very parlour ?"
" Weill" I says, " I don't malice him, if he don't
malice me? So he comes, and we had a glass together,
all right. We were the biggest of friends after that,
Bill and me. Wright of Sysonby, sold lots of horses
Mr. Greene and to Lord Plymouth, for great prices. Mr.
Sysonby. Greene got Sysonby of him before he come
of age, and the two could go just. He was nearly as
good as " the bay mare (singular thing Mr. Greene
never gave her a name) ; but not so great through
dirt. Sysonby gave Mr. Smith and Shac-a-bac a rare
showing up in the Harboro' country; it was a strange
wild day ; they found in a patch of gorse near Gumley.
The wind blew the scent, and the hounds flashed over
it. Mr. Smith rides Gadesby first, and then on to
Shac-a-bac ; they had an hour and twenty minutes
racing all the way. There was only him and Mr.
Greene left. All on a sudden Shac-a-bac starts a
Dick Christian again.
13
grunting, and stops ; Mr. Greene whips off Sysonby,
and says, " You get on my horse, they're running for
their fox!' On Mr. Smith goes with Sysonby, and
then Mr. Greene nicks in with Gadesby, and gets on
him and finishes. There they was, at the kill, same
horses they'd started on, only riders changed; singular
thing, wasn't it ?
Bill Wright was one of what they called The Flying Blue
" The Blue Coats nothing stopped 'em ; Coats,
such crashers, they'd hardly wait for hounds to get on
the scent; long blue coats and gilt buttons. Let me
see: give me time; I'll have 'em all. There'll be
George Marriot, Jonathan King of Beeby (he bred
Tilton and a many first-raters), Wright of Sysonby,
Jack Wing, the two Gambles, Jack Fryatt (the Julius
Caesar and Vivaldi man), John Woodcock, Jack Deve-
rill, Bramley of Bushby, Bill Blower of Rotherby ;
(I tutored him ; his father gave me many a sovereign
for noticing him ; what a sight of money he's made by
hunters!) Tomlin of Lye Lodge, Williamson of the
Coplow, Sam and Bill Henton of Ragdale, Gamboy
Henton of Hoby, Frank Needham, Carver of In-
goldsby—he made nigh 2000 guineas for seven colts
out of one mare. I can't think of no more ; Heycock
came after these. What a fellow Heycock was to
ride! Dash me, I knew such a break with him and
Sir James. He'd just got a new Shropshire horse,
had Sir James; always went there for them if he
could ; as like as apples they all were ; a great man
for a grey if he could get one—he bought a many of
Tom Smart—he'd give three or four hundred, as soon
as look at it. So Heycock comes up to Mr. Heycock's
him, out hunting, " .How d'ye like your Recipe.
new horse, Sir James f" "Pretty well',' Sir James
says, " only he makes me a little nervous ; he hits his
timber." " I'll tell you what to do," says Heycock.
" Take him out by yourself, quite private, and giye him
two or three heavy falls over timber; I always do it!'
14
Silk and Scarlet.
There was such a laugh ; he was such a desperate
chap that way. " God bless me, Mr. Hey cock, you
make my hair stand on end" Them was Sir James's
very words ; and he was a precious hard un too was
Sir James. Sir Charles Knightley teached his noted
black horse Benvolio that way ; he sends him like a
gun through two gates, and he jumps the third clean
The steeple- enough- Heycock rode Clinker in that
chase from Nose- great steeple-chase from Noseley Wood
ley Wood. to BiHesdon Coplow, nearly four miles.
He'd have won if the bridle hadn't come off. He
would have the double bridle changed for a snaffle.
They hadn't taken up holes enough ; and when it
come off at a fence, the horse wouldn't let him put it
on again. One horse came from Essex ; a cobby-
looking thing ; they told him at starting he wouldn't
tell, at the end of three fields, where they'd gone, and
it came out true. King of the Valley gave me a deal
of trouble that day ; he was such a great big horse
I couldn't get him up at his fences. We had all an
hour given us to see the ground after we'd weighed
in Mr. Greene's laundry. Bill Wright wouldn't stir,
but sat on with his pipe and porter, and rode as well
as any of us.
Hoiweii Mouth That's Holwell Mouth—we'll be there
and The Vale, directly ; ain't it almost like a punch-
bowl ? The Quorn can't come no further than here ;
they're a bit jealous of each other, and they're never
done drawing it. It's really in the Duke's Hunt, but
I've seen the Quorn draw it for years and years. The
gentlemen get all along at that side, and some at the
other corner. There's such a spring of water down
there, if you can find it. There's been an old rusty
bowl chained to it this many a year—didn't I tell you
it was first-rate ? Clawson Thorns is a great cover—
what a cover it is ! That Marigold leap of mine's
close here ; people came to see it from Nottingham,
when it got into the paper. Dash me ! only to think
Dick Christian again.
15
it's a plantation now, and they've filled it up from
bottom to top. She was a beautiful mare, this Mari-
gold, but very bad to break ; she throwed two of my
sons, and no end of grooms, but she never got rid of
me. Mr. Coke had another bay mare with her ; he
gave 300 guineas for the pair, at three years old.
They were both bred by one farmer at Scalthorpe,
just by here. Field Nicholson had them in Lincoln-
shire, to learn them fencing, but he was too hasty
with them ; so Mr. Coke sends them to me, and I had
a tough fortnight's job of it. Field Nicholson was
always a great man with Sir Harry Goodricke ; him
and Tom Brooke of Croxby first come for a fortnight
to Melton together, and stopped at The George.
The fences in the Vale are tremendous, when you
comes at them—stake and bounds—wide ditches—
timber very big, as big again as these 'ere, when you
get where the grazing ground is. I once hear a great
shooter—a reverend gent—say he fairly stood and
trembled before a Vale fence, to think how he could
get over. Sometimes they goes right away for Wid-
merpool—by Broughton, Hickling, and Colston Bas-
sett way—and sometimes they bends short to Piper
Hole. That's Wartnaby Stone Pits— The Road to Six
good laying—gorse and thorns-like ; it's Hills>
been a great meet ever since I can remember. Sir
James Musgrave, he was always uncommon fond of
the Ranksboro' country, and the Rolleston country ;
Mr. Osbaldeston, he liked Barkby Holt, and Dalby
and Gartree ; poor Sir Richard, I think he'd be more
for Six Plills and them parts—we'll be at them di-
rectly. It's precious hot. Blame me, if you ain't
dropping off to sleep ! You'd nigh missed Cant's
Thorns -— that's one of them bye-covers ; what a
country they have to Harboro', thirty miles right on
end ! I've ridden in a run from it, and grass all the
way. Not half a mile from that's Lord Aylesford's
cover : rare things I've seen from that, right away to
i6
Silk and Scarlet.
Oakham. That's Mundy's Gorse—small, enclosed
country, and plenty of foxes. Lord Suffield had such
a clipper from here ; fourteen miles clean away to
Colwick, side of the Trent. See! that's Shoby
Scholes—there, on the other side of the trees.
There's a reed pond in one part; that's where Tom
Sebright put the double on " Perpetual Motion." I
think he was a Belvoir fox ; he mostly took off that
way. I've seen a many good runs from it, and bushels
of beaten horses ; they so often brought a fox from
other places there.
The Six Hills This is the Six Hills country. Dal!
Country. there's nothing that's not happened to me
in it; the fences are quite jumpable, but most of it's
plough. The horses can't stand on above half an
hour, if they keep straight on without a check. The
fields are small, none of them above ten acres.
They're always a jumping ; single fence with a ditch ;
some of them a ditch on both sides ; ditches not very
wide, but wide enough to throw a horse down. The
slower you ride at them the better ; they only want
a handy horse, a perfect hunter, not a flying horse.
His Huntsman I had a long time with hounds, as whip
Career. t0 Sjr Gilbert. I never did much as a
huntsman, except once or twice when Abbey was not
out. I could tootle a bit. Bedad ! you should have
heard Sir Richard blow his horn ; that was music, I
believe you. Old Abbey was a bit of a musician, that
way; I couldn't blow much. Jack Davis, of the
Rufford, he can make it rally out. I could holler, and
speak to a hound pretty well, but I had only a mid-
dling voice. I once made a bit of a hit when I had
hold of the hounds, just over a road. Lord Lonsdale
was out. "Richard" he says (he always spoke that
way), " Richard, that's as fine a cast as I ever saw
made; you quite deceived me." We brought the fox
from Mankrie Wood, close to The Bull at Witham
Common, seven or eight miles, slap through Woodwell
Dick Christian again.
17
Head, right away to Melton Spinney. My horse was
so beat, he could just trot—that was all he could do.
Blame me, he couldn't walk, and he couldn't gallop ;
if he offered to walk, he slipped down. Mr. Charles
Manners and one Flintham were out, and they went
and stopped the hounds. It's truth ; I never told a
lie in my life, that I know of.
That's a bulfinch, not half a good one His Buifinch
though ; not stiff enough through. Come, Meditations,
there we have it at last. Them's the bulfinches;
them's the stitchers. They're thickest about Ashby
Pasture and Barkby Holt. In old times, we used to
go slap-bang at them, hollering like fun, to cheer up
horses and men. Captain White was a good un at
that game. How he would holler, to be sure! Those
are rails, just; a horse 'ud want a deal of handling at
them; if we didn't get their fore legs high enough,
their knees 'ud get below it, and over they goes; their
tails often came clean bang into my face ; my word,
it made you look out sharp. What a one the Cap-
tain's Merry Lad was for rails in a corner! he popped
over, for all the world like a deer. You see Mundy's
Gorse over there, it's got regular earths, and Ella's
Gorse beyond it. Walton Thorns' to our left; it's a
square cover, all gorse. Now we're on the Foss Road ;
they call that Thrussington Wolds. It's a long woody
cover, not a gorse.
I had a good bit of fun from this cover a Day with
in Mr. Hodgson's time. I'll tell you how Marigold,
it was. Mr. Coke, he was partickler proud of this
Marigold, and he wanted her to do something to be
talked about. So I gets a message by his groom that
I was to ride her at Six Hills next day. " You've
to wait" says the-groom, " whiles Mr. Coke comes!'
I was quite struck what the deuce he meant; I thought
her so perfect a mare. So I waits, and up comes Mr.
Coke. " I want you to ride her," he says. " Mind
you do your best with her; go into the cover with the
c
i8
Silk and Scarlet.
hounds, and never leave themSo in I went; and
I'm blamed if he wasn't waiting to see me come out—
great dry ditch, and cut and bound hedge. " Now,
that's well done" he says ; "go on, and keep with the
hounds." It was the beautifullest run of an hour and
a half; they viewed him the last mile afore they
killed him, close by the water-mill in the Navigation
by Ratclyffe. Mr. Burbidge, he rides up to me.
" What, Richard, you've had a glass too much, to go
that way; you never stopped at gates or nothing, and
you beat us all clean out I' The gentlemen comes up
when we had killed, and they says, "Now, Coke, what
do you think of it?" He says, quite short, " It's very
satisfactory, I think'.' So there was something in it I
influence of didn't know of. Captain White was up
Captain white to it. I hears him, about a field behind
on his character. me> hollering all the way, " Go along, old
fellow ! go and ketch him, gentlemen /" The Captain
was always for me; he kept hardening me on. I
don't think I'd ever have gone at such fences, but he
had such a pleasant way with him ; never done holler-
ing at me. I couldn't help going a tickler.
Brooksb ^his Thrussington was a shiny place
in Sir Harry's time ; capital doings there.
They've pulled all the kennels down. They're not
much of cooks at that public-house ; they cut the ham
as thick as my thumb; you didn't make much way
with it. Barkby we can't see from here. This is
Brooksby; nice place, ain't it ? Hay smells prime,
don't it ? There's land as is land ! General Grosve-
nor lived here, and then Lord Cardigan a bit. It
was a great meet in Mr. Meynell's time. They drew
Cream Gorse and Ashby Pastures; it was all open
like a common ; there was no trotting by bridle-roads
then.
Lord Lonsdale's Mr. Meynell and Mr. Noel, I mind they
Hounds. once joined in the Ranksboro' country.
Noel's had all the best of it: Arthur Abbey hunted
Dick Christian again.
19
them. Mr. Smith and Lord Lonsdale clashed three
times, when I was out, and Mr. Smith got the fox
every time. Lord Suffield's once crossed Lord Lons-
dale's when they were a going from Tilton to Owston
Wood ; Lambert drew his hounds into a corner of a
field, and let 'em pass. Lord Lonsdale's were not so
quick in the open, but they had the longest runs.
They had a fine wild country, and they were capital
killers. They went off latterly; I've seen 'em run
tail for a mile. They was never so good after the
madness; that would be in 1830. Lambert wasn't
so keen. My lord, he built a kennel at Stocking
Hall ; then he brings them back to Cottesmore,
and lived there a many years. He was a grand
man for hounds, was his lordship; there are many
who think they know, but it's not thinking as will
do it,
The oldest gentleman as kept hounds in The Packs of
this county was that Mr. Noel, of Exton. old-
The hounds were still kept at Cottesmore. Arthur
Abbey was his huntsman ; he was a big, heavy man,
with a rasping, strong voice. Many a tuppence I've
had for taking off his spurs, when he come home from
hunting, Lord Gainsborough kept on the hounds as
usual after Mr. Noel ; and when he dies, Lord Lons-
dale (Sir William Lowther as was then) took to them
with Philip Payne. Philip was a first-rate little fel-
low—always swore by Lord Lonsdale's blood. His
lordship gives them up to Sir Gilbert for a few years,
and then he had 'em back again. The first Mr Meynell
time I hunted the Quorn country was with
Mr. Meynell, in March, 1796. We met at Langton
Caudle, tried that and Welham spinneys, Stanton
and Glooston woods ; found at the Fallow Closes, and
killed; then we found in Stockersten Wood, and
losses him near Hallaton Fern. What a wonderful
man he was to holler! shrill voice, good language.
He rode small horses with short-cut tails. Jack
c 2
20
Silk and Scarlet.
Raven was taller than Mr. Meynell. I don't see any
improvement in hounds myself; I don't. The Har-
boro' country was his fancy. Mr. Meynell gave up
in 1800. Jack Shirley was one of his whips. He was
an owdacious fellow ; big and stout, with a rough voice.
He was a great man with Mr. Smith ; and Sir Richard,
in Lincolnshire.
_ We'll get a short cut down here past
nother umb e. £ream Gorse_ £)al ! if I know much
about these roads; I've been across these fields
thousands of times, too, with the hounds, and out
larks with the gentlemen. I scarcely ever fell when I
was out larks. I've been fox for the gentlemen all
over the country ; it didn't signify what part of the
country you were in if they wanted to have a lark ; be
it where it would. There was an assize job at that
house; a poor lad got murdered. I don't just see
how we'll get out of this field ; we must just go back
through the gate. What's coming ?—
* * * *
There's a go ! Oh dear! Get to the horse's head !
I wish we'd never corned here. I kep on a talking,
and you a writing, and we never saw that grip.
What a balcher I comes out of the gig ! I drove my
nose right into the ground : then you tumbles out
on top of me, and pins my legs right down. There's
above twelve stone of you! I always likes to hitch
my legs away, and you fairly held 'em fast. I thought
the wheels would be over me. It's all very well—
you've done nothing but laugh at me these ten
minutes ; but your hat's quite as bad knocked in as
mine. There's your note-book—I see it come flying
over my head ; that 'ull be your pencil, in that tuft
of grass. Deary me ! how Captain White would have
laughed, if he had seen us ! This pimple's bleeding
on my nose ; it was in the ground, I don't know how
deep. That 'ull only be a graze on my eyebrow ; I'm
Dick Christian again.
bleeding badly, though. Just lead the horse, and I'll
get to this pond, and get you to give me a bit of a
rub-down. It's a bad job trying these short cuts,
except you're on a horse ; we must keep it snug when
we gets to Melton.
We'll be right now; I'm for leaving the road no
more. Sing'lar thing, wasn't it, we Ashb Pasture
should have had that tumble together ? and Thorpe Trus-
I'm always in for them things. Barkby selIs"
Holt's too far for us to touch at; you can just see it
through yonder, if you stand up ; but it's such a deuce
of a misty day, with all this heat. That line of trees
is Cream Gorse ; now we're straight for Ashby Pas-
ture. Aye! it's quite a wood ! People see those
pictures, and they fancy it's a bit of a gorse. Pretty
place this Thorpe Trussells; it looks quite like a
flower-garden now; don't it ? How sweet the roses
and honeysuckles smell! Take the reins. I must just
step out, and get a bunch for my old woman ; she's
such a one for flowers—the house is chock-full of
them. Mr. Greene, he was wonderful fond of Thorpe
Trussells ; some clipping runs he had from it. I
wasn't in the country when he was master. He
showed 'em some rare sport—never finer, they tell
me—and only a scratch pack to begin with. Tom
Day handled them wonderful. We're at Gartree Hill
now. Mr. Osbaldeston's fox lived here ; he was a
dark-coloured one ; most of the great runs I've seen
have been with them sort. He always came out
reg'lar at one point, and gave 'em ten miles of it
through Leesthorpe, Cold Overton to the right ; they
lost him in Branson Field—Oakham Pastures that was.
They never could make him out; he must have got into
some drain they didn't know of.
That's Buttermilk Hill, and Burrow Hills over to
the right, where Lord Cardigan and Lord Gardner
had the match I told you of. It's as flat as a race-
course on the other side. Lord Suffield's had a grand
21
Silk and Scarlet.
fifty-four minutes over Burrow Hills here, same day
as Lord Waterford lost his Norway wig. Here's the
The Clinker v. Clinker and Clasher ground. Mind you
Clasher Ground. pUt this down. We starts at Dalby
Windmill—Dal! there you've got it at last through
the trees—left Burrow village to the left, under Bur-
row Hills; Twyford to the right, over Twyford
Brook ; Marfield to the right, over Marfield Brook ;
John o'Gaunt on the left, and finished on Tilton field-
side—five miles, all swingers the fences. I should
just like to have one peck at steeple-chasing again. I
shall be eighty come March ; it 'ud be such a thing as
never Was seen, just to say I'd done it. Three miles,
I could manage that well over a good Leicestershire
country. I'd get myself into such prime condition.
I'm a bit touched in my wind now for a long run.
That's Squire Hartopp's. He's a terrible good un to
encourage fox-hunting—just in the heart of it. He
used to ride uncommon well ; now he don't come out
in scarlet. We're through Little Dalby now. That's
the hedge where I took the great jump on Sir James's
horse. That's Melton, at last: we must keep that
tumble snug, or they'd laugh at its rarely. I'll be
ready for you at nine in the morning, and then I'll
show you a country, just—the Quorn's nothing to it.
RIDE THE SECOND.
'' And still the best nag was reserved for the day,
When Tilton was named as the meet."
Horses for Lei- "\7"OU ought to have looked ill at Mr.
cestershire. Gilmour's horses before you come
away this morning. The old grey's there yet, him
that I was took on for the Sportihg Magazine. He
wants a deal of licking still. There are only four studs
in the town now, Those will be some of Mr. Coven-
Dick Christian again.
23
try's on the road ; he looks like Leicestershire, that
one, long and low. I like to see all four shoes when
they're going along; it shows action. For riding, I
like mares as well as horses. Give me 'em lengthy
and short-legged for Leicestershire; I wouldn't have
'em no bigger than fifteen-three : great rump, hips, and
hocks ; fore-legs well afore them, and good shoulders ;
thorough-bred if you can get them, but none of your
high short horses. Thorough-bred horses make the
best hunters. I never heard of a great thing yet but
it was done by a thorough-bred horse. Many of these
modern men, they'd tire anything : they seat on Horse-
don't set at liberty on a horse, as I mean; back-
they've 110 proper power on their horse ; a man's body
should be all loose, but he should be firm in his thigh;
you shouldn't be able to see under 'em when you're
behind 'em.
I mind once coming across here with He excites Mr.
hounds. One day I rode slap off a bridge Maher.
into a field to get to 'em; this place reminds me of it.
I'd the hounds all to myself, and one of the gentlemen
gave me half a guinea—many's the half-guinea I've
got that way. One day they found at Glaston Gorse ;
they were all a trying to beat me. I heard Mr. Maher
say—Paddy Maher, they used to call him—" Hang'
that fellow ! he wears that left leg spur, and he catches
them ; it's impossible to beat him : we'll have him yetP
Thinks I, if we do but come to a stitcher, I'll get shot
o' you. We comes up to some deer-rails, near Norman-
ton. " Now's my chance," I says, and over I goes.
" You may go if you like, and be hanged to you ; Ishaiit
follow youf he shouts. Captain White, Colonel
Lowther, and Sir James, none of them would have it;
Mr. Maher shouted particklar at me all the way. There
was quite a Hazv, haw! among the gentlemen, when
he out with that last expression. We killed directly
after that. I was riding a horse of my own ; I bought
it from a farmer at Ashwell, here. Sir James gave
24
Silk and Scarlet.
me 160 guineas for him, and called him Christian ;
he was a brown one, by Vivaldi. I never wore but
one spur, and seldom that. I only want my fingers;
them's the things for ketching 'em up, and making
'em go.
A ride for Sir Sir James once gave Tom Smart four
James. hundred guineas for a horse ; he could
get through bush fences nicely, but he knee'd the big
uns. He had given him a fall or two, and the hounds
had to meet at Owston Wood ; so he sends to me, to
wait at Burton toll-bar till he comes up. Then he
says, " I want yon to go across country from here to
Owston Wood, and I want to see yon go all the way.
Yon thread this road to Pickzvell; take which side of
the road you liked "Dal! this is arum un," thinks
I ; so I chose the right side. We went straight be-
tween Pickwell and Somerby; then I takes him over
four high rails, and Sir James would see him come
back ; he was well satisfied then, and he carried him
capital. Lord Lonsdale and all the gentlemen liked
the Owston Wood country best of any; it's quite
Leicestershire fencing ; like the Harboro' country, very
little plough, good scenting ; quite open country, every
kind of fence. Mr. Moore—he was a great man at the
Old Club—he still would make me use two spurs when
I rode his horses. What an hospitable, charitable man
he was ! He seldom missed a day ; and he could ride
pretty fairly, but not one of those clinkers I've been
telling you of.
Lord Wilton Talk about all these men, there's none
kep up his riding better for thirty years
than Lord Wilton's done. He's quite a front man yet ;
him, and his son, and Captain Lloyd's always there.
He don't ram his horses till hounds settle to their
work ; he always rides perfect horses. If he misses a
good thing, he's sadly riled. There never was a better
groom than that one of his, Goodwin ; pleasant fellow
as need to be, and the best groom-rider as ever come
Dick Christian again.
25
to Melton. He's well pensioned off now, and got a
house in the park as well.
Now, do stand up and look ! There's Emotions on
a country worth your coming all the way viewing Ranks-
from London just to see. There's your boro-
country ! A steeple-chase once came off right here
from Burton to Adcock's Lodge, half-way The Gypsey
between Melton and Oakham ; it seems Steeplechase,
only yesterday—the Marquis, in blue, falling at this
very fence, on The Sea. He was nearest on 'em, but he
was half a field behind Mr. Villiers. Poor fellow ! he's
dead now; he rode Gypsey. I had the doctoring of
that mare's mouth—grinders grown quite sharp, bless
you, sharp as a needle—quite cut holes inside her
mouth. It's a nice place this Adcock's . . ,, T ,
X1 T .ir,.ATT .. Adcocks Lodge.
Lodge. I mind Sir Harry asking me
where he could get a good bit of bread and cheese
after hunting ; and I says, I know the mistress here,
and she's an uncommon clever woman. Sir Harry
goes in, and the cheese was capital ; and he had his
butter and eggs from her reg'lar as long as he was in
Melton.
There's your country! notabadjumpthat The Whissen-
Whissendine there; get a little lower down, dine and Ranks-
and it's all one, like a navigation. I never boro •
seem to have been out of that brook. What fun I've
seen in brooks ! Templeman—aye, "Sim," "Sim," in Lei-
you call him—was down here in Mr. Er- cestershire.
rington's time. He had mounts on some of Lord
Howth's and Mr. Errington's best horses, and he went
like a house afire. Many of these flat riders can't go
a bit. One day he was on The Hare, a pretty little
chestnut, one of Mr. Errington's, and he jumps clean
over two or three of them in Glooston brook ; his mare
jumps a bit short, and he comes on the bank right
across Mr. Gilmour's legs, while he was getting his
horse out. Such fun! I got in lower Huntsmen in
down. Charles Payne, he's now hunts- embryo.
26
Silk and Scarlet.
man to the Pytchley, used to ride second horse for
Mr. Errington, in those days ; Clark, him that hunts
the Duke of Beaufort's, was riding second horse here
same time for a Leicester gentleman ; I can't think on
his name at this moment. Deary me! the many times
I've seen bits of lads in Leicestershire. Some of them
takes good care of themselves, and so gets on ; others
just the contrary.
Sir Richard and I've seen the gentlemen single them-
Mr. Gilmour. selves out and ride jealous. I once saw
Mr. Gilmour and Sir Richard have a rare go in the
Vale, when Sir Richard lived at Lincoln. That was
about the first time I remember seeing him in this
country. They come nearly from Jericho to Upper
Broughton—some five miles, over a rare stiff country—
Smite and all. Sir Richard was on a grey that time,
and Mr. Gilmour on Vingt-un ; sometimes they were
close together, then they parted ; really riding bang
to hounds. Mr. Gilmour beat him a field at last, for
all his weight. Mr. Howsen and Mr. Banks Wright,
they were first-raters ; one of them was half-brother to
A struggle of Sir Richard. The finest bit of jealousy I
Five. ever see was from Glaston Pasture to
Ketton Village—five on 'em. Mr. Gilmour on Vingt-un
was first again ; there was Colonel Lowther, Sir James,
Mr. Maxse, and Captain White ; you could have co-
vered them with a sheet nearly all the time, but they
couldn't head him. I was watching them on one of
Sir James Boswell's, the year he went to live at
Somerby. Mr. Moore was out, but he couldn't keep
company. You can't lay it less than seven miles, no
check; they came up by the Welland Meadows.
Ranksboro' and There's your country, only just look
Rocart. round you now! There's Ranksboro'
Gorse ! capital good care Lord Gainsboro' takes of
it. Right over there to Tilton and Owston, such a
country ; fences big. One day we only ran from
Ranksboro' to Cold Overton Park, and every horse
Dick Christian again.
27
had his mouth open, forty or fifty bf them. I never
could just make it out ; the foggy day must have
done it; country very deep ; not a bit above three
miles. As good a thing as I ever rode in from here
was in Lord Lonsdale's day : we run him to ground
at Collyweston Low Wood, near Wansford, ten miles
by the crow, but I warrant we went it sixteen, and a
nice spread-eagle we had. Look at Rocart; ain't it a
pretty little place ? nice brook that for practice ; rare
little cover : it don't look much like finding now ; it's
all over white blossoms.
Now we're in Langham. Dal! it's He remembers
well I've thought of it. That's the very his Godfather,
house where my godfather lived. The very spot; it
was always sixpence for me when I see him. His
name was Mr. James Jackson Melita Langham ; he
was a very great cocker ; he bred 'em ; me and my
father used to breed lots of 'em, and get walks for
them ; almost all greys—duckwings and mealy greys ;
they was indeed—beautiful cocks ; he wouldn't sell a
many. He wouldn't sell no hens or spare his eggs to
set. My father and him was very thick ; he used to
sell him a deal of barley, that was the way of it. No
relations, but always very friendly ; sing'lar, wasn't it,
that should have jumped into my mind ?
You see that bye-bar there. I never go The Bye-bar
to cover but I think of it. When I lived JumP-
at Luffenham, I had horses and rode, same as at Mel-
torn The man wouldn't let me through without pay-
ing that morning ; we were always the best of friends,
but the wife had been worriting him, and he turned
stupid. I'd never corned a yard on the turnpike-road,
but away from Beeby ; so I says, " Be hanged if Fit
pay; yon may shut the gate so I turns round, and
at it I goes, over where the foot people gets through.
" Thats paid you," I says. " You, sees a jump pre-
cious seldom, sticking here for halfpence all day so
he laughs, and he says, " You're quite welcome, I'll
28
Silk and Scarlet.
never ask you to pay no more /"—that 'ull be nigh forty
years since.
His Butcher Dal! things does come to mind so ;
Apprenticeship, thg way yOU pU£S pp show you where
I was put prentice to a butcher ; Mr. Hubbard they
called him ; that was the very self-same spot; many's
the sheep I've killed. I could skin a head like wink-
ing ; I liked the going to market best ; he had a little
blue frock made for me, all trim and nice. One mar-
ket-day he leaves me at home, and said I should drive
the dung-cart. I served him out for that ; blame me,
if I didn't. First thing I did was to drive against
every gate-post, and I pulls one or two of 'em down.
Then I tied the horse and cart to a gate, close by a
dung-heap, and took out the greyhounds, and had a
good course. When I gets to the horse again, the
cart-had sunk into the dung and nearly choked it ; so
I whips out my knife, and cuts the bridle, and off
home to Cottesmore. When Mr. Hubbard comes
back, he says, " Where's my boy ?" and then he off after
me. He wanted me sadly to come back with him ;
but I says, " Sir, your kindness to me is more than I
deserve; it's no use, my mind is set upon horses;
and has been to this day.
Tricks of Boy- I'd only be thirteen when I went to the
hood- racing stables. Oh, dear! what monkey
tricks I was up to ! When I was at Barham Downs,
some mountebanks comes to Canterbury, and the
trainer lends me his pony, and away I goes. I thought
I could do as they did ; so coming home, I jumps on
the saddle, and there I stands ; up comes a postchaise,
and I gallops by the side of it all the way home; the
driver and the people inside laughing at me ; one of
them pitched me a shilling. If they sent me any-
where on a pony, I used to ride through all the water
I could : I had once well-nigh been drownded. That
A Quid pro Quo. billy-goat j°b i that'S a11 in mY first le<>
ture ; I just wish you'd seen it; he ran
Dick Christian again.
29
about the Park, and went on like anything; reared
up against the trees ; then back to the house, and
bang against the front Hall door, and smashed a sight
of glass panes. It was " Maa, Maa /" all the time ;
such fun to see him. They used to call " Maa, Maa /"
after me, in the villages, for many a day. We was
going through North Luffenham with the hounds,
when a blacksmith puts his head out, and tries it on.
Abbey the huntsman, he says to me, " When he comes
that again, just you ask him ' Who hanged the boar ?'"
He had gone and tied a boar to a post, while he made a
ring for it, and when he came to put it in, it was dead.
That touched him up pretty smart : he called after
me no more. Precious cheeky of me to say it, after
that dung-cart business.
Mr. Hand lived at Barleythorpe here. Mr. Hand's gruel
He was quite a noted man—a rare sport- Plan-
ing fellow—two hunters and a hack, and much re-
spected by the gentlemen. When his horses come
home, he first gives them gruel, two pails-full if
they'd drink it; others never gave the quantity. His
horses always looked well; he never gave over till
hounds did ; he had a chestnut and black for years.
We're getting nigh Oakham now. There was a funny
steeple-chase here, betwixt Mr. Gilmour Mr. Gilmourand
and Captain Ross. They started here in Captain Ross's
the Oakham Road, close to Ashwell. Match.
There was very little difference in weight. Mr.
Gilmour, he was fixed to start between two trees at
the bend here, and he had to jump that fence. Cap-
tain Ross had a hundred yards start, and he was set
on the other side yon third fence. Mr. Gilmour was
on that noted Plunder of his; good shaped horse,
went low with his head. The Captain rode Polecat.
I piloted them; it was about three miles. The
Captain he kep a long way ahead till he come to
Burley-lane ; then his mare refused the hedge, and
right up the lane with him. Mr. Gilmour, he comes
3°
Silk and Scarlet.
up, and he never offers to jump the fence, but he rides
up the lane to meet him; touch him was half the
bet—a hundred touch, and a hundred win. When
they met, Captain Ross began to dodge ; quite laugh-
able, just like two boys at play; and Mr. Gilmour, he
just catches him a tap on the hat with his hunting-
whip. Then they started fresh out of the lane, and
the Captain won by thirty yards. Plunder ran in that
Noseley Wood steeple-chase Field Nicholson won;
that were how the other match come on. The Cap-
tain was a poor hand across country, without some
one to lead him ; couldn't make his own running no-
how, but go anywhere any one else went; a bold man
and a good creature he was too. He gave me 100/.
when Clinker beat Radical; Captain Douglas was on
him that journey; I was pilot for him; it was from
Barkby Holt to Billesdon Coplow.
Cover-side Plea- The gentlemen used to be always a
santries. gammoning on with me at the covert
side, some way or other, blame me; Sir James, and
all of them. They'd get me to say something of one
or another of them, and then they'd go and say, slap
out, " What d'ye think Dick's been saying of you V or
"your horse ?" and then there'd be such a laugh.
Deary me, what cheerful times them were ! Captain
White in partikler was always on that way ; when he
was behind me in a run, I'd hear him ; such a laugh
he had ; " There goes Dick! down again ! Haw,
haw ! What ? down again, Veteran ! " That was
his manner exact. " It's nothing when you're used to
it," that's what "I always gave 'em back again on them
occasions; you'll see it at the bottom of one of those
pictures, where I'm tumbling. They would still ask
me how I felt with a horse on top of me. Gentlemen
Riding Old gets falls very bad ; you see they're gene-
Horses. rally on old horses ; the old uns fall like'
a clot; if they get into difficulties, blame me, they
won't try to get out; they will do that when they get
Dick Christian again. ' 31
to ten years old. They haven't the animation of a
young horse ; those young uns will still try to struggle
themselves right, and they'll not touch you if they can
help it. I'll be bound I'd be safer riding twenty
young horses, than one old one. When a horse made
his start to jump, I always knew if he was going to
fall. I prepared myself; if he took off collected at his
fence, I could keep him 'so ; if he was falling, I could
clap my hands on his withers, and get clear of him,
and keep the reins too. These great natural jumpers
are desperate dangerous; they won't collect and get
out of danger ; if people get killed, a hundred to one
them great natural jumpers does it; when they're a
little pumped down we comes with a smasher, and you
gets killed, or goes on by yourself into the next field.
I hate larking with horses. I mind Mr. The effects of
-Nevill and that chestnut mare of his, Larking.
Verbena (Lord Southampton had her when he was at
The Quorn), he thought her the best animal he ever
rode. Once I see him jump three gates with her,
coming home from hunting, and she stops dead at the
fourth, and she was never the same after. I see her,
after that, refuse a gate with Dick Burton, when he
hunted The Quorn. " Spur her again, Name /" I
says. Dick never sees me to this day but he hails me
with them words before we shake hands. Mr. Nevill
spoilt Reindeer just the same way; he was a grand
entire horse; and Mr. Coke offered him 500 guineas
for him. We were coming from hunting one day, and
he says, " Lets have a lark, it will do Reindeer goodd
I couldn't get him off it nohow; nigh the end of the
fourth mile, we comes down together. " There, we've
done it now, sir," I says ; the very next fence we
comes to, a very small one, he stops. I made him
have it; but he was a lost horse from that day. No
end of trouble with him.
I must have a bit of a peck at this Ralph Holding,
Rarey. I should like to know if he can the Horse-tamer.
32
Silk and Scarlet.
ride them across country, when he has tamed them.
I warrant I did well nigh as much as ever he did, fifty
years ago. They say it's just taking up the front foot;
you knows, so you says nothing; that dodge is as old
as that oak-tree there. The first I ever see attempt
these things was a soldier. He went about with a
brass belt and a horse on it; they called him Ralph
Holding; blessed if I don't think he's living near
Loughboro' now.* Mr. Coke, he asked me to go to a
gentleman who had some horses on the forest, at
Ulverscroft Abbey, near Leicester. There were three
horses there, and he had served them all the same,
and he got them quite quiet. Then I asks Mr. Hill,
of Melton, to send for him ; he had got a grey that no
one dare handle. My word, he gets him into a loose
box, and tackles him. The horse come bolt at him as
he opens the half-door. Then he puts his hand into
his waistcoat, and takes out a little box with some
brown powder in it; he wraps some rag round his hand,
puts the powder on it, and goes right up to the horse,
and rubs his hand over the nose and ears, and carries
it right away along the back to his near hind leg; he
lifts it up, and lays the horse's foot on his knee, and
begins hammering and singing " Law ! Law ! Jaw !
Jaw /" a hundred times, and the horse took no more
notice than nothing. I runs in where they were at
dinner, and I says, " Do come, he's a hollering and
hammering awayk Mrs. Hill, she was so took with
laughing when she see him, I thought she'd have
fainted clean off. Then he put a halter on to him,
and gets him into a close. He says, " Lay downP and
down he lays, and kept there, till he told him to get
up. Then he stands agin his head, with his finger—
" One, tivo, hold your head up he did ; " Lie down /"
over and over again ; no straps, no nothing, but this
powder. He tried to ride him afterwards, but he
The Emperor" was perfectly correct in his surmise.
Dick Christian again.
33
downed him ; he never could ride him, and he actually
gave him up. My son Charles was the man as broke
him ; he'd rear up and throw himself, and try to kneel
on him and keep him down ; he throwed John Parkes
off three times before Stamford Grand Stand ; and
then he let Charles ride him, and ran a splendid
second. Charles was a capital rider; poor lad ! he
died at Grimsthorpe, of consumption; he made a
hunter of Glenartney—I think that was the name—for
Lord Willoughby; he took a deal of handling—race
horses always do.
That's Burley Park; what a run we B D ,
11 r i ^ , Burley Park.
had from there to Dean, in Sir Gilbert s
time ! sixteen miles nearly ; every horse beat. I was
head groom to Sir Gilbert, then ; never had to pull my
coat off. I was on the same horse when we ran that
season from Woodwell Head, and killed at Brown's
Coppice, close to Rolleston Coppice, right over the
Owston Wood country. Dashed if I didn't leave
my horse in the middle of a field, and I cuts off the
brush; up comes Dick Lambert, the first whip;
" He had a brush on," he says. " So he had" says I,
" and it's in my pocketHe began to wobble a bit,
when Sir Gilbert, he gets up, and he begins : " What
are you tzvo Dicks quarrelling about ? Christian beat
you; he may keep it." This was a grand cricket
ground at Burley, here. That's the very spot where I
rode the pony race, six-and-sixty years ago. Kent
and Surrey all come here that day, for cricket; such
clipping work, booths and fiddles ; such thousands of
people. Dear ! dear ! they must be well nigh all dead
and gone now. Look at these fox covers ; I don't
know how many quarters the've in them ; and such a
pond ! Now you get a grand view of the house.
That's Gibbet Gorse, as fine a cover as The Tale of Gib-
ever was seen. I saw those two brothers bet Gorse-
hanging on the gibbet, with white caps on; they
murdered a baker called Freeman. I was only seven
D
34
Silk and Scarlet.
when they were hung ; I stood on my father's pony,
and looked over his shoulder ; I wasn't ten yards off
them. The youngest of them, Bill, father had hired
him to be a shepherd; he had been at our place
only a week before he was took, to settle about
coming. Poor fellow, he cried sadly; his brother
Dick, he was a regular hardened one—you know what
he said about not dying in his shoes : I heard him say
it distinct. He could see Appleton, the village he
lived at, from the gallows, and he turns his face right
towards it, and he says, " Now, I'11 prove my mother a
liar ; she always said I'd die in my shoes them were
his very words ; and away he kicks them among the
crowd. I think I see him a-doing it. Father went
quite white, and fairly trembled in his saddle. They
had chains from the waist down between their legs,
and they hung on the gibbet that way. That was a
great plum year, but there was no sale for them round
Oakham ; people wouldn't buy them if a fly had been
at them ; they had a notion they'd been at the gibbet,
and sucked the flesh. I took no notice of it: I always
ate plums when I could get them. They hung till
they fell down ; the good one lasted the longest;
people watched for that. I never heard of any one
finding bits of their bones; I've seen part of their
clothes lying about when we've been drawing the
gorse, but never no bones ; they say they're not to be
seen. That green field on the left where the sheep's
feeding, just on this side the windmill, is where they
were hung; that house is where the doctress lady
lives ; her that makes the wind pills. I've heard she's
got as many as 150 patients ; she takes two or three
days to get once through 'em. I'll just call and speak
to my old friend Tookey, in Oakham here, while the
horse is getting his gruel.
Daniel Lambert We must have Wilcox, of Luffenham
and Wilcox. jn . ^e kept t^e Fox-and-Hounds; he
was a five-and-twenty stone man, and very reg'lar with
Dick Christian agam.
35
Lord Lonsdale's hounds. He used to ride a grey
horse; there are many pictures of them ; he'd be
fifteen-three, and could carry a ton weight, if that
were all. I've seen the old chap go like mad for
twenty minutes; he'd jump, if he was reg'lar put
up, over a turnip hurdle; he looked nearly as
big as Daniel Lambert. I knew Dan, and he
knew me. I met with him at Leicester and Stam-
ford races. We had races twice a day for three days
at Stamford ; eleven o'clock, then to the ordinary at
two. He was dressed like a groom, and lived quite
private ; he'd hardly be quite at his full growth then;
there'd not be much more than forty stone of him ;
he was above fifty latterly. Many's the time I've
talked to him in Stamford cock-pit; he could set a
cock uncommon well, for all he could hardly get near
the table, for his bulk ; he was a cheery man in com-
pany, but shyish of being looked at. I've been
along with Parson Harvey scores of p „
times. I was at Tattersall's, and saw him arS°n aney'
buy an unbroke three-year-old colt; he puts on a
halter, and leads it out of the yard himself; then he
says, " I'll give it back, or Pit ride it back" and in less
than two hours he did. He just bluffed him, and got
a curb-bridle ; all people got round him—quite sur-
prised. They always said there was a touch of the
Old Gentleman about him, he could do anything with
horses; I've known women as could, if they had a
nerve. I've used oil of rhodium and elecampane
scores of times, in a powder, myself; it's Horse Taming
something like two guineas an ounce. Drugs.
Stallion-warts ground make a wonderful powder ; it
smells just like Eau-de-Cologne: rub it over their
noses ; then wet your finger in your mouth, and rub
it over the roofs of their mouths. I've quieted dozens
that way. Why I've known these things, and taking
up the leg, these sixty years, and people talk about
them in the papers as if they were new. There's not
D 2
36
Silk and Scarlet.
a dodge I haven't tried. I never used these drugs
unless they were very bad ; handling them's the
thing.
The first Break- The first I ever got a-back of, to break,
mg Effort. was a three-year old of Sir Gilbert's. I'd
be nigh sixteen then, somewhere about; she'd let no
one but an old groom come nigh her in the stall, or
anywhere else. He was lunging her one day in the
park, when Sir Gilbert, he says, " Let Dick get on her,
and have a try." Them words of his was the making
of me. A nice job we had ; then they straps up her
near fore leg; she was as bad as ever; then they on
with the bluffs, and gives me a leg up. I fixes myself
well, and I says, " Let her leg down she didn't
move; then I off with the bluffs, and up she goes
with all four legs, kicking and plunging. The old
groom, he says, " Sit fast, and I'll hold her at this
game till she beats herselfthen I pets her, and we
got quite friendly. I kep on her till we got into the
stable, and made much of her. She lets go at me as
I was getting off, but trust me I gave her a check for
that. I still keeps petting of her, and I got off and
on several times with the groom fast hold of her head.
I rode her every day, and she became quite a first-
rater in Rotten-row, when I went up and down there
after Sir Gilbert. I rode six years after him there ;
Head-groom days then he bought Sir William Lowther's
at Sir Gilbert's, hounds, and gave me head over 40 or 50
horses. I was head-groom ten years ; the last two
we had no hounds; he gave them up when Sir Wil-
liam come to the title. The country used to be much
heavier than what it is now ; it required stronger and
better bred horses ; all of them on thorough-breds had
the best of it after an hour. It wasn't drained, and
the horses wern't above ground half their time. Sir
Gilbert used to buy the biggest three-year-old tho-
rough-breds he could lay his hands on ; he wouldn't
stick [at 300/. for them. If there was any good-look-
Dick Christian again.
37
ing ones that no one would ride, his London dealer
had still orders to send them. One come down, a
great fine grey; he'd jumped rap at a chaise in
London, right in, bang; got his head and fore legs in,
any way. I rode him on a great day, from Tilton.
I jumped that fence where Wilkinson the huntsman
daren't come; he got the sack for that; Mr. Smith
jumped it, and he bought the horse for 200 guineas.
When Sir Gilbert gave up the hounds, thirty of them
were sold at Tattersall's, and they made all manner of
prices, from 2501, to 500/. After the sale he gives
me 100/., for the condition I had put them in ; there
wasn't one I hadn't broke myself.
Then he puts me in a farm for eight Dick as an Agri-
years, and I took to it pretty well ; but cuiturist.
horses were still my hobby. Sir Gilbert used to send
me horses when I was on farming, to ride with
hounds, and teach them the way they should go. I
couldn't keep off it ; I didn't care much for crops, and
all that sort of thing, so I sets to riding and training,
and I have done that these four-and-forty years
reg'lar. I never had but two horses I couldn't get to
jump ; one of them was a very fine one of Lord
Alvanley's, and the other Lord Harborough's ; neither
of them would go from their hind legs. It was
proved that neither of them were right in their backs.
I still said it must be so ; everything I put them to,
they dragged with their hind legs ; it's not quite so
easy, but if ever I rode a horse at water, I could guess
if his back was just the thing.
Now about breaking young horses. Mode of Break-
When they're taken from their dams, ms-
they should have a nice little head collar, with a rein
to it; use him very quietly, and let him play about
with the rein in your hand ; try every now and then
to touch him ; but you must take your time. Get a
nice carrot, wash it clean, slice it small, and let him
smell often at it; he will soon take to it, and then
38
Silk and Scarlet.
you will be able to take up his leg, and have a look
at his feet when you like. They'd be good two years
old before I did much in the breaking way with them.
The first two winters I always liked to keep them on
new sweet hay and bruised corn ; then I put on a nice
smooth bit, with a ring in the middle, and a player
fixed on it; the bit should not be bigger than my
thumb here, and that ain't a very thick one. It should
be four-and-a-half inches, and even in the mouth.
The head-stall should not be too long, to let the bit
get low in the mouth, or he'll get his tongue above
the bit, and he'll never have a mouth all his born
days. You must not bear him upright with the bridle
How to put him rein. Put two round rings on each side
on the Bit. Qf tbe stall-post, one five, and the other
six feet from the ground. Then get two pillar-reins
six feet long, with buckles and billets at each end ;
buckle the rein to the bottom ring first ; pass it
through the top ring, and buckle it to the bridle-bit.
The bottom end of the billet-strap should be good
eight inches, to take up or let out, not a bit less.
That's the way to put a horse on the bit; it don't
punish him ; and it acts with a leverage, so that the
horse can play with the bridle-bit, and he'll soon get a
The Christian good mouth. I've got the exact drawing
Bridie-bit. Gf the bridle-bit at home ; gentlemen send
to me for it; I'd several made this last spring. I
draw'd the pattern of it thirty years ago ; it's my own
invention ; it hurts no horse's mouth, and they can't
run away with you. I can stop a horse, or put him
on his hind legs with my finger, better with one of
those bits, than many can pulling with their whole
fist. I've often a deal of correspondence with gentle-
men wanting them. When you've had the roller and
straps about him, get the saddle carefully on, and
lunge him ; give him his time ; and always use him
to go round to the right hand ; then take him back
to the stable, and put him on the bit, and get some
Dick Christian again.
39
one to stand by his head, with a rein to the bridle,
and then try to get off and on till you're tired. A
few days will make him ride ; people is always so
impatient, and knock them about so. Dal! I should
as soon have thought of hitting another man's child.
I never was at Ascot but once in my An interview
life, that would be in that great Zinganee with Royalty,
year, I had gone to London to sell a horse to Prince
Lieven. When I gets to Ascot, blame me, nearly the
first man I sees was Jess Austin, the king's hunting-
groom. He come up, and he says, " Yoiire the very
man I've been looking for this long time ; I heard you
was coming tip; the King wants to see you; I'll go
atid tell him!' He wouldn't be ten minutes coming
back, and he says that I was to go with him the
minute the Cup race was run. So I goes with Jess,
and I makes my obeisance; and his Majesty he begins
first thing quite joky about his stay with Sir Gilbert ;
he knew I was up to all his tricks with " Old Tot"
Hinchley. He remembered the names of every horse
I'd put him on ; blamed if he didn't! Then he says,
" How well you look, Christian ; I want a horse of
your oivn breaking to carry Lord Maryborough with
my hounds P So I told him that I had one that would
suit him ; and he says, " Lm glad of thai ; there s Lord
Maryborough in that stand waiting for you, and you
can talk it over with himP We conversed slap bang
before all the people; some of them knowed me, and
they began at me. " What the devil's up, Dick ? are
they going to make a baronet of you ?" But I answered
them, " Oh, nothing /" and away I goes to his lord-
ship. So I tells him all about the horse, and that Mr.
Marriott, of Welby, bred him. "Ah!" he says, "he
must be related to my old friend, George Marriott. I've
hunted with George scores of times ; he was a very joy-
ful merry manP He didn't have him after all; he
got his off fore leg in a gate, and it filled. Jess Austin
came twice to Melton special to see him, and I takes the
4°
Silk and Scarlet.
horse to Windsor, and jumps him over some high
timber in the Park, but the leg wasn't just the thing ;
so he says, " I daren't take him," and paid me a good
sum for expenses. Sir Edward Baker took a fancy to
him, and gives me his horse and 100 guineas for him,
and rode him many seasons with pleasure. He was
only a one-armed man too. I sold his horse for 165
guineas, so I did capital. I first see the King when
he was at Normanton ; he wur at Melton in the long
frost of '14, lunching with Mr. Berkeley Craven, at
the Old Club. Belvoir were his head quarters at
that time.
A Triumph of I'll tell you a bit of a story about Mr.
Patience. Marriott, of Welby. How strange it
should just have jumped into my head ! I had a
horse of his in training. One day he comes to see
him ; I says, " Mr. Marriott, there's the clergyman of
Exton ; his horse has got master him, but you can
manage him, I'll warrant ; it's all in your way home."
So away we two goes. Mr. Ellicot comes out to meet
us. " How are you and your horses going on, Chris-
tian ?" " Very well," I says ; " I hope you and your
family is well." Then he takes us to see the horse ;
and he begins, " I woiddrit take twice as much for him
if I coidd ride him." Then Mr. Marriott, he says,
" I like hHbooks uncommonly ; but if I buy him, and
he will go* to Leicester when I want to go to Notting-
ham, what's to be done then ? it will spoil my day s
market." So Mr. Ellicot says, 11 Come, let's go in, it's
tea time, and we'll talk it overWe had tea and a
bottle of wine, and they makes a bargain. Mr. Mar-
riott takes him home ; and the very first time he rides
him, he stops dead at a gate. A man come up, and
Mr. Marriott shouts to him, "Here's a shilling for you,
my man; go to my house, and bring me the Leicester
newspaper." Blame me, but he sat on his back six
hours, reading the newspaper. The horse wanted to
come back, and tried it on several times, but he
Dick Christian again. 41
wouldn't let him. Now and then he tries quietly to
get him up to the gate, and about tea time he does it.
He then rode him through, making much of him ; he
was such a patient clever man ; he'd have sat on him
for a week, and had his victuals and his umbrella sent
him, rather than be beat. That evening he rode him
to Kettleby, Grimstone, Asfordby, and so home, and
opened all the gates on the road. He gave him no
trouble no more ; you see as time and good manage-
ment brings all things to pass.
You want a touch at hunter training. „ t „ . .
, , , . , , , .& Hunter Training.
When they re taken into the stable, give
'em plenty of air and walking exercise three or four
hours each day; whatever you do, never make them
sweat. Give 'em an ounce of sulphur and half-an-ounce
of nitre in their corn twice a week ; for the first month
I like new hay better than old, but it must be the
very best. Give them plenty of walking exercise
up hill, and now and then give them a trot, but not
too much of it. You may increase it by degrees;
then walking over ridge and furrow is a grand thing
to give them action. Action's the thing! if they
haven't got it, they're like a pump without a handle,
blessed if they ain't. The less you gallop hunters
the better ; all you want of them is to be in good
condition, and fresh on their legs. It's all very well
galloping race-horses if you like ; but no horses should
go very fast or know their best pace, till they're put to
the test. There's many a good horse spoilt by them
tricks. I says, let me have a horse a bit above him-
self; he's much pleasanter to ride, and better able to
do a right good day's work. Never press a horse very
hard going down hill; it beats them far more than if
they go fast up hill. Becher did it to Vivian in that
great five hundred guinea match with the Marquis on
The Sea ; he quite overset his horse ; and he'd have
lost if the Marquis hadn't gone wide. I never see
Becher wrong but that time.
42
Silk and Scarlet.
Teaching to When I wanted 'em to leap, I always
Leap. took them to a very low bar, knee high ;
hold 'em there till you get him on to his hind legs,
then let him go; likely as not he'll drop on the bar;
take hipi to it again and again ; if he turns a bit
nervous, wait with him ; when you've got him to go
from his hind legs, then start him the same way with
water, four feet wide. I was very fond of beginning
them with a bit of timber like the body of a tree in a
park. They can't get a leg in ; if they force them-
selves against it they pick over; they must spread
themselves. When you get him to the fences, begin
with small places ; first walk him to them ; then trot
him ; you'll soon find you may take him at them any
pace you like. It's only confidence he wants; then
you may take liberties with him, but do it in good
temper, and keep him in the same. He'll soon get
confidence for the stitchers. Whatever you do, never
go fast at them ; don't go too slow or he'll stop ; a
many horses have been spoilt that way; give him time
to get his hind legs under him ; if you're too slow they
buck-, jump short, and don't spread themselves, and
then down you both goes. When you takes a horse
at his jumps, hold him steady by the head, not pulling
him hard ; the longer you hold him steady, the further
he'll go. A horse doesn't jump the farthest by going
over fast at his fences, or water; he wants to get his
stride well up to them ; he can't go to last long if he'se
not kept collected ; he'll soon be beat, partickler in
deep ground, and ridge and furrow. When I go to
try a horse on such like ground, down hill is what I
choose: if they have action to do that all right they
will make something. That was Sir James's plan—
take 'em across ridge and furrow and down hill—I
don't care anything about up hill.
Sir r. Sutton's Some horses is very queer about water.
Cannon Bali. gir Richard's Cannon Ball—him that he
gave a thousand guineas for—he'd always jump water,
Dick Christian again. 43
and a fence too, if the water was from him. Blame
me! the other way he wouldn't face it at all. I never
used thick bits. Nearly all horses ride better with a
curb than a snaffle ; but mind you never uses too sharp
a one; they only irritates the horse. I always puts
the hunting curb on the first time with young horses ;
you must let 'em have plenty of liberty to play with
the bridle, but mind as his tongue don't slip under the
bit; this is the most consequence of anything. Don't
be a-feared when these restive horses bolt against a
hedge, or a wall to try and rub you off; pull his head
slap against it; and he'll not try that game twice. It's
nothing when you're used to it. Dal! if them old
words of mine hasn't slipped out. When your horse
refuses his fence, never spur him, or maul him about;
they doesn't know where they are, and Riding School
comes to no good. They want a bit of Practice,
riding after all this, to get them into form for a lady
or gentleman. You should have seen the one I made
for Lady Lennard, last year. I trot 'em with the right
leg first, head a little to the left, and quarters to the
right. Then I takes them into some riding-school,
and rides them round and round, right-hand way ;
first walking, then trotting, not too much of it. Pet
him and chat to him a bit, and give him a piece of
carrot with your left hand ; I've had a good ton or
two of carrots about me one time or another. When
you begin to canter him round, get him on to his
hind legs, and go as slow as you possibly can. Be
uncommon quiet with him ; keep him right leg first;
if he changes, take hold of both your reins level, pull
lightly with your right, and put your left hand forward
on both reins, leaning down as much as required. I
can make 'em walk backwards, and sideways, and
canter the figure of 8, aye ! twenty times running. I
have indeed ; it's truth every word I'm telling you ;
Lord Scarbro' would tell you, if he was alive, poor
man.
44
Silk and Scarlet.
Ri.fford to Wit. Lord Scarbro' engaged me to go to
Rufford, when I met him at Bunney
Steeple-chases ; that 'ud be in '41. I was with him
from October to May, reg'lar in the house, all com-
fortable for fifteen years, and he never gave me one
angry word all the time ; quite the reverse ; every-
thing I did was always right with him. He was a
very cheerful man. I rode Skirmisher's grandam
when I was there; then his lordship tells me to look
out for a horse, and I took such a fancy to Lord
Henry's Gardham, when I see him at Ollerton, that I
got him to send three mares. She was one of them.
I rode her filly to hounds, and I tells his lordship
" She's such capital action, and so fast, I warrant
she'll breed race-horses." I never rode a nicer ; such
a beautiful jumper; quite a lady's horse. So his
lordship set his mind on Voltigeur, and the old and
young mare both goes. This Skirmisher and Sharp-
shooter—he'll be dead that one—were the foals. I
wonder what relations you call them ; that licks me.
What a strong man Lord Manvers was! he was
always very friendly out hunting. I've seen him get
to places that wasn't practicable, and he'd get off and
smash it down as if it was only a stick to break.
Miss Milbanke, what a clipping rider she was with the
Rufford ! such a seat and hands ; I never see her beat
Climbing Bur- by none of them. That minds me of
row Hill. poor Lady Eleanor Lowther. What a
thing I once see her do ! She come to the very
steepest part of Burrow Hill, close to the hounds ;
and she says to me, "Richard! if y oil will go up here
with the hounds, Fll follow you." Near the top, hang
me if I didn't think she and the horse would be over
backwards. I says, " Do, my lady, catch hold of your
horse's mane, and lean forwards more." So we gets
up safe, and they all went round, and, my word, the
gentlemen did stare when they see us.
I've seen many good runs when I was at Lord Scar-
Dick Christian again.
45
bro's : one of 'em was with The Grove, . n.
from Blythe Whitewater Gorse, and killed isaster-
in the Bramley country ; fifty-six minutes. They
went as if they were running in view all the time, but
they never saw the fox till one field off where they
killed. There never was a check or a holler from end
to end. I saw it all the way ; I was on a bay four-
year-old of Mr. Foljambe's. The only horse I ever
killed, was a thorough-bred one of Mr. Foljambe's, he
was by Comus, and he gave 250 guineas for him at
four years old. It was a very bad job, was that. This
was the very horse I got eleven falls from in one day;
you have that in my other lecture. I had just got
him ; he would jump anything, and a nice horse he
was, up to thirteen stone over any country. It was a
stake and bound hedge, with a wide ditch to you ; he
jumped it beautiful ; there was a stake lay on the
ground, and he lands on one end of it, and the other
tilts up right into his body ; and he dies in two hours.
The late Mr. Frank Foljambe was out that day ; he
was a first-rate man across country, and kept a rare
sort of horse. The Rufford's a particular The Grove and
pleasant hunt for ladies and farmers. Rufford Cracks.
There was more of them in this and the Grove than
any I ever saw ; clipping riders among them ; some
of the Grove farmers has bred the best hunters that
ever went over Leicestershire—Clinker, Clasher, Clip-
per, Panza, Smasher, Crossbow, and Doctor, both of
them last was Sir Harry's ; they all come from those
parts. That's the Peterboro' train there : we must
look sharp ; we'll see a bit of the Duke's country,
when you come back next month.
46
Silk and Scarlet.
RIDE THE THIRD.
" At twelve o'clock they did appear
At Thistleton Gap in Leicestershire." •
I'VE been thinking of a deal of things about Mr.
Smith and Sir Harry since I see you. This is the
Grantham road ; we'll hardly have time to look in at
The Road to the Belvoir Kennels. That's Norman's
Beivoir. Cover; they often find in these little
covers, just before us, and slap away for Freeby
Wood, and right over the country for Garthorpe;
sometimes Piper Hole way ; they do come over this
road with a tickler. That's old Squire Norman's
farm; he was a great man in Mr. Goodyer's time.
Thorpe Arnold's on our right; that's a new cover
they've been making; they'll have many a go over
the Quorn country now ; that's their object. There's
John Bull, you just see the top of the cover ; there's a
strong brook at the bottom ; I've been in a few odd
times ; it's a tidy jump in some places. Scalford
Brook's on the other side of the hill ; there's been a
many in that. Near that left-hand clump is where the
Gorse was. Melton Spinney's to our left on the hill,
you can only see the trees. They're never done getting
good runs from it. That was a Melton Spinney fox
they run up the tree in Croxton Park ; he came
down like a cat, but they found him next week, same
place, and killed him. Will know'd him again by his
long white tag. That's part of Norman's cover ; they
used to call it the Broom Spinney ; you say you can't
write ? we'll pull up at this guide-post. That's Lentils
on the left; I remember it thirty years ago, no higher
nor that gate. That's Freeby Wood yonder, a very
favourite cover, and Waltham Thorns, the two best
covers about here. Stonesby Gorse, just beyond them,
they like quite as well. Garthorpe Sways will be to
Dick Christian again.
47
the left, almost close to them. Hickmorton's right
away beyond ; I'm the worst fellow in England to
remember hounds' names ; I never took no notice of
them ; no matter to me what they were, as long as they
went fast enough. This 'ere very cover, The Freeby
Freeby Wood, I mind Sir James Mus- Wood Burst,
grave comes up to me ; I was on Red Nose, the very
horse of his I tackled Lord Cardigan with ; he says,
" Mind you get a good start /" so I look out pretty
sharp. There were nearly two hundred with the
Duke's that day; such a crasher over the Lings to
Croxton Park wall, in sixteen minutes ! I was head
man all the way ; Sir James was on his old grey
Baronet. Lord Gardner, Mr. Maxse, and Sir Harry
—he was on Limner—were the only ones near me.
Sir Harry shouts to me to open a gate, and I jumps
it and then turns round and laughs ; " Hang you" he
shouts, " that's the way you open gates, is it ?" It was
a good five miles ; regular coursing ; severe jumping.
Goosey and me have had much conversation about
that run ; it's talked of to this day after dinner.
That's Piper Hole ; those trees over the hill, it's just
at the top of the Vale. Mr. Musters run a fox from
Colston Carr to it, when I was with him one day.
Weaver's Lodge and Newton Toll-bar is also great
meets with Will. I don't know much about his
horses; I've seen him on a cropped one he thought
a deal to, and Catch-me-who-can ; that's the very
name. They all say there never was A „ ~.
1 i- • 1 T • A Rare lrio.
three such clipping huntsmen in Leices-
tershire at one time as Will, and Jack Treadwell, and
Mr. Tailby's man—I can't just think what they call
him—Jack Goddard, that's it. Such ones to go, too ;
none of the gentlemen can overhaul 'em. I should
like to see them three have a fair go at each other
over that Clinker and Clasher ground. They'd make
short work of it. That's a capital cover, Goadby
Gorse, yonder; Goosey had his biggest run from
48
Silk and Scarlet.
there ; that's only the top of it; it's a wood cover,
perhaps twenty acres ; now you catch the top of Hoi-
well Clump there, where we rode last June. That's
the gate to Croxton Park. What a go I had there
many years ago, one races ! thirteen of us, whips and
huntsmen of all the three hunts ; such proposing of
healths! I was always for larking when I was a little
fresh, but quite sensible. This is Branston Lings—a
sure find ; when it gets hollow, they burn it down ;
half of it you see is burnt now. Those are the Belvoir
covers right from this 'ere hollow to Stathern Point;
such ding-dong Will has there among the cubs.
TheSproxton That's Sproxton Thorns over our right.
Thorns Flyer, j remember as it might be yesterday, we
found a fox there with Goosey, and lost him at Greet-
ham, sixteen miles on end ; we met next day at Crox-
ton ; and the Duke would go to the Thorns again. Two
foxes went away, and we settled to the old fox, and
went four miles beyond Greetham to Pickworth Wood.
I'm sure it was the old un, he didn't go a quarter of a
mile out of his line the day before. Mind you put
that down ; strange, wasn't it ?
Belvoir Here's a pretty scene! what they call
Croxton Banks, on your left, all the way
along. Several small covers ; they run them through ;
some of them hold a fox. That's the coach-way to Bel-
voir. The Duke, my word, he's just keeping the game
alive. What a deal of conversation I've had with him
at the cover-side, one time or another, about hunting!
He comes up to me, when I got back from Essex last
year, and he says, " I'm quite glad to see you amongst us
again, Dick, it's like old times! I says, " Thank youy
my lord, 1 is hearty and zvell yet for my years! Such a
one to go when hounds are running ! I see him jump
the Park-wall at Croxton, near the entrance-gate; it's
nigh six feet, and a tidy drop on the other side. Will
Goodall, and none of them, would have it. I was
hunting a bit when I come up from Rufford, at Christ-
Dick Christian again.
49
mas-time, to see the missus. It was as bold as that
Smite job, when Lord Scarbro' come out like a
drownded rat. That's all in my first lecture. Now
you see Belvoir. The kennels are just down in the
bottom, half a mile from the Castle ;< they were at
Croxton in Mr. Newman's time, and nice old kennels
they were. This weather will make the farmers skip
about. I always think that valley looking particklar
pretty ; single trees like. What a lot of Belvoir visitors,
them there were at Belvoir fifty years
ago; such riders!—Lord Forester, Lord Jersey, Lord
Delamere (Mr. Cholmondeley that was then), Lord
Robert and Lord Charles Manners (them were the
Duke's brothers), Colonel Mellish, and Mr. Assheton
Smith—all riding like devils against each other across
the Vale. John Wing, of Sedgebrook, was one of the
best riders across the Vale, as a farmer, in those days
—tremendious ! Him and I's gone together miles; he
was about my age. Mr. Smith was always there. He
once tipped a gate on Lazarus, and came on to his
head ; nothing but the peak of his cap saved him.
I've seen those two Mr. Tomlinsons, from Cheshire,
ride wonderful here; there was no beating them. It
put Goosey quite out to see them going as they did.
Wonderful great meet, the Three Queens, up that
road to the right. You can't see the house; it keeps
the name, but it's not a public now. The country's
not very open ; it's the hounds and huntsman as
brings them. No bulfinches, but some rattlers when
you get into the Vale. There used to be a nice little
cover, Corston Hills, where the man and the potatoes
are, here ; but they've grubbed it up—there's only that
little bit left.
I remember Mr. Newman giving up The Belvoir
the Duke's ; it would be in 1805 : he had Huntsmen,
'em fourteen seasons. I was out that day. Shawe
had been waiting a whole year for the place after he
left Sir Thomas Mostyn's. Goosey whipped in to
E
50
Silk and Scarlet.
Newman and Shawe ; he'd be made huntsman in
1816. Will Head was another of Shawe's whips, him
that hunted the Cheshire many years. He was a
great man with Lord Hastings. He's living at Lei-
The Marquis of cester now. Poor Lord Hastings, he was
Hastings. a terrible funny man about his weight—
never out of the scales. If he got above twelve stone,
he was for wanting a new stud ; often only one bit of
dry toast and egg in a morning, for fear of putting
hisself up. How he did love hounds, to be sure ;
never away from the kennels, and drawing pictures of
Will Head in the them. Will Head and Will Derry was
Oak Tree. great men with him. Will Head had a
chestnut they called Wroxton, and rode him eight
seasons. I never see such queer fore legs ; good un
to go, for all that, but bad at a brook ; a savage
beggar, never leave you if he could get at you. Once
Will gets took up into an oak-tree at Sheepheads, in
Charnwood Forest. He hung there, and this Wrox-
ton walks right from below him, and stops to look ;
there Will hung, but the horse never offered to touch
him. Will thought he'd have eat him that round;
but he was as sensible as a Christian—wouldn't take
no wrong advantage.
Mumford—him that hunted Sir Harry's hounds—
is dead. He was a good kennel-man, but no great
hand across country—no nerve at all. Beers and
Will Derry were his whips. Will hunted them two
seasons, when Mumford was ill. He died, they tell
me, not long back. He'd have told you a deal, if
Shawe, the you had seen him. Shawe was a prime
Huntsman, fellow, quick, and plenty to say for him-
self; never let his hounds lose him for lack of chir-
ruping ; and such a ready chap at an answer. He
used to say, " I don't want zvhip or horn, but as many
pairs of spurs as you liked He was groom to Lord
Moira once. Such an uncommon beautiful voice.
He bred the hounds a deal higher than Mr. Newman
Dick Christian again.
5i
—quite a high man. Goosey always brings the
hounds to cover, and he follows on his hack. Buckle,
the jockey, was often down staying with him to hunt.
He'd a great horse-leather pair of bootsdie wore; he
left them behind, and Will Head got them, Lord
Forester was master of the hounds seven- Lord Forester
and-twenty seasons ; he's just turned and Mr- Grant,
them over to the Duke. Deary me ! I wish his father
and Lord Delamere were alive, to read these lectures
of mine. I've known this lord from a boy. When he
first come to Melton, they called him Mr. George
Forester. He was at the Old Club—you've seen the
picture—that's him a-warming the fire; it was Mr.
Grant as did it. Mr. Grant takes a monstrous lot of
beating across country yet, for all his weight. Lord
Forester's never been out of flying things since I've
known him. Such a man for sport—longest days
anywhere! Him and Will didn't think nothing of
finding a fox by moonlight. Will whipped Belvoir RecordSi
into Goosey some four-and-a-half seasons;
and he took to the hounds in July, 1842. Then
Goosey goes to be kennel-huntsman to Sir Richard,
at Cottesmore. He dies at his cottage at Wools-
thorpe, and they buries him at Knipton ; you can't
see it from here. Mr. Newman, he'll be buried at
Waltham. Shawe died at seventy-six, but I don't
know where. He had the hounds eleven seasons, and
Goosey six-and-twenty. Goosey used to keep a
foreign black fox at the kennels. It's stuffed at the
Belvoir Inn now. Last season they kills one hundred
and twelve foxes in one hundred and sixteen days ;
season before, one hundred and twenty-four foxes in
one hundred and twenty-three. Capital sport, ain't
it ? I know it's correct, I hear it from Will Goodall
myself; Will and I are always uncommon friendly.
They've sixty couple of hounds, five days a week;
they run 'em mixed
The fight between Cribb and Molineux ?—to be sure
E 2
52
Silk and Scarlet.
Cribb v. Moii- I was. Now, that was just first-rate. All
neux* the magistrates in the county of Rut-
land were there. It was the Saturday magistrates'
meeting at Oakham ; and they all come off to the
fight when they'd done—the whole kit on 'em. They
pulled down hedges, and got their gigs through ; no
end of trees broke down. They fought at Crown
Point, near Thistleton Gap. There was such a song
made about it. It's stiffish land, a good deal of
plough. The farmer wanted fifty pounds for his field.
He wouldn't take a cheque—he knew nothing about
them things ; wouldn't let 'em fight till he had some
name on it he knew. So Mr. George Marriott come
forward and signed ; he was wonderful fond of a bit
of fun. They fought on a stage. I was on horseback
—a mare of my own, I gave Mr. Harper eighty pounds
for her—not ten yards off them ; I was crowded in,
and I drawed my legs up and stood a top of the
saddle all the time they were fighting. I'd hard work
to get them down again. There must have been ten
thousand people. I thought at first go off Molineux
would have killed him ; he was a reg'lar rusher. Cribb,
he kep drawing away, and fought him all round the
stage ; he wanted to blow him. Captain Barclay was
in a carriage close aside of me; and I see him get out,
and go up to Cribb, and tell him after the second round
to alter his fighting. In the third and fourth round,
Cribb had the best of it. I could hear the blows as
plain as a drum ; he did punish him then. Cribb had
a place under his eye as big as a goose's egg, and
Gully lanced it for him. They only fought eight
rounds. Barclay had Cribb in Yorkshire to train ; he
made him plough, and fill a dung-cart—all the hard
work that ever he could put him to. He was in beau-
tiful condition, fine as a star, just like snow aside a
black man. The black wur fat—that licked him as
much as anything. We ran over the very spot where
the stage was, the day Captain White's Jupiter was
Dick Christian again.
53
killed; they all remembered it. Captain Barclay
stayed a deal about Melton when Brum- Captain Barclay
mell wur down at Belvoir. He was a andTheChicken.
great man with "The Beau." You wouldn't have put
'em together, would you ? I've known the Captain
drink broth from the kennel-boiler. Once, when he
wur walking those great matches on a road, he met a
regiment of soldiers ; they formed into two lines, and
let him pass, they thought so much of him. Such a
real John Bull! He was never done talking of "The
Chicken." He was a miner, or something like that,
from Staffordshire or Dean Forest—blame me ! my
memory's so bad for them sort of dates. They
catches him, and brings him up to London. Captain
was down Holborn way, to meet him ; he was quite
amazed when he see him get off the coach, all out of
condition; no form at all. He thought he'd been
done, they'd sent up such an account by post; but he
put him on a good tap of porter, and he improved
wonderful. He was always a training of him, walk-
ing with him to keep him cheerful. Once two officers
at an inn were for pitching into 'em because they'd
got their breakfast-table; the waiter just whispers
" Barclay and Chicken," and they waits to hear no
more. What curious expressions them fighting men
does use ! The Captain once tell me he overhear one
of 'em say, when he wanted a match, " Why won't you
fight If I never did atight to offendyerf He used to
tell his stories, did the Captain, in quite a deep voice;
singular dry manner with him. Pleasant man, very ;
talk about The Chicken for everlasting. It 'ull not be
much above four years since he died. He was a
great farmer latterly, somewhere about Aberdeen. A
strange man for droll stories was the Captain ; go on
about his fighting dog, Trusty, for a week—all about
how those London men tries to do him. Blame me !
if they didn't rub stuff on the other dog's back ; but
Trusty knew more than they did, for all they thinks
54
Silk and Scarlet.
themselves so cunning. Dash me! there was no
living dodge that dog wasn't up to. He won fifty times.
The Chicken took to drinking when he'd won his
battles; quite an uncultivated man. He died of
consumption very early on. Those London bars killed
him.
"Old Short Old Richards—"Short Odds" they
Odds." called him—was quite a Mr. Davis at
Croxton. What a hatfull of money he won on Mr.
Maher's Shugaroo! it was a hundred to five against
him. He was a queerish dresser : brown kerseymere
breeches, those brown drill gaiters, and a brown coat
and spencer—often a whitish one in summer. He
had a choice flower in his button-hole reg'lar. He
began as a stocking-maker; then he bet at the door
of a cock-pit; and on that way. I've met him many
a time driving one horse and leading another behind
his gig to Newmarket. One of them was a big brown
seventeen hands high; he'd change them about on
the road. His own corn always went with him in the
gig ; and such a sight of stockings ! They were like
money with him. Blame me! if he didn't always
want to pay you in stockings. He had a mill he
called Bobbers Mill, near Nottingham ; he took a
good bit of the rent for that in stockings. When they
drew bricks for his house, he paid them that way.
Such a queer fist he wrote. I've often seen him out
at Wartnaby Stone Pits and Shoby Scholes ; the gen-
tlemen were at him the moment they see him, to lay
them against something. One day I hear them say—
" There's old Richards, if he hasn't come out Imnting
with an umbrella !" So he says, " I'll bet any one of
you five hundred you'll not hunt with or without an
umbrella when you're my age." " Who's to hold the
stakes ?" Captain White says. " Oh ! there'll be some
one left when I'm gone; zve'll leave it to him." He
had a chestnut cob latter part of his time ; always rode
very slow. They tell me, eighteen months before his
Dick Christian again.
55
death, he galloped through Asfordby full tilt. He
was uncommon partickler about stale bread ; lock it
up in the sideboard till it was a fortnight old, and
take the crust back if he couldn't finish. Not a bit of
a miser either. Made a deal of his money by betting
and buying up plots of ground alongside great pro-
prietors.
The first time I ever see Mr. Smith Mr. Assheton
was when I lived with Sir Gilbert, at Smith.
Normanton. He was always along with him or the
Duke; they didn't know much of him in the Quorn
then. One day Lord Sefton's met at Brooksby, go-
ing to Ashby Pastures. He drove Jack-a-Lantern six
times at a flight of rails before he could get him over;
people were all asking who it was. Jack often wouldn't
jump a fence if he offended him ; then he would get
off, and give him a kick and a hit with his fist, and
call for another. He was a rare man with Fistiana
his fists ; quite fond of it. Once he had
a round with a carter in Leicester. He said he had
touched his horse, which was tied to some rails, when
he was in the bank. Off he galloped to Quorn, just
as he was ; sent the man 2/. by his valet, for turning
on him so well. Then what d'ye think he did ? He
put a beefsteak on his eye, and pulled a night-cap
over it ; gets into his carriage for all the world like a
man going to be hung ;• and went out several miles to
dinner, and tells the whole story, and what a brave
chap he'd met. English of him, wasn't it ? That's
your sort. There were a many different tales about
it, but they tell me this at Quorn.
He was his own huntsman all the time Mr. Smith's great
he wur at Quorn, from 1806 to 1816. Hunters.
Tom Wingfield had left; Dick Burton and Jack
Shirley were his whips. I've known him, if he were
at Belvoir, come all the way from Belvoir to Gumley
of a morning, two-and-thirty miles, to cover, and back
again at night. He had horses posted at Melton and
56 Silk and Scarlet.
Tilton. Tom Thumb, Robin Hood, Gift—he bought
him from Lord Mornington when he was Wellesley
Pole—and Lazarus were some of his great Leicester-
shire horses. Then there'd be Minister, a little chest-
nut; he used to ride him in the Vale. He'd stop at
nothing with him. It was a great speech of his, if
he ever saw a horse refuse with his whips—" Throw
your heart over, and your horse zvill follow." He never
rode fast at his fences. I've heard him say, scores of
times, " When a man rides at fences a hundred miles
His style of an hour, depend upon it he funks d He
Riding at Fences. g0t a many falls. He always seemed to
ride loose, quite by balance, not sticking with his
knees very much. He used to think he was round-
chested, like a ball. I've heard him joke, and say that
was the reason he never hurt himself falling. He
never made nothing of his leaps; he'd turn round in
his saddle over the biggest, when he was in the air, to
look for his hounds. He always went slantways at
his jumps ; it's a capital plan. The horse gets his
measure better ; he can give himself more room : if
you put his head quite straight, it's measured for him;
if you put him slantish, he measures it for himself.
You always see Mr. Greene ride at fences that way.
He was just a coming out when Mr. Smith was master,
and he put him up to many a clever thing in riding.
He'd another dodge, when he rode at timber; he
always went slap at the post: he said it made the
horse fancy he'd more to do, and put more powder on.
His Desperate Nothing ever turned Mr. Smith. If
Leaps. we had come near the Coplow, I'd have
shown you that big ravine he jumped—twelve feet
perpendickler, blame me if it ain't, and twenty-one
across ; it's been nearly the same these forty years.
They had brought their fox nearly a mile and a half
from the Coplow, and he went to ground in the very
next field. He was riding Guildford, a very hard
puller, and go he would. The biggest fence he ever
Dick Christian again.
57
jumped in Leicestershire was a bullock fence and
hedge with ditch and back rails near Rolleston, on
Jack-a-Lantern. People got up a story that he once
jumped a lock on Jack, but it was nothing of the sort.
All that family never pulled an ounce ; The Lantern
they were all slugs. There was Young Family.
Jack, and Charlotte Lantern ; she was a sweet mare,
but none of 'em like the old horse, when he was in the
humour. Mr. Boultbee, of Tooley, bought Jack for a
stallion, but he had a bit of riding out of him. Mr.
Smith didn't half like it. Some one asked him if he'd
seen Jack take his fences ; and he says, quite angry,
" Hang the fellow ! I never thought he had any jumping
left in him, or he shouldrit have had him'.' You scarce
ever see him with a curb-chain; if he had one, he'd
cover it over with wash-leather. Once he was a
great man for snaffle-bridles ; then he turned round,
just as he did with the size of his hounds. Latterly
he'd ride with curbs with long cheeks—very severe.
Small curb chains are the worst things in the world ;
they deaden the mouth. The links should be single,
and large. I've seen Sir Harry with them like the
links of cart-gears. I wonder how many bridles I
had made for him ? He always scolded if I told any-
body else of them ; he used to say, " Dorit tell 'em, let
'em find out."
No man that ever came into Leicestershire could
beat Mr. Smith ; I don't care what any of them says.
He was always for being away as quick His Style of
as possible; best fox, he says, always Hunting,
broke first. He'd get away with three or four couple
of hounds ; then they'd come to a check, and the
run was spoiled. The whips could never get the
others out of cover fast enough for him; he was
always too quick a drawer—drew over his fox scores
of times. He was always a bit of a roarer since I
knowed him ; no great horn-blower ; he had a bit of
flageolet in his horn the last few years he hunted.
58
Silk and Scarlet.
When he did get away, you might as well be hanged
as go before him ; same way in Hampshire. He was
very uncertain. Sometimes he wouldn't lift his hounds
at all; you must lift and lose no time, if you want
Hunting Science. *"uns in Leicestershire, with these big
fields. You must get shot of the crowd.
Sir Richard was all for making his hounds hunt, and
he killed far fewer foxes with these big fields. Science
is no manner of use now in a Leicestershire field,
except to teach you the run of a fox and where to
lift 'em ; same in the Pytchley country. Never leave
'em alone, if you want to get runs and kill foxes.
There are ten men go out now where one used to go,
and there are a hundred sheep to one to what there
were in Mr. Meynell's time ; they all run a fox, and
Leicestershire what are you to do ? Mr. Smith was
Foxes. wonderful fond of Shankton Holt. I've
seen him get away with three foxes from it in one
day ; it was a great nursery for them in his day. He
liked Staunton Wood and Langton Caudle uncom-
monly; he always said the wildest foxes lay there—
away directly. Staunton Wood foxes now get no
further than Rolleston. There was no cover at
Nosely, or Rams-Head, or Rolleston, or Keythorpe in
those days. Vowes Gorse was only made in Mr.
Osbaldeston's time. Mr. Smith used to say that an
hour and a half from Widmerpool to Blackberry Hill,
near Belvoir, slap across the Vale, was one of the best
he ever had in Leicestershire. He'd be very little
above ten stone then ; latterly he'd be much above
that, but never above eleven ten. He was a great one
for weighing himself—took his machine about with
him regular to Wales, and everywhere. They were
saying the other day he gained four pounds the fort-
night before he died.
Mr. Osbaldeston. " The Squire" was the oddest man you
ever saw at a cover-side. He would talk
for an hour; then he would half-draw, and talk again, and
Dick Christian again.
59
often blow his horn when therewas no manner of occasion
—always so chaffy. The whips mostly drew the cover
while he was talking. Very keen of the sport, though ;
sometimes have two packs out in one day : get away
with his fox like a shot. After that second leg busi-
ness, he was a bit nervous in a crowd ; he wanted a
wide berth. At a fence, it would be, " Now it's my
turn—don't press!" If he could get well clear of
them, he went like a bird. He was a rare match-rider
across country ; I never see a better at that game.
Mr. Gully used to be a deal down with him at Quorn.
Tom Sebright hunted the hounds when Sebright and
his leg was broke. It was grand to see Dick Burton,
him and Dick Burton swinging them round in their
cast, fifteen miles an hour, over everything. Tom had
such a musical voice! Rode with a loose seat and a
slackish rein, quite on the balance. They was a grand
pair! and Jack Stevens and Dick Sadler come after
them ; good uns to go, they were. They're both
dead now. Tom Sebright and Dick How they lost a
Burton were with The Squire at Ather- Fox-
stone. I have heard them laugh about it scores of
times. They once run him to ground, an hour and
twenty minutes, from Hopper Hayes. Then they
dug till eight at night. They thought at last it was a
badger. The Squire, he goes home, and Tom digs
his fox out by moonlight. Blame me ! if a hound—
Benedict they called him—doesn't catch him by the
leg, and pulls him slap out of Tom's hands; and away
he slips under their bellies, and gets clean off. They
runs quite a ring. Dick went to stop 'em, and he
tumbles rap over a tree in the middle of a ride. Then
he gets to a gate, and he hears the fox come blowing
up to it; it was quite a frosty night : and he fetches
it such a clip with his whip—he was so mad about
it—and they goes home quite down in the mouth.
Mr. Edge used to live with Mr. Smith ,r
n i i.i t-u Mr- r°m J-'dge,
when he was there. They were an un-
6o
Silk and Scarlet.
common silent pair. Mr. Edge very seldom spoke
unless Mr. Smith said something to him ; Mr. Smith
never let him have more than a pint of port a day,
he said he'd get too fat. I never saw him less than
eighteen stone yet ; he used to pound away on that
great big horse of his, Gayman ; queer-looking crea-
ture it was ; thin neck, large head, raw hips, and a rat
tail ; for all the world like a great seventeen hand
dog-horse. You couldn't get your hands between his
front legs, he had always boots on. They had a tre-
mendously good thing from Botany Bay, without
touching the Coplow, and killed a field off the cover
at Schlawson Windmill; thirteen miles in all. Mr.
Smith was riding Gadesby and Mr. Edge was on Gay-
man. There were only those two, and Mr. Greene on
Sysonby, and Fryatt of Melton, him that had Cannon
Ball, on Hastings, up. Mr. Smith pulls his watch out,
and it was nearly five minutes before any more come
Lord Plymouth's up. Lord Plymouth bought Hastings
Cracks. from Fryatt, for 300 guineas, next day ;
all through that Botany Bay run. Fryatt would have
taken 120 guineas, and been glad of it, going to cover.
His lordship never could ride 'em when he had got
them ; that was my job ; he could hardly get Hast-
ings over a fence. Fancy and Zigzag were two of
the best he ever had; they were so well-known, the
Melton children called chairs in the nursery after
them ; and kep on riding them like mad. Fancy was
a rich brown : he gave 600 gs. for her, to Mr. Peter
Allix. Zigzag was a chestnut, much stouter. A mare
of Lord Rancliffe's, called Shade, was as sweet a thing
as ever I saw ; all over a blood bay ; I rode her a
steeple-chase at Cheltenham. I broke nearly as
handsome a one, a black un, this year, for Mr. Wright
of Ratcliffe.
Mr. Gumey tak- Mr. Edge could have licked Mr. Gur-
ing the Water. ney ancj Sober Robin. They were both
going at one time ; it would be same country, and
Dick Christian again.
61
same week as that Shac-a-bac got that tying up I
told you of. They had a tremendious run, and kills
near Market Harborough, in the Navigation. Mr.
Gurney, he gets off Robin, and he goes and fishes the
fox out; then he lies on the bank with his legs up, to
get the water out of his boots ; and all the gentlemen
a laughing at him—such a sight! there was so much
of him.
There was quite a do at Rolleston Mr. Smith's last
when Mr. Smith come back to have a day in Leicester-
day at Shankton Holt ; it would be in shlre'
April, 1840. Dick Burton and Will Cowley come
with him. There were twenty-eight couples of hounds,
and fourteen horses. Mr. Smith rode Antwerp, and
Dick had a grey one called Jim Crow, that day.
Antwerp had a deal of hair and skin knocked off in
the train, so he got Dick to paint him a bit. There
was quite a party at Rolleston to meet him. Prince
Ernest came from Deane. I'll be bound there were
three thousand on horseback ; when the first lot were
at Shankton Holt, the tail end weren't out of Rolles-
ton Gates ; all so pleased to see him among 'em again.
They were looking out of the window, Mr. Smith and
the Prince and Mr. Greene, when a fox crossed right in
front of them, to Rolleston Wood ; he'd got fright-
ened by the noise. Mr. Smith says, " We'll have
him" and they went there first to draw, but he had
gone on. Then he went to Shankton Holt, but he
hardly half-drew it. The top part's the thickest, and
he was never in it; he seemed quite nervous for his
hounds, the crowd was so great. Mr. Greene goes up
to him when he blew his horn on the Carlton side,
and tells him he'd not been half through it. He says,
"Never mind! which is the way to Norton Gorsef"
So away he goes with the hounds, across country with
Captain White, and Mr. Greene, and Dick Burton,
and one or two more, as hard as they could split.
Not ten people but thought they were running; it was
62
Silk and Scarlet.
good four miles, best pace. Lord Wilton was took in
as well as the rest. He comes up to one of the gen-
tlemen at Norton Gorse, and says, " You must have
had a capital thing: have yoil lost or changed I" They
didn't find at Norton ; then they were for going to
Glen Gorse; but part -of it was cut; so they went off
to Hardriggs. I don't know where all the foxes had
got to that day; none at Nosely Wood, or Staunton
Wood, or Glooston Wood, or Rams Head. Nearly
all the field got tired out and went home. Blame me!
they'd never have found at Vowes Gorse, if it hadn't
been for Mr. Hodgson. He was master of the Quorn
then ; it put him up, all his country being so blank ;
so he wades into the gorse with his jack-boots, and he
whips a fox out himself. It was a hottish day in
April ; and they hadn't very much of a run. Mr.
Smith went to Lincolnshire—Sir Richard was master
then—to bid it good-bye; they had some grand sport
in the woods there; killed five foxes and run one to
ground in six days.
HisEeh-okDay. . The old Duke gave him a grand day
m his country. Ihe hounds slep at
Ropsley Kennels, ten miles from Belvoir; they'd
vanned them there from Lincolnshire. They first
found a vixen in Ropsley Rice Wood, and it kept
knocking about half an hour ; then it went away for
Hunby, and he lost it one or two fields off another
big wood. Mr. Smith, he was patient as anything
that day ; he casts forward, and he crossed Ihe line of
a disturbed fox ; such a ding right through Ingoldsby,
Osgodby Coppice, Truham Parks Wood, and Nor-
wood, right to Grimsthorpe Oaks. Will Goodall gets
into the wood, and he sees the fox in one of the rides;
off he slips quite quiet to Mr. Smith, and tells him ;
he was casting across the park. When he brings the
hounds, blame me, if the fox wasn't standing there still,
waiting for him. Mr. Smith come to the spot, and he
sees him too ; it 'ud be nigh four minutes, and he'd
Dick Christian again.
63
never stirred. I never hear such a thing, and Will
and Dick they tell me the same. Wasn't it sing'lar ?
It seemed as he wanted to be ketched. But they
didp't. They sent him round The Oaks very hard for
a quarter of an hour, then away by Grimsthorpe
Castle, through Kickly Wood to Dunsby Wood, then
they got among a lot of fresh foxes, and he had the
hounds stopped. It would be a good twelve miles
they ran altogether. Then he took 'em to Cottes-
more, and Lord Lonsdale gave him a capital day from
Owston Wood.
We musn't forget poor Sir Harry, sir Harry Good-
When he come of age, he hunted with ricke-
Mr. Smith at Lincoln. Mr. Grantham, his uncle, was
there too ; Mr. Smith give up the hounds that season,
and Sir Richard took to them ; then Sir Harry come
to Leicestershire, in Mr. Osbaldeston's time. Mr.
Holyoake and him first met on the moors ; then Sir
Harry come to Ketton, and after that they two took
stables at Melton together, first where Lord Wilton's,
and then where Mr. Coventry's is now. He was a
strong resolute man, but he couldn't ride like Mr.
Holyoake ; he was first man at one time, was Mr.
Holyoake, for a twenty minutes' thing; to see him
ride Brilliant—my word—Mr. Ferneley's got such a
picture of him on [him, shoving the fox along; a rich
dark chestnut; such a countenance! such an eye ! he
had him from Newmarket. It would be seven or
eight years before Sir Harry took the hounds ; he
wouldn't do it till the country gentlemen had had a
reg'lar meeting at The George, to offer it to him ; they
were right pleased to have him. There was a hare
and a brace of pheasants every year for the farmers
from Clermont; that 'ud be his place in Norfolk ; and
so quiet with the stockingers, he had 'em at a word.
" Now, my good fellows, you've quite as good a right to
see sport as we have; do get hack a little and keep
quiet'.' That was the way of him ; and he'd give
64
Silk and Scarlet.
them a couple of sovereigns to drink ; they'd be as
mute as mice. He was judge in that great race
between Clinker and Radical; Sir Vincent Cotton
started them ; Captain Ross and Captain Douglas
rode them ; I was pilot. There was a deal of talk
about a steeple-chase between Sir Harry and The
Squire ; a thousand a-side ; ten miles out of the Cot-
tesmore country, by Barrow Gorse to Cream Gorse ;
Sir Harry was to have rode Limner (him he bought
of Mr. Lynes) ; he was a wonder of a horse. It got
first talked about at Squire Hartopp's, of Little
Dalby ; Sir Harry and three of his best horses were
in training for three weeks ; I and my son James were
to have ridden with him on Smasher, and another
thoroughbred,—in front and behind ; Dick Burton
and another with the Squire. It got settled a day or
two before; the gentlemen thought there'd be a
wrangle, so they got it stopped. I think The Squire
would have out-rode him. The farmers didn't like it.
They can't abide staghounds and harriers, and all that
sort of thing. I don't wonder at it; many of their
farms is just like gardens. They're good ones for
foxes though ; that's right enough with them.
His Crack Sir Harry was slow at his fences ; he
Hunters. crept, seldom jumped a fence clean, made
his horses jump in. He got a many horses from that
Gould of Swaffham. His estates were near there;
The [Smasher was among the first lot of horses he
bought; he was named right enough, he was a regular
smasher ; he was a fine owdacious brown horse, and
wanted nice hands ; rather a queer style with him ;
he'd get quite under his fence before he jumped ; Sir
Harry rode him in one of my bridles ; nothing could
beat him across country. I've seen Sir Harry do 'em
just when he got fairly into a run ; Lord Plymouth
gave 500 guineas for him ; his lordship tried it on two
years; Sir Harry told him he couldn't ride him, and
he wouldn't take no less than his first price. He often
Dick Christian again.
65
mounted Lord Plymouth, did Sir Harry. This
Smasher was the only one his lordship ever rode yet
with anything like confidence—as I call it. He got
lamed with my lord after two seasons, and he gave
him his keeper to ride about on. The Doctor wasn't a
stout horse ; he always laid down his ears when he
come to a fence—I like to see them with their ears
pricked—if a horse lays his ears down he's looking-
behind him ; depend upon it he's been cowed some
time. Sir Harry was uncommon fond of a chestnut
with white stockings ; a bit of a whistler though.
Blamed if I can just think on his name ; he'd be
sixteen hands ; all that: he once jumped a brook
before he got him, for a thousand guinea bet, and won
it too. He dropped under George Beers, and died in
the field. Markwell whipped in with George, to Will
Derry.
Sir Harry had the hounds very little HisMastershi
more than two seasons. There was no 1 rs 1 '
subscription for covers then ; no nothing. They cost
him well on to sixteen thousand altogether. Thrus-
sington kennels took good six of it. He'd be pretty
nearly his own architect; they got crabbed somehow;
and the hounds went back to Quorn. Rent of covers
was about six hundred, and lambs and wheat and
fowls they'd be nigh three hundred more. Well, it is
so. What a deal those foxes did eat! They ran well
too. He tried his hand at importing some. Didn't
make much out at that game. They used to hunt six
days reg'lar. He was such an active man was Sir
Harry, he must have something to do. That was the
reason he took to cocking. He didn't care for the
fighting. He used to look quite pale and cut up in
the pit. The breeding and the feeding was what he
liked. Never done galloping off to see them at walk.
If there was a bit of a frost, he'd seldom be away
from the kennels, or seeing the covers, or the farmers
or something. No rest in him. The farmers would
F
66
Silk and Scarlet.
do anything for him; quite proud to do so. They
were indeed. He quite got round Snow, him that
used to live near John O'Gaunt; such a desperate
man ; he would head the fox times upon times ; he
was always for sticking me with a pitchfork. I never
see anything just so savage before or since. Sir
Harry always came from Doncaster races to have
some cub-hunting ; he had an account sent him reg'lar
of it once a week, the moment they began. He took
to the hounds after Lord Southampton ; they used to
hunt right away from Zouch Mill to Bunney ; and
from Melton to Clipston in Nottinghamshire. It's cut
up into three now. In Mr. Meynell's time the com-
pany used to be at Loughboro', at The Anchor there.
It would be about 1804. The Duke of Rutland pub-
lished a map of the three hunts ; Melton was just the
centre, so they came there after that.
Goodricke's Aye ! it used to be a grand cover in old
Gorse- times ; it's Lord Bessborough's ground.
I don't know what they'll do with it now. They
disturbed a vixen and two cubs this year, with their
rabbiting, dug ever so far into the earth. Another
time, just before the hounds were coming, some one
comes and draws it over-night with terriers. It's a
fact; I hear they were properly watched. I don't care
Sir Harry's what they say. It's truth.—What a one
Nerve. iie was for nerve ! It would be only the
year before his death, a big chestnut run away with
with him in Ireland, in a gig. He sticks to him like
anything, and drives his head bang against a wall. Out
he jumps, and runs thirty yards, and down he goes ;
couldn'-t keep on his legs with the shock; it shook
him sadly. His second horseman, Harry, told me.
Poor fellow, he went quite deranged when his master
died ; he was so cut up. He used to valet him when
his regular man didn't go. Go to the world's end for
him if he held up his finger. Blamed if I wouldn't
have done the same. He was such a good-tem-
Dick Christian again.
67
pered man. I see a lad from Melton once follow
him when the hounds were running hard from Glen
'Gorse. His horse rolls right over him at a drop
fence ; Sir Harry pulls smack up ; and he gets off
and lets his own horse go. Then he picks him up,
and sets him in his saddle all right again ; never
thought nothing about the hounds. They caught his
horse though, and he saw all the run. The year
before he took to the hounds, he jumped a great
flight of rails into the Spa-field, near the town. The
hounds came to a check there ; he hit his -leg, and
was lame good three weeks. That was a sad teazer
for him.
What a strong active man Sir Harry was! When
he was grouse-shooting in Scotland, he'd tie his clothes
on his head, and swim across those streams ; never
stop at nothing. It was quite a treat for him to
fight a horse. He had a black un that nearly beat
him though ; it was the day he went coursing with
old Mr. Marriott, at Edmundthorpe. They killed
three of Lord Harboro's hares going ; such a game !
Mr. Marriott was quite in a way about it when he
overtook them ; he thought his own lad had been
doing it for a spree ; Sir Harry took all the blame.
They had this horse out with the greyhounds. They
were all on him ; first Sir Harry, then Mr. Holyoake
but he tired them all out, whipping and spurring him.
Mr. Holyoake used to walk behind, and give it him
with the whip, when Sir Harry was on ; and he carried
on this business all day. Mr. Marriott and his son
both had a try. He kicked up a rare dust in Rotten
Row, and got over the rails, and then Jack Stevens
rode him. They got him quite quiet between them,
and Lord Plymouth gave a thousand for him. Him
and Mr. Edge of Strelley was uncommon intimate.
Such clipping pointers Mr. Edge had—liver and white
and black and white. Grand doings there , T.
11 ,r , , ° . Meltoniana.
used to be at Melton then. Porty gentle-
F 2
68
Silk and Scarlet.
men always dined at Sir Harry's at Croxton Race
time. There was only one day then. Sir Harry
lived when he first came where Lord Wilton does now.
It wasn't anything like so big a house then. You
took a look at their new stable and them bricks—
clinkers, they call them—before you come off to-day.
You've seen nothing better than that in your journeys,
I'll be bound. Then he shifted to Burton End. Mr.
Maxse and Mr. White lived there before. They chris-
tened it " Claret Lodge the name was right enough,
I'll warrant it.
The Gentleman He began a finer style of cooking, did
with the Pistols. Sjr Harry, at Melton. His cook very
nigh got shot one night. He was out lateish, and
there was a military gentleman stopping with Sir
Harry ; never done firing pistols. He hears the cook
tap about one o'clock at the pantry window, to be let
in; and up he gets and lets fly twice over, at him.
Never gave him no time to say who he was. He had
to sit on the granary stairs all night: good for no-
thing in his profession next morning, and as fierce as
blazes. Durstn't go and tap again for his very life.
I've heard him give the story scores of times. My
word ! he told Sir Harry smack out, that he'd
answer for nothing going right with the dishes if that
gentleman warn't sent off; so Sir Harry gives him a
hint.
His Illness and He always liked to do everything dif-
Death. ferent to other people ; always thought
he knew better; rather singular that way; wouldn't
copy no one, or let any one guide him. Once con-
demned a whole lot of hounds for next to nothing.
He'd have been master yet. What chopping and
changing there's been with them Quorn hounds since.
I never see any one quite so keen of the whole thing
as Sir Harry. So good to his men, and every one, no
matter who, if he only did right. Poor fellow! he
wouldn't be very much above thirty when he died.
Dick Christian again.
69
Three-and-thirty would quite fetch him. He saw Lord
Plymouth's death in the paper when he was at break-
fast at an inn in Liverpool ; he'd just sailed over
there in his yacht, to bring a friend home to England;
he and Lord Plymouth had been together a few
days before ; that shocked him terribly. That fall
I told you of did him no good. Never quite the
same man after. It was inflammation that killed him
at last; he told the doctors they couldn't salivate him;
then he just turns his face to the wall, and dies. I've
never been quite happy in my mind about Melton
since.
But now Grantham Station was reached at last, and
our quaint gig partnership was dissolved. I shut up
my note book as the bell rang, and as I watched the
game little veteran drive away, I felt a little sad that
my pencil was to be put in rest, and that my re-
searches with him into the golden prime of the little
hunting metropolis of England had reached their final
close.
CHAPTER II.
OLDEN TIMES.
"There's many a lad I've known is dead,
And many a lass grown old ;
And when the lesson strikes my head,
My weary heart grows cold."
Captain Morris.
ALTHOUGH the flickering twilight of life maybe
stealing upon us, and we can no longer follow
a Retros ect c^ase> let us not repine, but rather
revert with pleasure to the rapturous joys
which in bygone days it has afforded us : how, in
glancing over the pack, we have been gratified by the
shining coat, the sparkling eye—sure symptoms of fit-
ness for the fight;—how, when thrown in, every hound
has been hidden ; how every sprig of gorse has bris-
tied with motion; how, when viewed away by the
sharp-eyed whipper-in, he stole under the hedge ; how
the huntsman clapped round, and with a few toots of
his horn brought them out in a body; how, without
tying on the line, they flew to head ; how, when they
got hold of it, they drove it, and, with their heads up,
felt the scent on both sides of the fence; how, with
hardly a whimper, they turned with him, till at the
end of fifty minutes they threw up ; how the patient
huntsman stood still; how they made their own cast;
and how, when they came back on his line, their
tongues doubled and they marked him for their own.
As the old woman in the fable regaled her nostrils
with the redolence of the dregs of the Falernian wine,
so does the old sportsman cheer his flagging spirits
Olden Times.
71
by recalling to his mind the days when youth, and
strength, and buoyancy gave zest to the delights of
the chase.
Amongst the most celebrated packs of former days
was that of Lord Spencer's, yclept the The Old Pytchley
Pytchley. They hunted alternately the Club Days-
Althorp and Pytchley countries. After having hunted
one for about six weeks, they removed to the other
kennel, and vice versa. The boundaries of each were
as scrupulously observed as if they had belonged to
different packs. If they lost or killed on the confines
of one country, they never drew for a second fox in
the adjoining one, but went back to the one they were
hunting at the time ; the consequence was they were
continually drawing blanks, neither country being
large enough for the length of time they remained in
it. Assheton Smith (father of the late T. A. Smith),
Doughty and Conyers, Lemon and Bligh, were con-
stant inmates of Pytchley; and the Old Blues, who
were for many years quartered at Northampton, were
almost identified with the country. They have left
an imperishable name, in that they made what is now
called " The Blue Covert," near Harrington Wharf.
There is an old story, that one morning the whole
party went to lunch with Sam Isted, at Ecton. For-
getting the hour of the day, they indulged rather
freely in the claret-cup ; and on their return they fol-
lowed Conyers into a deep morass on the edge of
Orlingbury Field, and which is called "Conyers' Bog"
to this day.
The first huntsman of whom we have Dick Knight
any knowledge was Knight, commonly
called Mr. Knight, but of whose qualities we have
little information. He was succeeded by the illus-
trious Dick Knight, who hunted the hounds as long
as Lord Spencer kept them. His character has been
so fully described elsewhere, that we will not dilate
upon it. At that time, many of the gentlemen of the
72
Silk and Scarlet.
county hunted ; and when the hounds were at Althorp,
their houses were open to their friends residing at a
distance, where unbounded hospitality prevailed.
When the hounds went to Pytchley, they shut up
their houses, and removed there with them ; the ladies
accompanying their lords to the old mansion, which,
though not affording all the modern luxuries, con-
tained ample space and every social comfort which
could be desired. The hounds were never ridden
over, which is so much the habit of the present
day, but had plenty of room given them. Dick
Knight generally took the lead ; and Lord Spencer—
who had the finest thoroughbred horses of the day—
sitting down in his saddle, followed him whithersoever
he might go. It was almost thought a breach of eti-
quette in any one to go before them. A story is
related, that once my lord, who could not hold his
horse, was amongst the hounds at a check. Dick,
wholly forgetting himself, and overpowered by the en-
thusiasm of the moment, cried out, " , my lord,
hold hard !"
Lord Spencer's When Lord Spencer, to the great re-
Successors. gre{- Gf every one, gave up the hounds,
they were taken by Mr. Buller, who kept them only
the season. Stephen Goodall hunted them ; and
owing to his patience, quietness, and thorough know-
ledge of his work, combined with a good scenting
season, they had excellent sport. John Warde came
next in succession, and was at the head of affairs
about twelve years. He changed the system of
dividing the two hunts, and took the old house at
Boughton, where he kept the hounds. As far as
hunting the country went, it was an improvement;
but it knocked up for a time the old Pytchley meet-
ings in a great degree. When John Warde gave
them up, Lord Althorp succeeded him, and Pytchley
became itself again. Oh ! what joyous days were
those ! Under his lordship's management, the system
Olden Times.
73
was completely changed. The hounds were bred
lighter and quicker. The men were of the first caste,
and the horses as good as money could procure.
Charles King, the huntsman, was about Charles King
five feet ten, and weighed about ten
stone, just the proper height and weight to make the
most of a horse ; strong enough to hold him together,
and not too heavy to oppress him. He had the eye
of a lynx, a most intelligent and animated counte-
nance, which lighted up when things went well. His
seat and hand were perfect, and when going along he
held himself forward in his saddle. He had an innate
taste for music, and played a good deal himself, which
probably gave him such an ear for a hound's tongue
in covert. In fact, as the Yorkshiremen say, he was a
bad one to beat; and ages may elapse before his like
be found. His favourite horses were quite thorough-
bred. Perhaps the one he liked best was Contingent
by Chance, grandam by Highflyer; and the next of
his favourites were Boadicea, sister to Sir Charles
Knightley's Benvolio by Alexander, and The Swede
by Agonistes. He had several other charming hunters ;
but these three were out-and-out the cream of his
stud.
It is, perhaps, too much the habit of sport with Lord
old sportsmen to hold up the system of Aithorp.
past days as preferable to those of the present. We
are inclined to believe, however, that, in the records
of the Pytchley Hunt, such splendid sport was never
before known as at that period. His lordship kept a
Hunting Journal ; and if it be now among the records
of Aithorp, it will tell how they found at Purzer's
Hill, ran over old Naseby Field, to Hothorp, in fifty
minutes ; and how, after a short check, they hunted
him over the finest part of Leicestershire, and killed
him at Sir H. Halford's, at Wistow: how, at another
time, they found him in Crick Osier-bed, ran over
Crick and Yelvertoft Field, over Honey Hill, into
74
Silk and Scarlet.
Leicestershire, almost without a check ; and how,
after being bothered by sheep, they dropped to hunt-
ing, and, coming up to him, killed him in view at
Brunting-Thorpe: how, on another day, they found
him at Grick Gorse, ran over Clay-Coton and Lilburn
Field, under Hemplow Hill, over Cold Ashby Field,
across Naseby Open Field by Sibbertoft, through the
corner of Marston Wood, and killed him in the open,
close to Marston Trussed, in an hour and seventeen
minutes, after one of the most brilliant runs on re-
cord ; and again, how, twice in the same year, they
found at Crick, and each time killed him in Badby
Wood. We could recount many other runs of the
highest order, but it might be tedious to those of the
present time to read the narratives of days so long
past.
The club at Pytchley was at that time in the zenith
Pytchiey. 0f jj-g glory. The mornings afforded un-
mixed pleasure, and nectar crowned the night. Lord
Althorp was a constant attendant; Frank Forester,
Felton Hervey, Dick Gurney, Hugo Meynell, Charles
Knightley, Peter and Charles Allix, John Cook,
Nethercote and Davey, were generally of the
family party. Scotland sent her tributaries in
those most excellent men, Sir David and James
Baird. The Emerald Isle lent her support also in
Lucas and Bruen ; and Tom Grosvenor and Roberts
were occasionally of the party. George Payne (father
of the present George) often joined the circle, and no
one enjoyed it more. Lord Alvanley now and then
came from Melton, and with him mirth, fun, and
revelry. Frederick Ponsonby sometimes came over,
and also Poyntz, who added life and spirit to the party.
The studs were of the first order, and the riders were
worthy of them. Jealousy was unknown, and sport—
and sport alone—was the object of all. The old
gentleman who stalks over the country with a scythe
in one hand and an hour-glass in the other, has made
Olden Times.
75
fearful havoc in the ranks of the Pytchley Hunt;
a few veterans, however, have escaped his grasp.
Amongst those who are gone, we will mention two or
three.
Peter Allix was a first-rate performer, a few Cracks of
and ever where he should be. By his the Hunt-
friends he was familiarly called " Scratch-face as, if
a weak place in the fence was not handy, he would
rather take a bulfinch than lose his ground. Felton
Hervey was a beautiful horseman, quiet and gentle,
with undeniable nerves ; and was always in the right
place. Frederick Ponsonby, who was more au fait at
facing a bayonet than a brook, met with an extraordi-
nary accident. Lord Althorp mounted him on a bay
horse, curiously marked with white spots, which he
bought of Lloyd, of Aston. The hounds were running
quick, and they came to a brook with a high bank on
the opposite side. He put him at it so hard, that he
could not blink it, and literally broke his neck against
the opposite bank. The Colonel was flung on the
other side, holding the rein, which he pulled, thinking
to get him out, when he found he was as dead as a
stone. Sir Thomas Salisbury was a great addition to
the circle; he had ever a smile on his countenance,
and was always in good humour. He did not look
much at the work of hounds, but was a good horse-
man ; and his main object was to get as much as he
could out of his horse without upsetting him. Two
maxims he invariably pursued : one was never to go
over ridge and furrow ; and the other never to go into
a field of swedes, which from their holding the wet
caused the ground to be always deep. Of course the
hounds often slipped him, but he trusted to a skirt, or
to their turning to him ; but happen what might, he
never abandoned his horse. Roberts was a good
horseman, and a hard rider. His best, a bay horse,
was got by a half-bred stallion, out of a thoroughbred
mare, a hard puller and difficult to ride, but he went
76
Silk and Scarlet.
right well. He had a mare which probably was not
worth much, as there is an anecdote of Sir Robert
Leighton having lost his pocket-book ; and when it
was found, there was a memorandum in it to the fol-
lowing effect: "To remember not to buy Roberts's
mare." We must not forget one of the greatest acqui-
sitions to the hunt, Andrew Barnard (afterwards Sir
Andrew) ; a most cheery one over the country, and the
life of the party at the social board. His memory will
be fondly cherished as long as there is any one alive
who can recollect him.
Captain Jones Captain Jones, of whom Lord Althorp
and his Pilot, bought his celebrated horse Midnight, was
another of the visitors. He was a good horseman, and
a hard rider ; but could not go without a pilot, always
attaching himself to the man of whose judgment he
had the greatest opinion. One day he was follow-
ing a gentleman, who was in the habit of going slow at
his fences, however hard they might be running. After
the run he came up to him and said, " Sir, if you
will ride so slow at your fences, I really can't help
riding over you." The gentleman replied that he was
very sorry to hear it, but he had been so long in the
habit of it, that he feared he could never break himself
of it.
t td An odd adventure occurred to Lucas.
On one of the short days in December,
he left his hack at a long distance from the place
where they killed him, and soon after he started on
his way towards Pytchley, it became pitch dark. He
got into a field, out of which he could not find his way;
and at length stumbled on a barn, where he and his
horse took up their abode for the night. The barn
has ever since been called Lucas's Barn. Another day
Dick Gurney's some of the Meltonians came over from
Views of the the Harborough country, to teach the
Meitomans. \ybite Collars how to ride to hounds.
They were rather pushy ; and some one said to Dick
Olden Times.
77
Gurney, " Why, those Leicestershire men can't turn,
can they ?" " How the devil should they," says
Dick, "when they have a pound of starch in their
collars ?"
One of the frequent attendants in the The Pytchiey
field, although he did not come to Pytchiey Brummeii.
in those days, was Mr. Small, of Clifton, who was one
of the neatest of men in his dress, and quite a beau in
his way. He had a round-crowned hat, which fitted
him like a hunting-cap, a pepper-and-salt coat, leather
breeches, beautifully cleaned, which buttoned high
above the knee, boots shining like polished ebony,
very short tops, and narrow leather boot garters, with
small silver buckles. He had two black mares, so
much alike that it was difficult to distinguish one from
the other. The ears of both were cropped, and he
rode both in a martingale, neither of them wanting one.
He was as particular about the appearance of his
horses as he was about his own. His bits and stirrup-
irons were most highly polished ; and he had an old-
fashioned saddle, the pommel low and back, and the
pannels of plush. Whenever his horses travelled, he
had stuffed pads to hang on the pillars of the stall, to
prevent the hip bones being chafed. Altogether he was
the neatest and sprucest man that ever graced the
Pytchiey hunting field.
We could relate many more anecdotes The End of the
of those times, but enough is as good as a 0ld Club-
feast. As everything in this world, however charm-
ing, is doomed to decay, so the Old Club, the scene of
so much conviviality, harmony, and good fellowship,
yielded to the inexorable hand of Fate. Some be-
came old; some became slow ; some took to war;
some to wives ; a general blight prevailed, and Pytch-
ley was no more.
Turn we now to the Forest, " where Recollections of
William Rufus was by Tyrrell slain." the New Forest.
'Tis said of old people that they recollect events long
78
Silk and Scarlet.
past, better than those of recent date. We have
picked up fragments from an octogenarian, whose
memory is of this caste, and who upwards of fifty
years ago frequented the glades of this charming
woodland. At no period of history and in 110 country
was the noble science of hunting more eagerly fol-
lowed or more thoroughly enjoyed. Although old
Meynell was not there to aid them with his counsel,
his genius pervaded them, and the real love of the
chase was inherent in the foresters of those times.
Placed in a remote corner of the country, they were
little heard of; and but for a few strangers who visited
them in the month of April, the world would hardly
have known that such a pack as that of the New
Forest existed. There were no enclosures to stop or
lame the hounds, no sheep to foil the ground, and no
hawbuck shepherd to head the fox, but the country
was as wild as nature made it. The foxes, the deer,
and some wild ponies were its only inhabitants. The
old foresters were cast in a rough mould, and had no
recourse to the foreign aid of ornament. Skilled as
they were in shirking a bog or bobbing their heads
under the boughs of an oak, they were out of their
element when they got into the open amongst the
fences. Facing a brook, or topping a stake-and-bound,
was not in their category. Yellow buckskins and
brown tops was the only dandyism they aspired to.
The New Fo- Williams and Harbin were two of the
refers. oldest inhabitants of the wild, and they
both knew hunting well. Williams was a light
weight, and saw as much of the hounds in the course
of the year as any of them. Harbin was heavy, and
not a first-rate horseman. John Warde used to tell a
story, that one day they killed a fox near his house,
and he asked him to dine with him. The old Squire
said, " I'm all in a muck sweat; but if you will lend
me a shirt, I don't mind roughing it for once." " I
will lend you one with great pleasure," replied Harbin,
Olden Times,
79
" but I fear mine are not big enough for you round
the collar." " Big enough ?" says the Squire ; " why,
if they will fit you, they will fit a hog, and it's hard if
they won't me." Pole, yclept Dobbin, was another of
the old set. He loved hunting dearly, but his horses
were not of the first caste. The one he chiefly rode
was an old grey, with a rusty snaffle-bridle, and the
stuffing hanging out of the pannels of the saddle. He
relied on his knowledge of the Forest, and saw a good
deal of sport. He was rough in his attire, and did not
(like Brummell) impregnate the air with otto of roses.
One of the most joyous sportsmen who Mr Boscawen
came to see the April fun, was Bos- and Admiral Cod-
cawen; a thorough polished gentleman, nnston-
of the old regime. He was, when young, a captain in
the Horse Grenadiers, a regiment which acted as a
body-guard to" George the Third, but which was dis-
banded eighty or ninety years ago. His love of the
chase was extreme, and although advanced in years,
he was as wild as a boy. One day they got away close
to a fox, and ran into him in a quarter of an hour,
without a check. Only three men were there, among
whom was Boscawen. One of them exclaimed, " What
a beautiful thing!" and the other said, " Why, it's a
nothing; my horse had hardly got on his legs."
Boscawen, who was close by him, said, " I do not
know whether your horse had got on his legs, but I
know that mine had just got off" his." He bought a
light cat-legged horse of some one at Lyndhurst, and
one morning, as they were going to covert, he asked
Tom Sebright what he thought of him. " Why," says
Tom, "I would rather shoot him nor ride him; he
ain't got legs bigger nor our Hoodman (Woodman)."
Mr. Compton, the master of the hounds, lived at the
Manor House, and had generally some friends with
him in April, and amongst them was the late Admiral
Codrington. He was a good sportsman ; and though
a. sailor, no landsman .could ride better. He had a
8o
Silk and Scarlet.
beautiful hand, and was a capital judge of pace; and
indeed quite a model of a horseman.
Billy Butler the Amongst the birds who migrated from
Parson. their own country, was Billy Butler,
from Dorsetshire. He was a lively jovial soul, and
loved the sport with all his heart. George the Fourth
when Prince of Wales took Mr. Sturt's house at
Critchell, and kept a pack of hounds. Billy Butler
hunted regularly with him, and was a great favourite.
One Saturday after hunting, his Royal Highness said,
"Billy, you will dine with me to-morrow?" "To-
morrow, your Royal Highness," replied Billy, " is
Sunday, rather a bad day for a parson to dine out, but
I shall be very happy to dine with you on Monday."
" So you shall, Billy," said the Prince. No man was
ever more jealous of a proper respect, or ever resented
the breach of it more strongly, but with one so
thoroughly naif it was impossible that he could be
angry.
a Word on To the majority of sportsmen who
Scent- compose the hunting field it may be
difficult to comprehend why they have not sport every
day, and they often attribute the want of it to the
inefficiency of the hounds, or lack of judgment in the
huntsmen. The mystery of scent they do not take
into account—a mystery which never has been, and
never will be solved. On the mornings which appear
the most promising the hounds can't run a yard;
whilst iru a bitter east wind with a pelting rain they
can't go wrong. On the most gaudy day in the
autumn, when there is a white frost the fallows
generally carry, and rain comes on. In spring a white
frost is the harbinger of a fine day, and oftentimes the
scent is perfect. When the dewdrops hang on the
hedges, when the gossamer floats on the bents, the
want of scent may be accounted for. When neither
of these causes exist, when it is dry both above and
below, and when the atmosphere is clear, it would
Olden Times.
81
puzzle the most astute philosopher to tell you why
they can't lay hold of it. Hounds when going to
covert will almost tell you if there be a scent or not.
They will sniff the air and go with their heads up, and
show buoyancy of spirits, if they know they can run ;
but on the contrary, when it is a bad scent they will
hang down their sterns, and seem indifferent as to
whether they went on or not. The sure symptom of
want of scent is when a hound rolls in going to covert.
Apropos to this is a story of Jem Butler. One morn-
ing when the hounds met at Lamport, his favourite
bitch Rosy was rolling near his horse; and the late
Mr. Bouverie, who was close to him, heard the follow-
ing soliloquy: "No galloping; no fun, Rosy; Rosy!
thee must hunt to-day !"
In the formation of a pack nothing is Selection of
so essential as the proper selection of Stallion Hounds,
stallion hounds. As a general principle it is not ad-
visable to breed from a young hound. So long as he
is in full vigour he may not show vice ; but when he
loses his power is the time he will show it, if he has it
in him. An honest hound will hang to the line when
he has lost the power of running to head. That, in
short, is the trial of his worth ; and if he stands that
trial you will do well to breed from him. Hounds
which are to be hereafter valuable must begin with
chasing. There is probably no instance of a good
stallion hound who began by hunting. It must have
been observed by all men conversant with breeding,
how diametrically opposite in character are hounds of
the same litter. There was a remarkable instance of
it in two hounds bred by John Warde, in 1807. Their
names were Alfred and Audrey, by Lee Anthony's
Anthony ; the former one of the wildest and most dif-
ficult hounds to break, and the latter the deadest
hunter from her entry. John Warde used to say,
" When those nine-stone skinny fellows are miles
ahead, Audrey is my best friend." She toiled along;
G
82
Silk and Scarlet.
and when he came up to her and cheered her, she
turned her head and looked back at him, as much as
to say, " Come along, old heavy ; I'll take you to
them." Ranter was one of the wildest hounds, and
the most difficult to break, but one of the best of
stallions. Tom Wingfield used to say that he never
had so much trouble with any hound before. Asshe-
ton Smith's Champion and Chorister were by him,
and they were the sires of some of the most valuable
hounds in Lord Althorp's pack—a pack which would
go up to the scent without going "beyond it, and
thereby would wait upon a fox who never would wait
for them.
The Chase of Nearly sixty years having elapsed since
Yore- the few anecdotes we have recorded took
place, we must be excused if we cut short the thread
of our tale. Never was any period more propitious
for the chase. The breeding and management of
hounds was thoroughly understood : men went out to
enjoy hunting, and not to spoil it. The country was
not gridironed by railways, nor did steam engines
impregnate the atmosphere with noxious gas. There
were not two or three men draining in every field. Of
the few sheep there were, the greater part were rotten,
and hung in the brambles of the fences. Hunting
was then at its culminating point. Modern science
has doubtless filled the pockets of the jobber and the
speculator, but it has gone far to destroy the noblest
pursuit which the gods ever bestowed on mortals.
With whatever evil eye the age of feudalism may be
viewed by the present generation, it was the age for
sport. Those were the days " when nature's dress was
loveliness," and which in vain we may sigh for, for the
like will never return.
CHAPTER IIP
SILK.
"No more shall he at Doncaster
Each foal and yearling pat;
Or ride up Goodwood's leafy slopes,
To the trial ground with Nat ;
No more with Kent and Marson
Shall he scan each pet in form ;
Or view their place, as in the race
They sweep past, like the storm."
IF there is any meeting which we Shadows of the
should love to call up with Merlin's Past-
mirror from amid the shadows of the past, we should go
back seventy years, and take a glance at Knavesmire.
The choice with us, for once, would be more for the
sake of the men than the horses. We would fain see
the Prince of Wales, in his blue-coat and tight-fitting
buckskins, cantering on his brown crop-eared cob up
to the door of the Grand Stand ; Peregrine Wentw^orth
on his grey, with Lenny Jewison, and Cade ready to
go to scale in the " all white" at his side; Hutchinson
of Overton in a coat dark-green as his colours on the
lists of the day; and Sir Charles Turner fair and
ruddy, as becomes the knight of the orange banner,
which was so soon to find its worthiest bearers inBening-
borough and Hambletonian. That meeting, which is
still marked with a white stone in Yorkshire hearts,
was the dawn of a new era for the Turf, which had
known many ups and downs since the Duke of Cum-
berland's executors had sold off his stud. The names
of " Bolton," " Qu eensberry," and " Rockingham" had,
it is true, lent lustre to " the sport of kings," but it
G 2
84
Silk and Scarlet.
was not until the Prince of Wales and " Bedford,"
" Grosvenor," " Abingdon," " Barrymore," and some
ten other equally choice spirits, threw their souls into
the cause, that it revived in earnest on Newmarket
Heath.
The Warren Hill " A View of Noblemen's and Gentle-
in '89. men's trains of Running Horses, with the
Grooms and Horses in their full liveries," was the
popular print of 1790. The Warren Hill is the scene
of the afternoon's revel. Quiet little Newmarket just
peeps forth in the hollow, in the centre of that restless
panorama, and in the far distance the Ely Minster
turrets cut the cloudless sky, and struggle manfully
for pre-eminence with Highflyer Hall. In the fore-
ground is the Prince, by the grace of the artist a
somewhat slim-looking buck, in a sort of Don Caesar
de Bazan beaver, standing up in his phaeton with four
greys, and booking a bet with the shrivelled Duke of
Orleans, on horseback at his side. Plis brother
"York" has alighted, and is gaily pointing out to "A
lady" (as the key observes), a long sheeted string,
which are, West Australian fashion, cutting down the
Warren Hill like a scythe, in the direction of King
Charles's cupola chair. On the extreme left, the
Countess of Barrymore, in the costume of
"Those teacup days of hoop and hood,
And when the patch was worn,"
sits in the phaeton by the side of her eccentric liege
lord, (who was so soon to fall lifeless in her arms, as
his hand held the reins), and listens to the animated
periods of Charles James Fox as he exults in the
coming laurels of his Seagull and his Put. John Duke
of Bedford is also amid the throng, and so are Hag-
gerston, George Hanger, Wyndham, Captain Gros-
venor, and Bullock. That ancient oddity, Colonel
Thornton, though not much of a racing-man, has
wandered off here as well, and Falconer's Hall, where
Silk.
85
his seventy hooded hawks were kept, to complete the
devastation among the Yorkshire Wold game, which
his three 150-guinea guns, " Death, Destruction, and
Fate," were unable to accomplish, is forgotten for the
nonce in the prospect of the forthcoming Grosvenor
Stakes.
During the whole of the new era, Mr. Features of the
Fox was confederate with Lord Foley, New Era.
winning 30,000/. at one Spring Meeting alone, and
alike ready to match his horses " cross and jostle,"
over the Beacon, at a moment's notice, or play for a
shilling at teetotum. With him politics and racing
flowed pleasantly on together. He had no more active
canvasser for the buff* and blue than Old Tat, in the
Westminster election, and he bought Maid of All-
Work from him when it was over. Tandem did well
for that far-seeing auctioneer, but " Hammer and
Highflyer" was the toast of his heart, and he loved
best to hear it drunk with all the honours by the whole
body of Newmarket jockeys, when he gave his annual
dinner to them at Ely, after the toils of the season.
Eight of the three great races fell to H ighflyer's stock,
but at last he wasted away into the exact image of his
three-year-old self; and, although only nineteen, left
470 winners in the Calendar. His owner died soon
after, just as the Turf—to which the rivalry of himself
and O'Kelly, the one buying up Marske and the other
Herod mares for their paddocks, lent no little zest—
once more began slightly to decline. This languor,
however, soon passed away. Highflyer began to live
again in the stud triumphs of Lord Derby's Sir Peter,
and Eclipse in King Fergus, for whom Mr. Hutchin-
son would have fought to his knees in blood. The very
coal-heavers discussed the merits of the looming
match between Hambletonian and Diamond, quite as
learnedly over their cheese and onions at Mundy's
Coffee House, as their betters, led on by the owners of
Eclipse and Bacchus, amid hazard and faro upstairs ;
86
Silk and Scarlet.
and Sir Harry Vane Tempest, who brought the thril-
ling news in person, at last, to the more aristocratic
haunts of the Cocoa Tree, rode the winner in the Park
next week, and drew the Prince of two thousand
on a prize-fight, almost beneath the gibbet of Jerry
Abershaw.
The nineteenth century found Betts and Hilton In
office on the Heath ; Lord Sackville the best rider
at Bibury, and Jonathan Bray the door-keeper at
Tattersall's. The Duke of Oueensberry's green vis-
a-vis, with its long-tailed blacks and its shrivelled
muff-wearing tenant, was an object of interest to
every gazer in the Ring, and eight years more went
by before
" The jockey boys, Newmarket's crew,
Who know a little 'thing or two,' "
sang mock dirges over that " Star of Piccadilly."
Although in obedience to his vow, the Prince's eye was
no longer kept in practice at Newmarket, he could still
see through a horse like a hoop ; but his colts, which
ran within the rails of St, James's Park before going
up to Aldridge's, did little towards clearing off the
seventeen thousand odd, which he incurred with his
farrier in seven years.
TheSanchov J8o4, the great Mellish constellation
Pavilion Match arose with Sancho and Staveley; and
at Lewes. Brighton and all its Steyne joys were
made still more delightful on that July afternoon,
when he appealed for the second time against the
result of the New Claret Stakes, in the three thousand
guinea a-side match over Lewes. Sir John Lade,
whose cook-bride had once challenged a fair rival to
drive four horses eight miles at Newmarket for
500 p.p., sat behind six greys on the royal barouche,
and the Colonel followed with his four to match, in
charge of the Countess of Barrymore, who might or
might not have been cognizant of the fact, that her
whip was to act as second to her husband at day-break.
Silk.
87
Pavilion, with Sam Chifney up, was the first to canter;
and then Buckle, in his white and crimson sleeves, on
the lengthy yellow bay Sancho ; but even the know-
ledge that his owner, who led him down the course,
had backed him to win 20,000/., did not dispirit the
layers of 6 to 4 on his old Raby conqueror. The
result of the first match over Lewes had made them
equally wild to back Sancho; but he had hit his leg
at exercise a few days before, and this was the only
chance of saving their money. The odds, however,
quickly fell to 5 to 1 as Sancho went up to his oppo-
nent's quarters in the last mile, and commanded him
from that point till his leg gave way within the dis-
tance. Such trifles did not weigh very long on a phi-
losophic mind like the Colonel's. He lunched at The
Star with the Royal party as calmly as if he had been
losing mere three-penny points at whist, and at day-
break was seen entreating Mr. Howarth, who had
stripped to the buff to prevent his clothes getting into
the wound, to shake hands after one shot, and dress
himself once more.
About this culminating period of his The Betting of
fortunes Mellish never opened his mouth the Period-
under 500/. in the Ring, and the southern division
caught the betting infection. Even old Elwes was
known to eat nothing all day but a piece of crushed
pancake, (which had been made at Marcham, two
months before, and which he would persist in styling
" as good as new,)" and yet to stand 7000/. for Lord
Abingdon on one match ; and the Sporting Magazine
could write, two months previous to the Fyldener St.
Leger, 1806, "There is little doubt that upwards of
one million of guineas has already been laid." The
Northern betting, however, was very slack in compari-
son with Newmarket. The men who clustered on the
distance post side of the Stand at York thought 10/.
a great venture, and an even 50/. between Lord Scar-
bro' and Mr, Garforth on that two-year-old or " Paddy
88
Silk and Scarlet.
Land racing," which the latter detested so much till
he tasted its sweets with Oiseau and Otter of his
cherished Camillus blood, was talked of all over the
county. George Sundley, who was once a noted
cock-setter, and Michael Brunton, the Richmond
druggist, became as nothing when Gully, Ridsdale,
and Justice opened their betting-books and "pep-
pered" and backed horses in earnest as well; and
even Tommy Swan, the amateur horse-dealer, who
was lean, high-shouldered, and would lay against
any mortal thing, began to draw off in the face of
such rivals, and reseek his quiet parlour in the inn at
Bedale.
The betting mart at Doncaster up to Tarrare's year
was the long narrow upper-room at the Salutation,
and it was there that Jim Bland delivered his porten-
tous offer of " A hundred to your walking-stick against
Theodore /" Many quite as odd wagers as that were
heard on the Stand. A Yorkshire Friend laid the
owner of Antonio 10/. even, that he couldn't whistle
when the horses came in. Mr. Ferguson accordingly
commenced when they were at the distance, and right
loud and shrill was the note. " Nay," said the crafty
layer, " thou must only whistle when I tell thee" and
as they swept past with the scarlet in front and
Wrangler at his girths, the signal was given, but the
lucky lawyer could only make a blow of it. When
the new rooms once opened their flower-clad portals,
Lord Kennedy was the mightiest hero over their
Board of Green Cloth. One evening it was as much
as one friend at his side could do to stuff the bank-
notes into his coat pockets, as he won eight mains at
hazard in succession ; and when the emulous ardour
of the spectators almost foamed into frenzy, a man
near the table sold his seat for five guineas !
The Holywell As the century wore on, Mr. Watt and
Hunt Club. Mr> Petre began to be names of dread at
Doncaster, as Earl Fitzwilliam and Lord Archibald
Silk
89
Hamilton had been before them ; and the Holywell
Hunt, who were among the first to test
" The pure Saxon of that silver style"
from the lips of the then Hon. Mr. Stanley, when he
took the chair as "the Derby colt" at their dinner,
kept the game alive on the Cheshire side as each first
week in October came round. There was always
something to come away up the Mostyn Mile, where
Birmingham and Touchstone knew such grief, even
when Pryse's Ambo, roarer as he was, could keep up
his charter no more. But it was not on racing alone
that merry club relied. Jack Mytton brought grey-
hounds as well as horses to the scene, and cared little
whether he met Mr. Lloyd of Rhugett, with the Cham-
pion and Lunardi, or Mr. Best with his Muslin and
Streamer blood.
No keener critic than the great Dr. Dr. Beiiyse, of
Bellyse of Audlem rode behind the Audiem.
slipper that day. A blue dress-coat with gilt buttons,
light coloured kerseys and gaiters, a buff waistcoat,
and a pig-tail just peeping from beneath a conical
low-crowned hat, completed his attire ; while a golden
greyhound, the gift of his friend Lord Combermere,
lent a tasteful finish to his snowy frill. Never in his
life had he seen either Derby or St. Leger, but his
eyelids knew no rest in the long night of suspense
which followed them. He was a walking polyglot on
race-horse pedigrees, from the Godolphin Arabian to
Memnon. The Grafton blood in the South, and Mr.
Garforth's in the North, were both especially dear to
him; but he would invariably toast General Mina
when he won, and troll forth with double emphasis,
on that evening, all his lodge lays of " a Free and
Accepted Mason," or his famous matrimonial ballad—
"We scold and fight, and both repent
That ding-dong went the bell."
Pre-eminent and assiduous as he was in his profession,
9°
Silk and Scarlet.
his patients had to show a clean bill of health during
the Chester race week, or give up all hope of having
him. The Stationers' Almanack was not truer to the
year than his yellow gig with his fourteen-one Brown
Tommy to the Hop Pole yard at Chester, on that
Saturday afternoon. On the Monday he sallied forth
to the Hotel Row, and received a hearty annual wel-
come from all the lovers of " the Turf and the Sod,"
to whom, from his quiet worth, and his wonderful
memory and information on every point, he had be-
come so endeared. Years wrought no change in the
dress or figure of this old Cheshire worthy, or
quenched his love for either science. The cock-pit
began at eleven, and the in-go ended soon after one ;
and then before a Grand Stand arose, he was always
to be seen, stationed on Tommy, in the middle of the
Roodee, to watch what horses were doing all round,
and armed with a gigantic umbrella. He held the
belief that there were " always so many fools on a
race-course," and hence he kept it to shoot out in
self-defence, in the faces of the young blades as they
galloped recklessly across him from the cords to the
river rails.
The Chester Cocking was then the chosen amuse-
Cocking. ment of the race mornings, and no one
on this point was so great an authority as the Doctor.
He spoke, too, out of the fulness of his strange expe-
rience, as he had the privilege of all the walks on the
Combermere, Shavington, Adderley, Doddington,
Peckforton, Beeston, Oulton, and divers other estates
in Cheshire, Shropshire, and Wales. In some seasons
he sent out a thousand chickens, of which barely one-
third would be reared, or fit to produce at an impor-
tant main. After dinner, on the Saturday of his
arrival at Chester, he gave an audience to his feeder,
to sound him as to the condition of his cocks, and
learn his opinion of the forthcoming main ; and not
unfrequently that functionary would arrive with a
Silk.
9i
couple of bags slung over his shoulder, and the pets
of his fancy remonstrating inside. During the week,
he would over and over again slip away from those
who wanted to talk to him about weights, and watch
his brown-red champions busy in their pens, scratch-
ing at a fresh-cut sod, or a spadeful of the purest
gravel, fresh from the bottom of the Dee. Any feeder
who did not furnish these stimulants, at least every
third day, would have held his place 011 a very frail
tenure. He would have a hundred cocks taken up
from their walks for Chester, in order that his feeder
might select the best, and put them in training from
the Thursday week to the Monday, when the smaller
cocks led off in the five days' main. Two years old
was the favourite period for selection, as they became
greasy at three, and far beyond the 4lb. iooz. stan-
dard ; and eggs, sugar-candy water, hot bread and
milk, barley, rue, butter, and rhubarb formed the chief
part of that dainty diet, which few were fated to taste
more than once in their lives.
He inaugurated his career on the sod Different Breeds
with the original white piles, which carried of Game Cocks,
such a wonderful spur that " The Cheshire drop,"
which would occasionally come out in a long battle,
when the odds were twenty to one, was considered as
fatal as the " Chifney rush." These were the cocks
with which the Cholmondeleys, the Egertons, the
Warburtons, the Cottons, and the Raylances fought
all the great county mains ; sometimes against each
other, but more frequently against the Mexborough
and Meynell families. The Doctor, however, con-
vinced himself that their constitutions would not stand
the discipline of modern feeders, and at last, by judi-
cious crossing, made his brown and black-reds carry
as good a spur, and bear the most punishing prepara-
tion to boot. They were chiefly bred from his old
" cut-combed hen," whose descendants were crossed
with his brown " crow alleys," two of Gilliver's black-
92
Silk and Scarlet.
reds, and the Westgarth cock. Six pullets to one
cock, and the eggs as closely bred in as he could get
them, were two of his leading tenets ; the greater
part of his chickens were also hatched in April and
May, and he used the same stud-birds for about three
seasons.
a Peep at the The old families in Cheshire and the
Mains. neighbouring counties were as proud of
their breed of black-reds or birchen duckwings, as
ever Mr. Garforth was of his Marcia or Mr. Pierse of
his Tuberose ; and Potter and Gilliver (who fed for
Mr. Leigh, of Lyme), took rank in the public mind
with Robson and Croft. The feeling had struck deep
root for years. It had penetrated almost within the
sombre walls of York, and quiet burgesses remem-
bered how Mellish and Sir Francis Boynton had
fought main after main at Bootham Bar. There was
a dim story, too, that Colonel Thornton had matched
his best hawk against a game-cock, at Preston or
Knutsford, for a thousand guineas a side. Be that
curious wager more or less, ten guineas a battle and
two hundred the main was the usual standard. At
race meetings they often fought one "in-go" by
candlelight, amid a perfect Babel of bets ; and in the
Royal Westminster Pit of yore, no mains were ever
fought by day. To such a height had this Roger
Ascham passion grown, that although the bye battles
were only honoured with common calico, the Derby
main bag, with its rich lace, and its needle-embroidered
coat of arms, was alone worth the five shillings admis-
sion to see. Lord Sefton, Mr. Price of Brynpys,
Captain White, and Mr. Bold Haughton, all fought at
Chester ; while Lord Derby and Mr. Leigh of Lyme,
generally reserved their cocks for the Preston and
Newton mains. Setting was quite a distinct profes-
sion from feeding, and from fifteen to thirty guineas
was Porter's and Gum's regular fee for a great main ;
while George Sundley, Sam Gosling, and Redfern
Silk.
93
were all in request for minor issues. Gilliver held
cocks clumsily in his large hands ; but Owen Probyn
of Birmingham, an asthmatic deathlike man, with a
long thumb, and nail which he could so deftly use, was
esteemed three battles in a main better than any one
of his compeers.
It was generally one of the articles that they were
" to fight in fair reputed silver spurs," which were,
after all, little more than steel thinly washed over, and
there was not a more cunning craftsman in this line
than Singleton of Ireland, whose countryman lost
with Dr. Bellyse the first great contest, of forty-one
mains and ten byes, that was ever fought at Chester
in the new subscription pit. He then gave it up to
Lord Derby and Mr. Bold Haughton, and the two last
mains of importance at Chester were between these
two, in 1833-34. The Potters were his lordship's
feeders for many years, and Roscoe his breeder. His
cocks were principally duckwings, but he latterly
fought more reds, all of them selected from an
enormous number of birds, and always of the finest
form and daintiest feather. Neither his lordship nor
Dr. Bellyse lived to see their battles royal put an end
to by Act of Parliament. The latter died in the
January of 1829, nearly six years before the Earl,
when he was but one day short of seventy, from a
mere casual ailment, in the fullest vigour of body and
mind.
Strange, indeed, was the contrast be- The Wrestling
tween that crowded pit in St. John-street, Ring at Carlisle.
Chester, and the race accompaniments at " Merrie
Carlisle" on a September afternoon. A dark and
almost breathless ring of ten thousand is gathered
under the hill-side, on The Swifts, and George Irving
and Weightman—the wrestling champions of the day
—are within it. There they stand, with their necks
crossed, fand their hands swaying between them,
watching with the eye of a falcon lest the other should
94
Silk and Scarlet.
" get hod," and put it in his fatal cross-buttock. In
vain the umpires threaten to blow them out of the
ring if they keep up the delicious suspense much
longer ; but all in vain. Weightman kens Geordie's,
and Geordie kens Weightman's grip too well to let
him have him by the waist a half second in advance.
Then they smile, raise their heads, shake them at the
umpires, and try it on once more. No better luck
again ; till at last the bell rings for Canteen to saddle,
and confront his Border friend Fair Helen, and
Bonassus for the Gold Cup. At the sound their
hands close round each other at last with a snap
which nothing can unloose this time. Hayton or
Bolton Gate must rejoice or wail ere night. Weight-
man's tall lank frame towers upwards, as he seems to
lift the little one almost off his legs, and prepares to
fling him into space, but Geordie is busy below.
Again and again he stops the dreaded cross-buttock,
but the hipe has done its work at last, and the Eden
bears to the Solway the long thunder-fledged shout
that " Lang John" holds the belt once more. And so
the stalwart Cumbrian crow-alleys settle their diffe-
rences ; and as they hold the plough on their fell sides,
or along the rich meadows of the Peterill, the Gelt,
and the Caldew,. or herd their Cheviots amid the
heather wastes of Bewcastle—near scenes hallowed
by Dandy Dinmont and St. Ronan's Well—they may
well think with pride, till another Carel Races comes
round, of how
'' Chapman was the man
Who bore away the prize from all
At the merry sports of Flan
how Jonathan Whitehead " can fling them ony way
and how Robert Gordon and Jackson of Kinneyside
were still the best cocks in a far nobler main than
Chester's.
a Turf Retro- But the race-course seems to have
speet. faded from our notes, and we have left
Silk.
95
the Chester Roodee far behind. The Doge of Venice
and four other Cup winners had alone passed the post,
when the keen eye of its county handicapper was
glazed and dim ; and the poor of Audlem and miles
round knew him no more, to their sorrow. But Jack
Mytton was still great and glorious there with his
Halston, in the same year, too, that the Blacklocks
carried all before them at Doncaster; and that
Voltaire, after defeating Sir Hercules in the St. Leger,
sent down—under Tommy Lye's guidance—his half
brother Laurel, and Fleur-de-Lis in the Cup. Now
Velocipede's erring sinew can be patched up no more;
and even three St. Legers in succession cannot avail
to keep Mr. Petre in the Racing Calendar. Anon we
have the brothers Chifney era; and visions of
sanguine Will in the yard at Tattersall's, on Priam's
settling-day, with a table before him and a pyramid
of bank-notes thereon. Their fortune has proved as
fragile as that paper pile ; and then comes Lord
Exeter triumphant with his white-legged Sultans, and
Lord Jersey nicking the blood best with his Cobweb
at last. Mr. Bowes and his " all black" appears on
the scene when Plenipo goes off; and although the
Sledmere-bred Grey Momus may fail him, a lanky
cast-off Priam foal from Bretby, who trotted up with
her dam to Tattersall's, gives Lord George the weapon
which he has pined for years to wield. Then sets in
the Westminster dynasty, which Touchstone had
begun ; and his lordship twice over draws nigh his
dearly beloved Doncaster, a full week before the races,
right confident that his yellow jacket and black cap
will there achieve what Epsom has denied it. Now
Lanercost and Beeswing end their long Cumberland
and Northumberland rivalry, and Alice Hawthorn is
on every lip. She, too, at last, subsides into a worn-
out mare, out of whom even Bob Heseltine cannot
raise a gallop; and then Sir Tatton goes forth from
his accustomed wicket, and ere he leads back his
96
Silk and Scarlet.
namesake to scale, gives Bill Scott for the last time
that handshake of victory which was to be proudly
felt by many a jockey, year after year, at Doncaster,
but by him no more.
The Hero and young Alfred Day contribute not a
few to the thickening honours of the Danebury stable.
Lanercost achieves early stud laurels not inferior to
Reveller and Pot-8-os ; " B. Green" is great for one
short season, and becomes a dissolving view ; and
Surplice—the very month that his late owner, after all
his proud political and turf imaginings, is found stark
and rigid amid the night dews of his own father's
Flood Meadow—gives the cue to three others to break
the double spell. Then arises the furore about Nancy.
Teddington and West Australian—one of them hardly
in bloom, and the other born the very year Velocipede
died—become giants in the land. Mr. Parr discovers
the great Arabian Night secret of turning old lamps
into new ; and in proof thereof, after smashing " The
Squire's" last hope of a St. Leger with Saucebox,
twice over sends up the listhouse shutters with Wea-
thergage ; and • then the rivalry of the Voltigeur and
Dutchman stock is as keenly looked for as when their
sires went out to do battle for Aske and Middleham,
in days which, for hearty racing excitement, their
county will scarcely know again. Yorkshiremen talk
of them yet on the burning rock of Gibraltar or the
side of the Great Salt Lake. Well might a traveller
write of a little tailor who had wandered westward :
" Mormonism was the creed of his last year or two,
but Doncaster Races the creed of his whole life;
Brigham Young, in his eyes, less than the owner of the
St. Leger winner. He had seen every St. Leger since
he was five years old, and could recount the names of
all the winners. He would do a job five per cent,
cheaper for me than for any one else, because I had
seen Voltigeur run the dead heat ; and had I only
seen the Dutchman beaten for the Cup on Friday, I
Jockeys.
97
could have knocked off ten or fifteen more. No ten-
year-old saint expressed such grief for the ruined
Temple of Nauvoo as he did for Doncaster Church ;
and if I mistake not he will see the New Church
before the New Temple, and will sit down once more
among the old comrades to a raised pie and a tankard
of ale."
JOCKEYS.
" With saddle strapped behind his dapper back,
Who canters up the heath on pigmy hack ?
'Tis Robinson or Chifney : mark his seat,
How firm and graceful, vigorous yet neat!"
John Davis.
IT has been well said of Englishmen generally, that
they come honestly by their horsemanship, with
Hengist and Horsa for their Saxon founders ; but still
it is to Yorkshire that we have to look for the germs
of real saddle science. The history of jockeys in fact
may be said to commence with its John John Singleton,
Singleton, whose register is still in the the jockey.
Church chest of Melbourne near Pocklington, and
bears date May ioth, 1715. A rumour that race-
horses were trained on those Wolds, which he could
see in the distance as he tended cattle on Ross Moor,
first excited his ambition to catch and race the shaggy
colts which picked up their living around him ; and
the correction which he caught in due season from one
of the common-owners, determined him to fly to that
land of promise, and engage himself to a Mr. Read,
on the terms of sleeping in the stable, and eating what
he could get. The connexion thus frugally begun,
and cemented in its commencement by a mutual love
of horses and lack of cash, ended only with death.
The needy race-horse owner had his horses better
trained and ridden at the village feasts than they had
H
98
Silk and Scarlet.
ever been before ; and the lad, if he got no riding fees,
made up for his Duke Humphrey fare at home, by
taking them out in kind at the booths. His seat and
judgment became so famed among the farmers, that
one of them, in the hour of victory, insisted on paying
him with a ewe, whose descendants soon swelled into
a dozen.
They in their turn were chivalrously sold to pay
the fee of Smiling Tom, a half-bred Arab, from the
Hampton Court stud, whose produce out of one of
Mr. Read's mares won the Subscription Plate at Ham-
bleton, but was beat by " Peggy-Grieves-Me" and two
others in a field of sixteen for "The Guineas" next
year. Winter was fast approaching, and with only
slender funds in either purse to meet it; but aided by
the countenance of a sturdy butcher from Pocklington,
who knew the mare, and rode 120 miles to back her,
(stabling himself and steed under a haystack by night,)
she and John won the Morpeth Plate, and two others
at Stockton and Sunderland as well. The stables at
Grimsthorpe soon became fraught with winners, and a
filly which the Marquis of Rockingham purchased out
of them, induced his lordship to offer its good genius
the situation of jockey and trainer to himself. Long
before he was forty, he had the lion's share of the
Yorkshire riding, and henceforth he hailed from New-
market during the spring, and Thixendale in the sum-
mer. Seven years after he had defeated Herod and two
others with Bay Malton over the Beacon Course, his
half century in the saddle ended ; and he came back
permanently to Yorkshire, and was buried in nearly
his eightieth year, hard by his first master. No
jockey had so many pictures taken of him ; but that
which represents him riding his hunter Merry Bachelor,
in his gold-laced hat and long coat, and with a brace
of greyhounds, on the look-out for a wold hare, at his
side, hands down most faithfully the seat and character
of this first great Northern Light.
Jockeys.
99
Chifney Senior was just beginning to Sam Chifney,
prophesy of himself as Singleton resigned Senior,
his Rockingham jacket to Kit Scaife. Modesty was
not one of Sam's virtues, and he thus described his
acquirements when only eighteen: "In 1773, I could
ride horses in a better manner in a race to beat others,
than any person I ever knew in my time ; and in
1775, I could train horses for running better than any
person I ever yet saw. Riding I learned myself, and
training I learned from Mr. Richard Prince." How-
ever, there were few to dissent from the first part of
this eulogy, although they might not give credence to
his notions of riding with a slack rein, lying under the
wind, and " getting a head out of the brisket" when
the spur fell dead elsewhere. Those were days when
jockeys might as fitly have appeared arrayed Esqui-
maux-fashion, as in " peg-tops and brown breeches,
with bunches of ties which might have made them
pass muster for " The Driving Club," white stockings,
and short gaiters, encased their nether man. This was
Chifney's and Singleton's wonted attire, but there are
those still alive who remember how the former wore
ruffles and a frill whenever " he took silk" of an after-
noon, while love-locks hung on each side from beneath
his jockey cap ; and how he would trot up and down
Newmarket at intervals in his drawers, and then by
way of variation do the greater part of his wasting in
bed. Be this as it may, he has left a name, which
losing no lustre in his son's hands, has been trans-
muted into an English proverb, and at which no
modern Rabbi in racing science dare to shoot out
the lip.
Dick Goodisson, who was slightly old The Goodissons>
Sam's senior, found his way from Selby
in Yorkshire to Newmarket, nobody remembers how,
and gradually wound himself into " Old Q.'s" good
graces, by his flash of lightning style at the post. He
was a terrible sloven in his dress, and there were
H 2
IOO
Silk and Scarlet.
times when the Duke might have said to him as Mr.
Toots did to the Chicken, " Richard, your expressions
are coarse, and your meaning is obscure !" but they
were only parted once, for three weeks, and then his
Grace was the first to make it up by asking him to
go and see a horse sweat. At one time he used to
go about Newmarket with a leather case in his pocket,
which contained 500/. in notes. His reason for bear-
ing so bulky and precious a burden, was that he had
once been unable to cover that amount, when a
tempting bet was offered him in an inn, and " I lost
that" was his constant complaint to the day of his
death. Both his sons, Charles and Tom, were brought
up to the profession. Charles died in his twenty-
seventh year, four seasons before his father; and Tom,
who was a very safe rider and a fine judge of pace,
won more great races in his principal patron the Duke
of York's life-time, than almost any jockey out.
w.... rrf Clift, who died at Newmarket within a
1 mm 1 months of the younger Goodisson,
was also Yorkshire-bred. He first showed himself as
a lad, when he was selected in his shepherd's smock
by a despairing Fitzwilliam tenant, who began to
think that he would have a loose pony at the post in
the sports at Wentworth Park. Eventually he sue-
ceeded Peirse and Jackson in the green, and a pension
from his lordship, for twenty years' service, formed
one of the three which he enjoyed till his death.
His cotemporaries used to speak of him as " a wild
uncultivated Indian." It has been handed down that
on one occasion he did not scruple to say to the Duke
of Dorset, who had employed him, and asked him
how he liked his horse, " Hang me! you see I won;
that's enough for you? As a jockey none were more
honest, but he punished very severely; would race
with anything and everything from end to end, and in
fact his science was very much below what might
have been expected from a man in such vast practice.
yockeys.
10
He thought very little of riding to and from Pig-
burn each day of the York August, when he was
between sixty and seventy; and ten years after that,
he would walk the twenty-eight miles, from New-
market to Bury and back, simply to give his legs a
stretch. A man of such physical endurance was in-
valuable to the London insurers of tickets in the
Irish Lottery ; and it used to be said that his ab-
sence from Newmarket at intervals during the winter
months, might be accounted for by the fact of his
being sent to Liverpool, and riding with relays of
horses from there to London, the moment he had
ascertained at the pier the number of the tickets which
had been drawn a prize.
Sam Arnull, who died in the February Sam and Bill
of 1800, some years before his elder and Arnull.
equally lucky brother John, is only remembered as a
quiet still man, who won a great deal for the Prince
of Wales and Lord Foley, and loved a smart groom
and hunters. He was uncle to Bill Arnull who rode
for Lord George Cavendish and the Marquis of Exeter,
and who died when trainer to Lord Lichfield, the very
year before Elis won the St. Leger. Bill was always
considered a very fair finisher, but a bad judge of
pace. Wasting was also a sore burden to him ; but
in a moment of enthusiasm it is said that he per-
formed the unrivalled feat of knocking off ylbs. in one
day, which he accomplished in two walks to Kennett;
Robinson, who had " walked" with him in the morn-
ing, going by his side in his plain dress, to encourage
him on in the afternoon. There was no comparison
between them in riding, and it was never more strik-
ingly proved than in the match of Priam and Augus-
tus. In the spring Priam had received 3lbs., and
only won a head at a mile ; whereas in October Lord
Chesterfield, without consulting his confederate, not
only gave i61bs. in a 1000 a-side p.p. match across
the flat, but laid 3000 bye as well. Poor Will could
102
Silk and Scarlet.
not leave well alone, so he raised his whip near the
finish, and the horse turned to it, and just let Robin-
son come on the post,
e R , The Sam division, which has been so
am arnar . prop£c great jockeys, also furnished
another in Sam Barnard, who rode seven-six all his
life, and whose constant expression when he had a
difficult horse to handle was, " I never could carry him,
no kozv." His horse fell with him at Ascot, and his
eyes were so nearly cut out of the sockets, that he
eventually went stone blind. Shortly before, he had,
singularly enough, ridden and won the Claret Stakes
for Sir John Shelley on Comus, without any intima-
tion that he had lost his sight, and on his return to
the weighing" room he described his whole ride as one
marvellous " succession of leaps."
~ ., T He is not the first old jockey whom the
David Jones. , . , J, J ,
same calamity has overtaken, and among
them was David Jones, who survived every other wit-
ness on the Dan Dawson trial. He began his life as
one of the scarlet penny posts, and rode with his horn
and saddle-bags between the General Post-office and
Hampstead Heath, three times a day. Then followed
a stable apprenticeship under old Chifney, and from
being a head lad at Newmarket, he rose to be head
groom to the Marquis of Westminster and General
Grosvenor, and was one of the first two persons that
ever slept in Eaton Hall. He sailed next to India
and Spain, and was all through the Peninsular war, as
head groom to a General of Brigade, and came home,
speaking three languages, to train and ride once more.
Priam winning the Derby, was about the last image
that impressed itself upon his failing retina. Total
blindness, and the ruin of the London season by the
death of George IV., which left his May Fair lodging-
house unlet, broke him down in the same year, and at
last the workhouse at Chelsea was his lot. In the
summer time we used often to meet him among the
Jockeys.
103
Brompton lanes, led by a little girl, when he had shed
the pauper's grey for a few hours on a holiday, with a
flower in his button-hole "to show 'em I've been in
the countryand the year before he died he assured
us that he should like to get a match on to walk any
man of his age five miles yet.
Such stories he would tell over and over again of
old times. How for instance, in his hunting groom
days, he out-manoeuvred the crafty Mat Milton ; how
he " wasted" from Hampton to Hyde Park Corner ;
how his three terriers killed and ate one of Mr.
Grantley Berkeley's best fox-hound whelps at walk;
how General Grosvenor once despatched him to the
Newmarket turnpike for a bladder of hog's lard, when
his horse's feet had got snow-balled just before a
match ; how Robson the trainer looked, "just for all
the world," like a clergyman, and seldom did more to
a boy than hit him with his black glove ; how Cork
and Tiny knew each other 300 yards off on the Heath,
and instantly desired battle; how he fed a golden
roan Egyptian on tamarinds off Lisbon, and cantered
him to try his paces between the guns on deck ; how
he spent the anxious night before Waterloo ; how one
master shot himself through the head almost in his
presence ; and how his only hope of " leaving the
house" went for ever when his soldier-son died at
Scutari. At last he fell fainting in the heat on his
way back early in June, from " The Corner" where he
went once a month to receive a small allowance, left
him by the late Mr. Edmund Tattersall, and when we
next saw him he was on his death-bed. He dared not
speak ; and after handing over his scissors and a few
old letters, he would insist on retaining only eighteen-
pence out of the few shillings he had left. When we
pressed him for his reason, he stealthily clutched with
his hand as he lay, to indicate that the other paupers
in the ward, who leant forward and glared savagely in
their beds, or hobbled within ear-shot to catch the
i04
Silk and Scarlet.
faintest whisper that might pass between us, would, as
he knew from sad experience, rob him the instant he
died, and that he was determined to foil them. All
was over when we next called, but we learnt that
even in his death throes he had been once more with
his string at Hampton Wick, and calling for cham-
pagne into the weighing-house, to toast a winner.
That weary chequered story of eight-and-seventy
years was closed at last, and relief, not in-door nor
out-door, had come in a far grander shape, as we
claimed him from the dead-house, and laid him to his
rest on the morning of the longest day.
a Batch of We care not to go very deep into the
Yorkshiremen. 0ld riding chronicles of Yorkshire. They
would date back to Charles Dawson, who, after
running four times in succession on Silvio, second to
Dainty Davy, for the Richmond Cup, won it with him
next year, when Dainty was out of the way, and
christened his training stables after his name. There
was one Leonard Jewison, also, who began in 1761,
and rode for a quarter of a century for Mr. Peregrine
Wentworth, and trained his stud at " The Arras," on
the Wolds near Market Weighton, where the Kipling
Coates four-mile Plate of 10/. used to be run, on the
last Thursday in March. This race day was at one
time a great parting reunion for all the coursers and
fox-hunters, as it was the last week of hunting; but
the country is no longer, as then, open and unenclosed
to Malton, and the Plate has now to be decided along
the road. Then there was George Serle, who rode
Ambidexter for the Leger (although the lists of the
day would persist in saying that Shepherd did), and
latterly trained for Sir Mark Sykes, at Marramat, near
Sledmere. Garbutt was one of his lads, and had a
fine seat, but no head ; and although very resolute on
rough horses, he was so severe that owners and
trainers hardly liked at last to employ him. John
Kirton wound up his endless Cup victories by " getting
Jockeys.
the Guineas," in a court of law; George Herring
proved himself a worthy pupil of " Black Jack"
Lowther, by winning nineteen races running; and
John Cade and Tom Fields, who were born in the
same village as old Singleton, both commenced life by
seeing which could run fastest with the bricks as their
master moulded them. Frank Collinson's Epsom
victory on Pan indirectly led to his death in the very
prime of life, and just when his fine power on a horse
was securing him abundance of mounts, as he slept in
a damp bed along the Great North Road, on his
return, and never looked up again.
About 1807, Shepherd, Jackson, Billy shepherd and
Pierse, and Ben Smith had all the best of John jackson.
the Northern riding. Shepherd had most wonderful
knowledge of pace, and though he -seldom failed to
make running, was never known to overmark his horse
at four miles. He rode a great deal for Sir Thomas
Gascoyne and the Rev. Henry Goodricke, who ran his
horses in Mr. Gilbert Crompton's name, as well as for
the Duke of Leeds, Sir Mark Sykes, and Mr. Pierse.
The best portrait of him is on the last-named gentle-
man's Rosette ; but after all his hard struggles in the
saddle, he had a still harder one with poverty at
Malton to close. Jackson, who only yielded to Bill
Scott in the number of his Leger victories, had a rare
start with Mr. Hutchinson's stable, which he knew
right well how to use. He had the prettiest seat of
the four; but Billy Pierse, who was the shortest, had
the strongest and truest rush.
On race-evenings Jackson was often excessively
quarrelsome, and it was long a joke against him that
when he bustled out of the inn at Catterick, after
Sykes, the trainer, to pay him off for losing him (as he
considered) Mr. Watts's riding, he encountered, and
had several rounds with a chimney-sweep, who was
going to his morning labour. In the harlequin jacket
on Tramp, Blackrock, and Altisidora, he had a great
106 Silk and Scarlet.
time, and he never quite got over the severance, from
some very trivial cause. He also rode Filho da Puta
in that memorable St. Leger, which worked up a
sporting Baronet into such a state of delight, that he
thrust his stick through half-a-dozen pier glasses at
the Reindeer, and lamented that there were not more
at hand. No man was more honest and respectable;
but, although he had been able to ride /st. /lb. almost
to the last, he had but little left when he died. Before
he took to his inn at Northallerton, he held the race-
course farm, and the horses made the turn just below
his front door. On both afternoons he was wont to
keep open house for his friends ; but his kindness was
sadly abused, and scores who scarcely knew him by
sight, used to be found deep in his beef and beer.
Ben Smith and Ben Smith succeeded his master, John
Billy Pierse. Mangles (who trained and rode for Lord
Archibald Hamilton,) and was afterwards regularly
engaged for Lord Strathmore and the Duke of
Hamilton. It was somewhat remarkable that he
never had but two mounts in his life for Mr. Gascoyne,
and on each occasion won a St. Leger. His career
was a very hazardous one, and in his second bad acci-
dent he injured his arm so much that he had to whip
underhand ever after. He was of so saving a disposi-
tion that it used to be said of him that he would have
ridden all night if there had been any one to put him
up ; and on one occasion candles were tied to the
posts at Carlisle, and he rode in a hack race for a half-
crown fee! He was the most quiet simple-minded
creature that ever trod Yorkshire ground, and never
seemed quite awake to the outer world except when
he was " up," and then few, save Shepherd, could
make play so well for four miles, and still have a run
left at last. No one ever heard a coarse word, much
less an oath, from his lips, and his neat figure, as he
walked down Middleham in his snowy cravat, his
single-breasted black surtout, and his delicate cream-
Jockeys. 107
coloured breeches and gaiters, did his good dame a
world of credit. Occasionally he would ride over to
Belle Isle to see Billy Pierse, or " The Governor," as
he was always termed; and his absent rejoinder,
" Glad of it, sir 1 glad of it," to old Mr. Pierse, when
he told him, as was his querulous wont, " how very
poorly" he felt that morning; and his comment upon
a sacred picture, the subject of which is familiar to
every child of three, raised many a smile when he was
gone.
It is recorded of him that he was never Ben outwitted
seen in a passion but once. A two-mile by Pierse and
race over, Preston—of which Ben, who BlU Scott'
was on Corregio, made, like every one else, a dead
certainty—was the scene of it; and Bill Scott and
Pierse, both on horses of Mr. Yates's, composed the
field. " We'll have our wark to beat him, now we're
both on," said Pierse to Scott. " We mun try and put
him out of temper!' "No use trying that on',' resumed
Bill; " he's just like a post!' " Never mind',' replied
Pierse ; " no one has a better chance than thee, Bill; be
off, and slip it into him!' The task just suited Scott,
and away he cantered alongside his victim. " I'll give
it you, to-day," he began, with the usual garnish. In
vain the gentle Ben tried to parry him with, " May be !
May be ! thee's a young man ; thee hasii t gotten to the
end yet!' However, flesh and blood could not endure
the torrent of abuse which followed, within ear-shot of
so many people, and in less than five minutes another
conversation ensued near the distance. " Governor !
the old fool's regidarly got his mettle up ; what are we
to do?" "Do, Bill I" replied that functionary; "go
away with Gaudy as hard as ever thee can split; mak
him believe all thou's said, and I'll toddle behind!'
And so when they did go, Ben was in such a down-
right passion at his tormentor, that he followed him
every yard of the way. At the end of a mile-and-a-
half Gaudy fairly stood still; Bill looked over his
io8
Silk and Scarlet.
shoulder as a signal, and on " The Governor" went
with Paulowitz. Thus Ben's horse never got a pull
from end to end; but after all, he was only beaten a
neck. Ben made up his mind from that hour that
Scott was " a sadly forrardyoung man but he never
seemed to bear him any malice.
Billy Pierse's Billy Pierse had a triumph of a similar
Riding Dodges, character against the boys over Richmond.
Finding that it was hopeless to beat them on his old
horse with all the weight, he conceived the bold idea
of making every one of them run away, and before he
had got round the top end of the Stand, and half-way
down the hill, every horse but his own had the bit in
his teeth, and he had only to watch them come back
to him one by one, and win as he liked. The flexor
muscle of his arm was a wonder of anatomy ; he could
hold anything breathing with those fat little hands,
and finished as strong as a lion. " Kneeing the lads,"
was another favourite pastime of his, and he tried it
on so hard with Mangles at Catterick, that he almost
drove him_through the hedge on to the Boroughbridge
road. A good deal of cross and jostle work was
overlooked in those days ; but Mangles thought that
he might at least have allowed him to stop in the race-
course. " Nation stai ve thee, Billy!" he remarked
when they had got out of the weighing tent; "if it
wasn't thee Fd complain; thou might have killed yen!'
" Well! how are yer, old acquentance ?" was Billy's
regular salutation to his friends, who cited his maxims
as oracles, and he used to mention it as an unsp'eak-
able source of comfort to him, that " Fve done as many
as have done me!' This must be understood in strictly
a Yorkshire sense, as owners knew their man too well
to insult him, by even hinting their wish that he would,
as he phrased it, " do an uncivil thing" for them. He
never wearied in talking of Manuella and the great bet
of 20,000/. to 5/., which the Duke of Cleveland laid
him, that he would not win the Derby, Leger, and
yockeys.
109
Oaks on her. His son was very naturally so nervous
at the family prospects, that he could not put the
tongue of the buckle into its place as they saddled in
the Warren ; and Billy, who was as cool as a salad,
suddenly pushed him aside, with " Get out of the way,
thou citr! thou's never been a son of mine" and com-
pleted the job himself. No one then suspected she
was a roarer; and hence the late Mr. Jacques used to
say that on the Derby-day he "couldrit get within
half-a-mile of the mare for the crowd whereas, when
he went to look for her before the Oaks, which she
won, " there was no one rotmd her but Billy and the boy."
With the Duke of Cleveland he was quite a racing
prime minister, and he would visit him for a month
together at Raby, and dine with him every day. He
used, however, to say, on his return, " I never forgot,
auld acquentance, that I was Billy Pierse. I was useful,
or I wouldn't have been theer!' He won several races
for his Grace on Haphazard, who was found at first to
be so bad, that he was ordered to be sold for what he
would fetch ; and Billy's sturdy figure, (which knew
little diminution of its iron vigour at seventy-four),
going up in the pink and black stripes to take him
from Sam Wheatley, is hit off to the life in a famous
print of the time. He had his last mount on Agricola
in the St. Leger of '19 ; and he might have rivalled
the ninety years of his father, who fought by the Duke
of Cumberland's side, at Culloden, if he had given a
second thought to the unusual colour of the bottle of
pure colchicum, which was sent him, twenty years
after that, by his doctor's assistant. The draught had,
however, got far too deeply into his system when the
doctor arrived, and found out the fatal error. He
maintained all the stern tranquillity of a Mohawk
chief when he was told his fate, and simply^ said
once that it was "hard to die before yen's time."
Richmond will not willingly forget her brave old
burgher.
I IO
Silk and Scarlet.
Bob Tohnson J°hnson was a bold resolute fellow,
with rather a rough seat, and not a very
first-rate head in a finish. He never rode so well after
he fell against a post on Tinwald Downs, from which,
now, all traces of a racecourse, and the stone which
was put to mark the spot, have altogether departed.
There is little doubt that he became flurried and mis-
took the distance for the winning-post, or else he
would not have brought General Chass6, who had tre-
mendous speed, (as those who saw him come through
his horses at Newton can best vouch for), but only one
run, so far away as the Intake turn in the Leger. Two
years after, he pulled off his blue-and-white indig-
nantly in the Round House at Doncaster, saying
" In course thou knows I ride no more" as soon as he
heard that Mr. Lockwood would not even place Bees-
wing, when there was not a shadow of doubt among
the spectators that she was second. Robert devoted
himself henceforth to training her for Cartwright's
hand, and making remarkable speeches when she won.
He was always for keeping it dark; and hence when any
one asked him " Well, Bob ! how's t'aud meer ?" and
desired to advise him, they never got more than, " In
course thou knows she's well,—thou can do as thou
likes! Bobby Hill, who generally valetted her, was
alike mysterious, and his invariable reply was " She's
well, mindyer ;—that's all I know."
„ , T3 n But we must leave the North for a
Frank Buckle. . • , , , , -*.T
time, and steal back once more to New-
market, and times when
" Tho' long by the beaux reduced to disgrace,
The Buckle's the gem and the pride of the race."
Frank was originally apprenticed to a saddler, but
showed his contempt for what stable-lads generally
term, " the scratching in the book," by running away
early on, and leaving his indentures to take care of
themselves. When he had worked himself into a good
Jockeys.
111
line of Newmarket'riding, he determined "to walk in
the light of the constitution," which once forbade bull
beef to be eaten unless it was baited, and kept up the
usage most strenuously on the Mill Hill. Latterly
his cattle fancy took a more orthodox turn, and he
was wont to employ his York race mornings in buying
the primest oxen or cows he could find, and sending
them to graze at his farm near Peterborough. During
his first residence in that town, he thought nothing of
riding the ninety-two miles to Newmarket, for trials,
and back at six o'clock to tea. To praise his riding
would be to gild gold ; but many still stick to it that
if they turned him once round after a race he would
not remember anything about it, and that, if he was
turned round twice, he would forget even what horse
he had ridden. His shape and seat were exquisite,
albeit he was so small that he came very little beyond
Robinson's shoulders, but he always sat remarkably
high.
During his thirteen years in Robson's JimRobinson.
stables, Uur Jim would promise another
lad half his plum-pudding on Sunday, to rack up his
horse, in order that he might run off to the Heath and
watch " Frank" ride. His own maiden race came at
last, and Mr. Delme Radcliffe little dreamt what " a
feather" was running second to him on something of
Mr. Kit Wilson's. One of his earliest matches was on
Conviction against Buckle on Pigmy, in which the
latter bolted away forty yards first, and ran out from
distress in the cords. " Don't come that trick over me
again, young un/" said the indignant senior, when they
returned to scale, but assigned no reason for his wrath.
Matters stood very differently between the two in their
great match with Abjer and Ardrossan ; the latter of
whom was so savage that he tried to tear Robinson
out of his saddle. In vain Frank shouted at the post,
"Stop, and let me get up to youP But "I cant, hell
worry you; follow me, and Pll wait for you," was the
112
Silk and Scarlet.
answer ; and as faith was of course kept, a punish-
ing finish ended in a dead heat. Buckle always
whipped overhand, whereas Robinson never did, un-
less he was vexed with his horse. In this instance
he especially rejoiced in his opportunity, as while he
was buckling his rein the week before, in the Ditch
Stables, when they were about to try, the horse
savaged him, and not content with flinging him into a
corner, knelt upon him, and would have finished him
out of hand if Lords Exeter and Foley and Dick
Prince had not rushed to the rescue with their walking-
sticks. After being beat in his trial, Ardrossan went
home quietly enough, and then he flung his boy into
the manger, and bit off his thumb. It was for these
double enormities that Robinson paid him off in the
dead heat, and the horse never forgave him. Two
years after, when he visited Burleigh, Lord Exeter
at last prevailed upon him to enter his stable on the
assurance that " zveve got him as quiet as a lamb
but the instant Ardrossan saw him, he broke his
halter, and his visitors were fain to scuttle out forth-
with. As years grew on he found a worthy successor
at Newmarket in Kesheng, who sent an eminent painter,
pots, palette, mahl-stick, and all on to his back
among the straw, and then bit off his lad's ear so
neatly that he has been christened " Kesheng" unto
this day.
Another of these great matches was for five hundred
apiece between Dictator and Merlin. Each side had
some thirty thousand depending on the result, and
each jockey would have almost given his right hand
to win. Buckle waited with Dictator on the whip-
hand to the bushes, where the apparition of an old
woman with an unfurled umbrella made his horse
swerve to the left across Merlin's heels. This let
Robinson steal two lengths, and lost Buckle the race
by a neck, and a thousand pound fee from Mr. Blake
into the bargain. The whip race between Mameluke
Jockeys.
and Lamplighter also ended in Robinson's favour, and
both horses were so beaten that they could hardly keep
the track. Mr. Gully had stationed himself in the
Abingdon Mile Bottom ; and as Robinson—although
beaten fifty yards—found that Lamplighter must come
back on the hill, he called out to him, "All right!"
The Ring at the Duke's Stand thought the great book-
maker for once in his life fairly bewitched, till they
saw the horse he galloped off to pepper, fairly stand
still, two hundred yards from home. Four years
after Mr. Gully stood on the rails near the Red House
at Doncaster; and in spite of Margrave's dwelling
action, and Birdcatcher seeming a winner to every
other eye, he became the speaker in his turn, and
shouted out, "I've won!" in tones which rose to
Robinson's ear above the thunder clatter of the
seventeen.
But to resume. It was on Sam Chifney c
.1 1 -n i 1 1 -r-, 1 • Sam Chifney.
rather than on Buckle, that Robinson
principally fashioned his riding. Great as was his
admiration of Frank, he always maintained that he
"hadn't Sam's fiddlingand true enough Sam's
fingers on the reins, when a horse had a delicate
mouth, went like the feet of a dancer on the tight-
rope. There was no greater treat to Jim than watch-
ing them at their dainty work, when he made the run-
ning in a trial. " You might as well look for a rat as
for Chifney !" and " First find out what he's doing, and
then beat him were also great sayings of Robinson's,
and Sam unexpectedly took his pipe out of his mouth,
and thus returned the compliment one evening, in the
shape of a rebuke to little Arthur Pavis, who was
boasting that he would as soon ride a match with
Robinson as anybody—"You ride with him! you'd
better go to bed!" The tone of contempt was such as
poor Job assumed, when some one asked him who was
to ride Melissa against Fandango in the Doncaster
Cup; and just half pointing with his whip over his
I
ii4
Silk and Scarlet.
shoulder to the six-stone-nine skeleton of a " Vicar,"
in a straw jacket twice too big for him, who sat half
crouched on a bench in the weighing house, he
answered, " him." Both were dead before the next
Cup day came. Sam very seldom spoke at the post
or in a race, and if he did it was generally, " Glimed
if I think we can catch them" or something with that
mysterious prefix, the exact meaning of which nobody
ever knew. His left hand whipping was very good,
but he was not so quick with either hand as Robinson ;
and, in fact, the latter, as young J ohn Day said well of
him after their Ugly Buck and Minotaur match, " could
punish a horse most in the least time" of any jockey that
perhaps ever rode over Newmarket. Four strokes in
the last twenty yards was his way of popping the
question, and on one occasion, when riding for the
Whip, on Cadland, he fairly frightened Zinganee by
gently cracking it at brief intervals within ear-shot,
right across the beacon. In fact he had, like Sam, so
many dodges, that the jockeys always declared that
neither he nor they ever knew when he was beat. In
stature Robinson was nearly half a head less than Sam,
when the latter chose to get out of his shoulders, but
he measured upwards of six inches more round the
chest. Wasting was no labour of love, and in con-
sideration of the great exertions they had to make,
Jem Bland christened the one "Old" and the other
" Young Pincher." Robinson wasted much the better
of the two. In his hey-day, he could get from 9st.
iolbs. to 8st. in a month, and although on more than
one occasion he was found fainting on a stone-heap
near Kennet and brought home in a cart, yet at the
time of his sad accident he could ride 8st. 5lbs. easily
on a 2lbs. saddle, and a new 4lbs. one had just ar-
rived from town.
Chappie, Croft, Jemmy Chappie was another of the
and William Ed- patient school, and like Jim and Sam he
wards* rarely spoke of racing, and in fact seemed
Jockeys. 115
to have no real taste for the profession which he so
worthily followed. He was only three weeks, after
being transplanted from Hampshire to Neale's stables
at Newmarket, before he won his maiden race at
Beccles, and then began his quiet but sterling career,
in which it has been said with truth, that he never
gave a race away. He was seized with spasms of the
heart the night he rode Ariosto for the Cambridge-
shire, and hardly ever appeared in public again. Croft,
whose health did not permit of his riding long, and
William Edwards, were contemporaries, and so much
alike as boys, that they might have established a
mutual " Clearing House," in consequence of the fees
which were perpetually paid to the wrong one by mis-
take. Will, who was the eldest of his family, came
out in 1800, and won the Feather Plate over the last
three miles of the beacon on a Fidget colt. The Prince
of Wales, who knew as well as any man out what riding
ought to be, engaged him for his light weights, and on
one occasion he took his celebrated ride from New-
market to Doncaster on a three-year-old black mule,
resting at Tuxford on his way there, and coming
through in one day on his return, while Clift, who had
posted his second horse at Wansford, could hardly
keep up with him. In 1826, when the Duke of York's
health began to decline, and reports reached Windsor
that a strong effort was to be made to make Good-
wood outshine Ascot, George IV. commenced training
and breeding once more, and placed his horses under
his charge. Eighteen race-horses, including Fleur-de-
Lis, the Colonel, Zinganee, Hindostan, and the-best
of his own breeding, Sir Harry Beagle, were at " The
Palace" at Newmarket, when the King died, and as
William IV., after four years' trial, tired of the whole
thing; Edwards retired on a 300/. pension.
George Edwards, who died about 1850, Henry and
was a very strong but not nearly so George Edwards,
finished a rider as his brother Harry. He never re*
12
Silk and Scarlet.
covered the shock which his prospects received when
his good master the Duke of Orleans was killed from
his carriage, and he found himself thrown out of his
place and pensionless. His greatest hit for the Duke
was picking up Beggarman out of the Goodwood
stable, as a 500/. cull, and training him to win the
Goodwood Cup next year. The Duke of Beaufort
employed him to the last, and so did General Peel,
who had procured him his place with the Duke of
Orleans, and scarcely ever liked to miss his fine judg-
ment in a trial. At times his natural high courage in
a race sadly required steadying, but it stood him in
rare stead when he got locked in with a mass of horses,
and scarcely a man alive could see an opening, much
less make one for himself. Harry Edwards rode his
first race at Newmarket on Rabbit, against Robinson
on Antonia, 6st. ^lbs. each, Ditch-in. He set to very
high, and his great length of arm gave him immense
leverage, and when he gave a horse one of his jobs, he
seemed almost to carry him. This wonderful power
was especially apparent in Don John's last race ; when
he was opposed to Conolly and Alemdar. There
was a long consultation between Lord Chesterfield and
John Scott in the Four Mile Stables as to whether he
could start, and Harry's veterinary lore was finally
invoked. Pulling off his white kid gloves, he passed
his hand down his back sinews, and replied, " He'll
pull through, and only just." The result proved that
he had not drawn his bow at a venture. He could
hardly keep him on his legs from the Duke's Stand,
and then both his back sinews went so completely,
that they were nearly an hour getting him home to
Neale's stables.
oh John Day. TJerh*Ps the greatest triumph that
J John Day, that Hampshire patriarch,
ever had, was winning the Oaks on Oxygen for his
good old master, the late Duke of Grafton. Every
judge of riding who saw it, vowed that he ought to
Jockeys.
117
have been created Lord Danebury in his " all scarlet,"
on the spot. His early life was one of no common toil,
and he had often to ride from race-course to race-
course, on his ponies, with his saddle-bags in front,
nearly 100 miles in the day. He has one boast, a
very proud one for a man who has reached his double
eminence, that he was married in a stable-jacket, and
that for two years after he did not treat himself to a
bottle of wine or a surtout. With the early end of his
bachelorhood came the crisis of his fortunes. It was
then he went to Newmarket, where he was but little
known, and to use his own expressive words, they
" looked cold on me." Still the Duke of Grafton
knew sufficiently what stuff he was made of to put
him up, both in the One and Two Thousand. Buckle
was a great man then, and the young country jockey
thought that it was only hoping against hope to beat
him on a favourite. " I saw Buckle," we have heard
him say, " preparing to go, and it seemed as if some-
thing told me that if I went first, I should beat him.
And I did. I got the first run, and I beat him. Then
I won both races for his Grace. He sent for me, and
I came to the door, with my hat in my hand. ' Come
in, John Day,' So I did, and I stood on the mat.
' John Day, I'm going to make you a present for the
manner in which you have ridden my horses this week;
I am about to give you 201, in bank notes of Messrs.
bank at Bury St. Edmimd's—most highly-respectable
bankers'. ' Thank you, my lord, for your great kind-
ness.' It was a great present in those times. After
that I got $001, for winning one race."
The connexion between him and the John Day's Visit
old Duke was never weakened on the to the House of
Duke's side, and but for one instant on Commons-
John's ; and well it might, when his Grace thus broke
on his astonished ears, after a race, with " Yoti're a
thief, John Day ; you're a thief /" " Your Grace, what
have I done to displease you ?" "You stole that race!"
Silk and Scarlet.
John's thefts after this fashion were perpetual, and, in
fact, he was, perhaps, never quite so great as in the
colours of Whittlebury. As the blind man said, when,
after groping among many colours, he at last felt
scarlet, " It stirs my blood like a trumpet! On all
occasions he was a very dashing better, and occa-
sionally he was considerably astonished in conse-
quence, and never more so than when he got on Coro-
nation, and found three minutes after, when every eye
was on him in his canter, and he dare not hedge, that
he ought to have laid the 500?. to 200/. on his horse,
precisely the other way. John's aversion to the name
of Ireland was about on a par to that in which he held
Gaper, and arose from the firm impression he had of
the great amount of man-shooting which goes on
there. His great story, about the difference between
" paying and receiving," was very characteristic, and
pointed a fine moral; and perhaps a better judge of
facing and of two-year-olds especially, on whom latterly
he was not so hard as he once was, did not exist any-
where. The day he was, perhaps, seen most in his glory
by the metropolis, was when after calling at Carlton
Terrace, he proceeded through the Hall of William
Rufus, with his white cravat and his immortal umbrella,
in search of the Premier, in the Commons. The
policeman on duty was quite callous to the explana-
tion " hn John Day /' and he had to sit on a stone
bench, contemplating the cartoons, and reflecting how
his lad had won his trial, till Lord Enfield recognised
him, and brought him and the noble owner of Iliona
together, the result of which was, that his lordship
wrote to the right man that time, and John departed
in triumph.
The two Sam His brother Sam had been for some years
Days- a dweller near Reading, when he was called
from his farm like a second Cincinnatus, to take silk
once more ; and so industrious was he, that in spite of
his bulk he wasted in his second year from list. 61bs.
Jockeys.
119
to 7st. I2lbs., and got into the scale at that weight
for Pyrrhus First, at the Derby. Young Sam was
also a very strong good rider, and more round-
shouldered than any of the family. He had a fall out
hunting with Sir John Mills's hounds, near Parnell
Wood, and died three days after, at Mr. William
Sadler's at Longstock, where he was carried. Strange
to say, three hunting accidents with three very dif-
ferent results, took place in Hampshire on that fatal
morning, as Dick Burton and Councillor Moody had
a severe collision at a fence with Mr. Assheton
Smith's, and Dick's head was cut open so severely
with the flints, that he was unable to come out again
for nearly a year. He saw his hounds kill their fox
as he lay on the ground, and tried to stagger to them,
while the Councillor was stretched under the hedge,
with his face quite black, 'and Lord Bruce and Mr.
Sidney Herbert beside him, undoing his cravat. He
was carried on a hurdle to a farm-house, and awoke
to And his head shaved, and himself so much re-
covered that he could walk off.
Young John Day was articled for JohnDay)Jun.
some time to a veterinary surgeon at
Oxford ; and few, when they saw his stout form
tearing week after week across the Ilsley Downs, with
"Jim Morrell" and his merry harriers in the wake of
" a straight-backed un," dreamt that he would rise to
,be the eminent eight-stone jockey, with whom few,
even of the cracks, would care to have a race home.
His first winning ride was at Weymouth in 1830, 011
Whisk, a mare of Mr. Briggs's. Wasting was with him
always a hard process, and three weeks before the July,
he had 3olbs. to get off for Crucifix. Lord George
presented him with 100/. after he won the Criterion,
" not for winning on her, but for keepingyour temper."
It was her fault after the three false starts, and she in
fact never forgot the dressing she received from " Old
John," when she had to catch her horses in the false
120 Silk and Scarlet.
start for the Chesterfield. Lord George was himself
the cause of his losing the match on Ugly Buck against
Minotaur, as he stationed himself at the Bushes, and
called out " A thousand to one on Ugly Buck? This
made John come on too soon, and the result was he
won his race at seventy yards, and lost it at twenty ;
Jim Robinson, as usual, coming with one of his
stealthy rushes on Minotaur, when every one thought
he was beaten. For the Old England race with
Prologue and Plaudit, all Jim's finesse was of no avail,
and as he laughingly observed to John, when they
went to scale, " I dont know which gammoned best, you
or the horse? The performance was as fine as his
brother Alfred's when he was beat three times within
the distance 011 Vivandiere, for the Yorkshire Oaks, or
when, as Argus well said, " The Heath fairly rose at
him," when he finished for the One Thousand on the
Flea.
CharlesMarlow. Marl°Y a n'Ce- but. ?0t
haps a brilliant horseman, with good
hands, very patient, and a most resolute mode of
riding them out. " A race is never won till you're
past the post," was his invariable motto; and hence
he always persevered while there was an ounce of
squeezing powder left. Few but him could have
brought home the Knight of Avenel in the Port, or
landed Elthiron and Phlegethon at Ascot. Still, his
style, like his seat, was not firm and close ; and his
set-to was so high, that he often seemed to have the
horse's head as well as his own in his hands.
Conoiiy and Conolly and Pavis had both immense
Pavis. practice, both being able to ride under
7st. 81bs., but they were not quite first-class.
Conolly was superior to his brother-in-law, sweet-
tempered, and a cool steady hand, powerful, and so
far a safe rider that he would never throw away a
race from trying slight experiments. In style gene-
rally we have often heard trainers compare him to
Jockeys.
121
Bartholomew, with a slight preference for the latter.
Arthur Pavis could ride six-ten to the last. He was
a quick and natty style of man, but flighty and gay
in his manner, dreadfully conceited, from having been
made so much of, and having had, for so many years,
a light-weight monopoly. He won a great many
races on very good horses, but he was comparatively
weak in the saddle, little dependence could be placed
on his judgment in trials, and his death let up a
very much better man in Nat. Like Sam Rogers,
he never won any of " the three," but he always
asserted that George Edwards, who was his brother-
in-law, struck Caravan in the Phosphorus Derby,
and prevented him winning, an assertion which
George, who did not win 10/. by the race, as stoutly
denied.
If he only kept hold of their heads, Tommy Lye,
Tommy Lye's rare knowledge of pace Francis, and
made him, like Wakefield, most dan- Gray"
gerous in heats. This the lads knew right well; and
it was always their aim to go fiddling fiercely up
to his girths, and if by their gammon they could
succeed in frightening him into getting his hand—or,
as they phrased it, "his fishing-rod"—up, it was gene-
rally all over with him. George Francis, who was a
very strong and clever rider, completely broke up his
charter in heats ; and, " Come, Mr. Tommy, none of
your dodging this journey," was the answer we have
heard him make over and over again, when Tommy
came to the post with his knees almost up to the
horse's withers, and his left hand dangling down, and
begged " Yon boys to mind and keep straight, and well
ont at the turnsP At last Tommy got so terrified
that the two compromised the matter, and arranged
to give each other their places when they were beat.
Francis was originally engaged by John Scott at New-
market, through the intervention of Martin Starling,
when he was passing through it with a drove ; and
122
Silk and Scarlet.
hence his Malton title of "The Drover." He was
consigned to the care of Billy Roughhead, the eccen-
trie old groom who used to travel with Lord Chester-
field's brood mares, and for a bet, wore no hat on his
yellow shock for a year ; and his way of coaxing his
charge to walk with him to Malton was by buying
him perpetual tarts on the road, and dwelling on the
glories of the Whalebone blood. Johnny Gray was
even a generation older than Tommy Lye, and always
able to ride 6st. 81bs. In spite of these small propor-
tions, his friends aver that he got on the betting-room
table at Doncaster, and gaily challenged the American
Giant to fight, the year when he and Caunt drove
tandem through the town, to the great bewilderment
of the non-racing burgesses, who thought that, in
addition to their other woes, two sons of Anak had
descended on them in the flesh. Johnny's last great
victory was on Cyprian for the Northumberland Plate,
which he afterwards thus described to John Scott in
an almost Homeric strain : " I eased her up the hill;
I teazed her down the kill; I strode her across the flat;
and I beat your flash jockeyThis description of the
struggle was not lost upon society ; and he was reve-
rentially termed by all Malton, "the head man at
Scott's," after he had thus beaten Jack Holmes.
Bill Scott Scott was a long time learning his
business, and was first in Sadler's stables,
near Bibury, with his brother John ; and then came
northward, in 1811, to Croft at Middleham. His
sudden rise seven years afterwards was cotemporary
with Comus, whose three-year-old stock foreshadowed
their Doncaster prowess by carrying everything before
them at Catterick. The betting men collected, as was
thfeir wont, in front of Ferguson's inn, and laid 3 to 1
on Lochinvar for the Claret. The Juggler was con-
sidered to be such a wretch that Mr. Powlett had
given him away ; but as the donee did not think it
worth while to send for him till long after the time
Jockeys.
123
fixed, he had to return with the halter in his hand ;
and as Croft reported that the colt had gone rather
better in his last gallop, Bill got orders to dress for
him. A deep fall of snow threatened at one time to
bring the meeting to a close;»but Mr. Ferguson
promptly drove a flock of sheep three or four times
round the course, and contrived to satisfy the trainers.
Pierse, wide awake as usual, got the " trod," and
threw such slush into Bill's eyes that at times he was
almost blind. Still he never came till the right mo-
ment; and a magnificently ridden race on both sides
sent the fielders into ecstasies, and sealed the fame " of
the boy in yellow." Bill was then, as ever, a creeper ;
fond, as he said, of "making play behind ;" never
busy till after the distance ; " lenient" in his seat,
though not with his whalebone, and rather low and
wide in his set-to.
Catterick also was the scene of Temple- Sim Temple-
man's maiden win three or four years man-
after Bill had taken his degree in its oblong meadows.
Sim, who was long the stay of old Sykes, first rode
Unity, in 1819, at Malton and Grimsby ; but no wel-
come (1) was printed after his name for two seasons
till he scaled-in for Wanton by Woful, on whom he
shortly after defeated both Elizabeth and Lottery.
Catterick has always been a favourite ground with
him, and connected more especially with the chocolate
jacket of the Duke of Leeds. It was on one of his shoot-
ing excursions to Hornby Castle that he dreamt that
he won the Claret Stakes at Catterick on a grey. The
next grey (Vertumnus), which the Duke bred was ac-
cordingly entered ; and although the incident had not
been mentioned for many months, the first voice Sim
heard, as he rode back to scale, was that of the Duke
by the side of the cords, " Sim I do you remember your
dream ?" It was there, too, that he thought he was
dreaming, when the Duke slyly handed him The York
Herald, with his finger on a paragraph, headed " Novel
124
Silk and Scarlet.
Fox Chase ?" and he learnt for the first time how the
Holderness had run a fox down his chimney-pot at
Burnby during his absence, and broke it up under Will
Danby's and Col. Thompson's eyes, in his bachelor
bedroom.
The Waiting Sim's luckiest time was when he made
Game- his engagement with Sir Thomas Stanley;
and then his beloved Battledore not only ran away
from his Chester horses, but he won seven out of the
nine races he rode that week. Setting aside his great
struggle on Buzzard against Harry Edwards on Mer-
cutio at Pontefract, when he was called back dripping
wet from the town, to ride over a flooded course, one
of his neatest things was on Catherina at Liverpool.
General Chasse had been backed by Sir James Bos-
well for four great races, and won three of them, and
this only remained. " Well I I'll beat you, Sim, with
the chestnut to-day," said Fobert ; and " No, not if we
run it a hundred yards!" was Sim's reply. Knowing
the General's weakness, neither of his antagonists
would make play for him, and they gently cantered
till within the distance of home, Lye waiting on Bird-
lime close at Catherina's quarters. At the critical
instant the General lurched; and as Holmes touched
him with his spur, " Sim" just mettled his mare, who
was as quick as a cat on her legs, and slipped him two
lengths. For all that she only just got home, as the
chestnut, having at last something to follow, was
catching her every stride. He tried the same game on
with Scott, at Doncaster, who dare not set off for fear
Coriolanus should bolt. To keep behind till it became
a mere question as to which was quickest on their legs
was, in fact, " Sim's" only chance on such a bad mare.
Bill was so bothered and parched with wasting, that
he begged him, out of pity, to leave off walking, and
at least to trot by his side ; and so they came ami-
cably over the hill, where their reverie was broken by
an officious friend at the rails, who begged to be per-
Jockeys.
125
mitted to bring them both " pipes and something hot."
"Jack! Jack! I thought you knew better /" said Bill,
in, for once, the most crushed tones; and as if to re-
ward him for curbing his tongue, Coriolanus shot away
as straight as an arrow, when he at last ventured to
call upon him.
The names of "Sim" and "Job" have jobMarsonand
so long been connected, that we can Butler,
scarcely sever them now. Job's first win was when he
was only fourteen, on Mr. Bell's Cinderella, in 1831,
at Beverley ; but it was ten years at least before
Charles Xllth's Goodwood Cup brought him fairly to
his riding. In fact, except in connexion with Mr.
Allen's horses and Humphrey, and the lurching Mel-
bourne on whom he was especially at home, he had
been very little heard of, even in the North ; although
Templeman, with all that generosity of feeling which
is the truest sign of talent, never ceased telling the
trainers what a promising lad he was, and terribly
difficult to get rid of when he had anything under
him. He always " liked to see mischief before him,"
and come, next the rails, in the last sixty yards ; and
when he did punish, it was much more with his spurs
than his whip. If his phlegmatic nature had to be
specially excited, it was enough to tell him that a
South country jockey, towards whom he never felt in-
wardly very amiable, had said that he was certain to
win ; and " Does 'erf then he wont J was invariably the
precursor to one of his finest efforts. Butler's rush
was more electric, but not so strong and steady.
Their seats, too, were different, as Frank leant slightly
forward in his set-to, while Job was as upright as
a dart, and rode a trifle too short for complete
elegance.
In physical power, Marson was the wasting
strongest of the two, as he was always
able, from his slight make, to ride eight stone easily ;
while Butler ought never to have gone to scale for
126
Silk and Scarlet.
some seasons before his death under 8st. iolbs., and
wore and fretted himself away in getting off the other
3lbs. Had the Ham and Gratwicke scale superseded
the 8st. 7lb., which just crushes the heart out of many
a jockey, we might, humanly speaking, have had
Frank yet. His general wasting diet was champagne
and toast; and he would take a pint of the former
directly his walk was over, and have a little gruel and
brandy from a soda-water bottle after each race. With
such severe exercise to contend with, it is only a
matter of wonder that he was able to take his waste
walks so long, and ride so brilliantly to the very close.
Nothing but the deepest love of it could have made
him persevere along day after day ; sometimes scarcely
shedding half a pound down, as the side wind suited
him, to the Bell at Kennet, or the Cock at Dulling-
ham, where cheery Mother Onion of yore used to re-
count to her muffled visitors the glories of her port
wine and her own Suffolk-bred nags. It was on one of
the latter, stepping out at the rate of fourteen miles an
hour, that Sam Rogers did much of his wasting to-
wards the close of his career in the saddle, clad in a
coat with a cape that closed over his head into a
Benedictine cowl, to keep the warm atmosphere in.
In the summer of 1858, Johnny Osborne wasted after
a much more primitive fashion, when 7lbs. had to be
got off for his Vedette mount at York. Startingfrom
Ownby Paddocks, near Caistor, in a heavy woollen
suit, he walked along with his brother in charge of six
brood mares and three foals. Gainsboro' was their
point on the first night, Doncaster on the second, and
Leeds on the third, and on the following day they
reached Middleham.
Conduct of Mas- The race of masters, has, as some good
ters to jockeys. an(j true-hearted jockeys know to their
cost, sadly degenerated. Salaries and presents may
be thrice as large, but all consideration for their feel-
ings seem to be at times utterly forgotten. Because
Jockeys.
127
his trainer always wants to shift the blame from him-
self or his horse ; or a gobemouche friend who has
dropped his money, comes with some sage idea
gathered from his lorgnettes, to the effect that the
horse was brought too soon, we see owners who are
said to be models of chivalry in other matters, taking
their regular jockeys off in the middle of a season,
without a word of explanation. The well-being of
racing mainly depends on keeping our jockeys above
reproach, and it is difficult for many to hold them-
selves so if an owner is ready to degrade them at any
moment, when he acknowledges the propriety of their
conduct in every other way, but only differs with them
as to whether a little more could have been made of
his horse. Those whose memories can range upwards
of a score of years back, will remember how two con-
federates, one of whom had reasons to wish for a pace,
and the other had not, gave their leading jockey in a
handicap exactly opposite orders. He naturally
obeyed the one who spoke to him last, concluding that
the orders were joint; and the other, who considered
himself slighted, not only trampled down every attempt
at explanation, but induced his first master to discharge
him. The confederacy ended, but the jockey looked
up no more. Sporting newspapers were few in those
days, and there was no great body of racehorse
owners for them to appeal to against so deep a wrong.
The thing, however, was done openly enough ; and
except in its consequences, it was preferable to the
present mode of engaging another jockey, and tortur-
ing the old one by slow degrees into sending in his
jacket, by giving him the mere dregs of the mounts.
A little kind feeling on this head would be worth a
host of Turf Reform propositions on others. It is no
answer to say that jockeys are private servants. They
may be, in one sense ; but still they are virtually
subject to an oral and sadly lopsided code of Jockey
Club rules, two of which are to the effect, if we re-
128
Silk and Scarlet.
member rightly, that it is purely optional with a
master whether he ever relinquishes his claim on their
services ; and that if they refuse to ride, and want
arrears paid up, they must apologize by advertisement,
or be warned off the Heath. Hence their claim to
far more consideration than they receive.
p pvr „ Would that, on the other hand, we
Race Riding. 1111. 1 11 • *
could believe that old racmg-men and
trainers, who do not love to see regular jockeys
obliged to stand down for " Aztecs" and stable-lads,
are not too bitter when they shrug up their shoulders
at what is often termed " a magnificent finish," and
ask " Where is riding gone to ?" " There is no
patience and quietness," say they, " among the ruck
of these lads ; they ought to have their legs and arms
strapped to their sides ; they only use them to maul a
horse about in his canter, or upset him in his race."
And yet there is scarcely one of the juveniles who does
not think that he has forgotten more than Buckle took
nearly a life-time to learn, and that his hand is every
whit as delicate as " The Old Screw's." When we
mark the rare phalanx who went to scale for the Oaks
of '44, and think that of those alone, Sam Chifney,
Robinson, John Day junior, Chappie, Sam Darling,
Frank Butler, and Job Marson will ride no more—we
may well, in these latter days, when jockeys are so
rife and yet horsemen so rare, full often wish for them
back.
129
TRIAJ^>
"Oh! Sutton, Stamford, ^Voodcock, Larkin !
Pray look out sharp, or he'll befdapkiug;
He watched the trials others made,
And still will follow the same ti*ade ; -
And near the Devil's Ditch be seen,
' Gliding at moonlight, long and lean.'"
TOMMY P ANTON, surnamed "The Newmarket to
Long," is here the theme ; and with Wit-
true minstrel's licence, his trainer bones are supposed
to moulder near the Ditch Stables. More than eighty
years have gone by since he watched the trial horses
as they came out with jockeys " up," at twilight or at
dawn, to have their question put, and what scores of
them have not answered it true! Bronze was beaten
so many lengths by Wretch, that she was merely
started to make a pace for her in the Oaks, and yet
she won easily. Azor had pleased Robson so little,
when tried collaterally with Student, that he merely
went to Epsom to " valet him ;" and yet when Buckle
holloaed for an opening, and Robinson pulled his horse
almost into the furze to let him up, that 7 to 4
favourite stood still, and was seen no more. Czar
Peter and Lady Brough also played CoL Meiiish's
havoc with the book of Colonel Mellish, Mistake with
who had backed the Czar after getting his zar eter<
measure, that morning for little short of five thousand.
Will Edwards' instructions on her ^ ladyship were
merely to go along for a mile, and so rigidly were they
obeyed, that near the Duke's Stand it was Suffolk to
a shepherd's dog on her, as she came on nearly a dis-
tance in front, and a regular Ring panic with her.
Well might Sir John Shelley ride round and round the
mare, as she was unsaddled, as if struggling to pierce
the mystery how the Colonel had tried so wildly;
while Ben Moss, who rode her ladyship in the trial,
absolutely groaned with despair,
K
13°
Silk and Scarlet.
James and Will Here, too, trainers have made some-
Edwards's Trials, thing more than mere "Guesses at
Truth." It .was across the Flat that Tiny Edwards,
the devoted worshipper of Sorcerer, watched from his
wall-eyed pony, a trial which convinced him that he
had five horses good enough to win the Derby, and
one of them that idle Mameluke, whom he had scored
down during the winter, when he lay rolling about in
the straw-yard, as not worth a brass farthing. Fleur
de Lis, The Colonel, and Zinganee were also put to-
gether by his son over the T.M.M., as the most suit-
able ground in its nature to get an exact line for the
Goodwood Cup, and after three weeks, seven days of
which were spent on the road, they came out the first,
second, and third in their old forms to a pound.
Modem Trials Cooper was never able to try Vulture
at Newmarket. over the T.Y.C. with anything but the
second-hand of his own repeater, but he " tried her
very high" with that, and twice over she won. Her
pinions were, however, quite clipped at a mile, and she
could only get home fourth. Orlando—or " Sand-
wich," as Colonel Peel facetiously christened him for
a few months, after he won The Ham—was only tried
seven times in 1843-46. He won both his two-year-
old trials, giving weight to a bad lot, and gave 21 lbs.
successfully to Garryowen, when they were put to-
gether on the first of April, next year. However,
Ionian had the best of him at evens in their trial, at
the Derby distance and weights, some six weeks after;
while I'm-not-Aware could only manage the third
place with a stone less. That was the last time Ionian
ever worsted him, as when they were put together for
an Ascot Cup measure, in 1846, over the D.I., he
could only finish second at 2st. less. Orlando was in
a trying vein that April ; and as after having the mea-
sure of his D.M. foot taken as well by King Cob and
Co., he gave the eight-year-old Garryowen iolbs., and
beat him over that T.Y.C., at which he was once as
Trials,
great an adept as Oakley. With such proofs of his
form to guide them, they got well on him for the
Ascot Cup ; and as Nat was engaged for Alarm, Jem
Robinson was put up. Unfortunately the bay made
" a merry rascal" of himself at the post, broke his
bridle, and put his jockey down ; and when he did get
off, he jumped the road, and his leg gave way. His
half-brother, Surplice, had been tried high enough in
public before he migrated from Sussex to New-
market ; but Stockwell, with what the touts guessed
to be nine stone seven, (for who has yet penetrated the
Asiatic mystery of an Exeter trial ?) was seen catch-
ing in succession seven or eight who were turned loose
to make play, and only failing to reach little Midas,
with nearly three stone less by a neck.
Wilts has its great Fyfield trial, wherein Teddington
and Storyteller at even weights routed The Ban at
21 lbs., and Vatican at 61bs., as effectually as the
Royalists had done the Roundheads and Fyfield, Ben-
Sir William Waller, on Roundaway Down, hams, and Hey-
two hundred seasons before. The Let- throp'
combe Downs can also take up the tale for Berk-
shire. It was there that Tom Parr asked Saucebox,
on the Friday before the St. Leger, to be as good as
Scythian, in the Chester Cup, and with Fanny Gray
to make the running, and Mortimer to take it up at
the end of a mile, got an answer in the affirmative,
with five lengths to spare. Here, too, Weathergage
met Melford, three years his senior, and with all his
Worcestershire honours fresh upon him, and made so
light of him at evens, that his party found that the
Goodwood Stakes secret was well worth having, albeit
they had been bound over to lay thirty to one to 200/.,
for the possession of it. On we go to Oxfordshire,
and the scene shifts back thrice seven years, to the
ruins of Heythrop and its richly-wooded dells. Start-
ing in one of them, at Painter's signal, just below the
kennels, the mighty Coronation might be seen " suffer-
K 2
132
Silk and Scarlet.
ing" behind Reliance and Chabron, till, as Jem Hills
observes to Jack Goddard, " They ve given him a ring
round the top of the park," and then coming home
alone and pulling up at the Chapel so fresh, that every
one (bar Jim, who "got beat with Centaur at Pet-
worth"), down to the boiler, becomes firm in their
allegiance, and piles crown after crown on to his
head.
Danebu Hampshire beckons us back, on a
fine October morning, and kicking up
hare after hare in our route, we are at last at the
summit of Vicar's Cross. Behind us lies Clatford Oak
Cuts, the scene of many a rare run, but few so fast as
the twenty-two minutes without a check, on grass,
from Chislingbury Gorse, straight away to Assheton
Copse, in which Mr. Smith on his grey (i), Desperate
(William Sadler) (2), and Laura (John Day, junior)
(3), were with Mr. Rowdon (who had to bleed his
horse), almost the only ones placed. Danebury Hill
is on the right, under whose shade Bay Middleton and
Crucifix dwelt so long ; and just beneath it is Nock-
wood, whose fox broke one day the moment Mr.
Smith crossed the ditch to draw, and going like a
second Themistocles, nine miles to Tedworth, made a
spread eagle of nearly two hundred over the Kimpton
meadows. They found also in that little fir belt, or
Sadler's Plantation, within a stone's throw of the
quiet little race-course, which there leaves the valley,
and stretches away, dimly marked by white posts, into
the wider expanse of Sadler's Down. The Stand
railings, within which, on the Ignoramus v. Anton day,
" The Squire," with Tom Sebright, George Carter,
and Will Long as his audience, delivered his last
great lecture on the Furrier bitches, are put away till
another June comes round ; and John Day's black
watch-dog, that terror to touts, wanders lazily about
the spot, now that his morning patrol with the horses
is ended.
Trials.
133
On Seven Barrow Farm, in the dis- stockbridge
tance, all is life. A party of coursers, RaceCour.se.
with Alfred Day on Stonehenge in the midst of them,
are working themselves up into a state of frantic
excitement at twelve minute intervals, and then comes
dulness sublime. John Day bids good-bye to Mr.
Harry Hill (who turns his back contemptuously on
the long-tails, and cares only to catch the up train),
and then, after peering for a space at the edge of the
seeds, goes up to a score of yearlings, whose lads are
cutely contriving to combine both duty and pleasure
for the day. King Tom, Orlando, Andover, New-
minster, and Loupgarou have all some high-priced
youngsters* in that infant school, which at his bidding
now wends its way home in Indian file up Chattis
Hill. That hill was " Grandfather Day's favourite
gallop." Five-and-thirty years ago it was a mere
mass of juniper bushes, and it was through the paths,
cut with all a backwoodsman's perseverance, that the
old man sent along the thick-winded Luzborough, by
his much-loved Williamson's Ditto, Foxberry, Hougo-
mont, and Escape. Crucifix was never tried, for very
good reasons, after two years old ; and Winchester
race-course, at four o'clock on a September morning,
was the venue, when in the presence of Lord George
and Mr. Greville, Dilly and old John met to put
Mango and The Drummer together at 7lbs. "Beggar
my limbs but we must know the worst" was John's
watchword at such a crisis, and three monkeys from
Lord George after the St. Leger, one to Dilly for
training, and the others to John and his son Sam for
trying and riding, proved that he had seen them "spun
out" to some purpose, and that it was not what in
after-years he contemptuously termed, as with his
clear-cut passionless face, he looked on by the New-
market cords, "Another of those Danebury pots." His
lordship and-John must have taken very different
tackle over to Tedworth, or else they could hardly
134
Silk and Scarlet.
have persuaded Mr. Smith, in the autumn of his life,
that he had a likely Derby colt in Cracker.
Young John Young John's training days may be
Day's Dynasty. 3^ to begin with Weatherbit and Old
England, the latter of whom lost much of his slug-
gishness at three years old, and could always get fur-
thest. Weatherbit in his turn could always beat St.
Lawrence half a length at the Derby distance, while
the Saint had just the best of him at a mile. Mendi-
cant proved himself before the Oaks, two lengths
better than the pair at even weights, at a mile over the
Houghton Course, whereas Pyrrhus the First could
only just manage them at 7lbs. The chestnut was
only a second-class horse at best, heavy fleshed, and
so big in the girth, that he was obliged to take walk-
ing exercise from six to eight before the other horses
came out. This was the origin of the report that he
had latterly had a mere walking preparation, whereas
he was only stopped in his work for a week between
the Newmarket Stakes and the Derby, and then went
as straight as a line. St. Lawrence was also Cossack's
Derby trial horse, and with the Tartar to make the
running, was beat by him two lengths, a week before
Stockbridge races. Maton was on Cossack, and young
John, who steered St. Lawrence at lost. 4lbs., has
never taken part in a trial since. Conyngham, the
Two Thousand winner of that memorable Danebury
year, tried to give Mathematician ylbs. before he
started for Newmarket, and just failed by a head ;
but it was hardly worth while trying Pitsford, as he
was never a day alike ; and in fact they thought him
most brilliant when he was a yearling. Grecian gave
7lbs. and two years to Equiria over the T.Y.C. before
he came out at Stockbridge and Newmarket. Andover
showed himself so well, with Hermit in the spring, and
took such a steady preparation, that the stable never
hedged a penny; and the style in which he gave
Hermit 7lbs., and a half-length beating, in a rough
Trials.
135
gallop, in which he went on for the last half mile, when
Ireland's Eye retired, showed them that they got the
public form -correctly enough. Aleppo and Roger-
thorpe were as near in private as in public. The
latter at even weights won the T.Y.C. trial by a neck,
and when they met over the old two mile course at
York, next year, the 3lbs. which Aleppo received,
brought it to a dead heat!
Now we find ourselves in dear old p.. ,
Yorkshire, the week before the St. Leger, 1C °n '
and more confirmed than ever in our belief, as we
rest, carpet bag on shoulder, at many a rustic hostel,
that the women fry ham all day, and the men talk
about Scott and John Osborne at night. The horses
are all at work on Richmond High Moor this morn-
ing, as for the first time in our lives we scale the
Beacon. Belle Isle lies at our feet, and we insensibly
mix up rusty Billy Pierse histories of Oriana, Manuella,
Comedy, and Swiss, with Vedette and Ignoramus,
those sheeted notables of the present, as we watch
Abdale nicking in with them on his pony, in their
gallops, and having a tremendous set-to for about
fifty yards. Still September has come round without
a St. Leger nag for Richmond ; and hence the little
gap amid the firs, which stands out bleakly against
the sky on the distant hills, soon beckons us on our
willing way to Middleham.
The Grey Stone, which has seen many Road to Middle-
a gallant field sadly " squandered" ere ham-
they reached it, and the rich Aske Valley, where we
have been reintroduced to Voltigeur, (rolling glorious,
muddy, and free, with a subscription already full, in
his paddock), that still finer model of a Cup horse,
Fandango, and an infant Hospodar—are once more in
our lee. Now we are passing Spennithorne church,
where beneath a large gravel mound, marked by no
tomb-stone, near the chancel, rests all that is mortal
of their once great jockey, and we are in Middleham
136
Silk and Scarlet.
deanery at last. Passing by that gloomy-looking
shutter-sealed house, in which he lived and died, and
from which he was wont to steal forth for his solitary
wastes down Coverdale, that none but a quiet dales-
man or two might see him, we find ourselves at the
very edge of the moor. It looks at first sight like a
mere uneven ridge between two valleys, and we are
tempted to say of it, as Mr. Parr did to Tom Dawson,
when he had driven right over it to Tupgill, " Come,
tell me zvherc is your training ground V
Scenery and ^he moming was not a favourable one,
Company on and the wetness of the summer had made
MiddiehamMoor. ^ stringS desert the black peat of the
high, for the limestone surface of the low moor. Pen-
hill looked down on both in all its cloud-capped
majesty, and the wreaths of mist curled lazily along
the grouse fells, which tapered away to Carlton Moor
Heads ; or just lifting the curtain for a moment on
the other side, revealed, and then sullenly shrouded,
the poet-sung beauties of Wensleydale. It is only ten
days from the Leger, and through the driving rain, we
can just tell that the lord of the dale is here with his
family, to watch The Hadji gallop, and that hero
with his tail plaited up, achieves a mile three times in
solitary state. But there are other groups besides
that. The British Yeoman tout, so called from his
delicate attentions to the Champagne winner, is there,
and with him, if we mistake not, " The Cooper," alias
Tub Thumper ; while the village schoolmaster, with
his white hair just peeping under his little grey cap,
stands at ease on his stick, in the happy conscious-
ness that this is Saturday morning, and that the
pupils have a whole holiday. Who knows that he
may not have another " Early Village Cock," or a
" Joe Lovell," in his lot, to astonish the readers of the
Sunday papers ? Osborne's and Oates's strings also
flit before us, through the mist, all doing good Don-
caster work ; and then Fobert and his aide-de-camp
Trials.
137
Arthur Briggs emerge, with the pretty Underhand
second in their string, from that little glen on the
right, where Jack Spigot died, and from which 80,000/.
in ten years flowed into the Eglinton exchequer. If
" Kitty Brown" had only been in the Middleham
flesh, what rich Spigot Lodge legends he Trials,
could have poured forth, the result of observation
even more intense than a Chaldaean astrologer's. It
is our fate, however, to learn the old Eglinton measures
that morning from far more reliable lips. It seems
that they were on this wise. At two-years-old, Van
Tromp not only beat Eryx at 35lbs. for half-a-mile,
but gave Plaudit, who ran second both for the Cup
and the Derby Handicap, at Liverpool next week, an
honest iolbs. into the bargain. Next season the mare
and the yearling Dutchman were put together for half-
a-mile at evens, and the flyer won. Defeat, however,
awaited him in his turn, as his half-brother, Mavors,
went two lengths away from him at weight for age,
Knight of Avenel third ; and Lord Eglinton, Sir
David Baird, and Captain Pettat, came down from the
High Moor that day, with the firm belief that the
Derby was over. Alas! for all human calcula-
tions ! Exactly a week and a day before the Derby,
he was found to have a leg, and the back sinew gave
way as he flew the road near Tattenham Corner. It
was here, too, that Saunterer proved himself at least
two stone better than Augury ; and that Ellington on
the Thursday before the Derby, gave Gaudy, Pan-
mure, and Preston fully that each, and not only led
from end to end in a mile and three-quarters gallop,
but choked them off by some seventy yards. Well
might Tom Dawson write up to London to take
5000/. to 200/. more about him for Epsom; and
stand out 1500/, to 500/. about him for the Leger,
when he had again seen him cut Panmure to ribbons,
at 3st., within only six days of his Doncaster down-
fall.
Silk and Scarlet.
Langton Wold, where, according to the
Trials at Maiton. Yorkshire belief, Snowball may still be
seen " serving himself" with a phantom hare, met our
eye for the first time the next week. It was under
an almost Italian sky, that we scaled its table land at
last, and trod the little race course, round which
" Black Bill" measured so many Derby and Leger
winners. Maiton, rich with its red tile roofs, snugly
nestled in the hollow at our right; and behind us,
" The waves of shadow went over the wheat,"
as it lingered still uncut on the hills, which marked
where the broken foreground of dell and coppice faded
into the bolder scenery of the wolds. On the left,
across the valley, is Langton Hill, on which more than
one prophet, who was not deceived by the feint of
walking the lot after exercise to the gate into the lane,
has proudly swept the horizon on a trial morning,
with a six-pound-ten opera glass. Above " the turn
for home" peeped the thick green woods of Castle
Howard, amid which Velocipede and his three com-
panions wound their stealthy way at nightfall to
Hambleton, for the trial which was the great chestnut's
crack of doom. There is not a drop of lazy blood on
the Wold this morning. " Tox" with Pearl up, Volta
and nine others from Whitewall are all at work, while
John Scott walks by the side of I'Anson's pony, clasp-
ing his stick behind his back, and looks as if he would
like to be " up and at" the strange outlying pickets,
as they lean in a straggling line against the aged
thorns which flank the gallop. He thinks he sees in
each of them a second Mat Barehead, who was such a
fearful scourge to him in his time ; Harry Oxford
and the two Greys have also known " what o'clock it
is," as well as he could tell them, and so has the
mighty Tom of Lancashire, who got the commission
and stuck to it.
And now the word is given for them to cross over
Trials.
139
to the long gallop, and each watcher silently steals
away to another watch-tower among the gorse. John
Scott in his phaeton, with Holmes, in his green coat,
and marching as erect as one of the Old Guard in the
van, a friend on horseback at his side, and a lemon-
and-white terrier keeping a sharp look out from the
back seat, complete the Whitewall procession, as it
adjourns for an hour to the tan gallop, whither we care
not to follow them. We would fain linger at the little
red stand, which has thrown out a couple of wings like
cart sheds, and as we muse on old times, we feel
more happy than the little ex-jockey, who hid himself
" in the morning grey" on its leads, and was dis-
turbed in his dream of coming bliss, by the irruption
of that crafty Leadbitter, Jacob the blacksmith, with
the cock-bag.
We can excuse him for trying it on, Bill Scott as a
as a trial, in the zenith of Bill Scott, who Tryer.
generally rode 8st. iolbs. in them, would take a man
a life-time to forget. If his language was remarkable
when Mr. Bowes pressed him to say what livery his
lad was to wear, it was still more so when he had a lot
of lads on loose ones to do the work to the turn, and
was. lecturing them upon their seat and hand, at the
post. So highly did he think of Nelson's knowledge
of pace, that he never liked to try without him ; and
although George Izard (who died of consumption
early) seldom rode in public, he was at one time
another essential. Bill's delight was to be right behind
in the middle, to measure his horses to the chains, and
making " White Willie" the ending post in his own
calculations, to send them racing home. We will first
mark Bill on Don John, barely beating George Izard
by a neck in a mile on the Nonplus dam colt, a bril-
liant, but half-silly son of Velocipede, who was soon
after found dead in his box. Then came the Don's
turn to be defeated as far, by the punchy-looking
Cobham, before the Derby, in which the latter seemed
Sick and Scarlet.
to be under a spell, and could not go the pace any part
of the way. Fortune was never harder on one of her
colts. He was called " Scott's chestnut crack" all the
spring, and he stood up to be knocked down at the
Surrey Union Kennels early in the autumn.
Launcelot, who was a most desperate horse to hold,
even in a 3lb. bridle, beat Maroon when their Derby
measure was taken in the March of '40 ; but the order
was reversed at Pigburn, in the autumn, and even the
ploughed gallop that year could not avail his legs,
which went sadly groggy after Epsom. Seven or
eight were in the" Cotherstone trial, in which Bill con-
tented himself with being third, and sent Nat, who
won on Greatheart, back with the firm persuasion that
Bretby was to have the Derby at last. Satirist was
also beaten very far in his spring trial, simply because
he could not help it ; but Van Amburgh from the
same stable ran a fine winning race home with Marshal
Soult; and Bill, on the Duke of Wellington, whom he
had for once in his life fancied wrongly, could not stay,
even in that weak company. It was all too that
Lanercost could do, to get rid of Marshal Soult when
they were galloped in their clothes at home before the
Chester Cup ; but the old brown waked up under
Templeman's hand, and ran in a iolb. better form
when the flag went down. Here, too, West Australian
deceived them in his first trial, and then showed them
through Longbow that Pelion could not win the Derby
at 7st. I2lbs.; while Daniel O'Rourke showed his back
to the eternal Backbiter; and Imperieuse strode away
from Warlock at evens.
Charles xii. Of Pigburn trials none ever
versus exceeded in severity the one between
Hetman Piatoff. Hetman Platoff and Charles XII. A
bad sand-crack which had stopped Charles for a day
or two, and proved one of Jacob's greatest farriery
triumphs, gave the more compact Hetman slightly the
pull in point of condition. For two miles on a sound
Trials.
141
course Charles was the best, though Hetman could
have beaten him for speed at a mile and a half; and
the knotty point now was, which was the safest horse
of the two to carry the stable money for the St. Leger.
Ever since his Liverpool victory, Harry Edwards had
pronounced Hetman a wonder, but George Taylor
was in the saddle on that eventful morning, and after
a finish up the Pigburn Hill, in which every ounce was
jobbed or spurred out of them for the time being,
Scott just contrived to win by a head. Alas! that
such a finish should find no record in Weatherby!
Newminster's St. Leger trial at Doncaster was a
widely different affair. The Corporation Steward had
only the office from the landlord of The Salutation,
(where the trainer and jockeys sat out the night,) to
take up the chains by four o'clock, and their party
stole quietly out of their parlour down the meadows
behind to meet the horses in Carr-lane. In their
innocence, they thought it a monstrous good thing if
Newminster could run with Backbiter at 7lbs., whereas
" Sim" had him so far beat at the Red House, that
when they saw but one horse looming through the
mist, they concluded that it must of a surety be the
old one, and that Beeswing's son had been pulled up.
Hambleton was always, from its The Velocipede
springy peat subsoil, a favourite trial Tna1,
ground for Whitewall, and they duly repaired to it in
the year of Mundig, alias " The Red Cow." It was
there too that Scott on Lady le Gros, and Holmes on
Touchstone, had a measure, and each firmly believed
that the other had been " foxing a bit." Here, too,
Bob Heseltine showed Bill how The Cure could dis-
pose of Alice Hawthorne at weight for age, and by
repeating the exhibition to friend upon friend, caused
old Forth's white hat to be hurled aloft after the St.
Leger instead of his own. It was the scene too of the
fatal breakdown of Velocipede, in the greatest trial
that was ever yet run. George Izard came with the
142
Silk and Scarlet.
horses from Malton, eighteen miles, and tried at
Hambleton, at noon. The day was especially chosen
as being the one after Pontefract races, and before the
touts had time to resume their studies. Mr. Petre and
Mr. Ridsdale slept at Stapleton over night, and set off
with John Scott and their jockeys in two post-chaises
and four, first thing in the morning to Hambleton.
All of the party, who dashed thirteen miles an hour
up Sutton Bank to meet Izard and his charges, have
gone now, save John Scott and Templeman. Bill on
the game slow Granby made the running, and was beat
a hundred yards ; Sim on the Colonel, who received
7lbs. from Velocipede, finished fifty before Granby;
and Mameluke (G. Izard) found that he could not give
anything like 7lbs. and a year to George Nelson and
Velocipede. Still the morning's deed did not bear
the afternoon's reflection, as the chestnut pulled up
lame in the off fore-leg, and his best days were over.
THE FOREIGN MARKET,
" 'Mid grim ancestral castles,
Where Rhine's dark waters roll,
Oft have German maidens handled
Each young Actaeon foal ;
And the Russians on their dais,
As the wassail bowl they pass,
Carouse to Moscow glories
Of the colts by General Chasse."
The King of "F7EW can estimate the intense love of
Oude's interpre- X~^ the Turf and the Chase which
ter on Ascot. animates foreigners. Their English
trainers have often told us how they have seen them
quiver with delight when they translated to them,
from " Nimrod," story after story of the hardihood of
Jack Mytton; and that the news of Hobbie Noble's
The Foreign Market.
143
sale for 6500 guineas at Warwick made them vow
eternal pilgrimages thenceforth to England in search
of such golden treasure-trove. The horse spirit pene-
trates the bosoms of dusky visitors born under strange
stars ; and the very perspiration stood out in glittering
beads on the features of the valet-interpreter of the
King of Oude, as, after stowing his royal party in
another carriage, he artlessly told us his experiences
of an Ascot Cup day.
This was our conversation.
" I trust his Majesty has enjoyed the races ?"
" Oh! very mush—most beautiful!"
" Where were you ?"
" We did come so late by that train ; and we go
into the Queen's Stand below; but dat was full, and
there was luncheon laid out—ham I (and here the ex-
cellent Mahometan paused.)
" His Majesty would like the sight ?"
" Oh, yes ! But the King, he say to me,' ' What for
the people stare so ? Do they take me for wild
beast ?' And I say, ' Oh ! no, your Majesty : it is the
ladies, your Majesty; they all look at you, because
they lov you.' "
" Who won that last race ?"
"I cannot tell you—Yes, it was Zi-dam. No, dat
was not de name. Gyd-Zee ["It ivould be Zuyder
Zee."] " Ah ! dat was it—tank you. It was beautiful
raca; I be so pleased. I see him on the left side ; he
make just one great plonge, and then he take it in a,
minute. That was de race."
" Did you see this Fisherman and North Lincoln ?"
" Oh, yes! dat Fisherman fine big horse. I see
him come forward, and then he in his place. But de
Gyd-Zee, that is de horse ; he win in a minute, and I
do scarce see it. What a beautiful horse, that
Lincoln ! such a sweet white face—we all like him
so. But de Fisherman, he make us larf; his back just
like a knife—dey give him no hay and corn for a week."
144
Silk and Scarlet.
But, alas! at this point the guard saw that some
fun was going on, and, no doubt out of respect for
royalty, invited him into the break ; and we saw our
friend no more *
Luke Nott and In Russia, at one time, Stuckey and
Mr. Kirby. Luke Nott might have made Alexander
and his equerries believe that spavins and Roman
heads were rather a beauty than otherwise, and that
ring-bones and double joints were infallible indications
of strength ; but they could not tell Nicholas tales.
The royal vendees, when they came out to the front
of the palace at Peterhoff to inspect the English
arrivals, took the measure of their vendors rather dif-
ferently in 1845 to what they had done thirty years
before. Luke Nott was the spokesman on one of the
latter occasions. • He had an order for two cows from
England, one for a nobleman and the other for the
Empress, but the royal cow died on the passage, and
the worst had to be led to the palace for inspection.
" Why," asked the Empress, " are three teats so large
and one so small?" "Its all correct, please your
Majesty," said the ever-ready Luke, " three are for the
milk, and the little one for the cream! " Indeed I" was
the reply, and nothing more was said ; " But," as Mr.
Kirby used to remark, " I stood fairly trimhling to
hear the fellow tell such a wilfid leeMany had been
sent off to Siberia for less ; and it was all that Mr.
Kirby himself could once do, even while he basked in
* How different the report of Sunbeam's Goodwood race, as we
wrote it down the next month, from the lips of a labourer in a smock,
who was sitting within ear-shot of us, with his wife, his six olive-
branches, and, of course, the family umbrella, on the sunny slope of the
Goodwood Hill. It ran thus :—"There's three gan—yonder they goes'!
Yellow's behind 'em—he ain't fur; he'll push it when they get into the
straight coorse ! Green and blue is cutting along ! Dang! yellow's
coming up right afore 'em, blowed if he ain't ! They'll have a job with
him, mind yer. He's gotten up foremost. Look at that, missis ! Green's
lossen all to nothing!" And with that "The Missus" closed his
patriarchal mouth by the offer of a very green little apple from her
basket*
The Foreign Market,
i45
the royal sunshine, to persuade the Guards that the
porter-bottle which burst in his pocket, as he was
smuggling it into the palace for one of the princes,
was not the prohibited liquor of hated Britain, but
" only frisky beer"
In 1853 the palace at Peterhoff was The Emperor's
the same, but the actors were changed, inspection of
Twenty new English horses were being The shenff-
marched round and round, in their scarlet clothing, by
the Russian grooms in uniform, in its square; and
Mr. Ashton, the English agent, was waiting all
anxious to hear what his Majesty would think of The
Sheriff by The Provost, for whom 3000 guineas had
been refused after he won the July. The Emperor,
with Prince Menschikoff at his side, stepped out on the
terrace to the instant. Thrice the ring moved round
him. " Very good ! that will do ; but I think I told
you, three years ago, I would have no white heels" he
said, as he challenged a beautiful bay mare. " She
was so goody your Majesty, I daren't leave her',' replied
Mr. Ashton ; and " That may be—it's against the con-
tract!" told that the stern Imperial ukase against
white knew no change. Then The Sheriff was beck-
oned out of the ring. " What size, Ashton ?" "Two
artkeens and four veshiks, your Majesty" (fifteen-three).
A fierce doubting look, almost as daunting as a glance
at the sun on a summer's day, was the only reply
vouchsafed ; and in two mighty strides " The Em-
peror of all the Russias" was at his withers. " Beg
pardon, Ashton—he's on short legs !" And so the bay
and the black passed .into the royal stables ; and the
latter never flinched beneath his royal nineteen stone
load at a revfeW. He was the last horse that Nicholas
gave orders on, to his army; and' he was led behind
him on his funeral-day.
The white-heel objection has always Russian Studs>
been a sovereign *one with the Russians,
and nothing but a white star falls within their creed of
L
146
Silk and Scarlet.
perfection ; in which neat muscular shoulders, a neck
well out, and, above all, a clean jowl, are the cardinal
points. There is, in fact, a saying, that " a long swan
neck and a beautiful head knock them over at once."
There are very few roarers in the country; and the
trotting breed, which have nothing to do with the
English, did not roar till they were crossed with mares
and sires from Holland. The latter are mostly high-
steppers, blacks, with drooping quarters, bad middles,
fine heads, and lean necks ; in fact like very varmint
cart-horses. Count Orloff, who was the first of the
Russian nobility who devoted his whole mind to it,
crossed Symmetry and Trafalgar with Arabs, Persians,
and mares of the country, and selected their stock for
the stud almost entirely by their trotting action.
When the Count died, the Government bought up his
stud farm in Crenavoy Varonovitch, and began to
breed on a large scale,
imported En- There are at least twenty or thirty
giish Sires, towns in which Government horses stand
at a small price ; but the choice English sires are
stationed at Moscow and Crenavoy. Count Branetski
has a very large stud of 700 brood mares, and has
spent an immense sum over his hobby of importing
Arab stallions. Among his English purchases were
Ganymede by Orville, Mahmoud by Sultan, Paramour,
Zanoni (i.e. Running Rein), Dr. Caius, Joinville, Car-
dinal Wolsey, and Deerstealer, &c. The Count is a
great sportsman, and keeps an English pack of
hounds, with Frank Beers, late second whip to the
Brocklesby, and son of the renowned George, as his
huntsman. He did not think so at first, but he is
now convinced that the slowest of his thorough-bred
English horses carry him and his men better to
hounds than any Arab he can breed. A Government
committee of some two hundred or three hundred mem-
bers examine the sires as they arrive. With the
Emperor's chargers and the private gentlemen's
The Foreign Market.
147
horses they do not interfere. Those that are to be
advertised are the sole subjects of their surveillance,
and they will not allow a roarer under any considera-
tion to be published in circulars or newspapers.
Heretic by Muley Moloch was not passed ; and Mr.
Ashton had him on his hands for years, simply as a
teazer.
Competition in blood sires proved the Mr. Kirby in
best; and hence, when in later years the Difficulties.
Government brought over such an infinity of their
own, the private owners had to lower their price, and
their standard along with it. In the early part of the
century, Messrs. Banks and Tomlin had fifteen high-
class sires in Moscow; and while Mr. Jackson had
Soothsayer, Leopold, Magistrate, Sovereign, and
Antar, Mr. Kirby confronted him with Juggler by
Comus, Archibald, and Bourbon. The latter was
then sold to a nobleman, and when the Alderman and
Fleur-de-Lis, the only pledges that he left behind him,
ran so well, the keen old tyke hurried across with a
2500 guinea offer for him. Alas ! the Count was not
to be spoken to, except through his steward ; he, good
man, would not move in the matter until his dear wife
had received two costly shawls; and after all, the
Emperor or his aide-de-camp got hold of the Racing
Calendar, and would not let him go. We have often
sat with the old man, while he told us, race-meeting
after race-meeting at York, how he was done out of
those shawls. In our last visit, even when his rosary
occupied all his thoughts, he looked up at intervals,
and dipping back into the past, told that tale once
more; and how he and his favourite jockey, Mark
Noble, put a gouty horse into blue clay boots at
Ormskirk all night, and won a plate with him next
day.
Mr. Walkden came after Mr. Kirby, and an offer
of three thousand guineas arrived out from the re-
pentant Mr. Forth for his horse Interpreter, as soon as
L 2
148
Silk and Scarlet.
Lilias (nee Babel) had won the Oaks, and Translation
run second to Gulnare. The Imperial permit in this
case was duly signed, and a van and horses hired to
take him overland to Warsaw ; but he died of inflam-
mation the night before, and Marcus was left alone.
At this time Mr. Walkden held the Government com-
mission for thirty stallions a year for seven years, and
in 1827 Mr. Ashton succeeded him.
Old Friends in The history of our exported sires to
Russia. Russia is a very chequered one. Mid-
dleton and Memnon, the Derby and Leger winners of
1825, both went out, the former along with Bir-
mingham, who got some leggy but very durable stock.
Memnon was much more lucky than Middleton ; and
Elliot, the present Richmond trainer, won some of the
best prizes with his son Actor, who was bought to get
chargers at the Imperial stud. Allegro, by Orvile, was
a great success ; but Coronation soon lost caste. The
young Squires quite disgraced their great namesake
by their softness ; J ereed did not get them with con-
stitutions ; Ithuriel died after a two years' sojourn of
inflammation, and Uriel was sent for immediately.
General Chasse's stock were remarkably stout; nearly
all chestnuts, and with light manes and tails, and
those which did not take after him were bad-coloured
bays. Several Russian soldiers lost their legs and
arms in attendance on him. No Rarey was found in
the whole Russian dominions to quench him, and all
that. David Saxby could do was to get hold of the
rope, which was always attached to him, by the aid of
a shepherd's crook. Wanota was another foreigner
who often required hooking; but he luckily died
young, to the great economy of life and limb. Few
have been so much liked in Russia as Zanoni, who
was a horse of very great style and beauty. He stood
at Moscow two years, and his Magnifique out of
Mary, by Waterloo, a twenty-seven-year-old mare,
found, as the Galanthuses have done more recently,
The Foreign Market.
149
but few to beat him over this course. He retained
a memento of his old Derby days in the broken
tusk, on the near side; and he was so shy about
his mouth, that to give him physic became almost an
impossibility.
It was long a moot question with The Voyage of
Nicholas whether he would have Van Van TromP-
Tromp. This goodliest son of Lanercost was follow-
ing Glen Saddel in a gallop on Middleham High
Moor, when some gipsies ran to the wall to peep over.
The swarthy apparitions made him stop so suddenly,
that his suspensory ligament went, and after Mr. Kirby
had had him for two seasons, he offered him to
Colonel Schrider for 2000 guineas. The answer was
that the Emperor had seen Herring's portrait of him,
and did not like his neck; but Mr. Kirby replied that
his crest was up now, and the bargain was confirmed.
Galanthus and Morgan Rattler, one of the rarest of
Lincolnshire hunter sires, went out at the same time,
consigned to Prince Galitzin, in a Hull steamer.
They were at sea nearly thirty hours, in such a fearful
gale, that the captain finding himself overweighted
with deck-luggage, was within an ace of throwing all
three overboard. The bulwarks were broken in ; two
horses of minor renown were washed from their stalls
against the cabin windows; and a sow farrowed
eleven, amid all the wild hubbub beneath Morgan
Rattler, before they could put back to port. That
devoted horse had been to Germany once before, and
kept his sea-legs well; but the two others, in addition
to their chafed tails and halter-grazed noses, were
most dreadfully distressed. After two days on shore,
and having escaped the lot of Judge Advocate, who
died of inflammation, and was thrown over in the
Cattegat, they reached Moscow in safety. The late
Emperor was all for Van Tromp to the last; but, as
in England, he has not proved himself the surest foal-
getter.
Silk and Scarlet.
Purchase of Colonel Schrider's next purchases
Andover and were much less happy in his sovereign's
Peep-o'-day Boy. eyes Andover, for whom he gave
two thousand to Sir Tatton, had certainly light back
ribs, as many of that tribe have ; but still he was to
our minds the nicest mover, and best type of a Derby
horse that we ever saw by the old " Jersey bay." We
remember lingering to the very last, on a Goodwood
Cup-day, simply that we might see him once more
steal along with Alfred Day, in a walk over. How-
ever, his wide ears, his inclination to turn out his toes,
and his roaring were fatal to him ; but still, despite
the latter defect, they kept him for the public in
Moscow. Burgundy accompanied him, but soon died;
and Freeman, though hardly high class enough to leave
Moscow, was received into great favour. Peep-o'-day
Boy was principally disliked from his somewhat light
fore legs, and the high price which had been paid for
him. According to the Russian account, 600 guineas
was the first demand, when the Colonel went to visit
him at Neasdon. He would not give an answer then;
but fairly trembled with delight at seeing a horse just
suited to his mind ; and when he went to say Yes, the
price was raised to 1200 guineas. Another demur
shot the price up to 1600 guineas, and the Colonel
sent in a fury to fetch him.
Russian Cavalry Hetmann Platoff's ancient objection
Mounts. greys has gradually lost its force, and
one of their crack regiments is mounted on them,
while the others have bays or browns. All their
chargers are bred from English horses; and when
some of the more thoughtful of the Russian officers
learnt from the English importers that our horses on
the Balaklava day were, perhaps, the lighter-boned of
the twain, it may have flashed on them for the first
time that the English would not have " rode us down
like sheep" if a serf's arm had guided the rein. In the
southern parts, the studs for cavalry horses alone
The Foreign Market.
comprise iooo to 1500 mares each. Strict military
discipline is kept up, and all the grooms wear the red
collar uniform. The great object is to get the horses
as thorough-bred as possible, as the half-breds cannot
stand six or seven hours of manoeuvring on parade.
In the Royal stables alone, in Nicholas's day, there
were 600 chargers, and 600 in training, 1200 harness
horses, and 1200 in breaking; and these did not in-
elude those at Warsaw and Moscow. The chargers
were generally in the riding-school for two years
before the Emperor mounted them; and if he had
marked one for his own when they first entered, he
never forgot its name. All the picked chargers were
divided between his four sons, when Nicholas died,
five or six to each, and after the coronation the whole
establishment was diminished. "No more till further
orders" was the ukase, and no more have been sent
for yet.
It was to select a crack for the French Sire purchases
Government that the last legitimist agent, for the French
M. le Chevalier de Place, came over in Government-
the July of 1846. Gladiator was his heaviest and
most successful purchase, but Lanercost was his first
love that year. He became so much smitten with
him when Van Tromp had won his maiden race at
Liverpool, and was strongly fancied for the Cham-
pagne, that he bid Mr. Kirby 3000/. for the horse then
and there, but he could not be induced to sell. On
the Doncaster Monday, the offer was renewed, with a
500/. bonus annexed, in case Van Tromp won next
day, but Mr. Kirby was still inexorable. Being thus
foiled he went off to Dean Hill, in pursuit of Gladiator,
and a cheque for 2000L to Colonel Anson transferred
to Paris one of the most fortunate bargains they ever
made. He was a spiry, muscular, fifteen-two horse,
with such an elastic and beautiful trot, that as a park-
hack alone, he would at five years old have fetched
200/. Worthless, Ionian, Roebuck, and Prime Warden
152 Silk and Scarlet.
were among the Chevalier's other purchases, and Sting
was nearly his last and his cheapest. He started off
to Newmarket to see him ; but as the horse refused to
travel by rail, the two crossed on the road, and he
finally followed him back to Tattersall's, and pur-
chased him privately for 600/.
Mons. Perrot de Thannberg, the Inspector-General
of the Haras, picked up The Baron, the next summer,
for ten guineas beyond the one thousand guineas re-
serve at Mr. Theobald's sale, after some very intricate
and curious biddings, which made old Mr. Tattersall
think that for once in his life he could not see what
was going on. Like Van Tromp, however, the chest-
nut prize proved rather uncertain at the stud, where
he was forthwith priced at 300 francs. Napier, Ion at
450/., and The Emperor, who died very soon after of
coup de soleil, owing to the reflection on the bricks and
sand of the walled yards in which they are so fond of
riding their stallions, were further purchases of Mons.
de Thannberg's ; but he would have Peep-o'-day Boy
at no price, and Nunnykirk's drooping back did not
please when he had bought him; while Elthiron,
Womersley, Hernandez, and Lanercost (fallen some
ninety per cent, from his high estate), were the pur-
chases of Mons. Ernest le Roi.
Specimens for Caravan had been purchased years
the Agricultural before, by the Minister of War, to go to
School. tke Military School at Saumur in the
South, where he was destined to become a perfect
Abraham among troop-horses ; and in 1848 the
Minister of Agriculture sent over Mons. St. Marie
to buy of every kind for the Agricultural School near
Versailles. As 120/. was his limit for blood mares, he
only came within some 40/. of the price which Mr.
Theobald put on Pocahontas, who was in foal with
Stockwell at the time. Having thus narrowly escaped
depriving Lord Exeter of his trump card, he bid 1000
guineas for The Baron, but Mr. Theobald would set
The Foreign Market.
153
no price on him. Eventually he departed with a
perfect Noah's Ark full of specimens for the pupils.
There was nothing—
" To pencil dear, or pen,"
which was not, after that, to be found on their farm.
Assault and Cataract represented the blood stock, and
two Clevelands, a grey Norfolk trotter, two Suffolk
Punches, and a hunting mare of Lord Elcho's, over
whom any anatomical professor might have lectured,
were the chief residents. Added to these, were spe-
cimens from the styes of Lord Radnor, Mr. Pusey,
and Fisher Hobbs ; Wiseton furnished its shorthorn
descendants of old Gold, and game fowl and Dorkings
were not forgotten.
The Derby is quite the Frenchman's a French
race, and with a little more Epsom prac- steeplechase,
tice, they would become quite as expert Knights of
the Foray as those who annually issue from the Grand
Stand, and proceed to " draw the hill," about hamper
time. Steeplechasing is also their great delight, and
it was the one which Captain Peel won on Proceed at
Worcester that first stimulated Mons. de Thannberg
to establish them at the Haras du Pen, three hundred
miles from Paris. The peasants had plenty of brood
mares in that province, and it was thought that they
would overcome their objection to using our blemished
stallions, when they had once seen them jump. A
handicap claiming race was accordingly set on foot,
and ten or twelve English horses were entered. In
their zeal to get a high test, the stiffest of posts and
rails were screwed and morticed together, so that
nothing short of steam-power could break them;
fences were built up with osiers fourteen feet high ;
a ditch was dammed back till it swelled into a Serbo-
nian bog; and Multum in Parvo, a fifteen-one, Lin-
colnshire hunter, and Saucy Boy, by Sir Arthur, with
heavily repaired hocks, were the only two that got
154
Silk and Scarlet.
over the ground at all. Saucy Boy had them all so
pounded, that his rider, Reay of Repository fame,
went back a short space, and dismounted to pick up
his whip.
Victories and In spite of these slight set-offs, the plan
End of Jem Hill, had the desired effect, as three horses
were claimed on the spot, and Multum in Parvo had
as many mares sent him as the Government would
permit. The peasants were fit to eat him in their
frenzy, and carried Jem Hill, the rider, to scale on
their shoulders. What Jem considered a still greater
triumph was to come, when the Prefect of the Com-
mune insisted on paying the prize in five-franc pieces ;
and he might well say; to .M£.;~PhiH-ips, as he staggered
out of the tent with them on his-back, in a horse-
cloth, " Only to Hunk, master, (hat I 'should go and win
more money than / can 'carry !" ' Next year he won for
Mr. Phillips again on The Stoker, when there was
as much excitement/ and much less to jump ; but
with that victory came an objection and a wrangle,
and so an end of the whole. Jem did not long sur-
vive this abrupt eclipse of his French prospects. He
was soon after sent in charge of some horses for the
King of Sardinia, which he was to deliver at Bou-
logne. In the darkness, at the London Bridge Quay,
he slipped between two steamers moored alongside
each other; and no one missed him till a letter
arrived to say, that the horses had reached Boulogne
by themselves, and with the lip strings not even un-
done. No clue was discovered, till the very steamer
in which he was to have sailed came back from
France, and turned the poor fellow up from among
the mud with her paddles, as he lay unnoticed, close
by the quay.
An interview The Belgians have but little taste for
with Dick stock- blood horses ; their Haras at Terverin,
dale and Maroon. seven miles out of Brussels, and once the
country seat of the Prince of Orange, has gone to sad
DICK STOCKDALE.
The Foreign Market.
155
decay, and their ideas range very little beyond half-
bred French and Norman horses. Maroon was pur-
chased for 1000 guineas ; but they hardly gave him ten
mares ; thus missing the chance of scores of pairs of
those slashing whole coloured, coaching bays, which he
has sown broadcast in Yorkshire, and the first of which
became Her Majesty's for 400 guineas.
The Belgian Chamber of Deputies would have
quailed with remorse if they could have only heard the
words of his jolly old guardian, Dick Stockdale, when
beaming in every feature with delight, he pointed out
his " crimson bay" to us for the first time, on a Sep-
tember morning, as he drew himself up to his full
height, amid a troop of Driffield prize-Cochins on a
little knoll in his paddock at Skerne. There he stood,
looking almost as fresh in his twenty-first summer, as
when all Yorkshire lamented that Holmes had not
thrown his orders to the wind, or that his reins had
not been soaped on the Leger-day. Dick dwelt, with
emphasis, and outstretched hand, upon his excellent
temper, his teeth, and his legs, and after taking a
rapid retrospect of their six seasons, impressively
wound up with allowing that " he has bat one
fault—lies just a little bit too big for Sir Tatton
Sykes?
Silk and Scarlet,
THE GODOLPHIN ARABIAN.
"'Midst cringing serfs, and trembling hinds forlorn,
Dwindles the offspring of the ' Desert Born
But here it thrives unrivalled ; far more fleet
Our steeds than those which Yemen's barley eat."
The Godoiphin " I SHE antecedents of this Knight of
Arabian the Wonderful Crest are quite be-
yond our kpn. A treatise might doubtless be written,
not only proving to demonstration that his dam could
fulfil the requirements of the Koran, and hide her
rider with her tail, but settling the very position of the
palm tree under which he was foaled in the star-light,
or of the tent-door at which children's tiny fingers first
fed him with crusts on the slopes of Lebanon. It is
enough for us to learn that he measured fourteen and
a half; that he was originally given by a Mr. Coke, to
the proprietor of the St. James's Coffee-house, and that
he died honourably under the shadow of the Gogma-
gog Hills in 1753. The sire-list, eight years after his
death, contained at least fifteen of his sons, one of
which, "The Gower Stallion" is described therein as
having " bone enough to carry eighteen stone a hunt-
ing." Few of them seem to have possessed so
much early promise as Spanking Roger, whose dam
was by the Duke of Rutland's Cyprus Arabian. He,
however, fell dead in a trial, and although the note to
his " Portraiture" remarks " that he was a horse of size
and beauty it candidly adds, " the latter of which
received a considerable addition from a heat of temper
in his nature, which was rather too great to be rightly
consistent with the advantage of running." Mr. Glad-
stone, or the most highly tried clerk in the Circumlo-
cution Office, could not have sketched a hard 'puller
more ably.
Calendar Adver- To write attractive notices of their
tisements. horses for the advertisement sheet of Mr
The Godolphin Arabian. 157
Reginald Heber (who combined " mild York River
Tobacco, finest Durham Mustard, and right Wood-
stock gloves," with the Racing Calendar business),
was quite a literary exercitation, with the owners
of that day. They are for the most part decisive
in their meaning, but wild in their grammar. Dor-
mouse, for instance, " has strength in proportion, and a
shape that promises to have been a racer, but was
lamed at a year old, therefore not trained, though he
walks upright;" while Newcomb's Arabian was " more
like the Godolphin, than ever a horse was seen." The
Bell-Size Arabian had " his unexceptionable pedigree
and certificates lodged in the hands of Mr. Skeet, at
the Victualling Office while the owner of the black
brown, from Damascus, scorns the idea of his having
any mixture of Turcoman or Barb in his veins, and
invites inspection of the same " certified on Stamp
Paper at Smeaton near Northalarton." " He was
bred," says that document, " by the Arab who is
Sheick or .Chief of Aeria, noted for his breed of horses,
and, when a foal, presented to the Bashaw of Damas-
cus, and given by him to a rich Tit,rk merchant at
Aleppo, with whom the Bashaw had great Dealings in
Money Affairs."
History says little of Old Cade, except Match'em and
that he was a worthy inheritor of the SnaP-
honours, which, in a stable sense, "gleamed upon Go-
dolphin's breast," and that his most renowned son
Match'em could command a fifty-pound fee when he
was seven-and-twenty. Tt used to be a boast among
the touts, that they could tell a Match'em in the dark,
from the way he laid his legs to the ground, and
" Snap for speed and Match'em for truth and day-
light" was quite a paddock axiom. From a union of
the latter and a Snap mare, Conductor sprang. It
was a peculiarity of the Snap tribe, that the colts
uniformly ran well, but seldom got a winner; while
this order of nature was just reversed in the fillies, who
Silk and Scarlet.
showed a good deal of temper. Sir Peter Teazle was
out of one of them, and they received honourable
mention in the epitaph which the wits of the coffee-
houses wrote upon their sire, who was by Snip and
never beaten. It ran thus—
" Died at his seat at West Wratting, Cambridgeshire, aged 27 years,
Cuthbert Snap, Esq., who has left a numerous progeny ; he had many
favourite daughters, among whom was Angelica, married early to Tartar
Herod, Esq., by whom she had Charles Evergreen, Esq."
TheTrumpator Trumpator was the produce of Con-
line- ductor and a mare by the speedy Squirrel,
who is said to have died in a fish-cart on the Western
Road. The aged bones of his grandson found a much
more glorious resting place at the end of the Clermont
Course, and Paynator, Sorcerer, and Penelope kept
up the honour of their line. The former was a fifteen-
two horse, very like his sire, but hardly so lengthy;
and his stock had remarkably good legs and neat
muscular heads. Dr. Syntax, who was out of a Bening-
boro' mare, had both these attributes in the highest
degree, and those who remembered Match'em were
always struck with the likeness between the two.
" Doctor," as they fondly termed him in the North,
was a remarkable horse to look at; scarcely fifteen
Doctor Syntax. hands< Xfy tr°ad at.,tHe baSe °f
nose, with open nostrils, an eye as full
and bright as a hawk's, a high, drooping rump, and on
the side view rather short-quartered. He was quite a
mouse in his colour, and remarkably short in his coat,
on which a slight canter would bring out all the veins,
so that he seemed covered with net-work, as if by
magic. His smallness as a yearling determined Mr.
Riddell to have him cut as a hack for his son, and
Mr. Crowther, the then great northern veterinary
surgeon, was sent for. He was actually cast for the
purpose, but luckily the day came out so hot that it
was decided not to operate. Just then John Lonsdale
the trainer, looked in, and took such a fancy to the
The Godolphin Arabian.
159
little patient, that he determined to try and get him
out of Mr. Crowther's hand on the morrow ; but it was
only with the greatest difficulty that Mr. Riddell
would grant the reprieve, and let him go back with
John to Tupgill.
From a two-year-old, he could never bear whip or
spur, and Bob Johnson could always get every ounce
out of him by merely stroking and talking to him. He
fell in his maiden race as a two-year-old at Catterick,
and went down again quite exhaused just beyond the
post when Little Driver pressed him hard in his last,
which was for the Richmond Cup. His practice
during his ten seasons was principally among Gold
Cups, and confined to Lancaster, Preston, and Rich-
mond. Making running was his forte, and as John
Jackson used to say, if any of the others " warrit up
till mark, Doctor 'd find 001 complaint afore he d gotten
a mile." Still, like his daughter Beeswing, he did not
care to have more than eight-eleven on his back. The
Lancashire men ran to meet him, the moment John
Lonsdale was seen leading him, year after year, on to
the Preston Course, with as much enthusiasm as they
were wont in later years to cluster round Cerito on a
Waterloo Cup day. He stood at Brompton-on-Swale
for a short time along with Whisker and Memnon,
while Octavian was at Oran ; but his last five seasons
were spent at William Edwards's Newmarket Pad-
docks. His stock, the Doctor to wit, were generally
somewhat light and shelly. Black Doctor kept up
this under-sized family type to the full, in spite of the
strains of Lottery and Voltaire, and barring his legs
he deserved to become the very Abraham of English
cobs.
Gallopade and Ralph (who had a Beeswing
strong dash of Altisidora) were both good
horses ; and Beeswing was the most noted of " Doc-
tor's" daughters. This pride of Northumberland, who
could hardly make fifteen-two, always ran big, and
M
160 Silk and Scarlet.
had the sweetest head in the world. Her hips and
ribs were capital; but still she was rather light-boned,
which might have been owing, in a measure, to her not
having been kept very well as a foal. With all his
varied lore, Mr. Orde had not gleaned that bone and
muscle must originally go in at the mouth, and hence
he did not, from a notion that it would make her too
gross, allow her corn till she was a pretty well ad-
vanced yearling. She never hit except to Touchstone,
who did not seem the horse to correct her somewhat
upright shoulders, and Nunnykirk and Newminster,
the best of her sons, were both beautiful movers. The
walk from Warrington to Chester in her sixth visit to
Touchstone was too much for her, and she fairly tot-
tered into her box at the Eaton Paddocks, on the
evening of the second day. After that, she only got
up once, to take a little gruel, and then died, quite
worn out with fatigue, and the weight of a brown
Dutchman colt, which was not due for two months,
There was no mark of violence upon her, but the flesh
came away in flakes from the backbone, as if from a
thing too long kept, and her mane was sent as a relic
by post to Mr. Orde.
interview with She was a most tremendous kicker in
Bob Johnson her stall, which was indented five feet
about Ascot. from ^ grouncj. but she showed no
vice at the post, and beyond pulling hard at first, she
was a delightful mare to ride. The sprightly style in
which she led her horses round the Stand turn in the
Cup, hugging the rails so as not to throw one inch of
ground away, was one of our earliest and pleasantest
recollections of Doncaster, and it was after she had
given The Shadow a hopeless stern ch^se in 1841, that
Mr. Orde resting his hand on the betting-room table,
had again returned thanks for her, and repeated for
the hundredth time " my mare is the property of the
people of Northumberlandf that his most memorable
scene came off with Bob Johnson. Everybody pressed
The Godolphin Arabian. 161
him so much when he had concluded, to take the
mare to Ascot next year, that, although not exactly
liking his errand, he proceeded to the Turf Tavern, to
sound Bob on the matter. Colonel Crawfurd and
Mr. Powlett volunteered to accompany him, and
having drawn the bar in vain, they proceeded to his
bedroom. Mr. Powlett shook him into consciousness,
as he snored over the glories of the day, and at last
he extracted a " Whose thoo f" " Bob," said that gen-
tleman, "we've come to speak to you about Bees-
wing." " But what have thou fit do wid mecr fneit.
Whafs come noo for ? Gan thee ways back, and come
if morning if thoo wants ought" was all he could
extract in addition. " Now, Robert," mildly inter-
posed Mr. Orde, "we've been at the Rooms, and a
great many of the gentlemen wish us to take the
mare South for the Ascot Cup." Bob stared wildly
at his visitors, and then recovering his presence of
mind, let out as follows :—" " Well, then thoo 11 just
tak her thee sel; I sant gan wid her. Thourt just a
silly old fide to think of sic a thing ; let the Sooth come
fit North if they want to be beat; not we gan to themd
Remonstrance was hopeless, as Bob's head went reso-
lutely on to his pillow once more, and his heart
refused to melt. It was no use begging him to refrain
from strong language, so the trio retired, leaving Mr..
Orde not a little discomfited, and the others in a
roar. He had, however, to yield his point; and al-
though the Vase was just missed, the Ascot Cup
came to Nunnykirk, as a memorial of that interview.
Bob was always a very abstemious Bob Johnson's
man, but two glasses got into his head. Singing Powers.
It was on one of-these occasions that he mounted the
table behind the Grand Stand at Newcastle to return
thanks, after the mare had beaten Lanercost and The
Young'un for the Cup ; but he did not get on very
fluently, and Mr. Orde soon pulled him forcibly down
by the coat-tails, and went on with the running in his
162
Silk and Scarlet.
most brilliant vein. At home, when Bob was a good
deal elated with winning, it did not require much per-
suasion to get him to sing; and if left to himself, he
invariably struck up the old Cumberland ditty :—
" If ye ax wheer oi comes fra,
I'll say the Fell side ;
Where feyther and mither,
And honest folk bide ;
My sweetheart, God bless her,
She thowt nin like me ;
For when we shuk hands,
The tear gushed fra her ee."
He threw such expression into his song, as he pro-
ceeded (wringing his hands, and pressing them drama-
tically on his stomach), to describe how Margery
Jackson, the old miser-woman of the Warwick Bridge
road, hired him, and almost starved him to death ;
and how the Carlisle fellows hung and skinned
" Cwolly," the companion of his fortunes—
"For shoon to their feet,"
—that he was offered a very considerable sum to sing
it on the stage in character.
jack Spigot and Beeswing's dam was a lame mare by
the Ardrossans. Ardrossan, who was an immense horse,
with a crest almost equal to the Godolphin's himself,
and grandsire to St. Giles and Bloomsbury through
Arcot Lass. Bob Johnson won his maiden race on
her at Doncaster, and she never ran again, as she
slipped her stifle-joint coming home, and became a
cripple for life. Her half-brother, Jack Spigot, came
there the next year, and won the St. Leger ; but he
took such a dislike to Bill Scott, that never after that
would he suffer him to come into the stable, and he
was quite furious, if he even heard his voice. He was
a very beautiful foal, but his dam, a sister to Bourbon,
for whom Mr. Powlett gave a small sum, after she had
been blind and barren for years, took such a perpetual
galloping fit in the paddock, that she almost knocked
The Godolphin Arabian. 163
him off his legs. He accordingly got a tenant to allow
his mare to bring up the colt, and it grew so under
its new treatment, that Mr. Powlett wanted to call it
" Jack Faucet" after the farmer. To this the latter
objected on the ground that it " was certain to win
f Leger, and then they 11 all be hooting and shooting
after me." " Well, John," said Mr. Powlett, " a faucet's
nothing without a spigot," and Spigot was substituted
accordingly.
Sorcerer, who was five years younger The Sorcerer
than Paynator, was the other founder of Family,
the Trumpator tribe. He was a black-brown, of
about sixteen-one, and not only inherited Squirrel's
turn of speed himself, but transmitted a fatal heritage
of unsoundness to his stock. His son, Smolensko,
showed great breeding, but his Derby year was as
Clift said of Cedric's, "all wheelers and no leaders."
He was marked with a paint brush on the shoulder
for a heriot (as Tumbler and a bull—The Briar—were,
at Cobham, in 1858), and his case was cited by Lord
Cranworth in the Lords, as being one of unusual
hardship. Bourbon might have done much for Sor-
cerer, as the dams of Fleur-de-Lis and the Alderman
were the only mares that were sent to him in his only
season in England. Smolensko's son, Jerry, was a
black of remarkable size and substance, and inherited
a good deal of the Orvile coarseness, through his dam;
but Jericho died not many seasons after his celebrated
Ascot "revival," and the other Jerries did not flourish
in Lord Glasgow's hands.
Nutwith and Gameboy have had the principal
keeping of the Tomboy by Jerry honours, Tomboy
but as the former's fee kept him to all in-
tents and purposes hermetically sealed at Burghley, it
is difficult to say what he might have achieved. Con-
sidering his very limited sphere, he did well; and
Knight of Kars bears the strongest marks of his line-
age. As he became inseparably connected with Lord
164 Silk and Scarlet.
Exeter, it is rather a remarkable coincidence, that his
lordship refused to purchase him as a two-year-old.
Mr. Herring had been at Tupgill, painting that por-
trait of Beeswing which Mr. Orde never lived to see,
and was so much struck with his smart look and his
light, nice style of going, that he called on Lord
Exeter the first moment he could on his return to
London, and told him that there was a St. Leger colt
which was exactly his style. His lordship replied
that he had so many horses at present that he was a
seller rather than a buyer ; and as Harry Hill did not
care to give twelve hundred on the outside chance,
Captain Wrather was induced to hold on. Gameboy
was small, and full of quality ; but his thoroughbreds
were too often weeds, and his half-breds giants. A
great many of them were also pigeon-toed, which
was always the Tomboy fault, Tomboy himself
was at one time quite invincible at Dbncaster; but
the St. Leger honours, which were defied to his son
Fancyboy, fell nine years latter on his grandson
Saucebox.
The story of When his dam, Priscilla Tomboy, died,
Saucebox, this little fellow had his milk from a tea-
pot, and if William Stebbings had not, more from a
mere whim than anything else, told his brother Harry
(who died before the race), that he might, if he liked,
put in two more in his name, the day would have been
Rifleman's. Although he was only fourteen-two, and
had been beaten seven times, Mr. Parr got smitten
with that beautiful dish-nose head and muscular back,
and bid 150/. for him at Reading. This was fifty
short of his figure, and mite as he was, he pulled off
three races, and came up to Tattersall's in the winter
with the rest of Josh Arnold's stud. Mr. Parr still felt
a sneaking fondness for him, and told a friend to " buy
me Saucebox, for a hundred if you can? However, that
energetic proxy went nodding on, till he got him for
155 guineas, and the Benhams air agreed with him so
The Godolphin Arabian. 165
well that he took a start, and measured fifteen hands
before midwinter.
His misfortunes began a week after Christmas, as
his boy suddenly found him walk lame in the Park,
where some hedge thorns had been lying about, and
on getting off to feel, broke one short into his off fore
fetlock. No one could discover its whereabouts, and
the leg swelled to such an extent that he was not out
of his box for six weeks. After a severe blister he
went pretty sound again, but he never seemed to get
actually rid of the thorn till he won the Lincoln Han-
dicap. It was supposed that the gathering burst
from the exertion, as the leg grew fine from that
hour. He had round but not high action, which in
deep ground became perfectly dead. Aldcroft liked
his style of running in the Ebor Handicap so much,
that he begged to ride him in the Great Yorkshire;
and Mr. Parr was so convinced, from what he saw of
the race up to the distance, that he had the foot of
Rifleman, that he did not hesitate to back him at long
odds for the St. Leger, in spite of his fourth place.
He had also a notion that he did not relish the sharp
twisted snaffle in which he was ridden at York ; and
when he had telegraphed to his London agent for the
smoothest bit he could send, he found, when he got
upon him in his exercise at Derby the next Tuesday,
that he went quite gaily up to it. His confidence
was increased by hearing Nat take the odds to
two or three sovereigns about him on the Stand.
" It's not often you see me bet," said he, when some
of his friends demanded to know what was up ; " but
this little gentleman took a deal of catching at York."
And so having scored his twelfth victory, he went
back to Benhams for his final polish, and did strong
work'until nine days before the St. Leger. Three
days' walking exercise, and then a gentle gallop, pre-
ceded his Friday's trial, and on that evening Mr. Parr
went up to London, and got on to win six thousand
i66 Silk and Scarlet,
more, at forties and fifties to one. It was not decided
until two o'clock in the afternoon, that Wells, and not
Clements, who rode in the trial, was to have the St.
Leger mount, and the orders were simply, " Dorit be
second! draw back to the last at the foot of the hill if
the pace is good, and then come 011 the outside, halfway
up the distance. Lady Tatton could not make a pace,
and therefore the result was achieved in a different
way; but the running of her ladyship proved that
Rifleman was far below his York form. After Don-
caster, Saucebox was never so good again, and his leg
filled so much when he had won the Old Berkshire
Hunt Stake at Abingdon, next year, that they dare
not train him on, and sold him to the French Govern-
ment for 550/. Such were the varied fortunes of " the
little cade-lamb" of Hambleton.
The Descendants After this little Tomboy episode we
of Comus. must hie back once more to Sorcerer,
and follow his blood, which, thanks to a strong cor-
rective in the shape of a Sir Peter cross, has flourished
for some fifty years in the Comus line.
r This chestnut, who belonged to Mr.
Kit Wilson, of Ledstone Hall, and was
marked all over with white and black spots, was
rather a grand and even horse, and ran third for the
Derby. He went blind from a fever; and it is rather
remarkable that Sorcerer and Phantom, also left Sir
John Shelley's stable in the same plight. His eyes
were as white as eggs, but although Sir Tatton Sykes
used him freely for six seasons, until he was rising
eight-and-twenty, he only got him one blind foal. He
filled the Sledmere pastures with dozens of white-
legged chestnuts ; but Sir Tatton never had anything
by him nearly so perfect as Grey Momus. Mr. Bowe
gave five hundred for the grey, as a yearling, with a
contingency of fifty for his first win ; and he was so
much liked at Danebury, that even when his brother
Grey Milton was only a foal, they wanted to make a
The Godolphin Arabian. 167
prospective bargain of a thousand for him, if alive at
two years old. The bird-in-the-hand style of dealing
was, however, more to Sir Tatton's taste, and when he
put the ultimatum to them, of paying five hundred
guineas down for his foal, or running the risk of his
terms two years hence, they would not leave him, and
got hit for their fancy. The dam of these greys was
a short-legged Cervantes mare, and the last of her race
produced twins in 1858, to Rifleman. They are the
only twins that were ever reared at Sledmere ; and the
colt which did its best to baffle Snarry's long deferred
hope, by driving its sister from the milk, was even in
its very foal-hood the most perfect fac-simile of its
sire, when he was in training, that the eye of man
could conceive.
Comus's first season was by far his most brilliant
one. Only seventeen mares were sent to him at Mr.
Kit Wilson's, and sixteen colts and one filly were the
harvest. All Mr. Henry Pierse's mares were among
them, and his Rosette and sister to Rosette bred
Reveller and Ranter, the first and second for the St.
Leger ; while The Marshal, another of the Comuses
in Croft's stable, was third. Only four Comuses were
in this race ; and in Theodore's year only three
started, and beat everything but him. It was with
Runt by Reveller, that Mr. Parr drew his first winnings
at Haverfordwest; and the blood at one time promised
to achieve great things with its mares ; but Lucetta's
descendants, save and excepting the brilliant but
eccentric Phlegon, were unworthy of her, whatever she
was sent to. As a general thing, she either missed or
they died as foals. Ascot had a good deal of coarse-
ness about him, and so had his son Fernhill, who was
rather an ungenerous horse himself, and got all of his
stock, that we have seen, save and excepting Gorsehill,
of a decidedly common stamp.
Humphrey Clinker was the biggest of the Comuses,
and though he did prophesy of himself pretty loudly
i68
Silk and Scarlet.
as he came up the cords, he was, like his son Mel-
bourne, remarkably fast. Old trainers all agree in
speaking of him as a golden yellow bay, " and as
splendid a horse as ever was seen." In a lucky hour
he was crossed with a Cervantes mare, and Melbourne,
the greatest hero of all the Comiad, was the produce.
Mr. Watts was always an enthusiast for Cervantes,
who was a horse of great symmetry, and a fine filly
getter; and hence his mare Nitocris was Melbourne's
first love. Their filly foal was not a bad one to look
at, but her knees failed her early in John Day's
stable.
Melbourne ^ was s^^t of Melbourne's knees,
a point in which many of his stock are
deficient, that made Mr. Sidney Herbert decline him,
when he was offered to him along with two other
Humphrey Clinker yearlings at Carnaby, in the
August of'35. He gave 250 guineas a-piece for his
companions, which belonged to Mr. Robinson senior,
and as the son considered that his own colt was as
good as either, and declined to take a halfpenny less,
he kept him, and became his own trainer—first at
Hambleton, and then in a field near his farm. Hes-
seltine also had him, and then Job Marson for six
weeks at Beverley ; and what with diabetes, and such
a vagrant education, it is only a miracle that he per-
formed so well. He was desperately knuckle-knee'd
from a foal, and few horses were ever seen with so
thin a crest, or such length from the shoulder point to
the hip. A fall from Escalade at the Cawston Pad-
docks was fatal to him, and it was all they could do
after several weeks of care to coax him the three
miles to the station. When we saw him in September,
he was wasted to a shadow, his gaunt dusty neck
seemed a rood long, and he had a painful stringhalt
to boot. Speaking out of the fulness of his two
seasons' experience of him, Dick Stockdale assured us
that " he was always a most vulgar uncultivated
The Godolphin Arabian. 169
horse," and the lop-eared Patty Primrose by Margrave
was anything but a flower of loveliness.
Her owner, Stables, had some theory The Horse sir
about " taking a real fancy," which con- Tatton Sykes.
sisted in leading his mare round and round the horse,
and as Dick humoured him for a quarter of an hour,
he might well in after-years attribute the fulfilment of
his prophecy, " I'm certain to have winner of t'Leger"
to the unfettered working of the charm. However, he
had to sell the mare, when she was in foal, for eighteen
pounds; and when one of the ugliest and coarsest
little creatures that ever breathed Yorkshire air came
to yearling estate, it had such fine ribs and gaskins
that Bill Scott, who was a wonderful judge of young
stock, and made up his mind at a glance, gave a hun-
dred for it. He had a good deal of trouble with its
christening. First he called it " Tibthorpe," from the
farm where it was dropped. Then it became " Jack
Robson;" but as his friend Jack contradicted him
about something one day, he withdrew the honour,
and placed the colt in the Baronetage at once as " Sir
Tatton Sykes." As in duty bound, Sir Tatton came
over to see it; and on his remarking, " Dear me / Mr.
Scott, how his head grows /" Bill fervently responded,
" Look at his hocks ! Those will take him up the kill
on the Surrey side /" And so they would have done
to a certainty if Bill hadn't got off so badly to begin
with, and then made matters worse by almost
stopping his horse to give the starter a bit of his mind.
Doncaster put things to rights, and after the real Sir
Tatton had led him back to scale, he made an ap-
pointment for " five to-morrow morning, sir," with Mr.
Herring, to be painted at his namesake's side.
The Melbourne blood nicked well with Meib0urne.
the Touchstone in West Australian, but
it sometimes happened that when he was put to
Touchstone mares, he got them, as in the case of
Sortie, too long. Blanche of Middlebie, who was so
170
Silk and Scarlet.
bred, was. by far the lengthiest foal we ever handled,
but. Her growth took a different turn. Cannobie, who
\vas out of a short little Hornsea mare, inherited his
:fine length, and- so did Oakball, Canezou, and Tas-
mh'hiS. This characteristic was invariably to be found
ixi his stayers, but his blood hit best for speed when
he got them father short. Prime Minister, for instance,
was a flyer, in the days when five thousand would not
tempt Mr. Halford to resign his hopes at " The
Isthmian GamesBlink Bonny from the peculiar
droop in her quarters always looked as if she had
been cut short, and Brocket had not quite enough
length for his general frame. Montenegro is the last
foal that can be traced to him, and as it was led out
on the Royal Sale day, and fell for 610 guineas to
Admiral Rous's nod, we thought that there had seldom
been a nobler close to a great stud career.
The knob in this colt's throat was only the effects of
the Hampton Court water ; but still it was not nearly
so marked as Wrestler's two years before. By some
mysterious law of nature, the Hampton knobs form
just under the jowl, and unlike Miss Letty's celebrated
one, they do not prove perpetual, but gradually move
down, till they merge in the chest. Melbourne him-
self shared the fate of Lord Brougham, who had his
necrology published in some of the daily papers so far
back as '37, when he was reported as killed from his
carriage near Penrith. They had decided to shoot the
old horse in February, and promised one of his legs
for a keepsake to go into Lincolnshire ; but he rallied,
and got a reprieve till May 4th. Long before he
failed, he had done quite enough for his fame, or else
his scores of winners, beginning with Sir Tatton Sykes
at Newmarket, speak through the pages of Weatherby
in vain.
i7i
THE BYERLY
' 'Twas here, in Jersey's c! ItatfOAR LANE&)
That he viewed his favourite bay, J
E'en ere he reached the Bushes^ jj* p" Pi fc? s
Vanquish Elis and John
'Twas here the dam of Surplice,
Through light or heavy ground,
The "sky-blue" bore triumphantly,
'Neath many an extra pound."
MR. GOODWIN, in his Table of TheHerods.
Thorough Bred Pedigrees, fixed
the advent of this horse at 1689; and seventy years
later, we find Herod, the hero of his line, with both
Barb and Arab blood in his veins. Weak fore-legs,
which were a constitutional failing with him, made
him resign the post for the paddock very early in the
day. He flourished there under considerable disad-
vantages as to keep and care in Sir John Moore's
hands, but ere he had reached- his sixth grass, both
Highflyer and Woodpecker were in his foal-list.
Those renowned brood mares, Tuberose and Faith,
were also by him ; and the latter, who was the dam
of Marcia, kept up an unbroken line of greys for forty
years, and foaled to Remembrancer when she was
twenty-seven. Marcia, like her half-sister Vesta, was
one of the gamest of this rare grey blood, and so light
in hand, that, as her trainer Joe Ackroyd used to say,
she " wouldn't pull a duck off her nest." Her son,
Otho by St. Paul, reckoned Merlin and Doctor
Syntax among his Cup victims at Doncaster and
Richmond; and Trajan, a son of Vesta and Delpini,
was long remembered in Sir Mark Sykes's hunt, as
much by his rare stock, as the style in which he car-
ried Tom Carter through many a long day.
The speedy and lasting particles in SirPeterTeazle.
Herod's nature seem in a measure to
have severed, and to have descended in a remarkable
172
Silk and Scarlet.
degree through Woodpecker to Buzzard, and through
Highflyer to Sir Peter. Highflyer was bred by Lord
Bolingbroke, who gradually became embarrassed, and
glad to fly to " The Corner" for a little succour ; and
Mr. Tattersall, whose red waistcoat and blue coat
have quite faded out of living recollection, must have
leant on that hooked " lucky stick," (which was never
absent from his hand when he made a bargain,) at
Lichfield, on the day he saw him run for the King's
Plate, and decided to give two thousand five hundred
for him. " The stain of old Prunella," his daughter,
rose, as time rolled on, into the dignity of a proverb,
and the Snap cross brought him early into note, with
his son Sir Peter, whom no money could part from
Knowsley. He was a rare weight carrier, and won
the Derby in a year when O'Kelly was second for
both events with an Eclipse, a disappointment over
which the Highflyer division chuckled not a little.
His most daring effort was to give Dash two stone
and a-half over the Beacon, but he got pricked in shoe-
ing three days before the race, and had to be stopped
in his work.
He stood at Knowsley while Pot-8-o's was at Eaton,
and his stock, like himself, were nearly all fine rich
browns. They had great constitutions, but required
such strong work for the post, that comparatively few
were brought there. Sir Solomon was one of the
stoutest of them, and with John Shepherd to measure
for him, won against Cockfighter the best four-mile
race that was ever run over Doncaster. The pace told
its tale as the four-year-old Chance disposed of the
two in succession, at the same distance, on the Friday
of the same week. Sir Peter's daughters generally
bred well, and the cross between one of them and her
sire, resulted in an excellent Yorkshire whip's horse.
Storey, his old groom, was quite a character ; and a
legend still lingers at Knowsley, that when he was
told that the Prince of Wales had come to the
The Byerly Turk.
73
paddock, lie sturdily replied, " Then he may wait until
Tve done my dinner T The portrait of this Downright
Shippen is preserved in the picture in the Knowsley
dining-room, which is now matched by Longbow and
his groom, from Mr. Harry Hall's hand, and a plain
flat stone near the boxes, with the simple words " Sir
Peter" marks where his favourite lies.
Four eminent sires kept up his charter, c. _ . , _
to wit, Sir Paul, Walton, Haphazard, and ir eers ons'
Stamford. The two latter resulted from that cross
with Eclipse mares, which was then thought the acme
of paddock prowess ; but the compact little Stamford,
who had more quality and less heaviness than the
majority of the breed, only preserved the family
honours in tail female, and the dams of Mameluke,
Beiram, Actaeon, and Emilius were all by him. The
Haphazards were soon forgotten in spite of the fine
cross with Mrs. Barnet by Waxy, from which Filho da
Puta sprang ; but after him the blood grew jady with
Betsy Bedlam, who fretted and jumped about like a
crazy thing when she was out of the stable ; while
Colwick, who never really loved a distance, and was
bred very closely in through his Sir Oliver dam, got
nothing worth speaking of except Attila. In fact, but
for Sleight of Hand, whose mares have dotted the
Sledmere pastures with several chestnut winners, the
Haphazard blood, of which Gambler and Figaro were
good specimens, has virtually vanished. Poor Bill
Scott invariably coupled Attila with Magistrate, as
having tried them higher than anything they ever had
at Whitewall. Attila looked almost too pretty to be
very good, and when in condition as a sire, he was,
like Sultan, one of the most " mouldy" that painter
ever glanced at, and Bessy Bedlam was a beautiful
little brown mare, rather tucked up, but wonderful in
her two-year-old days.
Filho da Puta went very wide behind, Filho da Puta
and his blood is still to be found mingled
174
Silk and Scarlet,
with Venison's in Royal Ravenhill, whose dark brown
hunters and coachers make dealers prick up their ears.
Filho was full sixteen hands, and as good as he was
good-looking. He failed in his great match with Sir
Joshua owing to his rearing suddenly at the post, and
losing some lengths which he never could quite make
up. They offered to run it over again for twice the
sum, but the Sir Joshua party would not have it.
Jackson, who had been rather ill-used in not having
the mount, told Goodisson on the first opportunity, in
rather a caustic strain, that he was afraid of his horse,
and Tom calmly responded that he did not like the
job. Tom was a very fine rider, and so abstemious
that he would trudge all day with his gun to bag a
lark, and eat nothing else for dinner. He rode rather
too long, and on one occasion his horse flung him at
the post, and when he gathered himself up he simply
said—" There s for you ! that's the grand jockey, Tom
Goodisson: if it had been a horsedealers cad, he d never
have been flung that way," and on he got again. Arnull
rode Sir Joshua in his match, and as Marshall (who
once interpreted "full canonicals" to mean "your
hood and body clothes" when an Oxonian went to sit
to him) kept him nearly a whole day in full costume
on a saddle, " niggling away all the time at one eye,"
he could hardly be got to face an easel again.
Haphazard Haphazard himself was a gay nag-
looking horse, with a low back and very
fine action, but never a great favourite with, nor a
great catch for, Lord Lowther. Billy Pierse thought
that he had hardly been on a truer four-mile horse
than him and Agonistes, both of the same age, and
both of them by Sir Peter, and companions in the
Raby stable. His finest race on Haphazard was
against Marcia and Buckle, for the Great Subscription
Plate at York, when he won half a head, though many
thought it a wrong decision, and Marcia receiving
3lbs. avenged herself on Agonistes, over the same
The Byerly Ttirk.
175
four-mile course. To prevent all misconception,
Marcia and Haphazard met next year for the same
Subscription Plate, and Haphazard won a much
slower run race; Orvile, who was two years their
junior, being last. Sir Paul's were of a much stouter
stamp, and his son Paulowitz had another stain of
Highflyer in the third cross, a mode of breeding
which many good judges adopt with nearly every
first-class blood except Selim's. Cain was the pro-
duce of Paulowitz and a Paynator mare, and through
his son Ion and Ellen Middleton, the finest of the
Bay Middleton mares, we have the beautifully topped
but rather too leggy Wild Dayrell.
Sir John Shelley bought the clever but Walton
cobby-looking Walton when he was
beaten for the Craven Stakes by Aniseed, in the year
that old Eleanor was third. He was awkward to
ride, and Buckle said of him that he was " always on
his head for the first mile." His stock had no great
character about them ; but although he had only
seven mares his first season, Phantom, a winner of
the Derby (out of Julia, sister to Eleanor), Vandyke
Junior, and Rainbow, who beat Phantom for the
Claret Stakes, were among his lucky hits. Bay Mid-
dleton, Ishmael, and Voltaire were out of Phantom
mares ; and George IV. was latterly as fond of his
son Waterloo as he had been in his younger days of
the Trumpators and Gohannas. His favourite Maria
was by Waterloo ; and trainers used to say of her,
that "it would take twice round the Ascot Cup
Course, best pace, before she would blow out a rush-
light." It was one of the peculiarities of the blood,
that it always bred in-and-in very well, and among
other instances Cedric, " the little chestnut buggy
horse" who won the Derby, and Ivanhoe, who was
nearly the best of his year, were both by Phantom
out of a Walton mare. Hence many of the best
judges at that time began to think that sire to daugh-
N
176
Silk and Scarlet.
ter, and son to dam, with one cross out, in regular
rotation, was the real touchstone of breeding science.
Walton's most distinguished son, Partisan, who ran
fourth and last in his maiden race to Bourbon,
strained back to Highflyer through his dam Parasol
by Pot-8-o's out of Prunella. On the Turf he was a
very fair performer, especially in matches, for which
the Grafton stable took his measure pretty accurately
by trying with Whisker. Trainers used to say of
him that he was the finest actioned horse that ever
went over Newmarket, and after proving the sire of
Venison, Mameluke, Gladiator, and Glaucus, he was
eventually sold for 165 guineas.
e Glaucus, the incidents of whose Ascot
Lrlaucus. ^ 3
Cup day form one of the liveliest pictures
in Mr. Willis's " Pencillings by the Way," followed
his American admirer early across the Atlantic ; but
Mr. Harvey Combe clung most fondly to his blood in
The Nob, who remained for many years under Will
Todd's guardianship at Cobham Park. He was, in
fact, so determined to keep it in his hands, that he
put the old horse at a price which few owners of a
thoroughbred mare chose to pay, and when he was
offered sixteen hundred for Trouncer to go to Ireland,
before he ran for the Ascot Cup, and half as much
after he broke down so badly, he would not listen to
either offer. To use his own words—" I'd sooner see
his hoof on my sideboard than his hoof-prints in any
one else's paddock and accordingly ordered him to
be led at once to the kennels, and handed over to the
Royal boiler. He was the first foal of Premature,
who was herself foaled, as her name indicates, not
only long before her time, but five or six days before
the close of one December, and she was such a
miserable little object that it was some years before
he even cared to look at her. After losing three out
of her five fillies in 1846-51, he became most anxious
to have one out of her every year, by The Nob or
The Byerly Turk. 177
Alarm, but she rancorously persisted in breeding him
five colts in succession.
Gladiator would have given Bay Mid- Giadjator
dleton more to do for the Derby, if he
had not sprung a curb at the Spread Eagle at Snares-
brook, a month before, in days too when the solvent
touch of iodine was not thought of in such emergen-
cies. Mundig had been similarly afflicted there before
his Derby, and a few weeks previous to that he had
been borne up in his stall, "dead weak" from inflam-
mation. When Gladiator had been in work again, he
was tried with Ebberston at nine pounds, and knocked
him as completely out of time by six lengths, as he
did in the race itself, where he was almost stopped
after running a few yards, as Bill Scott did not believe
that it could be a start.
Sweetmeat was far away Gladiator's sweetmeat
best son ; and although he bore no traces
of it, except in requiring a great amount of work, in
which poor Tasker (who was the first to get on his
back) invariably rode him, he was full of Blacklock
blood. Major Yarborough always maintained that his
dam was as truly by Voltaire as his grandam was by
Blacklock, seeing that she broke to Starch before she
went to Voltaire, and came to the latter's Stint to a
day. War Eagle's double connexion with the blood
was much more singular, as his dam was by Voltaire,
and his great grandam was Voltaire's own dam.
After Sweetmeat's fore-leg gave way, Mr. Cookson
purchased him for three hundred, and sold him for
eight hundred guineas. He was a taking horse, with
no very great length or bone, a clever straight head
and neck, and rather heavy in the shoulders, a fault
which may have communicated that tight shoulder
action to so many of his stock. In Comfit, the sweet-
est filly we ever saw by him, it was painfully percep-
tible, and the same fault runs through many of the
Annandales. He went blind soon after he came to.
178
Silk and Scarlet,
Nesham Hall, and save and except Watchdog, in a race
at Salisbury in 1858, and the colt who was seized with
a panic from the salute of a vessel as it crossed the
Mersey to Lucas's, we remember no case more sudden.
The first eye seemed to go in a day ; the pupil was as
red as beef in the morning, and then the lid and the
ball wasted to half their size, and the fellow one fol-
lowed suit in ten days. He was always rather a
curious and fitful getter, as regards size, though he
seldom failed to give them a fine turn of speed, and a
dislike to a distance. His colts were generally too
big, and unable to stand strong preparations, but his
fillies very nearly won three Oaks in succession. Like
Bay Middleton, he was essentially a filly getter, and
they are now exceedingly valuable.
Venison ^ gamer or more gentlemanly little
horse than Venison never cantered down
the cords ; and cross him as you chose, nearly all his
stock came small with grey hairs in their coat, a taper-
ing head, and a beautiful deer-like eye. This lack ot
size came through his grandam Jerboa, of the Go-
hanna blood. He was rather a lurching long-actioned
goer himself, and wanted a great deal of assistance.
His turf finish was right worthy of him. He carried
9st. 61b. at Stockbridge, and broke down about three-
quarters of a mile from home ; but he only faltered for
about twenty yards, and, thanks to the careful nursing
of young John Day, finished the last of the four, with
his head at the winner's girths. The blood hit well
with that of Emilius, both in Fallow Buck and Buck-
thorn ; but handsome and true as the latter was, both
in shape and running, the old temper showed itself,
and they were not sorry to get rid of him at Eaton,
though Backbiter was a poor enough substitute. No
owner need despair of a colt fining down in his points,
if they remember what a "dangerous countryman"
Rattle by Fallow Buck looked on the Derby day, and
what a handsome hero he was when he ran second for
The Byerly Turk. 179
the Cambridgeshire and Cesarewitch eighteen months
afterwards.
The Alarms have preserved the staying properties
of the family, and a trifle of the temper as well. The
point about him which most struck the eye was his
wonderful hips, which might belong to a massive
steer. Kingston (for whom the Americans offered
5300/. in '58), filled out so much, that we could hardly
catch a trace of the original gay-heart, who used to
come dancing, Bay Middleton fashion, into the en-
closure with Nat or Bob Basham in the orange,
and Harry Stebbings' hand on the rein. Barring
Orlando, there was, we think, no stud horse quite
so beautiful, nor worthier to woo Virago and Mow-
erina. Jockeys were always fond of him, and Job
Marson used to say that he was " quite an arm-
chair."
We have heard of horses, one of Mr. cruiser
Mare's, out of Breastgirth, for instance,
who left the turf for the Circus ; but we never knew
any before Cruiser, whose stock were winning while
he was nightly lying down at a word among the saw-
dust. Rattlebone, who is out of Wicket, a short-
legged Stumps mare, as white in her coat and sweet-
looking as the whole of her beautiful race, solved the
problem at last. Cruiser's temper did not show itself
very much at Danebury. In the Criterion he cer-
tainly ran somewhat unkindly, and Rogers, who won
on Para, backed him at long shots for the Derby, from
feeling sure that he could have done much better if
he liked. Still John Day had only to hit him two or
three times, when he was with him ; but he suspected
enough to give the man who took him to Rawcliffe an
ineffectual warning, as to not taking his halter off
when he got him into a stable, or, as sure as fate, there
would be a mess. At Rawcliffe again, they say that
"Argus" must have braced himself for his Post
feuilleton by a series of pork-chop suppers, when he
i8o
Silk and Scarlet.
described certain scenes with that bay Nana Sahib, at
their establishment, than which—
" Mat Lewis never borrowed
Any horrors half so horrid "
—so vividly, that Mr. Rarey was induced to beard
him in his den, at Greywell, and soon heard the jingle
of the guinea at the Round-house, for his pains.
The Woodpecker And so, leaving Highflyer, we must
Line. essay to trace the second great branch
of the Herod genealogical tree, through Woodpecker.
He was himself a large coarse horse, with wide lop
ears, almost like a prize rabbit, which descended in a
marked way to his stock, Through him, Petworth
quite " out-Heroded Herod" in its breeding in-and-in.
A grey and a chestnut Skim were both by him, out of
a Herod mare ; and the former was the dam of Grey
Skim, by Gohanna, who was out of a Herod mare as
well. Then again Golumpus was by Gohanna, dam
by Woodpecker, till the stud-grooms were almost as
much puzzled, as dabblers in the Herd Book with the
seventy " Duchesses." Woodpecker's greatest hit was
with Buzzard, who was out of a mare by Dux; and
the blood of this great unknown was destined to flow
in the veins of the most wonderful leash of brothers
that ever sought glory in the Stud Book.
Castrei, Rubens, Their dam was a grand-daughter of
and Seiim. Eclipse through Alexander, but she was
such a mere weed to the eye, that the Duke of
Queensberry could not get five-and-twenty pounds for
her, and therefore he did not think that he had done
any very munificent act, when he gave her away to
his Newmarket surgeon. Her success at Buzzard's
paddocks seems almost fabulous, as her filly, Bronze,
who was also by him, won the Oaks. Castrei, the
eldes, of the three brothers, was a magnificent chestnut
of sixteen hands high, and with great quality; and
but for his roaring, there were few better on the Turf.
The Byerly Turk. 181
Eventually he came into that u Hospital for Decayed
Cracks," as Parson Harvey's Sloane-street stables were
termed. After that, he stood at " The Royells," in
Cheshire, where he was not very lucky, and he was
rising twenty-tree, and at Mr. Lechmere Charlton's,
near Ludlow, when he got Pantaloon. This chestnut,
who was very profusely marked with black spots, was
on a very large scale, with a heavy neck and most
beautiful legs ; and John Scott used to be one of his
most devoted admirers. He was rather proud and
odd with strangers, and was a wonderfully cheap bar-
gain for Lord Westminster at six hundred guineas,
which would never have been given but for the strong
entreaties of Nutting, the then stud-groom. His blood
nicked reverse ways with Touchstone's, in the case of
Phryne and Ghuznee (the very model of a useful,
short-legged mare); and in fact whenever it has come
together, and with that of no other horse so well. The
dashing family speed came out through him in Sleight-
of-Hand, and his son, Odd Trick, whose great up-
standing quarters sent him like a minie ball up the
Cambridgeshire hill, albeit his middle is so little in
keeping with them. He is the speediest Mr. Parr ever
trained, and the sixty guineas which he gave for him
as a yearling, at Sir Tatton's sale, returned with usury
in the shape of twenty thousand in bets, none of which
was got on at less than thirties to one.
Merlin was, after all, the best racer Death of
by Castrel, and Lord Foley gave two Merlin's Groom,
thousand guineas for him at two years old. His
remembrance of the slings, in the days when he broke
his leg running with Tiresias, made such a fury of him,
that grooms and breeders grew alike frightened, and
Lamplighter and his son, Phosphorus, did not keep
the lamp of his fame alive. The broken leg eventually
became the best, but the accident produced a most re-
markable species of stringhalt; and he was wont to
lift each leg, and shake them tremulously for some
182
Silk and Scarlet.
seconds in succession, when he was led out with iron
rods on each side. Tyler, the groom at Riddlesworth,
was the only man who dare go up to him, armed with
an immense stick ; and one unhappy day, when an-
other of the grooms, whom the horse especially hated,
was called for, all that was known about him was that
he had been seen going into the box. " Mercy on ns /"
said Tyler, " he s a dead man ; thats the moan I heard
as I passed there, ten minutes since." And sure enough
the horse was kneeling on him, and fairly wallowing
in his blood. Both his ears were torn off, and his side
was so lacerated that they declared they could see the
heart beat. He only lived two hours after he was got
away, and Mr. Thornhill settled a handsome pension
on his widow. Even when the horse was being
painted, he yapped as if he would devour both painter
and easel, till his head and breast were all covered
with foam.
Rubens had less appearance to recommend him
than Castrel, and was a heavy-topped fleshy horse, of
sixteen hands, and only fit for a flash of speed. The
Prince sold him for a thousand to Lord Darlington, on
condition that Clift said he was sound, and the astute
peer not only saved the forfeits in two matches, but
won twelve thousand, and was offered treble the pur-
chase money for him. Alas ! it was always the fate
of George Guelph to run counter to political econo-
mists by buying in the dearest, and selling in the
cheapest market. He did not get a great amount of
stock in England, but Defence, Recovery, Coronation,
and Ascot were all out of his daughters, some of which
v/ere also very successful, both as runners and breeders,
in the Duke of Grafton's hands, and his only son of
caste was the aptly-named Peter Lely.
Thrums Selim was given by the Prince to
Colonel Leigh, when his horses were sold.
He was full of quality, and so majestic altogether, that
no one would have suspected him to be the workman
The Byerly Turk.
183
he was at all distances. Still there was a certain
softness lingering somewhere in the tribe ; and it came
out in the Sultans and Langars, although the cross
with Williamson's Ditto and Walton in each instance
was as orthodox as it could be. Langar was a flash
Arab-style of horse about his forehand ; and both his
sons, Epirus and Elis, were out of mares by Sir Oliver,
who had a long run and a high reputation for speed
in Cheshire. The flying white-legged Vulture, by
Langar, lives in the Orlandoes ; and the roach-backed
Virago, his great-granddaughter, is the flower, so far,
of the Epirus and Pyrrhus the First line.
The Sultan branch of Selim is a much sultan
more famous one; but it is fast wearing
out on the male side. His forehand, which breeders
used as a simile, was just the thing to catch foreigners ;
and hence a story went the round of the clubs that a
noble Russ wanted to barter two thousand acres and
seventy-eight peasants for him ! Half a neck was the
fiat against him in the Derby, where Soothsayer's best
son, Tiresias, never let himself be headed. There
would have been no Sandbeck rejoicings in honour of
Tarrare, if " Crocky's white nose" had not broken
down on the Saturday before the St. Leger. He
could hardly be got into Mr. Mawe's stables at Belle
Vue; and some few, who stood heaviest on him, raced
off in chaises with bribed drivers to beat the news to
Sheffield and Nottingham, and try to save a little of
their money. He was sold after that to Mr. Bouverie
and then to Lord Exeter, and had a tremendous
first season. A Stamford and two Phantom mares
bore him, in course of time, Beiram, Ishmael, and Bay
Middleton. The former, along with Galata, that
tucked up but speediest of Burghley mares, and Green-
mantle, made " the narrow blue stripes" a spectre to
trainers for four or five seasons; and if Lord Exeter
had stuck-to Beiram instead of Sultan after that, and
not used two crosses of the blood, there seems a strong
184
Silk and Scarlet
probability that he would have held his own much
longer. There was a toughness about the Beirams,
Ilex, and Midas, which could bring them home in a
strong-run race over the Ditch-in, while the Sultans
and Sultanas would be running with their mouths open
long before the Turn of the Lands. Augustus was
rather a brilliant member of the family, but he fought
sadly in his gallop ; and Ishmael was the founder of a
fine stamp of jumpers, though none of them have been
equal to Burgundy, as far as build went. The latter
was just the lengthy, short-legged sort of sire that
farmers require. Augur is a grandson of Ishmael,
through Nickname; and although his stock have per-
haps no great liberty about them, they are, if not
quick enough to train, dark chestnut fourteen-stone
hunters, ready to keep up the jumping charter.
Glencoe ^ coun^ess Sultans he had
through his hands, Tiny Edwards most
loved Glencoe, a low-backed chestnut with great
speed, and the rare Tramp staying power about him.
His ends were very fine, and Robinson used to look
like a man seated in a valley. It was not, however,
as the pantomimes have it, " The Valley of Calm
Delight," when Plenipo was at hand, and poor
Conolly's good-natured drawling tones were heard
about a length behind, "Now, Master Jemmy, Fm
here; I can come when Fm wanted." He was sold to
a Mr. Richards, of George Town, Kentucky, and died
in the August of '57, in his twenty-seventh year.
With all his ancient pluck, he stood up against spas-
modic colic and lung fever for ten days ; and kept on
his feet the last three, till he fell and died quite
exhausted with bleeding at the nose. His picture,
"one of Troye's best efforts in anatomy and colour-
ing," was quite an object of interest at the United
States Fair at Louisville ; and if his son, Pryor, had
not died here, they looked forward to getting him to
supply his place in " the Blue Grass Region."
The Byerly Turk. 185
Long before Lord Jersey sent his ...... t
Cobweb to Sultan, he had no common 1 e on'
Epsom luck with the V/eb by Waxy blood. Web's
son, the chestnut Middleton by Phantom, had won
the only race he ever ran for ; but that was the
Derby, in which Actseon was beaten and Cain fell.
After that, he bolted away with Sam Barnard, who
thought he was going to Bury, and played the deuce
with everybody and everything. When he was first
broken he shambled and rolled so in his action, and
seemed so utterly unable to walk, that Lord Jersey
and Edwards thought there was not a hope for him.
He was of a Suffolk Punch stamp; a bigger-boned
horse, and with nothing like the liberty of Bay Mid-
dleton. Like Plenipo, a T.Y.C. was his forte, and,
owing to his weight, he did not care to carry himself
much farther; but for that distance Robinson always
thought him better than Bay Middleton. For speed,
trial horses were no good to him ; and he could have
trotted past the post in the Derby. They only laid
seven to four against him at starting, little knowing
the perils he had escaped that morning. His lad had
been got at; and when he was entrusted with a bucket
of water to plait his mane, he allowed him to drink it
off, and there was nothing but the sponge when Ran-
some, who was then the head lad, came in. The cul-
prit vowed that he had thrown the rest down the sink ;
but the evidence of guilt was so clear, that at first
Edwards thought it was all over. However, his spirits
revived when he had walked the horse four miles from
Miclcleham to The Warren ; but he looked so barrel-
like at the post, that Lord Jersey remarked that he
must have had more water than they knew of.^ Still
Edwards stuck to it that he was throwing off his food
as he rode with him to the course ; and that, " even
with five gallons inside, nothing coil Id totcch kimd And
so it happily proved, and Lord Jersey's and the Duke
of Wellington's coachmen were said to have won
i86
Silk and Scarlet.
considerably above a thousand each. Edwards had
learnt from his experience of the Web family, that
they could always run big. He was wont to say of
them—" They're as fat as pigs: if I work them two
days together, they're lame; and if their bellies brush
the ground, they're so good they'll get through." Nearly
all the Cobwebs had navicular disease, which she in-
herited from Soothsayer ; but still she imparted to
them, as a counterpoise, that clear-winded Arab attri-
bute which came to her through Phantom from Sir
Charles Bunbury's smart Whiskey tribe. Web and
her daughter, Filagree, had each thrown an Epsom
winner to Phantom ; and it now became the grand-
daughter's turn to cap them both with Bay Mid-
dleton.
Bay Middieton. This distinguished horse was a most
frantic subject to begin with ; and be-
came so bad, that when Lord Jersey met Robinson
by chance in London, in the February of his Derby
year, he begged him, as an especial favour, to go back
and ride him. Jim accordingly booked himself by
" The Magnet," and knocked up Edwards immediately
on his arrival. He put his night-capped head forth
from his lattice, and said—" Oh, dear ! I'm so glad
you've come. He's bolted with everybody. We'll gallop
at the Cambridge Gap in the morningBefore mount-
ing, Robinson had some fearful admonitions from
" Paddy Carey," as the head boy was called. He
asked him to stick to his head for a minute, till he
was settled in the saddle; but—" My flesh! I'd better
hold the hack—we'll be all killed together',' was his
prompt counter-proposition, and he let him go almost
before Jim had time to lick his fingers.
In his first canter, he went very uneasily, as the
martingale was far too short, and tearing at the girths.
" My Flesh" was then called to let it out or take it off;
and when, by a series of nervous dashes, he had sue-
ceeded in partially doing the latter, the horse trod
The Byerly Turk. 187
upon it and broke it, and feeling his head loose at
last, went off like a gun-shot. Edwards in vain tried
to lead him on Sepoy ; but he had no notion of fol-
lowing anything, and dashed up the hill right across
the Cambridge turnpike into The Links. This was
his first essay ; but Robinson gradually brought him
under ; and when a few horses had been pulled up, to
teach him to leave them on the long hill, he went
away from Muezzin, at I3lbs., in a match, with his
ears pricked. He was not a quick beginner, and at
half a mile many would have scrambled away from
him ; but whatever distance the race or the sweat
might be (for they never tried him), Robinson never
heard him blow. He was rather short in his back
ribs, and weak in his loins ; but his brisket, thighs, and
hocks were as good as they could be, and his plump
hind-quarters (in which the Cowls follow him), his
wicked style of head, and his arched neck, which was
so beautifully set in from the withers, may be traced
in many of his descendants, especially in the mares.
It is a rule which holds good 999 times out of a
thousand, that the length of the head multiplied by
three gives the length of the horse, and we believe
that in Bay Middleton the measure answered exactly.
Lord Jersey remarked on the length of his head, when
Mr. Herring was painting the bay after the Derby,
but—"Yes, my lord, if he hadn't had so long a head
you would not have had so long a horse," was the
reply. His shoulders were thin, and well laid back,
and good ones to correct Touchstone's with. None of
his sons really resembled him to our mind, except
Ruby, and he only did so when he was drawn quite
fine for the Ascot meeting, and then the likeness
struck no one more than Lord Jersey himself.
The old horse was ill all the summer Graves of Ray
of'56, and died on November 3rd of the Middleton and
following year. His heels had been very Crucifix-
bad, and kept in perpetual turnip poultices, and for the
188 Silk and Scarlet.
last three or four days he lay down and tossed in great
pain. Matter seemed to come from every part of
him, including his eyes ; and the mysterious off fore-
foot enlarged considerably, but there was no post
mortem upon it. He was buried within ten yards of
his stable door; and but a few days after they had to
dig down to him, as Lord Jersey sent to beg the near
forefoot. His old mate Crucifix, who just sur-
vived him a year, is now buried beside him inside the
rustic paling of a small flower plot; and John and
Alfred Day have each planted a cedar to their me-
mory. The spot was all blooming with hollyhocks
when we passed it in October '58, to 'take another
glance at old Crucifix. There she stood, quite wasted
and listless, under the wall of a loose box, with withers
as sharp as a knife. She had kept in pretty blooming
condition till her wonted Stockbridge race levee was
over, and then she began to fail very fast. Since
Chalice, in 1852, she had bred no foal, and always
broke at the end of a fortnight. Her great peculiarity
was the narrowness of her chest; and hence, in her
training, she perpetually suffered from speedy cut.
Her legs went within a week after the Oaks race,
but the secret never fairly oozed out, till the Saturday
before the St. Leger. Looking thinner than she was
in her " sky-blue and white cap" days, and with her
great hips and deep brisket more prominently marked
than ever, she seemed like the last turf relic of Lord
George, whose heart was at one time never far from
the Danebury paddocks. He spent no less than
fifteen hundred over them in three years in bone-dust
alone, and spread some of it himself with his coat off,
while John Day junior wheeled the barrow. A neigh-
bouring parson espied him at his labours, and said
that he could " blow off such top-dressing with my
pocket-handkerchief? Of course some one was kind
enough to repeat it to his lordship ; and at a dinner
party in the neighbourhood shortly after, he told with
The Byerly Turk. 189
great glee how The Church had been touting him
through the hedge, and, little thinking that the very
man sat right opposite him, asked the lady of the
house, " Who is this parson * * * ?"
The Selim and Defence blood suited Andover
well in Andover, who only wanted a little
closer ribbing up to make him look the workman he
was. Still he was a very nice topped horse, and it
was quite a treat to get a bird's-eye view of him from
a grand stand. His stock disappointed us, as they
had his failure of back-rib, which was aggravated by
their length, and lacked general style and quality.
He had also a" strong dash of eccentricity at times;
and was once extracted by Snarry from the chimney
of an old brewhouse, up which he had made a well-
meant effort to become a climbing-boy.
As to the infancy of Bay Middleton's The Flying
other Derby winning son, the Flying Dutchman.
Dutchman, we know very little, except that he was
born on Feb. 27th. " He was always a good doer
said his early guardian, Coverdale, to us, as we
strolled out from Redcar to leave a card on Barbelle ;
" but as for Van, 1 never could glutton him. Zuyder
Zee," he added, " I could frighten into a mouse-hole, bid
he got master of the man somehow on his road to Fo-
bert's." Old Barbelle herself had been sent to Ashgill,
who had been sold not long before at an auction for
40/.; and within a few minutes of our visit she had
been separated from her Pottinger filly, and the two
were indulging in a succession of answering cheers.
She was standing, after her bereavement, in a cart-
stable, separated by a rail from a black pony ; and as
she fooked more of the light-necked, drooping quar-
tered hack than the brood mare, we could hardly have
thought that such virtue as three " thousand guinea
yearlings," two of them St. Leger winners, had come
out of her. Her head is rather plain and long, but
there is nothing particular to find fault with her feet,
190
Silk and Scarlet.
though her sire, Sandbeck, was rather mulish that
way ; and so was his son, Redshank. The Dutch-
man's did not get him through dirt; and we have
heard it stated (and as flatly contradicted), by men
whose judgment we should be sorry to question, that
his doubtful Derby performance was perhaps more
owing to a lack of knee-action than anything else. If
a horse does not bend his knee well, in nine cases out
of ten the Epsom hill puts him wrong, as he cannot
lie away so far at first, and trust to his horse's coming
back to him, as in the St. Leger.
THE DARLEY ARABIAN.
"To talk with him of other days,
Seemed converse with Old Time ;
He remembered feats of Banbury,
And Mellish in their prime :
Hambletonicin and Diamond
Seemed but yestreen ; from his lips
Fell tales of young Bay Malton,
And the colts got by Eclipse."
„.. . n. . T EAVING this renowned Arab,
cipses n0m. J ^ Bartlett Childers, and Squirt amid
the olive-tinted haze of time, we come to "Marske, dam
by Blacklegs," who is always drawn as standing among
the rocks on the sea-coast, in honour of the mansion
from which he was named. Mr. Tattersall, who was
quite a literary ferret in these matters, and was never
beaten except over " The Ratcatcher's Mare," left it
as his Scrap Book opinion that—to judge from colour,
style, and everything else—Shakspeare, and not
Marske, was the sire of Eclipse. " Shakspeare," he
observes, " was a chestnut with a white face and legs,
and a good runner, whereas Marske was a bad colour
and small." He was sold to a farmer after the Duke
The Darley Arabian.
191
of Cumberland's death, and stood for a long time at
half-a-guinea; but the Earl of Abingdon, in 1776,
asked 200 guineas for his services, when he was rising
twenty-seven, and he commanded a hundred when he
died. Wahtever Mr. Tatter sail may have thought
privately, he was keen enough to buy Marske mares to
cross with Highflyer; while O'Kelly looked out like a
falcon for Herod ones. These two proud owner rivals
were widely different in temperament. The English-
man only trained once, and let others take the risk ;
while the Irishman matched everything. Eclipse's
stock were all light-fleshed, active, and excitable, and
could be got ready to run at very short notice.
Those who put mares to him felt quite certain that
the foals would be after this type, and chestnuts with
white legs and faces to boot,
He died Of nephritic colic at Ca- His Funeral and
nons, in Middlesex, in 1789, whither he Epitaph,
had been drawn in a van. Ale and cake was given at
his funeral; and Mons, Vial de Saintbell made his
fame as an anatomist by dissecting him. His heart
scaled-in at I3lbs., which was 81bs. less than Mr.
Davis's equally immortal Hermit; and O'Kelly
chivalrously hired a poet to fling his last defiance at
Highflyer and his owner. One verse, which aims at
being the most biting, runs thus—
" True, o'er the tomb in which this favourite lies,
No vaunting boast appears of lineage good;
Yet the Turf Register's bright page defies
The race of Herod to show better blood."
Fifteen years before, Mr. O'Kelly's grey qolt,
Horizon, scored the first race to his credit at Abingdon,
at two years old ; and in the twenty-three succeeding
years, 344 of his winners made 518,000/., an enormous
sum for those cautious days.
The direct Eclipse lines of Alexander, The Young
Mercury, and Joe Andrews have been Eclipses.
0
192
Silk and Scarlet.
small in comparison with those of King Fergus and
Pot-8-o's. Alexander was an immense chestnut, and
the sire of Boadicea the grandam of Touchstone.
His stock were much liked for their size ; the colts
being often strongly-whited chestnuts, and the mares,
which were remarkably good, for the most part
browns, full of speed and. quality, and with very fine
expression about the head and throat. The Mer-
curies first came out in all their strength and stout-
ness with Gohanna, who was, like Waxy, out of a
Herod mare, and the twain ran the memorable race
for the Derby in what has always been termed the
Pot-8-o's year. Seven out of the thirteen were by
that chestnut, and but for the Petworth pet dividing
them, they would have made up the first three. No
two horses were more widely different to look at than
Gohanna and Waxy, although their forms were as
near at 3lbs. as Scythian and Champagne's were at
evens for a mile. High quality, so to speak, came
into English blood-stock very much with Waxy,
whereas Gohanna was a plain hunter style of horse
to look at. He was put to all kinds of mares, and
got great power on a short leg, and if they exceeded
fifteen one, it was beyond the average. They had
broad foreheads, small noses, and a very prominent
eye, and were uniformly speedy and staying. Elec-
tion was one of the smallest and most delicate of his
sons, and very different from the hardy Golumpus,
for whom, before Catton had made him a name, there
was no Salutation bidder.
TheCattons. Orville's blood united with Catton's
immediately in Mulatto, and one degree
off in Slane. In appearance the Cattons generally
followed Gohanna, but Mulatto had much more style,
and was more round and plump, and with the most
blood-like head and neck. Catton was a very firm well-
seasoned horse, and took punishment from Sammy
King, in his races, like a hero. Few lines of blood
The Darley Arabian.
193
have done more for Yorkshire. Racing, hunting, or
coaching, in fact nothing came amiss to his stock ;
and in the days when George Clark was in his glory
at Barnby Moor, the upholder of " the blue jacket
and white hat line" on the Great North Road, while
Scrooby patronized the black, he got an almost
fabulous price for two colts, by his son Akarius, out
of Highflyer Coach mares. Like all Lord Fitz-
william's horses in Scaife's day, Mulatto was very
badly broken. Clift used to say of him, and in fact
of every one of them, " Here's a pretty brute! I
never get on one but I've a chance of getting my neck
broke; no mouth, 710 nothing; I've to make all." Wei-
beck, on the contrary, was quite as remarkable for
the height to which it carried its breaking. The late
Duke of Portland used to say that a horse should not
go on to a race-course till it could face anything.
Hence, in order to complete their education, they
were marched over and over again past a drum and
fife band, with a flag, in the park, and so many screws
of powder were let off on the corn bin, that at last
they would hardly put their heads out of the manger
for a pistol report.
Mulatto will long be memorable as the Mulatto and his
winner of that Doncaster Cup race, when Daughters.
Fleur-de-Lis, Memnon, Actseon, Longwaist, and Tar-
rare went down before the green banner of Went-
worth ; and his fame is still bright in the Stud-book
as the sire of Martha Lynn, the dam of Voltigeur,
and Morsel, the dam of The Cure. Old Martha, by
no means a handsome, was rather a deep than a broad
mare, with fine hips and hocks, and somewhat droop-
ing quarters, a muscular neck, and ribs well arched.
Morsel, who looked very little above fourteen and a-
half, was sold at a Mr. Thomlinson's sale in Cumber-
land as a two-year-old for fifty guineas by Mr.
Wetherell, the celebrated auctioneer, to himself. He
sent her to Physician, whose smart two-year-olds
194
Silk and Scarlet.
were then making him all the rage, and sold her for
seventy-five guineas only two months before she
foaled The Cure. It might truly be said of her that
she " marched a queen," and although The Cure had
that peculiarity that every muscle in his body seemed
in movement when he walked, he never had quite her
majesty. As Maroon was in a hunter and harness
sphere, the male line of Mulatto virtually ended with
Old England, the sire of Defiance. At Sir Joseph
Hawley's sale the latter went into Mr. Parr's hands
for thirty-eight guineas, where he prospered not a
little. It was always a matter of difficulty to get him
away from his horses, as, like his father, he had a
strong touch of temper and sluggishness, and hence
Mr. Parr could so seldom get him ridden to his mind,
that he not unfrequently donned his own puce and
white. His forehand was good and somewhat massive,
but he fell off behind the saddle. Still we thought
that we never saw two such good horses of their
stamp in one man's hands as when he and Weather-
gage were led about at the back of the Northampton
course, before they had won their races ; and it was a
strange reflection that they had only cost about 200
guineas the pair!
joe and Dick Joe Andrews was beaten under his
Andrews, original title of " Dennis-Oh !" by Faith
for the great Subscription at York, the day after John
Shepherd made his first appearance in silk for a Give
and Take Plate, in which 6st. 5lb. 40Z. was allotted
for his hamper. He stood for some time in the West
of England, and his hunters were thought very high-
class, but he died in obscurity many years before his
son, Dick Andrews, made his blood famous with
Altisidora (who was a chestnut, with a good deal of
The Princess character about her), and the renowned
Tramp. Dick was rather a narrow horse, with a long,
lean, and expressive head, and showed great bottom
and breeding. Tramp inherited the former quality
The Darley Arabian.
195
from him, and through his Gohanna dam came the
broad Petworth forehead.
Tramp was a nice level horse of fifteen- Tram
two, long and low, and perhaps somewhat
straight in his back, and " carried his flag " in a coach-
ing style, which pleased the East Riding amazingly.
Of all his sons, Tyke, the conqueror of his half-brother
Zinganee for the Fitzwilliam Stakes, was, barring his
colour, the most complete resemblance to him. He
was himself a wonderful four-mile horse, and the
Subscription Purse at York in 1814, when Sir Mark
Sykes's Prime Minister just beat him, produced the
most betting and excitement that Knavesmire had
ever known, except perhaps on the Voltigeur and
Dutchman day. They ran the old four-mile course,
Jackson forcing the pace with Tramp round the
Bason turn, and the echoes of " Now, Tramp ! Now,
Minister r which rent the air, as John Shepherd
went up and headed him coming back by the
wood, linger vividly in the ears of the Yorkshire
patriarchs yet. His stock had all a knack of jump-
ing, and the only thing against them was a strong
inclination to be vicious. Zinganee had the sourest
of eyes, but there was no harm in him, whereas St.
Giles would stop and kick furiously at exercise, and
if he had not his muzzle on, would try to tear his lad
out of the saddle; and his grandsons, Inheritor and
Zohrab, were in a milder way quite as troublesome
at exercise and saddling. Until he had Blacklock,
Mr. Watt could never bear to keep a stallion, and
hence he parted with Tramp for 300/., and his groom
used to bring him very proudly to Driffield on mar-
ket days, and boast that his horse was " shod with
four Gold Cups." His new owners kept him two
years, and then sold him for fourteen hundred. At
last he became blind, and so broken-winded that it
was quite painful to hear him sigh. Still breeders
were not afraid of him, and although he would not
196
Silk and Scarlet.
notice St. Giles's dam, they were shut up in a loose
box all night, and a chestnut Derby winner was the
result. Next year Isaac Sadler was so determined
to have a Tramp, that the same plan was pursued
with his mare Defiance; and Dangerous, another
Derby winner, rewarded him as well.
Liverpool ^ cross between Tramp and a Whisker
mare produced Liverpool, who was bred
by Mr. Watt. That fine old Yorkshire worthy was
the first to espy him in his morning rambles, as he
was dropped in the Dove-Cote Paddock ; and away he
hurried to tell Robert Elrington, assuring him, while
the suppressed twinkle of his eye told a very dif-
ferent tale, " It's the worst foal you ever saw in your
life." Although his loins at three years old made
many think that he was a weak horse, they gave up
their ideas on that head when they had seen or
heard of his race with Consol at Preston. Even-
tually he passed from Crutch Robinson's into the
Duke of Cleveland's hands, and so to Mr. Ramshay's
of Naworth Barns, for a couple of hundred. His
forelegs were rather too light to please the Cum-
berland farmers, and added to this he was a trifle
ragged in his hips and thick in his jowl.
The British Yeoman was certainly the hand-
somest son Liverpool ever got, and like him he was
remarkably clean hocked. His promising Derby
chance was quite destroyed by a most peculiar seizure.
On the setting on of his off arm there came a soft
swelling about the size and thickness of a large dish,
and another to match above the hock on that side.
It looked as if he had been stung by an adder; and
the faculty had not agreed as to the nature of the
swelling when it disappeared again. He was accom-
panied on many of his Cumberland journeys by the
celebrated little Highland Laddie. This renowned
teazer was originally sold after running in a pony gig
for 211. 14-r., at the rate of 6d> per pound, and was
The Darley Arabian. 197
purchased for 100 guineas by Mr. Starkey when he
won the Pony Sire prize at Chester. As a getter ot
race-horses, " The Yeoman " had but very little scope ;
and high as his hunter name so deservedly stands,
there would have been but very few to touch him it
he had been less indiscriminate in his favours.
The dams of Wee Willie and Lanercost Death of Liver-
were almost the only blood mares that pool
came to Liverpool at Naworth his first season, and
Lanercost was in verity his first begotten, and from a
mare who had been bought from Lord Egremont by
one of his Cockermouth tenants for something under
fifteen pounds. In 1844, the old horse was sold for
two thousand to the French Government, but he died
before he was delivered. He had narrowly escaped,
along with
"The slight and slender jasmine tree,
That blooms on my Border tower,"
being burnt alive amid the ruins of Naworth Castle,
only to meet a less glorious fate. During the con-
fusion which ensued for the next two or three weeks,
he was left to incompetent hands to physic, and his
gut was so much torn by their previous back raking,
that the glyster passed into his bowels, and he died in
most fearful pain.
In spite of this misfortune with him, Mr. Lanercost<
Ramshay did well with his sons Naworth,
Moss Trooper, and Broadwath, and still better with
Lanercost, whom he bought as a yearling for 120
guineas, from the owner of his dam, Otis. He was
an enormous feeder, and became so thick and fat that
he was sent off to Tom Dawson's to do gentle work
at Middleham, all his two-year-old season. The
coarse head and neck, the latter of which assumed a
ewe shape in many of his stock, were all there then ;
and slug as he was, he could always, as if in anticipa-
tion of Ascot, make the liveliest resistance if any
medicine was to be put down him. When they first
198
Silk and Scarlet.
tried it, he went right on end, and struck his head
into the plaster ceiling of his box ; and a little egg-
shaped indentation which still tells of " Lanercost, his
mark," had much more interest for us in our Northern
wanderings than Belt Willie's armour in the old
Banquet Hall. Among modern horses, Lord Zet-
land's Tros, in every point but length, most strongly
resembled him, although there was no earthly affinity.
Harry Edwards took to the flannels again, and " got
him out" gloriously in the Newcastle St. Leger, and
then he passed into Mr. Ramsay's hands for 1500/. It
was in the once famous green and yellow of Barnton
that he accomplished his best feat of giving Hetman
Platoff, who was as fresh as he was stale, eleven pounds
for his year, and beating him for the Cambridgeshire.
Never were two horses greater opposites. Hetman,
as the stable-boys say, " might have been ridden with
a woman's garter;" whereas Lanercost, like his par-
ticular friend Melbourne, always had his head on his
jockey's arms, and would make a race with a donkey.
To judge from the amount of persuasion he required
to move him, he was nearly as thick-skinned as Bruns-
wick, who used to go six miles and wear thick double
hoods and quarter pieces, &c., whenever he had to
sweat. The last vision we had of Lanercost, in his
racing days, was crawling round the turn for home at
Ascot, and his action quite gave us that impression,
which had more than once flashed across Templeman,
that his back was broken. Still, Mr. Kirby was not
the man to give him up when there was a shilling to
be made, and despatched him to Liverpool a month
after for the Cup. The poison was, however, still
lurking in his system, and he broke out into such a
black sweat the day before, that he was sent home to
Yorkshire, and the Turf knew its great modern four-
miler no more. He had all the requisites of a racer—
fine arched loins and a beautiful back, and with the
best of legs, if they had not been afflicted with corns.
The Darley Arabian.
199
Mr. Kirby was amazingly fond of him. He would
stand with his hands in his drab breeches-pockets,
looking at him day after day with visitors, and then
out would come his " There ! it's my opinion— and Tve
seen a many horses in my time—but 1never seed One,
tak him altogether, that pleased me mair than Lanei--
costT A pause regularly ensued, only to be thus
broken again in the same monotonous tone—" And
thoiill recollect, I had old OrvileP
His first year's stud essays with Van The Sons of
Tromp, War Eagle, and Ellerdale were Lanercost.
his best; but it was gradually found that his stock did
not ripen early, and were not nearly smart enough for
two-year-old races, and such a discovery is now-a-
days fatal to a horse. Thirty years before, he would
have been invaluable. Mr. Kirby moreover did not
show his wonted tact as to limiting, and hence many
of them came small; and instead of making an
annuity out of him for a series of years, he was glad,
after five or six, to let him to Lord Exeter and the
Hampton Paddocks. His son Loupgarou, who was at
the latter establishment one season, heaped coals of
fire on their head for tiring of him so soon by beating
their crack Orlando cleverly in the next sale average
with the 710-guinea Hecate. The backs of the Van
Tromps were rather narrow and doubtful, and the
Yorkshiremen " didn't like the sample" at all when
Ivan first walked into the York enclosure. For mag-
nificence, however, Vandermulin had scarcely a peer,
although he was more of a foreigner's horse ; and Zeta
was the best-looking and gamest Van Tromp mare
that was ever out. We shall not easily forget her in
two Doncaster finishes, two years running.
Lottery was a very blood-like horse, Lottery
not very strong behind, but still the best
of Tramp's sons, if his temper had not been such a
fearful bane. He was drilled by Jem Garbutt in a
fallow field in Holderness, and though the spirit was
200
Silk and Scarlet.
nearly galloped out of him, it was never subdued. He
would lie down and roll when he couldn't get his
jockey off, and Mr. Watt was so afraid of further mis-
chief, that he wanted to shoot him. After that he was
sold to Mr. Whittaker for four hundred ; but one
morning he came so savagely at Shepherd, that he
dismounted, and turned his hack loose to divert his
attention, and the two galloped off Langton Wold
back to their stables together. He was fully sixteen
hands, and his best race was when he was only beaten
half a head by Mercutio, who we believe died on his
way home after his Doncaster Cup win. He was first
favourite for the St. Leger at 2 to I ; but the flat-
footed Will Wheatley turned his toes out and put his
spurs into " Tinker" in vain. He had not digested an
oat properly for some days before, and was beaten
quite easily. The Carpenter was a fine slashing horse
by him, and Inheritor was remarkably well built; but
he had bad feet and always scrambled a good deal at
starting, though he was game to the backbone when
he did begin. Zohrab was also a sticker, and after
making every one give him a wide berth, both in the
saddling ring or at the post, he would summon his
energies for one last kick royal, and away. Weight
was not a thing he objected to, but he was very long
in his stride, and required much holding together.
Like Inheritor, he was quite the hunter, and in fact
nearly all the Lotteries had a strong Chase as well as
Turf stamp about them. His principal son, Sheet
Anchor, was quite the rage in Yorkshire at one time,
in consequence of his having won the Colt Sapling at
York Spring, when quite unprepared. There could be
no other reason, as he was heavy shouldered and
common, and never filled up over the quarters; in
short, a mere magnified colt. After an enormous
amount of chances, he in his turn begot Weatherbit,
who was the only horse that Mendicant ever hit to,
and certainly Beadsman takes completely after her in
The Darley Arabian.
201
his points. Weatherbit himself was rather light-
girthed, and we did not just fancy the setting on of his
neck, but his hind-quarters might be moulded from ;
and we remember, in fact, nothing in horse-flesh that
we ever liked better.
The sturdy little broad nostrilled The story of
Weathergage is as unlike his sire as horse Weathergage.
can be. The way in which he came to Benhams is
rather curious. Mr. Parr had seen Clothworker done
up for the night, and was pondering, cigar in mouth,
over his Cup chances, at the little Croxton inn, when
Sly arrived, and began saying that such a rare-bred
horse from Newmarket had only been beaten a neck
for the Selling Stakes at Northampton the week
before, and that his trainer had had orders not to take
him home. As he gradually unwound the pedigree
by Weatherbit out of Miss Letty by Priam, Mr. Parr
was all attention; and finding that Armstrong had
claimed and taken him back to the place from whence
he came, he wrote to say that he would come and look
at him as soon as he got to Newmarket, as he wanted
a companion for Bardolph. When he went to his
stables, and heard that he only asked sixty guineas for
such an apparently sound improving horse, he fully
thought The Admiral had found out something wrong,
and would not close with the offer till he had seen him
canter on the Lime Kilns hill. Mizen took him out
for exercise the first time, and complained " that his
joints snocks but all that was forgotten when, with
two stone more on, he made such an example of Bar-
dolph and Wells, in their gallop the next day, that
Mr. Parr, who was on Selina, was fain to roar to them
to pull up before they got among the crowd near the
Duke's stand. " Tiny" might well say to Mr. Parr, in
the stable that evening, that he " could win the New-
market Handicap far enough if I was on that one,"
pointing to the stall of the once despised bay.
Bardolph's defeat did not trouble Mr. Parr much, as
202
Silk and Scarlet.
he felt sure he had got a treasure, and he was con-
vinced of the fact when he very soon found him to be
a stone better than the six-year-old Clothworker at
the Derby distance; and able to give Tame a good
lump of weight over the T.Y.C. In short, he liked
him so much that but for his being not a little inte-
rested in Hobbie Noble's success, it was his intention
to have taken a Derby mount upon him, as he had
done upon Sponge four years before. Instead of this,
he rode him for the Aristocratic Handicap at Bath, in
which Justice, a three thousand and not a thirty-guinea
cast off from the Bedford stable, was a bad fourth to
him. Then misfortune descended, and he knocked his
hoof about so much by casting a shoe, that he had to
be kept in damp swabs all day, and be walked about,
hour after hour, on the dewy grass at night. With
this gentle encouragement, it grew sufficiently to bear
a shoe three weeks before Goodwood ; but even with
that short preparation, he beat the six-year-old Mel-
ford so easily at seven stone each, with nearly a stone
in hand, that they would not hedge a penny.
His action was very short, and he had a peculiar power
of propelling himself with his fore-legs. He could not
bear to have his head confined, and his Queen's Plate
race the next year with Deerhound at Northampton
was very nearly lost from Marlow riding him by mis-
take in a martingale. He had also a very one-sided
mouth, and would hang to the left when he first came
to Benhams, the moment the rider dropped his hand ;
and hence Mr. Parr trotted him for months across
plough and fallow with his head at liberty, and would
never once indulge him by turning that way. The Good-
wood Stakes course suited him in this respect, as the
first mile was all to the left, and Wells had the strictest
injunctions to keep his whip in his left hand for fear of
accidents.
Strange as it may seem, they had tried him nearly
a score of times at Newmarket, and liked him less
The Darley Arabian.
203
each time, and they would not have it when Mr. Parr
privately told them before the race how good he be-
lieved him to be. The Admiral, however, avowed
candidly that he had been far too much prejudiced, or
he would have taken advantage of this warning voice
from Benhams. Then came the great coup for the
Cesarewitch, on which several of the ring dons so com-
pletely overlaid their books against him, that Mr. Parr,
who had got on at fifties, laid off about six thousand
of it in a ten minutes' walk between his lodgings and the
Rooms. In fact, he was fairly beset, and never paid
so dearly for a little exercise before or since. Mr.
Megson bought the horse after that for twenty-five
hundred, and they thought him, from his Salisbury
running at the beginning of his four-year-old season, a
still better horse than he had ever been ; but the
Northampton race overset him, and he never won
again. Kingston smashed him and Teddington up
together for The Whip, and the horse at whose name
ancient listers still turn pale, passed through Mr.
Blenkiron's hands to the French Government, and it
seems left to Mandrake to raise up seed to the house
of Weatherbit.
The King Fergus line was full of The Sons of
Herod blood, as Hambletonian was out Kins Fergus-
of a Highflyer, and Beningboro' out of a Herod mare.
The latter, for whom 3500 guineas was refused, was a
horse of very great stamp, and the living image of
Herod himself. He died at Middleham, full of years
and stud-honours, and was buried under a mulberry
tree in front of Mr. Dinsdale's house. His son Orvile
dipped into the Herod blood again, and inherited his
deep saucer eyes from his Highflyer dam.
Orvile was the first of Beningboro's get 0rvjle
that ever started ; and William Edwards
always declared that while Selim was the speediest,
he was the best for all lengths that he ever rode.
His lungs and courage were quite inexhaustible. As
204
Silk and Scarlet.
a proof of this, he ran a four-mile trial with Hap-
hazard at Lewes, even weights, at four o'clock in the
morning, and gave him such a tying up at the end of
three miles that Sam Chifney did not persevere, and
reported so decidedly as to his horse's loss of form,
that he started in public no more. The King's Plate
was run that afternoon, and William Edwards again
handed his horse home first after a most punishing
race with Walton.
He was a very difficult horse to ride, and so inani-
mate and dead-skinned that nothing but a whip that
would curl well round him could make any impression
whatever. His stock were generally large, plain, and
brown, and many of them had rather cart-horse heads.
There was a great deal of the coach-horse about him,
and he stood very much over with one knee, and his
son Don Juan, who was put to Cleveland mares near
Catterick Bridge, got some of the best coaching stock
that ever went to a Yorkshire fair. From a cross
between him and a Highflyer mare, which made three
close stains of Herod in succession, came Scud, the
handsome sire of a handsome race ; but this too close
breeding may have borne fruits in Actaeon, whose
head and neck were most brilliant, and whose stock
mostly cut up soft. Through his other son Muley, of
Underley renown, Orvile at one time bid fair to be
very famous; but while Alice Hawthorn and Wasp
have bred pretty well, Galaor seems the stopping
point in the branch of it which was represented by
the great leggy Muley Moloch; while Moresco's
descends through Taurus and John o'Gaunt to the i
lengthy handsome Hungerford. Taurus was a rank
roarer, but he could almost fly over the T.Y.C., and it
was all that Camarine (who liked any distance from the
T.Y.C., where even Crutch was no use to her, up to six
miles) could do to put him in difficulties by the time
they had travelled over two miles of the Beacon, in
the race which was a finisher for both of them.
The Darley Arabian.
205
Andrew was another of Orvile's sons, and it was
to him that Belvoir owed Cadland, its only Derby
winner, and through his son Prime Warden came the
industrious Clothworker. Sam Darling r1rttuwn..ifpr
claimed him when he had won a Selling
Stakes at Shrewsbury, and Mr. Parr offered him fifty
pounds for his bargain, but did not get hold of him
for some time after. His peculiarity was that he must
start last and catch his horses one by one, if there
were thirty of them. If any of the rear ones could
come again, and clatter up to his girths, he was such
a cur that he would never try after. Jockey after
jockey begged in vain to be allowed to come through
with him, as they knew he was anything but fast; but
his owner never consented, for fear of letting out the
secret. Mr. Parr sold him at Stamford for four hun-
dred, after Weathergage had made such an example
of him, and put the money on his horse for the
Goodwood Stakes, at forties to one; and he was
eventually killed on a little race-course in Devonshire,
where he had descended, like the once great St.
Bennett, among the leather-flappers.
Orvile's best son, Emilius, inherited Last Days of
his plain head, but was not so coarse. Emilius.
He was a muscular, compact horse, with a great chest
and arms, on short legs, and peculiarly straight hind
ones. Add to this a great middle piece and good
back ribs, with a muscular neck, not too long, and
rather inclined to arch. He looked, in fact, quite as
much a hunter as a blood-horse; and some very
excellent ones he got too, at Riddlesworth, where
latterly he had very few blood-mares at fifty guineas.
Mr. Thornhill's executors let him when the Riddles-
worth stud was broken up, and he died soon after the
close of his first season at Easby Abbey. His stock,
after he went North, were all rather small; and the
youngest of them was England's Glory, out of Prairie
Bird, though really his last inamorata (for there never
2o6 Silk and Scarlet.
was such a Don Giovanni) was a piebald pony. He
was perfectly well till just before his death, which was
caused by some one giving him a feed of whole oats,
which he was unable to masticate ; and they buried
him near some loose boxes in a paddock which the
Abbot of the White Canons of Easby surveyed of
yore from his study window. A stone that had once
been the crosiered tomb of a cardinal, but had
gradually mingled with the ruins, and then served as
threshold to the box where Weatherbit now stands,
is built into the wall to mark the spot ; and thus,
to a certain extent, Buckle's last Derby winner is
canonized.
Easby Abbey ■^or a picturesque combination of ruins
and blood stock, commend us to that
Swaledale Valley where he moulders, on a summer's
afternoon. We had begun, like veritable racing
pilgrims, at the Catterick Grand Stand, which seems
to have been crossed in and in, till all trace of the
original house has gone, and it has become a venerable
brick balcony, doing duty as a granary for fifty-one
weeks in the year. And so we leave that little
meadow course, with its lofty line of ash and elm, its
haystacks, and its hurdles; and pleasant thoughts
arise of " the chocolate of Hornby," ready for all
comers, and of Sir Tatton in his prime, winning a
pipe of port on Sunley, and cheered as he rides
back to scale by scores of foxhunters, who were right
proud to
"Let Uckerby boast of the feats of the Raby,
And Ravenscar tell what the Hurworth have done,"
—as we saunter, scorning the rail, through the
ponderous urn-topped gates, down the river-side to
Richmond. It boots not, when we reach the ruins of
Easby, that Royaldus, High Constable of Richmond,
is buried there. We wonder much more who one
"Fuller, of Newmarket, aged 83," can be; and we
The Darley Arabian.
207
would rather see the ring under the chapel wall,
where Emilius, Birdcatcher, Teddington, and Long-
bow have all been lunged in their time, than the good
St. Agatha herself.
A troop of brood mares are wandering near those
ivy-clad patches of walls, which still stand as ancient
landmarks. Mrs. Taft, of Cesarewitch memory,
stands hard by the Abbot's Elm, beneath which the
hunting exploits of " The Curtail Prior of Fountain,"
must have been talked over by the friars in the days
when Robin Hood, heedless of the sheriff of the
county, twanged the yew in many a Yorkshire and
Sherwood glade. Lady Johns and Sweetheart are
holding mysterious converse with The Belle beneath
the crumbling Catherine-wheel of the refectory, whose
mullions have been eaten by mild decay and left it
hanging by balance. Gipsy Queen has ensconced
herself in the massive cart shed, the top of which
once did duty as a Record Office; while her foal,
Curse Royal, is racing round like a lunatic within
some hurdles near the cloisters, as if unable to endure
the thought of the hopeless half-forfeits which its
" man in boots" racing talent has incurred for Mr.
Jaques. Old Comedy, who would hit to anything,
and whom Billy Pierse swore by as the fastest two-
year-old he ever had, till exposure in grass paddocks
made her a rank roarer, has long since passed away,
and she lies at the turn of the walk in the Abbey
Wood hard by her daughter, Burletta and Augur's
dam. Only one living trace of her is in sight, and
that a chestnut Mildew yearling, which is trying to
emulate its great-grandam's good name, and enliven-
ing the good folk of Richmond in their afternoon's
walk by its playful efforts in the ring.
But we must not linger too long at the Sons of Emilius.
grave of Emilius. The Bizarre line of
Orville stopped with Rat-trap, who is remembered, if
for nothing else, by that most punishing of races
P
2o8 Silk and Scarlet.
which he ran with Mango at Ascot; and Emilius's
line has not gone on in very regular order. Recovery
and his pretty race fell into disrepute. Euclid died ;
Plenipo made no stud name; and good as Priam's
mares were, he can only be worthily traced in the
male line through Chesterfield to the Hero. Priam
was a mare-looking horse, and so delicate a feeder
that William Chifney used to say that he could tell to
a handful of oats what he would eat in a week. His
head and neck were light, and his hair feathered from
his ears to the collar-place (if it be not sacrilege to
speak of a collar in connexion with him) in a most
eccentric style. He drooped rather on his hind pas-
terns, and stood on a remarkably straight hind leg,
although nothing to compare, in this respect, with
Landscape, who might have had two sets of fore-legs
to look at. Lord Jersey had the offer of him as a
yearling, but declined it, from an idea that he would
put out ringbones..
American Pur- He was, along with Trustee, Margrave,
chases. an(j g^ Giles, one of those high-priced
purchases which the Americans made from our turfites
in 1833-36. Such was the rage for him, that he not
only had a hundred mares at fifty each, his first season,
but it was said that "one leg of him" alone was sold
for 5000/. However, the end came at last; and
Messrs. Tattersall were told, the year before he died,
that he was now stone-blind, and that they might
have him for two hundred if they liked.
The Hero at The Hero has got nearly all his tho-
Danebury, rough-bred stock as small as Rogerthorpe,
who was only trained because the learned friend to
whom he was offered preferred a half-bred to a tho-
rough-bred hack for his daughter, and received the
Goodwood Cup he won in lieu. Theon, by far the
best living son of Emilius, was sold along with Wasp
and the rest at Raby, when the racing glories of the
pink and black stripes ended. He had more quality
The Darley Arabian.
209
than any of the family, and he never looked so beau-
tiful as when, although rising twenty, he stood in a
fiery fret, with every vein out like the tendrils of a
vine, for twelve long hours, on the first day of the
Salisbury Royal. His blood mare chances were few,
but he invariably got his hunters as good as they could
be, and with more size and substance than himself.
In fact, it is very much the secret of breeding not to
use too big a sire. Middle-sized ones have oftener
quality to give back, and get goodness as well as size;
whereas big ones too often get their big stock three-
cornered, and sadly apt to run soft.
The cross of Emilius and Fleur de Lis Fleur dg Ljg
came to nothing at first, though it was so e 1S'
much thought of that three hundred sovereigns was
bid for the foal if it lived three days. It turned out
to be a very mean bay colt, with hardly stamina
enough to keep it alive for twenty-four hours. The
mare herself was bought when a foal by Sir Matthew
White Ridley, from the Rev. Christopher Sykes. In
a race she would not bear hurrying, but required to
wait, in front if possible. She would not run without
a very strong preparation, and was about sixteen
hands, on a light leg, with rare shoulders, deep fore
ribs, wide hips, and a great deal more action in her
hind quarters than her fore, which rather stopped
her at a hill, but gave her endless propulsion on the
flat.
The Pompey line of Emilius has so far Nancy
stopped short with Nancy, as he has of
late had scarcely any blood mares. Nancy fed well
and did well all 1851, but she received what was vir-
tually her finishing stroke in the autumn of that year,
as she took a gallop on Knavesmire. Going round the
Middlethorpe turn, she slipped on a spot where the
cattle had trodden down the grass, and sprained het
off hind leg so severely, that she never stood a good
preparation again. Her great power was from her
2 IO
Silk and Scarlet.
thighs to her hocks ; but on her visit to Eglinton Park,
to run for Lord Glasgow's Three Hundred Sovereigns
Plate, she nearly lost the use of those and every other
limb, by being thirteen hours in her railway box. To
make matters worse, when she arrived in Edinburgh,
it was nearly one in the morning and there was no
stable to be had ; and if an enthusiastic Scot had not
met the luckless trio, and vowed, the moment he
heard the name, that if he hadn't had a vacant stall,
she should have gone into his best parlour all night,
she would have passed the night in the street, along
with old Job and his son Frank. Luckily, she grew
better with rest; and although her action was so very
short on the morning of the race, that the visitors at
Eglinton Castle made it a certainty for her half-
brother Hippolytus, careful riding and the 3lb. allow-
ancejust got her through. Her great peculiarity, to
our eye, was the peculiarly graceful droop of her
quarters, in which Saunterer a good deal resembles
her. However, until we espied Troy, or rather Grand
Mistress, in the sale ring at Doncaster, in 1858, we
never met with anything that reminded us of her as a
whole. Nancy was difficult to train, and furnished
another proof that when. mares can once be got into
form they are more effective than horses, but that,
while the latter will often get back their form, mares
when they have once lost it, hardly ever will.
Hiimbietonian. leaving ^ Beningboro' branch of
King Fergus s succession, we come to the
Hambletonian one. This mighty bay was out of a
Highflyer mare, and he and his opponent Diamond
were, on the sire's side, two degrees from Eclipse and
two from Herod respectively. It was the saying of
the day, that the Eclipses were speedy and jady, and
the Herods hard and stout; and there was a talk of
matching the two over again at Bibury, 500 guineas
a-side at eight stone each ; Mr. Delme Radclifife to
ride Hambletonian, and Lord Sackville, Diamond, It
The Darley A rabian.
211
eventually ended in nothing, and Diamond was made
quite a lion of in Dublin, when he passed through it,
to his new home, while Hambletonian's paddocks at
Middleham became the most fashionable in the North.
Shuttle and Hambletonian, both of them Sir Harry
Vane Tempest's, were there together, but the Shuttles
had such vile tempers that few cared to use him.
Hambletonian did not get size so much as speed, and
his stock were principally browns. He was a fine and
lengthy, but rather a blotchy-skinned horse, a trait
which both Stubbs and Sartorius have brought out in
their pictures of him.
Camillus and Whitelock were his camiiius
choicest sons, and Mr. Garforth made a
most unlooked for hit with the former, who was half-
brother to his Marcia and Marciana. He was a grey
horse, from a chestnut strain, and became quite white
rather early. His make and quality were very fine,
and he got many very good grey and chestnut hunters
when he was in Sir Mark Sykes's hands. In his
training days Mr. Garforth went to see his string at
Whitewall, where old Job Marson was head lad to Joe
Ackroyd, and heard a bitter complaint from the latter,
that the grey couldn't make his hack gallop. Still he
did not like to throw him up without one more trial,
and it was accordingly settled that he was to go for a
Plate at Malton. He stopped for one more plunge at
the post, and got thrown an immense way. Jem
Garbutt was not the boy to spare him, and at him he
went, hand and heel, till he got within the distance
post. By some mistake the flag was not dropped in
time, or he would have been bowled out, and seizing
his opportunity at last, he went in and won the other
two heats. He was put to a mere pony mare by
Ruler, and the low light-fleshed Oiseau was the result.
Mr. Garforth began to think " that the oiseau.
parson's new plan" had not spoilt the
breeding so much as he expected, when he saw him
212
Silk and Scarlet.
come right away as a two-year-old, from two St. Leger
winners, Octavian and Ashton, in the mile-and-a-half
Fitzwilliam Stakes, and sold him into Ireland forth-
with for a thousand guineas. His temper got com-
pletely ruined there by being run three times in one
week on the Curragh, when he was quite out of form;
and when he came back he was " for noise and row
unequalled." Red Hart used to be bad enough at
Walmgate Bar, and chase his own quarters round and
round till he could hardly be seen for vapour; and
Wanderer so nearly ate off his breast in one of his
absent fits at Petworth, that he had to wear a cradle
for the rest of his days ; but they were sucking doves
by the side of Oiseau, or " Oyster" as the tykes called
him. He was never easy for one moment, and would
stand and listen with his head on one side as if for the
muffled tread of some ghostly tormentor. Heavy
chains were put on his legs, to keep him from kicking
himself to pieces, and thus unable to sate his rage on
others, he at last turned savagely on to himself at
midnight, and tore his own bowels out. He left a son
of a very different mould in the elegant little Rowton ;
but the Revolutions were true to their sire, and fairly
killed themselves with temper in breaking for the
hunting field.
whiteiork Whitelock was the other great channel
of the Hambletonian blood. Mr. Sylves-
ter Reed bought him from Sir Mark Sykes, and used
him as a country stallion, but there was nothing in
his appearance which warranted his becoming so cele-
brated through Blacklock. His only performances
were good enough, as he won a Sixty Pound Plate at
Knutsford, and lost the Cup after a dead heat with
the Cheshire mare Duchess. Still, Mr. Watt always
declared that he had a white feather in him some-
where, which must come out sooner or later; and it
was this conviction that made him " never take a real
fancy" to Blacklock.
The Darley Arabian.
213
Canezou when she arrived in from n, „ ,
t>* 1 , •». 1 Blacklock,
rigburn to meet Surplice, attracted a
larger posse comitatus than any Sheriff of the County
ever summoned ; but still the High Street of Doncas-
ter was never in such a flutter as when Blacklock
walked up it in 1817, distinguished from the rest of
Sykes's string by a complete set of oilskin clothing.
Discussion rose high among the Yorkshiremen as to
his merits. Some would have it he was a great ugly
beast, and others that he was the finest they ever saw.
There was, however, no difference of opinion when he
had galloped on the Moor, and certainly never did
horse deserve so thoroughly to win. Nothing but
Sykes's over anxiety prevented it. His orders to
Jackson were " to look oot for me at the distance, and
I'll tell you what to do." Amid the clatter of eighteen
horses and the many-headed multitude all " Blacklock-
ing," it was a wonder that he could make himself
heard by Jackson, but he unfortunately did, and " Pull
till ' em, John ; pull till'em ; thoo hast it all thee ozvii
way," were his words, which unfortunately fell on Bob
Johnson's ear as well. Bob was not usually very leery,
but he immediately pulled Ebor quite wide, in order
that J ackson, who was busy watching Ben Smith on
Restless, next the rails, might not see him so readily,
and then snapped him on the post. Jackson always
owed Sykes a grudge for this, and his happiness was
complete when after making all the running on Theo-
dore and defeating horse after horse, he at last saw
Muta, as he peeped under his shoulder, get her head
up to his boots, and then change legs and disappear.
Oddly enough, he would not have been on Theodore
that day if Mr. Petre had not seen him a little " cut"
opposite the Betting Rooms, the night before, and
thought that if that was his Doncaster game, he would
only give him the worst of his mounts next day.
Mr Moss wanted Mr. Reed to buy Elackiock's Sons.
Blacklock, but he dare not venture on
Silk and Scarlet.
his fore-legs," as his fetlocks and pasterns almost
formed a straight line. He was a great black-brown,
with a stride which required half-a-mile to settle itself
in, a head like a half moon, with eyes quite in his
cheeks, and quarters and shoulders as fine as horse
could wear. Perhaps to the eye he might be rather
light in the fore ribs, though the tape told a different
tale, and the hocks of his stock generally stood well
away from them, a formation which requires great
strength in the loin to support. The hunting field
was quite as much their sphere as the race-course.
The Cambridgeshire men still remember how well
John Ward got to his hounds for seven seasons on
Forester, and there must have been nearly a thousand
of his grandsons, by the hollow-backed Belzoni, one
time or another, at the cover side. Mr. Watt gave
forty pounds for him as a two-year-old, and after his
great racing career he broke through his rule, and
kept him for the stud. The result was not encourag-
ing, as his legs frightened breeders away; but Mr.
Kirby took him for a season at a hundred, and cleared
eight hundred per cent, by his bargain. Mr. Watt
then had him back for three seasons, and was begin-
ning the fourth with him, when he died. He had only
been racked up five minutes, when a helper came
running breathless after Elrington, and gasped out
" Blacklock's dying!" He had fallen on his side, and
never stirred again, and his heart was found to be
sloughed. Two fillies dated from that morning, a
chestnut filly, out of Sister to Bubastes, and Felix, by
him or Langar; but Lady Laura, from whom he had
just been led in, had no foal.
His son, Robin Hood, was virtually trained in his
old paddock, as he did little else than canter round it,
and then walked to Doncaster, where, after being
beaten by Laurel in the Cup, he walked on to Lincoln,
and won a seventy-pound plate. Cock Robin was the
smallest that Blacklock ever got, and very little beyond
The Darley Arabian.
215
fourteen-three ; but as good a little one as ever stepped.
Unhappily, on pulling up in a race he fell on his head
and knees, with Templeman, and put both fetlocks
out of joint. He was taken home on a sledge, and
won again next year; but he had to be cast to be
fired, and in the struggle he broke his back.
The Great Lawn near the Old Hall is The Great Lawn
the necropolis of Blacklock and the other at Bishop
Bishop Burton worthies, and an oak tree Burton,
grows from the breast of each. Blacklock and Muta's
wave close together ; and two much larger ones, side
by side, testify to the memory of Mandane and
Altisidora. Blacklock was taken up at the end of
six years, and put together by an anatomist. Mr.
Watt paid 10/. for a skeleton rider, who yapped his
teeth when a string was pulled ; and the spectral pair
were exhibited at the agricultural meeting at Beverley.
Muta was taken up as well, for the sake of her
shoulder, which had set the Pharmacopoeia at de-
fiance; and hence the only tenanted grave of that
trio to the left is marked by a mere sapling, which
blooms for Nitocris out of Manuella, the last of the
old blood. Her near hind hock was so swelled with
farcy that the leg gradually became a burden to her.
It was the doing of a stable lad ; and although no one
could ever discover the exact spot, there was evidence
that he had struck her with a fork, out of revenge for
not being allowed to go to Newmarket with her. It
swelled so much that she had to be brought back
when she had got as far as Doncaster, and she never
could run again. She was the dam of Birthday by
Assault, the last that Mr. Watt ever bred ; and soon
after its birth, he gave orders that she should be shot
at eight o'clock in the morning to a moment, and
opened his dressing-room window to hear the report.
Birthday was brought up on sugar and milk, and is
now a remarkably fine mare. He never saw her after
she was a foal; and when Scott came to settle about
216
Silk and Scarlet.
training her he called out after him once more from
the landing, to tell him not to break her down, and
wrote next day to change his mind about sending
her altogether. In vain did Mr. Martinson, in his
Nancy zenith, offer him five hundred guineas for her,
and she was never trained.
He might well be proud of his blood, as his Man-
dane, a splendid mare, who wasted almost to a
skeleton before she died, bred Manuella and Altisi-
dora to Dick Andrews, and Lottery to Tramp, while
Liverpool was out of her Whisker Daughter. Few
breeders could show such results from their endless
searching of hearts and pedigrees. Manuella, like her
dam, was very handsome ; and all the Altisidora mares
bred well. After Altisidora's death in the Great Lawn
ditch, the yearling fillies which ran with the mares and
foals were always brought in at night; and it was to
their being a good deal coddled in small paddocks,
which had neither sufficient space nor ground variation
to give them action, that many attributed the gradual
decline of the harlequin in the return lists. It must
have been more from this cause than from their being
taken in at night from the Dove Cote or Great Lawn
that the decline is traceable, as the best breeders all
say that six hours a day is enough for any yearling to
be out, and that they should never be allowed to tire
themselves.
Mr. Watt perhaps spoilt his stock most by his undue
love for Cerberus. He rode many wide chestnut
mares by him, who inherited his lack of size; and he
was, in fact, anything but a worthy cross to follow
Tramp and Dick Andrews. Manuella's son, Bel-
shazzar, was the Blacklock for whom he had the great-
est fancy, although he was most undeniably soft. He
had sold him to Mr. Allen ; but when his Cara won
the Two Thousand, he determined not to be separated
from him, and sent off an agent post-haste to redeem
him from the foreigners, who had just got him. They
The Darley Arabian. 217
had, however, seen the report of Newmarket as well,
and a three thousand offer fell dead on their ears.
Neither money nor labour stopped him if he set his
mind upon a thing ; and in his heyday he would have
hacks posted, and ride to his trainer, Sykes's, at
Malton, twenty-five miles before breakfast, to see his
lot gallop. Such was his love for them that if he had
been two or three months from home, he would take
a lantern the moment he got out of his carriage, and
not rest till he had been all round among " the old
blood."
But we must bid it a long good-night, The Blacklocks<
and hie back to the four perpetuators of
the Blacklock tribe—Buzzard, Brutandorf, Voltaire,
and Velocipede. No blood in the stud-book is better-
winded or runs better when full of flesh, which shows
that the internal conformation is good, and ought to
be perpetuated. Their aptitude for a distance displays
itself in a muscular neck, without which few horses
ever yet stayed ; and they have also great depth
from the withers to the shoulder-points, and an
immense roundness of rib in making the curve from
the spine.
Voltigeur and Fandango have all these voitigeur
grand characteristics; and it is not im-
probable that if the former had always been allowed
to run some stones heavier, he would never, in his
earlier days at least, have been beaten. Robert Hill's
notion always was, that when Voltigeur's neck was
reduced, he would be fittest to run; but the horse
being of an iron constitution, he could not accomplish
his object (even by the aid of two hoods all summer,
and Radulphus, Castanette, and St. Ann perpetually
at him) for a season and a-half; and he lived long
enough to see the neck and strength, of his pet leave
him together, and neither Atkinson nor John Scott
could put flesh on him again.
His sire Voltaire, for whom the Duke of Cleveland
2 I 8
Silk and Scarlet.
gave two thousand, was suspected to be a bit of a
coward and was a little too peacocky to please some
eyes. He had a remarkably fine barrel, and a ring-
bone on the off fore-foot ; and some of his carriage-
horses were as good and lofty as they could be for
their purpose. Martha Lynn and Eulogy were the
only blood mares he had in his last season (1847), and
Vortex and Euphony were the foals. As Charles XI Ith's
stock have quite disappeared after the failures of that
splendid first batch at Doncaster in 1846, whose looks
seemed to give quite a stimulus to breeding, and make
owners dissatisfied with the puny average of their
yearlings, his fame all hinges so far on the Martha
Lynn cross. Barnton is, like Melbourne, a coarse-
headed, lengthy, rough style of horse, good for any
kind of small light mares ; in fact, just the horse to
stop gaps when a breeder cannot quite see his way.
He is deep in the rib, and rather narrow like the mare,
whereas Voltigeur has more of the Blacklock round-
ness of rib.
Voltigeur was originally sent up as a yearling to
Doncaster ; but as the two hundred bond fide bid
came a hundred short of the reserve, he was sent back
to Hart until after the Catterick meeting of the next
year, and then came to Aske, where Boone broke him.
He got an over-reach the day before he left Hart,
and he very nearly gave himself another while running
for the Derby. Nearly all his stock are whole-coloured
browns, with very springy pasterns, and that thickness
of neck which renders them—as in Vedette's and
Skirmisher's two and three-year-old days—rather
uneven to the eye. Vedette's action was very beau-
tiful, and became nearer the ground in his third
season ; but up to the very last day George Abdale
had him, he could never exactly make out where he
was lame.
The Race of Semiseria was the quickest of Voltaire's
Owners for Nat. stock that was ever trained ; and she
The Darley Arabian.
219
proved it in a very decisive way over Richmond, when
she beat The Cure from "the Grey Stone in." Her
greatest feat of speed was, however, at Newmarket, in
her match with Queen of the Gipsies. It was made
at the Rooms over-night : and then, like the rival
attorneys of old, when they raced, as the legend goes,
to Garrow's chambers, it became a question who could
get Nat, as both had him in their eye when they fixed
the weights. Mr. Jaques slipped up town first, and,
finding he had gone to bed, flung some gravel up at
his window. In a minute or two, Nat's solemn night-
capped head was seen from behind the blind ; and as
business was evidently meant, he opened the window
to inquire the cause. " Nat, I want you for a match
to-morrow." " What's the weight f" " Seven stone
nine." " Then I can do it, sir. Good night /" was the
whole of the colloquy ; and Nat resought his couch.
He had scarcely pillowed his head when the gravel
battery was heard to open once more with redoubled
force, and again he was on the floor. This time it was
Mr. O'Brien, almost breathless with haste ; and Mr.
Jaques, ensconced in the shadow of a wall hardly fifty
yards off, heard these "Voices of the Night." " Nat,
I want you for a match to-morrow." " What for ?"
"The Queen of the Gipsies." "Against what?"
" Semiseria." "I'm engaged!" and down went the
window. Great was the dismay of " The Traverser"
on finding himself thus beaten by Yorkshire, when he
thought he had managed it so nicely ; but Nat had
vanished, and he had only the stars to consult on the
matter. In short, turf history can afford no parallel
to it except in the case of an eminent bill discounter,
when after having had his mare so specially prepared
for a great spring handicap, he learnt for the first time,
a season or two subsequently, from the lips of a
"young friend" (who did not know his 110m de course),
that the fact of his having specially sent " my horse to
knock that fellow's mare heels over head" was the
220
Silk and Scarlet.
reason why the painful word "fell" was affixed to her
name.
In the morning, however, Mr. O'Brien got it his own
way ; and as Cartwright was very anxious to ride
Semiseria, on whom he had been fourth in the Cam-
bridgeshire, Mr. Jacques consented to give Nat up.
His commissioner, the late Mr. Dykes, spluttered so
dreadfully that all the offers against her were snapped
up before he could get out his " /-/-/'// take you."
Hence he had to operate for himself; and thinking it
a rare good thing, iooo to 300 was the last bet he laid
on her. Both jockeys had orders to come thrpugh the
half mile ; and as neither got a pull from end to end,
a tremendous finish just ended in favour of the
"^Northern mare by a head. They thought her glan-
dered in the winter, and she was put into a box at
John Scott's by herself; but it proved a false alarm,
and she was brought out fresh enough to run away
with Nat in the next Chester Cup. Mildew, her
second foal, was a very handsome and promising colt;
and he left everything half-way in his trial at Rich-
mond, and beat Lady Evelyn at evens before the
Derby, for which Mr. Jaques stood to win 175,000/. on
him. Still he was only fifth to Voltigeur, and became
so lame after his St. Leger canter that Marlow brought
him back to the enclosure.
The Semi-Franc Semiseria's first foal, Semi-Franc by
Farce. St. Francis, was barely fourteen hands,
and not only ran in a big pasture all summer, but was
there still when Mr. Jaques went to Doncaster, ready
to pay forfeit for him in the North of England Produce
Stakes. However, when he got there, he met Lord
Glasgow, who asked after the little horse; adding,
" Belus is in such a state, that if yours is only living
I'll guarantee him winning?' A messenger was ac-
cordingly despatched to Easby; and a nice job they
had, with lanterns, to find " the pony" on the fear-
fully wet evening of the Dutchman's Leger day. He
The Darley A rabian.
221
was walked to the rail, and groomed all the way in
the railway-box, to get him a trifle into order. Then
arose another difficulty, as to who was to ride him.
Nat, who remembered his jump on the Iron Duke
at Manchester that May, quite disdained the job, and
told Winteringham that he " wasn't going to have any
harlequin tricks played off" on him." One, if not two
more declined, under the impression that they were
going to appear in the " comic countryman" line ; and
at last John Sharp consented to try, if they would give
him twenty pounds, win or lose. The sum was ac-
cordingly promised; and the horse gave him plenty
to do, as he was all over the course up to the hill.
Going down the hill, John obeyed his orders to
the letter, and set him off" at his best pace, about*
fourteen miles an hour, which soon brought Belus to
a dead stop. At first the ring thought it was coining
money to lay 100 to one on Belus ; and then they
rubbed their eyes, and never could exactly make out
how the horses seemed to change places, as if by magic.
Poor Frank Butler's very last Doncaster ride, on Grey-
leg, who had been fetched from Newmarket on the
Friday morning, was equally absurd ; and the St.
Leger course in both instances was happily got over
in something under fifteen minutes ! After his victory,
Semi-Franc retired from public life ; and Semiseria
became the property of the Prince of Orange for five
hundred guineas.
Buzzard was a very nice brown bay, the property
of Mr. Lambton. He was too near for a Blacklock,
and wore a leather cap, in his races, over his blind
eye.
Brutandorf, who was by Blacklock out Brutandorf
of a Pot-8-o's mare, was a sad pheasant ;
and Bill Scott warmly vowed, when he got off" him,
after the St. Leger, that when he called on him, " the
great mucky beggar rolled his tail, and would have no
more of it." He was a gluttonous, thick-fleshed horse
222
Silk and Scarlet.
and very shabby and peculiar behind the saddle,
although he filled up there as a stallion. His stock
generally did well in their two-year-old season, and
one of them, Bounce, ran the four-year-old Emancipa-
tion to a head, and was obliged to be entered as a
three. His coachers were wonderfully fine, and, like
Touchstone, he was never known to get a chestnut.
He was so idle at one time that a thirty-six hour day
would not have sufficed him; but Dick Stockdale
went at him with a cudgel after the fashion of the
Arabs, with such hearty good will, that, on emerging
from the stable, his face was quite maroon with his
exertions, and the process had not to be repeated.
Arctic, out of a cart-mare by Old Noseley, was the
best of his half-bred nags, and was sold for 80/. to Mr.
Sidney Herbert, who let a farmer have him, under the
impression that he had got a bad bargain ; but the new
owner begged to send his horse, some months after,
to gallop with Percy's lot; and made such an example
of them, that they were fain to get him back at a good
ransom.
Physician Among Brutandorf's sons were Physi-
cian and Pletman Platoff. The former
was a short round horse, and as complete a nag
stepper as ever answered to a saddling-bell. At two
years old his smart little fillies (of whom Maria Day
was the sweetest and the best), could slip away from
almost anything, but the second season generally
found them out. The Cure, although he did not
inherit size on either side, had quite enough of it him-
self, and a good deal of quality and length to boot;
but he required to be very plump, to look his best.
He was neglected for a long time, ancf got rather
buried in Scotland, till the dam of Warlock brought
him out with Lambton. He got them small, ^and this
is the case with his half-breds as well as thorough-
breds. Underhand is elegance itself, but he is only
fifteen hands, while El Hakim at four years old was
The Darley Arabian.
223
still less. The largest and perhaps the best was M.D.;
but he was delicate as a two-year-old, and only just
coming, when the season was over. He was bought
on the St. Leger day ; and Mr. Parr was so deter-
mined to have him, that with all his high Saucebox
hopes, he waited to bid for him when scarcely four
others were left with Mr. Tattersall. Being the only
bidder he got him at his reserve price, 120 guineas, and
Apathy for 100 guineas. The one was sold, after
winning a race or two, for a thousand guineas ; and
the other looked quite as dangerous as Blink Bonny,
when his leg gave way after crossing the road.
Templeman had been unusually anxious about
his mount, and he lived in Benhams for three weeks
before, in order that he might ride the horse at
exercise.
Hetman Platoff was out of a Comus mare, and
though stout enough himself under killing weights,
his stock, save and except Cossack, were seldom fond
of a distance. Cossack was suspected of the same
malady, but his running for the Cesarewitch as a
three-year-old, under 8st. 61bs., and his Goodwood
Cup finish with Nancy, told a different tale. In
their heads many of his stock go quite back to
Blacklock, but they have rather prick ears, and it
is just a doubt in our minds whether they are not
rather overtopped.
In respect of this short prick ear, they y
bore no small resemblance to Velocipede,
the greatest of the line, whose plate encircling his
portrait may well be the first that meets the eye, as
you enter John Scott's yard at Whitewall. This king
among horses had a rough, vulgar, Roman head, with
a white blaze, and a flesh-coloured nose, which he
transmitted to all his stock, the great majority of
which took after him in colour and marks. His
Juniper dam, half-sister to Camarine, the great mare
of the South, was not more than fifteen hands, but
Q
224
Silk and Scarlet.
his own standard was just above sixteen, and Quiver
was by far the smallest thing he ever got. Mr.
Ridsdale gave eight hundred guineas for his brother
George IV. as a yearling, but he turned out a most
sorry bargain ; and a mere foil for his elder brother.
His finest daughter, Queen of Trumps, was a bad
beginner ; and if you watched her gallop, she went
lame first with one leg and then with the other, till
you became convinced that she was " lame all round."
One small knot on Velocipede's off fore-leg, half-way
between the knee and the fetlock, pressed on the
inner tendon, and made him the magnificent cripple
he was, and oddly enough, as if to knock over all
theories, his whole chestnut leg was the one affected.
After his fatal trial Scott and George Izard hardly
left him for three weeks, night or day, and George
never ceased applying lotions to it, as the last hope of
getting him round. He would let them do it as he
lay, but the mischief was too deeply seated, and there
was no more dependence to be placed on the sinew,
though the heart was never found to falter.
Velocipede's stud When he went first to the stud, he was
Days and Death, stationed at Ainderby, which seems on a
clear day to nestle beneath the range of the Hamble-
ton hills, and " commanded the whole country" for
two seasons. The village were not unmindful of the
high honour of his stay, and his portrait still creaks
mournfully on the ale-house sign. And well they
might be, as a four-thousand offer from the foreigners
was promptly refused. Eventually he passed out of
Mr. Armytage's hands into Dr. Hobson's, and stood
at the Shadwell Lane Paddocks near Leeds. John
Scott often came over to see him, and "Ah! if I had
only such a four-year-old as you, with sound legs, I
could break the worldf fell more than once on his
groom Berridge's ear, when the two old friends met in
the box. His last public appearance, so to speak, was
at Doncaster in 1846, whither he accompanied some
The Darley Arabian,
225
Melbourne and Sheet Anchor yearlings of his Owner's,
"just to let the world have another look at him." And
what audiences he had, too, as he paced in the ring
near the Pond, or convoyed his young friends down
the lime avenue, back to the Rockingham! Even
Bill Scott in his Jim Crow hat, which had two wheat
ears in that morning, stepped off the causeway as he
was going out to waste (with his two aide-de-camps,
lay and clerical, behind him) just to give him greeting.
It was none less hearty than his elder brother's, and
forcible as usual. " You old beggar ! if I'd you a
three-year-old, I'd straight them all if I cadt on my
oivn horse ; but I think I can with him'.'
Two years afterwards he quitted Yorkshire, and
took a four days' journey to his owner's farm at
Corney Hall in Cumberland, and there in 1850 he
came to his end. Dropsy had set in, with chronic
disease of the lungs, and his respiration became so
difficult, that he could be heard all over the yard.
Non-civilization has been described as being ten
miles from a lemon; and here was the dying crack,
twenty-one miles from a vet. His body filled, and
he became so unsightly and oppressed that he dare
not lie down, for fear of not being able to get up
again, and propped himself against the wall, as well
as he could, refusing all corn for three weeks. His
last foal, however, dated from a fortnight before his
death, and was a big white-legged chestnut, who
ran in a gig at Whitehaven. Matters became so
bad, that the groom determined to kill him on his
own account, and he led him out to a hill just over-
looking the Irish Channel, where he had dug his grave
in the sand ; but his heart misgave him, and he could
not handle his gun. A tailor was accordingly sum-
moned from a neighbouring farm-house, and he soon
broke the thread of life, with as little remorse as he
would a cat's, and the mighty heart and little prick
ears were still. Berridge issued from behind his wall,
226
Silk and Scarlet
at the report; and ere his old favourite was tumbled
into his grave, curiosity determined him, to probe his
malady to the source. Taking out his gully, he ripped
open his chest, and nearly half-a-dozen pailfuls of
yellow fluid, between water and oil, came away. And
so the great chestnut champion, father of Queen of
Trumps, and grandfather of Canezou, died at last, in
his twenty-sixth year.
The Sons Of The stud fame of Pot-8-o's, a chestnut
Pot-8-o's. son of Eclipse, was by no means doubt-
ful or chequered, and began in 1793, with Waxy,
who was out of Maria by Herod. The story went
that it was originally intended to call his sire "Po-
tatoes," and the idea struck one of the lads as so
ludicrous, when Lord Abingdon first told his trainer
of it, in the stable, that he burst out a laughing. His
lordship good humouredly took up a piece of chalk,
and said, " I'll give you a crown, my boy, if you can
spell the word on the corn-bin." He wrote the
" Pot-%-o's" accordingly, and although some stuck to
the Pot-oooooooo, the lad's version was latterly
adopted. Waxy, the idol of his trainer Robson's
heart, was a very beautiful, one-eyed, lengthy style of
horse, with a great deal of the Arab in his look. His
quality was superb, and with him, so to speak, it came
in the highest degree into English blood stock. He
in his turn was put to Penelope by Trumpator, out of
Prunella by Highflyer, and this union of the Darley,
Byerley, and Godolphin strains was crowned by the
births of Whalebone and Whisker at the Duke of
Grafton's paddocks, at Euston, in the days when his
brother, Lord Henry Fitzroy, was in command, in
1809-18. Waxy's stock won the Derby four times,
thrice for the Duke of Grafton, and the Oaks three
times ; and with Whisker and Minuet, His Grace
fairly swept the Epsom board.
Whisker. diose days the Northern and
Southern breeds were kept very dis-
The Darlcy Arabian.
227
tinct, and the rich bay Whisker was the first of the
Southern cracks who was sent North, and pitched his
tent near Catterick. The racing circuits too had little
to do with each other; and there must have been a
very great end in view, to tempt the horses off the
one to Epsom, or off the other, across the Trent to
York or Doncaster. Many Northern men never came
farther south than Newmarket, which they reached by
a weary post, or jolt with their saddle-bags, through
the fens of Lincolnshire and the Isle Ely; and one of
them, a Mr. Cornforth, who performed that journey
regularly three times a year, for nearly half a century,
had not even once the curiosity to ride on to London.
When they did get Whisker there, the Yorkshire and
Durham men, led by the Duke of Cleveland, dipped
pretty deeply into him ; and he left The Colonel for
Mr. Petre, Memnon for Mr. Watt, and Emma for Mr.
Bowes. Whisker was as near perfection in look as
anything could be, with the exception of being a little
calf-knee'd ; and he seemed equally likely to get a racer,
hunter, machiner, or hack. If a departed horse-dealer
had seen him he would have once more dictated to
his daughter as she sat, pen in hand, " The shadow of
him on the vail is vorth all the money I axes ; he can
pick up his fut and go and catch a bird."
The Duke of Leeds loved his blood even more than
Shuttle's, and Tom Pierse and his father Billy Pierse
thought Swiss (who was out of a Shuttle mare, and
savaged his boy so severely in the Belle Isle paddock,
that his leg had to be taken off), one of the very best
two-year-olds he ever trained. The Whisker blood
has descended through The Colonel and Chatham in
the male line, to Woolwich, who, considering his jady
sire and Actaeon dam, was a perfect wonder for a
distance; and through Economist, to Harkaway and
King Tom. It was always Mr. Herring's habit to
submit his St. Leger sketch of St. Leger winners to
His Majesty through Jack Ratford. When The
228 Silk and Scarlet.
Colonel was sent in he received a special enquiry
back with the sketch, to ask if he had flattered him
at all, and when he returned, as answer, that he had
not, the King never rested till he bought him.
" Buy, buy " (like the " Run, run " of Lord Berners to
his trainer when he came, over night, to beg that
Phosphorus might not start for the Derby)—was all
the commission he would deign give. At the royal
sale Mr. Tattersall thought it such a shame that
the French should get him for a thousand guineas
that he bid fifty guineas more and bought him for his
own stud farm. Setting aside Emma, the Whisker
mares have always been out of the common way.
Liverpool, Tearaway, Euclid, Knight of the Whistle,
The Era, Mango, Cotherstone, Meteor, Mowerina,
Mundig, and Theon are all out of them; and his
daughter Catherina, who ran for 171 races, was at the
stud in the thirtieth year of her age.
The Sons of Whalebone was as shabby to the eye
Whalebone. as 0\£ prunella herself. He had rather a
Turkish pony look, and was broad and strong, with a
shortish neck. His own feet grew very pumiced, and
his mares lost their speed early. Unlike Whisker,
it is on his sons that he has to rely; and Camel,
Waverley, Sir Hercules, Defence, and Stumps, in
each of whom respectively his blood has united with
Selim, Sir Peter, Wanderer, Rubens, and Delpini,
have proved it quite as elastic as his name. There
are scarcely any Stumps mares left, and we met with
almost the last of this lily-white clan at Sir Tatton's
and Mr. Parr's, last year. Save and except a beau-
tiful Shorthorn heifer, made up for show, we know of
nothing quite so beautiful in nature, or so effective in
a painter's fore-ground. The line of Defence, who
was rather thick and cobby-looking, has to trust to
its mares now, from which Hero, Old England,
Andover, Turnus, and Pyrrhus the First sprang.
Waverley, whose head and neck helped off rather
The Darley A rabian. 229
light fore-legs, most probably begot Don John, who
showed not a little temper in his stall at John Scott's,
where he had a see-saw style of trying to get on to
your toes, and then putting you below the manger,
which Henry Bradley, who stuck to him through all
his training, was obliged perpetually to guard against.
He was a creeping goer, with great propelling power,
playful at exercise, and had two big spavins at last.
It is said that in America he got sadly neglected,
scarcely going out for exercise for weeks together,
and died not many months after his arrival.
His price was two hundred; but he was dear at
that, as he did not leave a single " colt" (the name
they give to fillies as well as colts there) behind him.
Waverley's other son, The Saddler, out of a Castrel
mare, still lives in Footstool; and the odd-looking
Mortimer by Fitzallen by The Saddler, who ran forty
times before Mr. Parr got him for 200/., would have
hit Mr. Davis for 27,000/. if he had only got through
for the Chester Cup. He was a sluggish style of
horse, and Fordham, who could then ride under five
stone, could hardly spur him. The Provost was also
by The Saddler, but there is little to remind us of
him save a few mares. Hybla, the dam of Mince-
meat and Kettledrum, is a fine specimen of them;
her hind-legs are beautiful, but her fore ones are rather
nipped in at the elbows, as both The Provost's and
Tomboy's were.
But among The Saddlers, we must not Inhelte
iorget the rare old Inheritress. She was
a big little one, with good ribs, a straight head and
neck, and a tail rather high set on. Her original
price was a hundred and fifty, and perhaps her finest
race was with Sweetmeat at York. Nat got the best
of the fifty yards of very deep ground near the dis-
tance, and that just settled the matter by a head.
Horses generally run well on particular courses. Rata-
plan liked a little country one ; Rllerdale delighted in
230
Silk and Scarlet.
York, and Fisherman in Chester, but it was no matter
to Inheritress where she ran, provided it was not New-
market. The dead expanse of the heath seemed
quite to scare her, and she stood and trembled at the
post till the spurs and a couple of strokes from Sim's
whalebone, which he was sadly loth to inflict on such
a pet, roused her from her dreamy state, although it
could not stir her heart. In after years, Birdcatcher
quite hated her. It was the first time he had ever
shown such daintiness, and when he could be got to
notice her, it was not only a case of " Strangers with-
draw," but even the groom was obliged to retire, and
apply his eye to the key-hole. As might have been
expected, the produce was wretched enough. Touch-
stone had also a great objection to young mares; and
Assault not merely disliked (for that trait is common
enough), but used to regard it as a perfect insult when
any, be the age what it might, were brought to him,
with satin coats or smelling of the stable. In fact, he
cut up so rough with his groom, when one of Lord
Glasgow's came to him straight from the racing
stables, that the former was fain to save himself and
her from being worried alive, by tying him up as
quick as he could, and producing some highly artistic
efforts in light and shade, with glazing from a friendly
dung-heap, which quite satisfied the little connoisseur's
eye.
Sir Hercules. lieeC* ton&ue °f Forth,
seated in his white hat on a summer
evening, under the pleasant shade of his trees at
Mitchel Grove, to tell the story of Sir Hercules and
his stock aright. There was none that the old man
clung to so fondly; and he spoke of his son Hyllus,
whom he sadly wanted to buy back from the Messrs.
Litchwald after he went abroad, as the horse of his
heart, and vowed that he would never have been
beaten, if he could have had a race run exactly to suit
him. The failure of Sting preyed on him to the last:
The Darley Arabian.
231
he said, " I had never called on nature too much, and
yet he went wrong, I couldn't tell how." There were
few horses in his long career that he had studied so
closely. Jaques was the last he fancied, and he gave
him away to Mr. Parr, with an injunction to run him
for the Goodwood Cup, but he dislocated a pastern in
his preparation. With all his acuteness, he was a man
of very great prejudice, and seemed often to speak of
training a horse to win a great race, v/ithout any refe-
rence to the field he might have to meet. He turned
very nervous during Foig-a-Ballagh's St. Leger, when
some one told him that Harry Bell was only lying
third or fourth below the distance. " Confound the
fellow," we heard him say, " I told him to come along,
we'll be beat for want of a pace." Ireland has had
the best of Sir Hercules, and both Birdcatcher and
Foig-a-Ballagh were out of a Bob Booty dam.
Birdcatcher, who was a hard-puller, n:rf1patf.i.pr
and very fretful and difficult to train,
would stay a long course; but his stock, who invari-
ably carry the Sir Hercules crest in the shape of a few
grey hairs at the root of the tail, rather inherit his fine
dash of speed, than his staying powers. He stood
over a good amount of ground, but he seldom got any
thing so long as himself. All his stock were very
taking and gay as yearlings, though rather short, on
long legs, a little drooping behind, but with capital
back couplings. He invariably got them bright
golden chestnuts; and if one happens to be a bay, it
has a good allowance of white about it. Mr. Jaques
paid as high as 800/. for him one season, when he
earned 1750 guineas, and got Saunterer and Augury
for his hirer as well. After trying so long for a crack,
he unluckily parted with the pair for 50 guineas each,
by auction, as foals at York, and John Osborne, who
loved the blood nearly as much as the late Mr.
Stephenson, refused, it was said, a thousand guineas
for Augury. At Newmarket in 1852, he had only six
232 Silk and Scarlet.
blood mares, but Habena and Warlock did not make
Mr. Disney regret the change from Easby, where he
then returned for four seasons more. Owing to a
whim of Mr. Disney's, his turf career was very short,
but unusually brilliant. He gave Harkaway 2olbs.
for his year, in a mile, and was only beaten a head;
and he left his horses outside the distance in the mile
and three-quarters Peel Cup, and was never pulled up
till he had gone a mile further. In fact, as the lad
said—" I had to clap into him to stop himP His
hunters have always been nearly mature jumpers to
begin with; and on the turf, in 1841-58, he had 318
winners of 685^ races, making 110,568/. in all. One
fact, and a very important one, remains to be added,
that he has realized for his owner, at the stud, no less
than 7737/. 15J.
A cross with an Economist mare first brought him
into especial notice with the slim, neat, and savage
Baron. Pocahontas's Birdcatcher filly, Ayacanora,
was rather slight and small in the bone; but she put
her own substance on to her sons Stockwell and
Rataplan. Both these horses began to fine very much
after four years old, up to which point they were un-
usually coarse; but Stockwell's stock, as far as we
have seen, show great quality and finish as yearlings,
and neither his nor Rataplan's, as a general thing, have
quite the bone or size we expected, while Rataplan's
have his peculiar short drop on the quarter. Harlock
believed Stockwell to be as good as ever he had been,
when he was put out of training, and he was always
much the more resolute horse of the two.
Rataplan Once in form, Rataplan could keep
there, "and did not require much work.
He liked hard ground ; and his game, when the pace
was strong, was to lie well away. Weight was as little
to him as it was to Longbow, and his performance for
the ^Manchester Cup under 9st. 81bs. was decidedly his
best. It was quite a sight to see Prince stroking and
The Darley Arabian.
233
talking to him, as they followed the leaders; but in a
hard struggle home, he was rather ungenerous, unless
he had quite the best of it, and that small picket ear
and narrowness between the eyes made him much too
cute and suspicious. People may talk about an intel-
ligent head, but horses may be often too cute in that
organ. He did. not come quite so often as Fisherman,
as the latter only walked for a couple of days, then
took long gallops for two more, and was all ripe and
ready for another start with " Garge," who was never
to be seen awaiting the arrival of Mr. Parr, on the
railway-platform, in " a state of sanguine despondency"
about him. Fisherman became Mr. Parr's for five
hundred at two-years-old. He did not win once in his
six starts that season, but his new owner argued that
if such a great leggy frame could " act" at all then, he
must do wonders as he grew down.
The Chanticleers have always been Birdcatcher's
short, and at one time they were thought Stock-
rather bad-hearted as well. They are, however, a
kind which require patience; often pretty good as
two-year-olds, but still oftener improved by keeping.
In fact, the whiter they get, the better they get; and
we never saw any animal undergo such a thorough
change in his looks as Lord Alfred did, between two
and four. Hurworth, who was bought for 1500
guineas, and sold the year after for fifteen, was out of
a Hetman Platoft mare; and so were Knight of St.
George and Daniel O'Rourke, the lengthiest and most
compact of the Birdcatcher family. The former cannot
be above fifteen hands; but Daniel, who was only
fourteen-three when he won the Derby, is now barely
half an inch below fifteen-two ; and all his wild Malton
tricks are gone. He gets his foals of a darker chestnut
than the Birdcatchers generally are, and all with backs
and legs of iron. His own legs are perfection this
way, and as you look down his back, it seems as cloven
as a ram's. He reminded us most of a sort of lesser
234
Silk and Scarlet.
edition of Pantaloon, and has none of that bulky
grossness which so many stallions arrive at in the
course of a couple of seasons. Womersley, who united
so well at Sledmere, with the blood of " Sleight" (as
Snarry terms him), was out of a Touchstone mare.
He could stay remarkably well, as nearly all his stock
have done, and Peck always attributed his difficulties
with him to a lump forming between his thighs,
which seemed like a callous boil, and interfered so
much with his action as to render it almost impossible
to train him.
None of the Birdcatcher stock have, however, stayed
better than Yellow Jack, who had a good stain of
Liverpool blood to help him, and he did what horse
has never yet done, and hardly ever will again—stand
a strong preparation and run second for the Two
Thousand, Chester Cup, and Derby. His legs were
never equal in substance to his top; but as trainers
say, " they never break their legs if they're good
enough." Considering his price he was wonderfully
lucky, when we consider the fate of the 1800-guinea
Lord of the Hills ; and the ioio-guinea Voivoide. His
sale seemed to take every one by surprise in 1854, but
Chantrey by Touchstone had been bought in for a
thousand guineas only seven years before, the cautious
Mr. Gully giving the last bond fide bid of 980 guineas.
Warlock was as delicate as horse could be in his
training days, and very short and jumped up in his
first two seasons; but still there is something very
corky about him now, and if he had only been a
chestnut, he was the truest type of what Birdcatcher
almost invariably gets,
iwhctnn- " The cart-horse quartered Camel" can
fairly challenge Sir Hercules for the
Whalebone wreath, with the two own brothers, Touch-
stone and Launcelot. They were pretty nearly struck
from the same die, but the latter was perhaps the
biggest of the two, and did not show so much quality.
The Darley Arabian.
235
The curious growth of Camel's quarters was owing to
his having reared and fallen back as a yearling, and
another fall of a different kind made him eventually
useless. Touchstone was hardly fifteen two, and the
roots of his ears were quite his coarsest part. He was
alike good for speed and staying; and galloped wide
behind as many stayers do, but he wanted very fine
riding, and would swerve if his jockey raised his whip.
Calloway tried to dodg'e him, by changing his whip
hand behind his back, as he followed Usury up the
Mostyn mile; but the horse saw the movement, and
was across the mare's track in an instant. Long
gentle sweats were his mode of doing work, and one
of John Scott's most elaborate recollections is, the
way in which he staved off from him a threatened
attack of black jaundice. His mares were generally
low in the shoulder, and somewhat flat-sided, and
hence in both these points the Blacklock blood was a
corrective.
The short-shouldered Caravan was caravan
another of Camel's sons, but he was an
idol with no one but Isaac Day ; who in spite of some
undue prejudices, which would make him stick season
after season to a cripple (one of which never lay down
for three years), he had few equals either in training a
racer, or riding some of those hunters for whom price
was no object, over the stone walls of the Heythrop
and Vale of White Horse. Had Lord George lived
there is no doubt that he would have trained for him ;
and "No relation, but always the best of friends," used
to be his constant answer when any one asked him if
he wasn't own brother to John Day. " You didn't
win," was his only reply to Pavis, when he saw him
after Caravan's Derby, and he never believed that
anything ought to have beaten him. In fact, years
after old grey Isaac had skimmed over the dirt at
Shrewsbury, while Caravan laboured behind him up to
his hocks, he would be seen unconsciously nodding his
236
Silk and Scarlet.
head and repeating to himself as he sat, "Isaac beat Cava-
van—Isaac beat Caravanas if he could never com-
pletely master the fact. His highest ambition was to
win the Chester Cup, and he always said that it was
the worst day of his life when Caravan beat Harkaway
over that course, as the handicappers would give him a
chance no more. In the Houghton Meeting of '41 he
was in his greatest force with Tamburini and Vulcan,
the latter of whom the other Days, who had charge of
him between the meetings, did not consider good
enough to beat old Wardan, much less their Melody.
The party dropped fifteen thousand on Melody;
as in fact they knew of everything in the race but
Vulcan, whose jockey was simply ordered to lie in
front.
Orlando ^ would be strange if Touchstone had
been able to counteract all the softness of
Vulture in Orlando, whose own action, which is very
straight from his fore legs, did not give us a great
notion that he was a stayer, and certainly as a general
thing his stock are fondest of a mile. We never tired
of looking at him, as he stood at ease in his box,
resting his near hind foot, and showing the rich
folds of that beautiful muscular neck, as he turned
his high-bred forehead round, and looked with that
fine but dim eye at his visitors. He was rather light
in his fore ribs, and short from the withers to the
shoulder point; but still there was»little to find fault
with in his shoulders, although they may, perhaps,
have been a trifle upright. Teddington was remark-
able in every way, and, in fact, he has always been a
paradox to us in training, though he has proved beyond
doubt already that he is a very clever filly getter. We
never saw anything more fit and beautiful when he
came out to meet Stockwell for the championship in
the Ascot Cup ; and nothing more miserable four
months after, when Taylor sent him off after his
Cesarewitch defeat, on his last solitary and fatal walk,
The Darley Arabian. 237
to the four mile stables, for the Whip. His shoulders
were short, and yet he was able to get up a hill; and
he turned his toes -out, and yet he got well down a
hill. The quickest horses invariably turn their toes
out (in fact if they are broad-chested, there is no chance
of getting speed without it) and there was a good deal
of truth in the retort of Col. Peel's lad to a betting
man as he was leading Fantastic to the Heath,
" Turn his toes out, indeed; he'll make you turn you?
toes out before he's done with you'.' With Ted-
dington, if we remember rightly, it was the near one
that went most out, and with Wild Dayrell the off
one.
It was to Eaton that old Emma, five The streatiam
times over, took her eight days' journey Paddocks,
from Streatiam, through Kirby Stephen and Warring-
ton ; and Cotherstone and Mowerinafthe dam of West
Australian, were the best rewards of her toil. Seven
years before, she had thrown her first Derby winner
Mundig, to the game coarse Catton, who was great
even in an age of four milers, and would run every
yard of the way. The chestnut was the biggest and
thickest she ever had, slovenly in his style, and with
very great hips. Emma herself was a chestnut, low
and long, and half-an-inch under fifteen-two, but not
so big in her limbs as the dappled-bay Gibside Fairy.
She died in her twenty-seventh year, quite worn out.
At night she had taken her mash as usual, and then
she had struggled to the door, where she lay stretched
out and cold, with her head on the threshold, when
Isaac Walker came in the morning. Her form still
flourishes in the Cotherstone banner, which Mr. Her-
ring painted for Mr. Bowes after the Derby of that
year. Cotherstone himself is in the centre compart-
ment with Bill Scott up; while Whalebone, Camel,
and Touchstone on one side, and Whisker, Gibside
Fairy, and Emma on the other, gracefully encircle
him, with the Streatiam coat of arms. America also
238
Silk and Scarlet.
got its most beautiful importation in her eldest Cat-
ton-begot son Trustee, who ran third for the Derby,
and passed into the Duke of Cleveland's hands. She
has no monument, but they still point out where
Queen Mab, the daughter of O'Kelly's Tartar mare,
who was said to have foaled her when she was thirty-
six, lies under a thorn-tree, near the house, along with
Remembrancer and Pipator.
Four Derby winners, and one of them a breaker of
the double spell, left Walker's hands in eighteen years,
and their portraits, by Mr. Harry Hall, each within a
horse-plate, hang in pairs on two of the boxes. The
paddocks themselves are shaded by high holly hedges,
which John Smith planted; and there is nothing to
disturb the quiet of the yearlings, save when a mighty
cock-pheasant rises, startled from the neighbouring
brake, and comes whirring through. Six brood mares
were in an outlying paddock, headed by Mowerina,
the remnant of old Emma's race, and who bore the
last foal to Bay Middleton. John Scott's dream that
she was to go to Bay Middleton, and breed a winner
of the Derby, came to nought, as the little bay colt,
although full of promise, died before its time. She
was a great contrast in size to the Flapper, and was
rather a light unpretending mare; slow in her racing
days, and able to go for a week, till her legs failed.
It was in order to get a little of his coarse bone, that,
in a lucky hour, it was decided to send her to Mel-
bourne, and thence came the real " Lord of Langley-
dale," in the shape of West Australian. He was born
on April 24th, (eighteen days earlier in the year than
Cotherstone), whereas Daniel O'Rourke, in spite of his
small stature, was foaled as early as January 7th. The
" West" had very bad distemper towards the close of
the year, and wasted to a mere sickly frame-work of
skin and bone. It was quite a grapple for life or death
with him for months ; but the spring grass sent him
along, and he looked behind him no more.
The Darley Arabian. 239
And so the tide of luck and fashion r . .
in thorough-breds has ebbed and flowed n°Usi0n'
for many a long year. The yearlings by Waxy,
Whalebone, Tramp, Reveller, Emilius, Dr. Syntax,
Sultan, and Velocipede, have all held sway in their
turn; and then the stars of Touchstone, Venison,
Birdcatcher, Orlando, and Melbourne arose, and
shone with a still steadier light. It was not, how-
ever, until two-year-old racing began to come in
earnest, at Lord George's beck, that breeders looked
to public, and not to private sales, and gradually, in
self-defence, forced their yearlings to two-year-old
estate by their second autumn. Men of the old school
might well fancy it a dream, as they strolled down to
the Salutation, and saw Hunting Horn or Touchwood
brought out to the hammer. The dispersion of the
Hampton Court stud in '37 gave a slight fillip to
prices; but still three hundred guineas continued to
be thought a capital bidding clencher; and it was
only when the rivalry of Messrs. Crawfurd, Merry and
Pad wick had made the "yellow jack" so prevalent,
that every breeder, big and little, considered that he
had an especial mission to rear a thousand-guinea
yearling.
And so at last, from post and paddock, we must
pass on to hound and horn. Although we have lin-
gered so fondly over the hosts of turf worthies and
their riders, who have come forth year after year
at the sound of the saddling-bell, we must still have
left scores of pleasant incidents of man and horse
untold. We never pass into the yard at Tattersall's
without thinking, with all an author's envy, of the
rich bits of character which have been dropped there,
with no pen to "fix them," when the "portly York
ruled in the touting dominions," and the eighteen or
twenty sterling bookmakers clustered in that little
room on the left, whose portals old Jonathan Bray
guarded with such fidelity and valour. Three of the
R
240
Silk and Scarlet.
figures in that Newmarket match picture which Mr.
Tattersall hung over the fire-place, just as he re-
ceived it from the Prince Regent, were headless
stumps ;*'but there was head enough to spare in the
assembly on which it looked down. " Knockings
out" have lost much of their pristine vigour ; a great
horse now takes generally about two days to go;
and there is none of the grandeur which attached to
the process when those ancient heroes of metallic re-
nown appeared upon the scene, and dealt their smash-
ing blows.
When Ogden's day was over, "Jerry Cloves," who
lost so heavily in his namesake's year, Crockford,
Gully, and TanfiJd, all went to the fore, with their
twenty thousand to ten thousand books on the Derby;
but the two Epsom events, the St. Leger, the Oat-
lands, the Chester Cup, and the Ascot Stakes were
almost the only races which they cared to notice at
The Corner. Right cautious point-dealers they were
too ; and 20 to 1 was the very outside they would lay
against either Priam or Emilius for The Derby, when
they were only colts in breaking. Crockford always
wrote with his left hand, and was not so bold a better
as Tanfield, of whom the saying went that " he wanted
all St. James'-street to himself" when he condescended
to walk down it. Peter and Dan Cloves, who were
large coal-merchants, also followed in their uncle's
footsteps ; but they had none of his dash and daring,
and were just as quiet as Jim Bland was noisy. The
latter could neither read nor write, though his second
wife so far instructed him in the literce humaniores as
to enable him to sign cheques. He could never make
a note of a bet; but when he got home the list was
read over to him, and no Crocker or Jedediah Buxton
could have recounted more exactly what he had been
doing at the betting-post. Bob Steward, of the Navy
Office, was also esteemed cool and courageous ; and
so was Mr. Justice, though he seldom made more than
The Darley Arabian.
241
a five thousand book. The Derby, Oaks, and St.
Leger contented Highton's book-yearnings; and
" Goose " Davis never made one at all, but laid it on
hot and thick against the favourites. This was also
Crutch Robinson's line; and he very seldom de-
scended on to London from his much-loved Staley
Bridge, except for the Derby and Oaks week. It
would have been well for Will Ridsdale if he had been
a's wise ; but he would try his hand in a half-and-half
way, and his lop-sided book fairly beat him in the
long run. And so, as the years drew on, the old bet-
ting-giants died out, save and except Mr. Gully ; the
younger generation adjourned to the new Subscription
Rooms, and the number of bookmakers became
multiplied by ten.
We would fain, too, follow the fortunes of that
coach-and-four which rattled over the stones each
Friday before Doncaster from " The Corner " along
the Great North Road, with Richard Tattersall,
Charles Mathews, Young the tragedian, and three or
four of those bookmakers as its merry freight; and be
content even with reporting their "Table Talk" on
Mameluke, Velocipede, Rowton, or Priam, when they
reached the half-way hostel at Alconbury Hill. Alas !
"Doncaster in four hours" has supplanted this pleasant
old custom. It has gone for ever with four-mile races
and Portland Plates, where Lord Bathurst's pig-tail
and the Duke of Grafton's umbrella have gone before
it; the Kents no longer saddle some two-and-twenty
for the Duke and Lord George, on a Ham Stakes
afternoon ; and boy-handicaps and " milk fever " are
the characteristics of an altered time. Still, with all
its faults and failings, the Arab will weary of his mare
and the Kaffir of his lance before an Englishman
becomes quite indifferent to " a true and correct list."
National instinct makes him love to be within ear-shot
of that cry at least once or twice in a summer, and
none other can lure a hundred and fifty thousand, with
242
Silk and Scarlet.
one heart and one pulse, to Epsom Downs and Don-
caster Moor. Twelve years have gone by since " John
Davis " became its Tyrtseus in " The Ring." He spoke
proudly then of
"The sport which Grafton loves,
Which Spencer, Portland,- Albemarle approves ;
Which kings have fostered, and a country's pride,
Protest who may, will never cast aside"—
and who is there to gainsay him ?
-CHAPTER IV.
SCARLET.
"Each season has its joys, 'tis true,
And none should wisdom spurn ;
But those who nature rightly view,
Enjoy them in their turn ;
The angler, racer, courser, shot—■
As each to each is borne,—
But the season of seasons, is it not
When the huntsman winds his horn ?"
RAMBLE THE FIRST.
Prophets of 7HEN great authorities assure us
Evil. Y V that fox-hunting is nothing more
or less than " a number of horsemen riding furiously
after a nasty smell," and cheerfully append their
decision that " the whole thing must soon come to an
end," it requires more than ordinary faith and elas-
ticity to write upon the subject, with such words of
doom in the air. Still the recollection of the scores
of quiet evenings which we have spent, note-book in
hand, not only with Dick Christian, but in certain
snug little Nimrod shrines, from Durham to Dorset-
Eng?a_-ved"by J.B Html.
Scarlet.
243
shire, will somehow inspire the hope that there may
be, in ages to come,
"Once more a view-holloa from old Oulton Lowe,"
and that, although Will Goodall, on " my good little
Emperor," can cheer them no more, the lineal
descendants of Yarborough Rally wood may still
challenge in Melton Spinney.
Hunting men- will, doubtless, feel the scent sneer
most acutely, and for them there is no help ; but we
are bound to quote in defence of the hounds the
hypothesis of the late Hartley Coleridge, that " what
seems to us merely a disagreeable smell, is perhaps to
their canine organs a most beautiful poem." Beau-
tiful as it may be, both masters and huntsmen have
so far been unable to discover, even approximately,
the laws on which that poem" is constructed. Earl
Fitzhardinge, after half a century in the scarlet, con-
fessed that he had learnt nothing, except in a practical
point of view, beyond what the pages of Somerville
had told him when a boy. If that was the testimony
of one who loved to walk a fox to death, and give his
cheery " Well done. Now, that's beautiful!" as one
of the " old Corbet sort," after minutes of puzzling,
struck the scent at last; others, less enthusiastic, may
leave the delicate scent problem to some future Isaac
Newton of the hunting field.
Will Goodall said in the last letter, Scent in Diffe-
dated April 8th, we ever received from rent Countries,
him, " I can't say that I have observed any very odd
peculiarity of scent in any part of our country; as
with a N.E. wind, and a rising glass, they will run
over any part of it, and catch their fox; but with a
west wind, which has been piercing nearly the whole
of this blessed season, we have never had a week's
good scenting weather." No one living speaks with
more authority than Mr. Farquharson, and he gives
us, as the result of his observation, that " there is no
244
Silk and Scarlet.
criterion by which scent can be properly estimated."
" I have known," he adds, " a burning scent when
apparently there should have been none; and vice
versd, I have known a great lack of it under the most
propitious prospects. I have seen hounds fly in a
strong westerly wind, which is supposed to be the
most unfavourable for scent, and I have seen them
run in all weathers and winds. There are, however,
some rules which may be considered as regulating
more or less the scent. For instance, when the quick-
silver is low, the atmosphere is generally disturbed,
and in that case, if not altogether a lack of scent, it
is so fluctuating and catching that it varies almost
momentarily. On the contrary, however, I have
always found that when the quicksilver is steady and
settled the scent is good. The condition of hounds
has a good deal to do with their noses. Dorsetshire
cannot be called a good scenting country in a moist
season; the hills and woodlands, however, hold a
fair scent, and I was able to place my hounds so as
to suit the weather. The last season of my having
hounds, I think, was the worst I can recollect for
scent."
The Puckeridge is nearly all on the plough, and
carries no great scent, and its huntsmen generally like
to force the foxes into Essex. The Ainsty is very
uncertain, and the Hurworth is good in wet, but bad
in dry, as the clay gets as hard as a brick yard. In
the Burton country, scent is not so good as it used to
be; and the Southwold is best on the Tothill and
Greenfield side, and near the Tower on the Moor.
When the High Wold Brocklesbury country is dry it
fails; in fact, " the more rain the better, both for it
and the marshes, and up to our knees and hocks in
mud, we go best." The Berkeley country, on the
contrary, is best when dry; and the Cotswold Hills
hold a scent better than the Vale; but the latter
country knows no medium, and Harry Ayris always
Scarlet.
245
ioved most to have it very wet or very dry. In the
Heythrop, the scent serves best in wet; and the
Oxford side of the country, to wit, the Northaston
side, which includes Acton's Barton and Ditchley
Wood, is the worst. The Beaufort country is superior
to the Heythrop, as it is richer land, and has more
grass. Its Wilts side is better scenting, as the Tet-
bury one requires rain much oftener.
The Grafton country is first rate, as it has so much
grass land; and the Oakley is pretty fair. The
Pytchley country is generally favourable to scent,
with the exception of the northern part adjoining
Bedfordshire, and Bad by Wood, which is notoriously
the worst scenting covert in the hunt. Woodhay is
the best side of the Craven country, and the Ted-
worth is very moderate as a whole, especially on
Salisbury Plain, where the sheep make matters still
worse. Still the Pewsey Vale is good, and so are
Roist Woods and Savernake Forest; but they all want
wet. In the Quorn country, the Six Hills and Forest
side is capital, and the foxes wilder. In Cheshire the
scent differs very little in any part; but in Shropshire,
whenever there is scent on the Haughmond Hill,
there is none in the valley; and the reverse holds
good as well. The Woore side of North Stafford-
shire and the Market Drayton side, where they join
Sir Watkin, is the best; Bishop's Burnt Woods is
favourable to scent generally; but Jurymanton Old
Park, near Trentham, which is full of young oaks, on
a gravelly soil, holds very little except in wet. The
Cheshire side of Sir Watkin's country is chiefly grass,
and holds a rare scent; while the Shropshire ride is just
the reverse, and, without rain at least once a week, the
sport is most doubtful. The Old Berkshire shows
most sport in a dry season. Becket, Coleshill, Buscot,
and Farringdon parts are generally good after Christ-
mas, but the scent in its woods is always remarkably
variable. In Tar Wood, they sometimes cannot run a
246
Silk and Scarlet.
yard, and yet at other times kill their brace of foxes
without a check ; and in Cokethorpe again, we have
known them run all day with scarcely any scent, till
the fog rose in an October evening, and then account
for him in twenty minutes. On Appleton Common
they can carry a head in any weather, while Tubney
Wood, just over the next ditch, is the worst scenting
wood in the world.
Nimrod the The first great practical hunter we
Second. have traces of in England, is " the brave
Burrington," and we only hit on him in a 1733
" Essay on Hunting." The author of it "presumes on
pardon from the loquacious world, if among so many
treatises, vindications, replies, journals, craftsmen, hyp-
doctors, and lay preachers, the press be borrowed a
day or two for a plain essay on the innocent recrea-
tion of us country squires." A fox, it is true, lies
curled up at the end of his Essay; but he runs hare
throughout. Burrington is evidently the Dagon of
his idolatry. It was he, and he alone, who by his
marvellous knowledge of roads and morasses, caused
" the celerity of the march of the Prince of Orange ,"
and such was his iron vigour years after he had passed
his grand climacteric, that his eulogist is tempted
triumphantly to inquire, " How man/ Beaux, Flats,
and Spit-Frog Commission officers would he not at
that age have driven to market with his single hunt-
ing pole ?"
Early Henry Fielding had, it is true, made
Fox-hunters. Reynard "drop his bushy tail" in a hunt-
ing song before 1750; still it was sound orthodoxy in
that age to hunt what first came to hand ; and it was
not until some twenty years later, when old Cooper
was seen cheering Bluecap and Wanton in their five
hundred a-side match against two of Mr. Meynell's
hounds over Newmarket, that the line of demarcation
between hare and fox began to grow sharp and clear.
The Tarporley Hunt proclaimed their allegiance in
Scarlet.
247
1769, and their red saddle-cloth was bound with green
instead of blue, as a token. Earl Fitzwilliam had
begun the year before, with Will Dean and a few
hounds from the Dean of Peterborough, and then
Meynell became more and more famous as the cen-
tury drew to a close. "Marlborough," "Devonshire,"
" Thanet," " Spencer," "Arlington," Hewlins, Sheldon,
Beckford, Monson, Simon Steward, Barnes, and
Townshend were but lesser lights at his side; and it
was years before " the race of Rutland and the nose of
Yarborough" was a received axiom of kennel creed.
There was Lady Salisbury, too, the Lady Salisbury.
most renowned Diana of her day, with
her dwarf fox-hounds and her sky-blue uniform, with
black collars, lappels, and jockey-caps. Enthusiastic
penmen were found in Herts to write up to the Sport-
ing Magazine the triumphs of the lady of Hatfield,
when she had run her fox to earth, after two hours
and a-half at Baldock. " Out of a field of fourscore,"
says one in the March of '95, "her ladyship soon gave
honest Daniel the go-by ; pressed Mr. Hale neck and
neck, soon blowed the whipper-in, and continued
indeed, throughout the whole of the chase, to be
nearest the brush."
Lord Barrymore's eccentricities shone Lord Barrymore
out as brightly in his hunting appoint- and Colonel
ments as in everything else. The hunt- Thornton,
ing field ox Louis XIV., at Fontainbleau, was his
model, and his four Africans in scarlet and silver, and
with French horns, on which they wound blasts loud
enough to startle every out-lying stag from his lair,
kept him in music all day. The Barrymore fashion
did not wholly die out with the old century, but it
jumped with the humour of none save Colonel
Thornton to adhere to it. Pie cared far more to see
the Yorkshire woldsmen gaze in wonderment at his
motley cavalcade, as it wound its way to Foxhunter's
Hall, than for any sport he Pad when he got there.
248
Silk and Scarlet.
Fourteen servants with hawks on their wrists, ten
hunters, principally by his Jupiter, a pack of stag
hounds and lap-dog beagles, and a brace of wolves,
against which the farmers soon levelled a round-robin,
formed the advanced guard. Two brace of pointers,
and thrice as many greyhounds, headed by Major, in
rich buff and blue sheets, with armorial bearings, fol-
lowed in their train ; and his three eighty-guinea guns,
and a box full of the plover's head feathers, with
which alone he would condescend to fish, rumbled
behind in the wagon.
Mr. Meyneii. Unfortunately for us, the writers of the
period were much more anxious to note
down such mere embroidery of sport, than to follow
the sterling career of Mr. Meynell at Quorn. It
pleased them better to tell how Merkin was sold for
four hogsheads of claret and two couple of puppies,
and how a bevy of sportsmen in consequence knew
"Only from the hollow cask,
How the waning night grew old,"
than how Jack Raven got his hounds away from
Langton Caudle, or Glooston Wood. In 1795, it is
true we find a slight notification to the effect that
" Mr. Meynell recommenced his campaign in the
Leicestershire Furzes;" and further that "Sir Henry
Featherstone had thirty hunters daily exercised in
body clothing, near Loughboro'but after that, all
became so dark and drear, that we abandoned the
search in despair, and determined on seeking out
some living oracle, who could furnish the missing links
with the past.
Our Search for 0n making inquiry, we found that Tom
Tom Wiugfieid Wingfield, the patriarch of huntsmen, was
the Eider. aiiVe, hard by the resting-place of his old
master; and before the week was out, we were at
Ashbourne. To find him after that, although we knew
that he was within three miles of the town, was no
Scarlet.
2 49
easy task. The venerable ostler at the inn where
Mr. Meynell Ingram's hounds stay all night when
they come into the country, and who ought to be
quite a gazetteer on such points, vowed that he had
not seen his face, or heard his name for " twelve years
gone Christmas while the barber was " only new
come," and knew nothing. A jolly young butcher
was acquainted with such a man, both by sight and
name, but then warming with his subject, and coming
out of his beefy bower, he fairly laughed to scorn
the notion that the Thomas Wingfield he meant
had ever been a huntsman. He knew better, that
he did; it couldn't be that man at all we were
wanting. He, however, referred us to an adjacent
cobbler, and we asked him in that disbelievinp;
butcher's presence, by way of fixing the identity,
whether this old man had only one eye. The ques-
tion was unfortunate, but it settled the point, as when
he looked up and answered in the affirmative, we saw,
to our sorrow, that he had only one himself. And so
toiling away up that memorable ascent, " down which"
in political memory
'' Romantic Ashbourne ! glides
The Derby dilly, with its six insides,"
we reached the road-side residence of old Tom at
last.
For a man of nearly eighty-four, he carries head
bravely. It is just thirty years since he laid aside his
horn, on Sir Thomas Mostyn resigning his hounds to
Mr. Drake ; but still, with his wiry ten stone frame,
black surtout and stockings, and drab breeches, he
looked quite the ancient martinet of the kennel. We
fully unfolded our mission, and it is no fault of ours
that his features are not preserved herewith in a
wood-cut, but the ice of prejudice was too strong
for us ; and though he at first consented, he backed
out on reflection. Modern hunting matters seemed
250
Silk and Scarlet.
to have no charm for him. He was anxious, how-
ever, to know if Mr. Drake had taken to his
father's country ; and when we informed him that he
was half through his second season, it turned out that
he had written, sixteen months before, to a relative,
requesting an answer on the point; but as he was
"the best man in the world to keep a secret," the
question might have been unanswered for years, if we
had not called in.
A/r„,™n;o„„ And so we slipped with Tom into the
past, and had about an hour and five
minutes without a single check. He quite remem-
bered the Meynell family keeping harriers, and fol-
lowing them with poles; but the real dawn of his
fox-hunting life was when Mr. Meynell sent for him
at ten for Quorn. There could not have been very
much of him at that date, as he not only had to ride
behind his new master with false stirrups in Hyde
Park, on account of the inconvenient shortness of his
legs, but that mighty Nimrod led him, on their very
first interview, from his study to the meat safe, and
after tying a piece of cord round his waist and thighs,
suspended him to a steel-yard, and weighed him,
a trifle under four stone. As he waxed in size and
years, the kitchen became a luckless spot to him. In
a fit of cupboard love, he went to ask the cook, Fanny
Screeton, for an apple, and as he "paused for a reply "
on the threshold, a fellow-servant shot an arrow from
one of the children's bows at him, and his eye was
irretrievably ruined. Still, he made one do double
duty, and right ably too. Lord Stamford had hounds
in those days at Bradgate Park, and Tom was spe-
daily selected by Mr. Meynell, and, to use his own
words, "placed as an ensign on John's Hill," to see
what hounds were leading when they joined packs to
draw Swithland Wood. His report was not particu-
larly gratifying to Quorn, as he placed three of Lord
Stamford's first, and two of Mr. Meynell's second ;
Scarlet.
251
then came one of Lord Stamford's, then three of Mr.
Meynell's, and he cared to count no longer. Before
very long he was made the hard-riding Jack Raven's
second whip, while Joe Harrison was first. Joe had
his work set him in the kennel, while Tom kept to the
stables, and beyond the fact that Mr. Meynell bred
very much from Lord Monson, and that the hounds
were " a lot of coarse close hunters," he cared to say
little for them.
With the Bradley Wood fox, on the The Bradley
contrary, he expressed the very deepest Wood Fox-
sympathy. It was his wont to break instantly at the
end of the wood, towards Ashbourne, and they as re-
gularly lost him at the end of a mile. At last they
discovered that he ran the top of a hedge, and Mr.
Meynell had five couple of hounds posted at that
point. He accordingly went away the next time
straight for the Peak of Derbyshire, and was lost near
Hopton. Mr. Meynell had gone home early, and as
Raven brought the hounds back to the kennel about
four o'clock, he opened his dressing-room window, and
ordered him to throw them into Bradley Wood once
more, as he had just seen the hunted fox steal back.
As to " the country people's story about a fox cross-
ing the road before the hearse as they brought him
from London," he " didn't believe a word of it but
this he did know, that " Mr. Meynell never killed a
fox unhandsome, only that once."
We had next a turn at Lord Sefton, Lord Sefton's
who put, according to Tom, much more Mastership,
fashion on the horses and the men at Quorn. The
green collar was kept, but the white metal buttons
yielded to gilt with the Sefton crest. Two huntsmen
then came on the scene, but his lordship did not
choose to discharge Stephen Goodall, who had just
had such a wonderful season with his hounds in Ox-
fordshire ; and hence it was amicably arranged that
Jack Raven should be head in the kennel, and take
252
Silk and Scarlet.
the cream of the country two out of the four days, and
that the heavy-weight should go into the woodlands.
His lordship bought Mr. Meynell's fifty couple, and
as Stephen had to pack up his household gods, Tom
was sent in his place to Combe Abbey to bring the
Oxfordshire fifty couple to Quorn. They passed
through Leicester on the Good Friday of 1800, just as
the people were going into church, and Tom said to the
boiler, who was the whip that journey, " Jack, we
shouldn't be heret' Lord Sefton cared very little for
hounds, but his stud was superb, and he never had
less than three horses out in a day. Gooseberry,
Moseley, and a grey from Cheshire, which was said to
be the finest in England—all did him yeoman's ser-
vice under such a crushing hamper; but Loadstone
carried him farther than any of them, and once went
so far as not to come to a dead stop till good five
minutes over the hour. They had run from Brooksby
through Rotherby to Widmerpool, and had their fox
dead beat, after a sharp six miles, when a fresh one
jumped up from a hedge-row; and across the Vale of
Belvoir to Blackberry Hill, where it was found dead
next day at the mouth of an earth. Half a mile from
that point, the hounds could make nothing of it, and
his lordship and Loadstone only just got to Larigar.
Lord Sefton in his turn sold Quorn to Lord Foley;
but it was during the five years' mastership of the
former, that Jack Raven died, and Tom got his pro-
motion as first whip, while George Raven was made
second.
Mr. Assheton In 1806, Mr. Assheton Smith became
Smith. kjng 0f QUorn in his turn, and Tom rose
to the dignity of kennel huntsman, while the redoubt-
able Jack Shirley, who had never been with hounds
before, burst on to the world from Oxfordshire as
second whip. The pack had become sadly uneven in
Lord Foley's hands, the bitches averaging generally
from eighteen to twenty-one inches, and the dog
Scarlet.
253
hounds about twenty-four. Tom never fell in very
kindly with Mr. Smith's kennel notions, especially
about large hounds, of which Cerberus by Charon, a very
noisy one, of twenty-five inches, bred by and given to
him by Lord Althorp, was the beginner. Hence he
had some sore trials in this respect; and never, per-
haps, attached sufficient importance to the precept,
" that speech was given us to conceal our thoughts,"
at least when Mr. Smith was in his drafting vein.
"This Chuworth" (as he still speaks of Mr. Musters,
from early instinct) often asked him why some of his
favourites were seen no more, and his invariable reply
was, " Because they wouldn't go into the smeuse when
they were wanted to draw; that's all I know." After
eight seasons Tom departed, to be kennel huntsman
to "the Squire," in Nottinghamshire, where he stayed
one season, and entered twelve of a litter out of
Brevity before he passed on to Sir Thomas Mostyn.
Sir Thomas had principally made his sir Thomas
pack by sending his bitches to Quorn ; Mostyn.
and Gayman, Hermit, Ranter, and Sultan were the
hounds of theirs which he most used. Hermit by
Justice, from a daughter of Lictor's, got some wonder-
ful gorse drawers, but these Hermits turned out badly;
and nine couple (including Lucifer, Lashwood, Laza-
rus, and Lictor, by Sultan) were entered from Lady,
who at once made and marred the pack. The passion
of Mr. Griff Lloyd for Lucifer was only equalled by
his hunting appetite for pork-pie and purl ; and Sir
Thomas himself was not one whit less attached to
Lady, who ran
"Up stairs, and down stairs,
And in my lady's chamber,"
exactly as she chose. Still it was a general opinion,
that if he had not hearkened to the parson so much
as he did, in consideration of their old school-boy
friendship, he would have had a much better pack of
hounds latterly. Lady's picture continues to be the
254
Silk and Scarlet.
best kennel-nursery one we have; and her Cleopatra
Needle monument, ten feet high, but bearing no in-
scription, is still standing in the middle of a field
close by what once were the old Bainton kennels.
Lexicon, one of the hounds in the Duke of Rutland's
pack, goes back to her ; but the muteness has not
descended to him. They were not only short of
tongue when Tom Wingfield got hold of them, but
far too quick for a bad scent, and it was mere chance
whether they had a day's sport at all. In fact, every
hunting man who saw them, used to confirm Tom's
caustic comments, that " it was principally our opinion
whether it was a fox or not ; they didn't know what
they were running half their time." During the next
thirteen seasons, they got back their tongue by breed-
ing from the Duke of Beaufort; but still they had
hardly enough to satisfy Mr. Drake, and he selected,
among others, stallion hounds from Mr. Warde's in the
Craven country, which were even suspected of having
too much. It was a remarkable fact, that in Stephen
Goodall's and Ben Foote's day, they would always
pack with the Duke of Beaufort's (when they clashed
in the Heythrop country) and Lord Althorp's, but
never with the Duke of Grafton's. In this they showed
their judgment, as the latter were as wild in the open
as they were effective in the woodlands. Still Tom
Rose sometimes had very fine things with them, and
it was at the end of one of them that he exultingly
shouted, " I'd give five pounds to have Mr. Lloyd
here. What will he say of our fat bullocks now ?"
iu Few men knew better about the work
Mr. Grin Lloyd. r A , _
of hounds than " the Parson ; and he was
sure to get to the end of every run somehow or other ;
but not content with being field-master, he constituted
himself a sort of standing counsel to the huntsman.
He would never go to covert or to dinner except on
horseback, and he did not care if he rode five-and-
twenty miles to either. So faithfully did he stick to
Scarlet.
255
Sir Thomas's, that he never but once honoured Jem
Hills with his company. " Hark to the Parson /" said
George Carter, who was out that day ; and well he
might, as he was not in his best of humours. However,
he only saw a twenty-five minutes' thing, and went
home at twelve, thereby just missing a brilliant one
hour and five minutes from Tackley Heath. At times
he was very wild in the field, and liked to slip away
with a couple of hounds, till he and Tom Wingfield
got to an explanation on the point at Geddington Low
Pastures. No one seems to remember how he agreed
with " The great Mr. Shaw," who had ridden after
Lord Moira, and then hunted his beagles in Derby-
shire three days a week; but a scene between him
and old Stephen Goodall at Cottesford Heath set the
country dinner tables in a roar.
The hounds were in cover nearly an Stephen Good-
hour, and none of them spoke but Caro- alls Polecat,
line, and she only at five minutes intervals. Stephen,
who was always a perfect Job, kept cheering her each
time, till at last Griff lost all patience, and dashing
down one of the rides, roared " Why don't you hold
your tongue, Stephen, and come away I It's only a pole-
cat." There was a deep pause, and from the depths
of the wood came Stephen's rejoinder, " Patience and
water gruel, Mr. Lloyd, is both good things—have at
'em Caroline!" and at that moment the fox was viewed
away, and a capital run of an hour brought him to
hand. " This is a very fine polecat, Mr. Lloyd',' said
Stephen, as he held it triumphantly aloft, and the
Parson growled out, that " We must all be mistaken
sometimes."
In spite of the weight, old Stephen had Stephen
a most wonderful power of getting to Goodall.
hounds, and when the renowned " Ben Foote, of the
Craven," was the first whip, he had only to cast the
hounds twice in the season. He seemed to drop on
them out of a balloon j and on tjie second occasion,
S
256
Silk and Scarlet.
although it was a very fast thing of four miles, without
a check, from Reeves Gorse to Fringford Hill, Stephen
was just coming into the field on his white Trinket as
Ben swung them" round. This horse, and the chestnut
Ragman were prime favourites, but neither of them
carried him like King Charles. Sir Thomas bought
his horse from Charles Warde, who found him quite a
iade when he squeezed him at the end of the first
quarter of an hour ; whereas Stephen, by holding him
together, and never asking him to go beyond a certain
pace, could get along with him over the best country.
He was a fine goer, but did not look up to a great
weight. Nothing could induce his rider to go to scale;
but Mr. Harrison (who made up, with Sir Thomas,
Lord Jersey, and Sir Henry Peyton, the hard-riding
corps of the hunt) lured him by stratagem on to a
patent weighing-chair, and saw with his own eyes the
pointer standing at nineteen-four. Stephen found out
that he had been done ; and as Ragman sent him over
his head into a pond that afternoon, when they were
going to an outlying fixture, and the bacon dripped on
to his head with the heat of the public-house fire, which
was lighted to rough-dry him, he retired prematurely
to rest, growling that he had never gone through such
a day in his life. He rode two holes shorter on the
right side, and was niggling so perpetually at his horses
with his short-necked spurs, that the grey contracted
quite an enormous white mark, and the chestnut a
black one to match.
Leviathan as he was, his knowledge of hounds and
hunting was quite in accordance with his weight.
The price of draft hounds has seldom been known to
be so high as when Charles X. bought 150 of the
biggest hounds he could in 1824-26 ; but such was
Stephen's fame as a breeder and breaker, that he could
always command as much as fifteen guineas a couple for
his in the home market. He loved to stoop them to hare
with the couples on> but never ran them in view, and
Scarlet.
257
he was so very relentless on the subject of riot, that
at one time he kept a buck-rabbit, who was carried
into the kennels every morning, and became such a
veteran at the business, that it went hopping about
and nibbling the sterns of the culprits, while the whips
laid on lustily, and cried " Ware hare I Coom, young
men, get your whips? became a regular morning salute;
but one of them rebelled at last so stoutly, and said
he would resign rather than do it, that the boiler ate
the rabbit, and ended the system. In his fourteen-
stone days Stephen hunted a pack in Mr. Corbet's
Shropshire country, and it was then that the old dog
jumped a park wall, and killed his fox by himself in
that memorable style, which still makes the Shropshire
roof-trees ring again in response to " One cheer more
for the blood of old Trojan?
Tom Moody and Tom Sebright's Tom Moodv
father were his whips; but although he
was a very great rider, there was no hunting talent
about the former to justify the hero-worship which
song writers and painters have accorded to him. He
was a little eight-stone man, sweet tempered, but de-
cidedly dirty, and would as soon as not keep on his
boots at a stretch, from Monday till Saturday. His
whole existence centered on hunting, and as he
could not read a word, his spare summer time
was devoted to fishing. He never scrupled to
give up his money to Mrs. Goodall when he was
sober, and beg to have it by only a shilling at a time;
but he had, like poor Tom Flint, "always a pain in
his chest" as he called it, going to covert, which did
not admit of the cold water cure; and his gigantic
horn which was filled with ale, not once, but a hun-
dred times too often, was soon the only relic of him
above ground.
And so we leave the great first whip of Mr Ferneley's
the eighteenth, and pass on to the still Quorn Hunt Pic-
greater master of the nineteenth century, ture'
258
Silk and Scarlet.
whom we left at Quorn, with Jack Shirley and Dick
Burton, who came to him at fifteen, as his aides-de-
camp. Save Dick and the venerable painter himself,
every one of the fifteen whom Mr. Ferneley grouped
in the celebrated picture, which he executed for Lord
Plymouth, have dropped one by one into their graves.
Barkby Holt in the spring time of 1815 is the meet,
and the eye stretches away on the extreme right past
the church at Hungerton and Quenby Hall, to the fir-
clad Billesdon Coplow. " Le Grand Chasseur Smit,"
as the Parisians termed him when he went over after
the Peace, stands in the centre, by the side of his light
chestnut Gift, of which Dick Burton holds the rein,
and talks to Mr. Mills on his iron-grey; while his
fidus Achates Tom Edge chimes in at intervals from
the back of that bony Gayman, whom so many were
wont to term " the skeleton cart-horse." Mr. Paris is
in the back-ground on the brown, for whom Lord
Alvanley gave notes untold; and Lord Plymouth
stands leaning over Fancy, as if, although she did cost
him six hundred, he is glad to interpose her as a
barrier between himself and Lord Aylesford, when he
sees that his lordship's Beelzebub, the most vicious of
his race, has got his ears back for a round with some-
body. Oxfordshire has sent its representative in Mr.
Bradshaw; and Lord Dartmouth on his best grey
almost obscures the figure of Gamboy Henton, than
whom no better " blue coat" ever went to the fore in
" a blazing hour." On the left, Mr. Mayler, who soon
after died in the hunting field, only presents a back
view, as he sits on his brown, and attentively scans
Gift and his rider. John Moore, the father of the Old
Club in Nimrod's day, has got among the hounds and
servants, who are as well mounted as their master.
Jack Shirley looks down at his pets from the back of
Young Jack-'o-Lantern ; Will Beck, who was after-
wards with Mr. Musters, is up on the dark chestnut
Minster, so terrible in the Vale of Belvoir; and
Scarlet.
259
young Will Burton is lingering on the outside before
he takes his master's hack home, just to see the throw
off. He weighed only six stone four when he was
fifteen, and died not many months after, of consump-
tion, at Quorn. Mr. Smith had his picture painted,
and he was wont to say, as he looked at it, year after
year, in his room at Tedworth, that he would have
given ten thousand to save him.
Will is represented holding some Mr. Smith's
couples, and the dark grey Manager Hound Fancies,
looks up wistfully in his face. This was one of the
twenty-five inch hounds by whom Mr. Smith swore,
and he was so much too fast for the rest of the pack,
that although they buckled a shot-belt round his neck,
and filled him three parts full of boiled lights, he still
defied them and their handicaps. Tom Wingfield
hated him, and if he could see him drop back into the
second flight with an afternoon fox, he never forgot to
mention it. When Mr. Smith bought Lord Foley's,
he liked them small, and bred almost entirely from
the best, with the exception of using a son of the
Fitzwilliam Collier, and going occasionally to Mr.
Musters, whose pack he purchased in 1814, for a
change of blood, and killed a brace of foxes with them
on the Forest, the first day they went out. Lord
Lonsdale's and Lord Althorp's he never sent to, and
" the great calves" was the only title he bestowed on
the Pytchley, when they were in John Warde's hands.
Glorious John returned the compliment with com-
pound interest, when he spoke of " the egg suckers,"
and the " picket-noses" of Quorn, and used a personal
simile of undoubted breadth, when he described to a
circle of friends at Tattersall's exactly what a hound's
nose ought to be. There was hardly a dog-hound at
Quorn much beyond twenty-three when Mr. Smith
chanced to clash with Lord Lonsdale's in Launde
Wood, and Jack Shirley counted twelve of Lord
Lonsdale's first away. Many thought that Mr. Smith's
260
Silk and Scarlet.
hounds naturally refused to go to a strange cry; but
their master's idea was, that owing to their smaller
size, they were unable to jump over the long green
briars, which were too close to admit of creeping, and
his troubled spirit knew no rest till the bitch standard
had been raised to as much over twenty-three as he
could get it, and his dogs to as near twenty-five as
possible.
It was thus that the Manager dynasty came in;
but the neighbouring hunts did not bow to it, and
Lord Althorp stuck to the twenty-three and a-half
Champion by Meynell's Ranter and Pontiff, and had
some fifteen litters of whelps by them one season.
The short-legged Pontiff was then the pick of the pack,
albeit he was a trifle throaty, and hardly able to go
the pace, and his picture still hangs in the ante-room
at Tedworth, along with the little half-faced Dairy-
maid. Tigress also nestled very near Mr. Smith's
heart, although she was a confirmed hare-hunter, and
scarcely ever came home with them. His love of
large hounds did not desert him in Lincolnshire, and
the only complaint he had against the county was,
that the banks in the coverts rather let his hounds'
toes down early, by the stress it put on to them in
jumping. However near it might be to cub-hunting,
he would allow no " singing" in his kennels, which
were situated just below the Middle Station, in Lin-
coin, where Mr. Chaplin's hunters now stand.
Mr. Smith's Ted- When he passed on from his beloved
worth Pack. Langton and Wragby Woods to Penton
in Hampshire, where he lived till his father's death, we
find him again breeding very extensively for size from
two brothers Rifleman and Reginald by Sir Richard
Sutton's Trimmer. With George Carter came sixty
couple of the Grafton hounds, of which no less than
thirty were of the good old Goodwood badger pye.
Carter had used Mr. Osbaldeston's Ferryman, Ranter,
and Royalist by Ranter, as well as Mr. Drake's Sultan,
Scarlet.
261
Regent, and Hampden, very extensively during his
Whittlebury Forest campaigns. The brothers, Ro-
Chester, Rioter, and Richmond, were all by Ranter,
and part of the Grafton pack; and the blood of
Hazard conferred a rare Benefit on Tedworth. Sen-
sitive by Mr. Smith's Racer came with Carter, as well
as Saffron and Goneril, and there were soon none that
he loved better to draw for visitors. He would vow
too that Watchman by Vine Larkspur was " without
a fault, till he was ten years old and he once assured
Joe Maiden that Nigel (a grandson of Harrogate), who
got nearly all his stock rather cream-coloured, was the
best he ever had. He also delighted in his one-eyed
Collier, and his Royalist by Fitzhardinge Rockwood,
who goes back their Commoner.
Time gradually brought new favourites, Bertram and
and none greater than Bertram. This Nelson,
silver grey son of the tan Belvoir Bertram was drafted
by Will Goodall for being twenty-four and a-half;
and as Mr. Smith was still strong in the old Manager
faith, and liked his work, he had at one time no less
than five-and-twenty couple by him in the kennel.
He was lent at seven years old to Lord Portsmouth in
rather high condition, and died suddenly on the bench
after a day's hunting. Nelson by Belvoir Rustic was
the hound which knew him best to the last, and he
always singled him out among the pack. When he
hunted his own hounds, they would wind him three
hundred yards off, and no Burton or Carter could stop
them, and he wouldn't have them stopped. At Penton
they would dash off in a body the moment they were
out of kennel, and wait at the front door, whether they
had heard his wonted voice at his bed-room window
or not. His intimacy with Nelson was not much
cemented in the field, but began when he brought him
in the railway carriage from London. He was a gift
from Lord Forester ; but as he was rather delicate in
his constitution, and light below the knee, they did not
262
Silk and Scarlet.
breed from him, and if Mrs. Smith had lived he was to
have been kept in a kennel near the house.
His Last Great The last great run Mr. Smith was in,
Runs- was one of an hour and forty minutes,
from Ham Ashley to Hungerford, and he was so
pleased with the chestnut he rode, that he gave Mr.
Sam Reeves one hundred and seventy-five guineas for
him. He christened him from the covert where they
found, and ranked him ever after with the Amport,
Rochelle, and Ayston, of his Hampshire affections.
The last named was perhaps the best of the three, and
on one occasion when he tripped on the road to covert,
and Mr. Pierrepoint said, " If I were you, Tom, I'd ride
that horse no more," he replied, " If I were going to
ride for my life Fd ride him and no other and he
did so for several seasons. His last hunting gallop
was on Shamrock in the October of 1856, three miles
in twenty minutes from Sinicote Park to Siding Cut,
and he crossed the downs as gaily as a boy. The
cover side knew him no more after the October of '57,
when he just cantered up to Wilbury, on his chestnut
hack Blemish, to see his hounds draw ; and he was on
her, at the door of his covered conservatory rides,
facing over Wilbury Liberty, when he took his last
look at his hounds. Carter got his orders to bring the
choicest of the 1858 entry, and he and Will Bryce
at rived at the usual rendezvous with five couple of
bitches by the Fitzwilliam Hardwicke and Hermit.
He looked at them a short time, and said, " Well!
they're as beautifid as they can be f bade both his men
good bye, and they saw him no more. That June he
was in Rotten Row and at Tattersall's as usual on
Blemish, and when he rode into the Ring there one
morning, and found Mr. Rarey driving his Zebra
round it, he made his servant bring his horse along-
side; and quite gloried in showing the celebrated
American how nimbly he could still change horses in
a run without dismounting. Such was the last public
Scarlet.
263
episode in the old fox-hunter's life, and in a few weeks
he suddenly took to his bed in Wales, and died after
only two days of illness, or rather great weakness.
What was once a summer temple at the top of a long
beech-shaded vista in his garden, is now his resting-
place. Thousands, whose lot it was to labour to pro-
duce his wealth, and for whose happiness and well-
being he effected so much in return, will long cling
fondly to his memory. Still in the eye of the world,
which knew little of these things, it was foxhunting
which lent such an intense earnestness to his life, and
looking back at him only in that point of view, none
will be found to dispute, that however hasty both in
temper and action he might be in the field or on the
flags, he was the mightiest hunter that ever "rode
across Belvoir's sweet Vale," or wore a horn at his
saddle-bow.
Those were right pleasant days in Early Days in
Dorsetshire, when the Prince of Wales Dorsetshire,
lived at Moor Critchell, and wore the scarlet coat
and white cloth waistcoat uniform of the H. H.
His pack of rabbit beagles, seven couple of which
could ride to the meet in a couple of panniers, were
his delight on bye days, and he had a heartier hand-
shake for none than Parson Butler. The coverside
would not have looked itself without this eccentric
cassock, and his half-sheared terrier, Impey, who was
as great a foe to badgers as he was to foxes. He was
never beaten but once, on the day when Ben Foote,
then a mere boy, was run away with by Traveller
(who had been purchased out of a light coach), in a
rare five-and-forty minute thing from Frampton to
Cerne. " Urging," like a second Mazeppa, " on his
wild career," through the village, Ben caught a glimpse
of something jumping up at a window from the inside,
and when he got back to them, and found that they
had come to a twenty minutes' check, they vowed
that he had been dreaming in his flight. However,
264
Silk and Scarlet.
the Parson seeing a fresh chance of distinction for his
terrier, stuck up for the lad ; and as it turned out that
the fox had got into the house, Impey, assisted by
Stormer, the best hound in the pack, eventually drew
him from his position under the stairs. This was in
October, and he proved to be only a cub.
,T - , Tern Tread well was but a lad of six,
Mr. Farquharson. , J . , . , , . , , '
playing about with his younger brother
Charles in the pleasant Oxfordshire village of Stoke
Talmage, when his future master bade adieu to the
quadrangle of Christ Church, and commenced at two-
and-twenty as a master of hounds. Scorning harriers
as a start, he flung himself boldly into the fox-hunting
breach, set up two kennels, and hunted, at his own
expense, all Dorsetshire and part of Somersetshire,
six days a week from the outset, with thirty horses
and ninety couple of hounds. His first meet was in
the autumn of 1806 at Bondsley, a very extensive
gorse belonging to Mr. Beckford in the Houghton part
of the country. This fox-hunting Nestor was not
slow to impart to the young leader of the white col-
lars countless wrinkles about hounds and his new
country, which he had once hunted himself; and as
fifty-two seasons proved, he had found an apt disciple.
Mr. Farquharson bought his first pack from Mr.
Wyndham of Dinton, and a clever lot they were, the
bitches being about twenty-one inches, and the dog-
hounds twenty-three; and his kennel was further
strengthened by purchases from the Duke of Bridge-
water and Lord Petre, and drafts from the Duke of
Richmond. The style of Mr. Wyndham's continued
unaltered for many seasons, except that the bitches'
standard was raised an inch ; and it was not till much
later that the eye of "The Meynell of the West"
loved to rest upon a five-and-twenty inch hound.
Since then he has kept a large and a small pack, but
Jem Treadwell quite shared his weakness for the large,
which always went into the Vale, and thought that
Scarlet.
265
they not only " streamed away more," but uniformly
gave a better account of their foxes, be the fences big-
or little. Thirteen hundred and forty-four brace were
brought to hand by Jem in his twenty-one seasons ;
but the eighty-seven brace of his 1842-43 season were
never equalled, as far too many rabbit traps got set in
later years, among the short oaks and hazels of Cran-
bourne Chase, which was once the great Dorsetshire
nursery. Foxes were so rife in the country at one
time, in Ben Jennings's (who came to Mr. Farquharson,
at the beginning of his second season, from Mr. Con-
yers) and Sol Baker's day, that seven were dug out
of one hole at Downey Cliff, and of the four which
were alive, one was quietly turned out on Blandford
race-course next day, and was killed after going for
forty minutes, racing pace, within three miles of the
old rock. Mr. Nichol had always a very high opinion
of Ben, and he used to say that if it had pleased Pro-
vidence to make a fox of him originally, he would
have picked any other man in England to be hunted
by.
There was a good deal of New Forest Mr Farquhar_
Justice blood in the kennel during the son's Kennel
first part of the thirty seasons for which B1°od.
Ben was in office, as although Justice, and his son
Jasper had been sold by Mr. Wyndham to Mr. Nichol
the year before Mr. Farquharson bought the pack, the
latter sent bitches to both, Justice especially, for some
seasons, and the puppies, which were generally yellow
and white, turned out remarkably well. When Tread-
well came in '37, the dog hounds were generally twenty-
four inches, and he brought with him thirty-two couple
of Mr. Codrington's old hounds, which he had hunted
one season for Mr. Hall in the Blackmore Vale. Re-
veller was the best of the pack, but he was not big
enough to breed from, and the effort to keep up the
Collier sort was principally made through Richmond.
However, from some peculiarity of climate, Eastbury
266
Silk and Scarlet.
was quite a City of the Plague. The bitches missed,
and out of five-and-forty couple of puppies, fully half
died of distemper or yellows, before they were sent to
walk, and it was a good year indeed which saw nine
couple put forward. Luckily there were plenty of
good drafts to be had. Trickster and Castor, whose
stock, with their fine power and slight lack of length,
looked quite of a family, lent no little strength to
the Puckeridge drafts, as also did the Trusties with
their dark sandy bodies and light-coloured heads ; and
when Mr. Smith returned to his earlier standard,
George Carter always found Mr. Farquharson ready
for the large drafts, which were full of Rockwood and
Ranter blood. George's old Yardley Chase experiences
with Mr. Grantley Berkeley had taught him the value
of the Rockwood strain, and he did not forget it when
he was at the Duke of Grafton's. The bitches were
the best, and as they were remarkably tough and
lengthy, they crossed well with the upstanding and
rather short Ranters. Mr. Farquharson had Rochester,
Rioter, Roderick, and Richmond all black and white
Ranter brothers, among which Rochester had the
most power, and went straight through a covert if
there was no fox. The beautiful grey-backed Rarity
from Rakish by Assheton Smith's Conqueror, and
who gets her wonderful deer-like neck from her sire
Roderick, showed well for Tedworth at the sale; and
Rampish, another daughter of Rakish, and Autocrat
were equally fine specimens of a cross with the Beau-
fort Falstaff and Rufus. Adelaide, the dam of that
twenty-four-and-a-half inch Autocrat of the kennel
goes back to Horlock's Lounger and Foljambe's
Albion ; and all Dorsetshire used to call out for
her dam Rival, when they came to a check on the
road.
R The talent of road-hitting descends
1 ' ' like many others; and Will Goodall had
a striking instance of it in Goblin by Harold, both of
Scarlet.
267
whom would fling their tongues when none of the
other " Belvoir black tans " would own to it. Still,
however remarkable Rival might have been in this
respect, the greatest natural wonder of Mr. Farquhar-
son's pack was his Splendour, who resolutely refused
for three years to leave the huntsman's heels, and then
felt what a pickpocket would style " the uncontrol-
lable impulse." Jezebel by Beaufort Harasser equally
withstood all Joe Maiden's endearments till long after
Christmas; and yet, when he was casting wide near
Bewerton, in the Woore country, on a very stormy day,
he saw her suddenly go and feel for the line of scent by
herself through a large herd of cattle, and then speak
to it through a meuse at last. Vanquisher also baffled
Kit Naylor for one season and a cub hunting, and
then suddenly spoke to it on a flagged footpath, of
all places, as he was casting down a lane; but still
Dorsetshire Splendour has quite the palm for obstinacy
as yet.
Mr. Farquharson was fondest of Short Mr. Farquhar-
and Clifton Woods, and Melcombe Park son s Stud-
in the Vale; but his greatest runs during the last
twenty years have been from Uddens and the Decoy
Pond near Kingston Lacey. The former was eleven
miles without a check, fast across the Heath, slower
from Charlbury Hill through Chettle Wood, and then
a brilliant finish from scent to view over the Downs
to Thickthorn Hill. On the second day they had
sixteen miles of it, plough and down ; and he hung
very little either in Badbury Rings or the Chettle
Wood Covers, but crossed the Downs by Long
Critchell, through Oakley Wood, and past Woody-
ates Inn to Pentridge Hill, where Mr. Farquharson,
on Champion, was among the few left to see Jem get
off Poplin and give the " Whaw Hoop !" Poplin was
an Irish mare, and left several colts—Spectre, Will-o'-
the-Wisp, &c., by Hobgoblin (whose blood goes back
through Annette to Phantom), as her legacy to the
268
Silk and Scarlet.
stud. Cadiz, the sire of Hobgoblin, was a bay by
Ebor, and would have done enough for Eastbury even
if he had only got The Pony out of a pony mare.
This wonderful fourteen-two animal carried Tread-
well, who was about twelve-four with his saddle,
through nearly three hundred runs in their eight
seasons ; and be it a cramped or a flying country, she
only gave him one fall. It was, however, on Murphy
(another Irish horse) that he made his celebrated
fourteen-feet drop in the Buckland country. Mr.
Farquharson also sent several mares to Sir Hercules,
when Mr. Sydney Herbert had him in the neighbour-
hood ; and his rare jumping blood is still represented
in the Langton paddock by Testator out of Variety,
who was an own brother to Mabel, Darling, Kathleen,
and Fancy, the four picked mares of the stud. It
was on one of the two last, or Botanist, that Mr.
Farquharson was latterly seen at the coverside.
Mr. Farquhar- ^ kick from one of them unfortunately
son's Last Public prevented him from sharing in the closing
Day- weeks of his glorious career as master;
and hence we missed him from among the white
collars and the staunch century of farmers who
showed up in obedience to the last announcement of
"Mr. Farquharson's Hounds" at Hyde. We could
not bear to lose this great closing day, but it proved
dull enough, even without seeing a future Dorsetshire
master carried pale and bleeding from the field.
There were two foxes in Newfoundland, and they
went flashing away with one over the bogs, and bent
to the right along the bold heather platforms by
Heffleton Wood, and so to ground. " Treadwell on
The Pony," and looking the very incarnation of one
of those calm, passionless huntsmen who might have
made an Ironside swear that the sport was orthodox,
then held them along the edge of some wheat, to cut
off the line of the second fox; and when they dis-
appeared over a heather ridge, to try again we
Scarlet.
269
departed. This was April 28th; but we heard of the
pair for the last time on May morning, when, cold
and stormy as it was, the big pack met at the kennel,
and drew in the Chace. They found a dog-fox, and
killed him in a spinney at the high end of Stub-
hampton ; and as if to make a good end, they broke
him up, brush and all, and thus Eastbury was deprived
of his last trophy.
We had still one more visit to pay to a Morning's
Dorsetshire, and on the morning of the Walk-
sale we left the train, about 2 a.m., at Wimborne
Minster.
" Low on the sand, and loud on the stone,
The last wheel echoed away,"
as the Blandford mail-bags were hurried off through
the mist; and after lingering a little near the church
porch till the clock struck three, and then making a
wild shot in the darkness at one of the three cross
roads, we pointed, as we hoped, from previous hunting
map studies, for the Eastbury kennels. We felt no
remorse for the beds we left behind us, as it would
have required more than Spartan self-control at that
hour for any Wimborne publican to arise and let us
in, and they were never put to the test. A walk on
an early summer morning, just as the bridal chuckle
of the blackbirds begins to open in every spinney,
and the weasels are never done crossing the road and
keeping you in stone practice, is peculiarly exhilarat-
ing. However, nature had no more charms after half-
past four ; and having once tried the same thing near
Godalming, as a boy, for the sake of cub-hunting with
Colonel Wyndham's hounds, we can publicly assure
the owner of a hay-field abutting on the fifth mile-
stone out of Blandford that he was the unconscious
donor of a most charming slumber. The sound of a
peal of church-bells came floating up the river, and
awoke us at last; and shaking off sleep and the hay
seeds, we strode gaily on our way.
270
Silk and Scarlet.
The Eastbury Blandford did not present any signs of
Kennels. unusual life. One or two masters of
hounds might be seen " stealing away" from the
" Crown" in the direction of Eastbury, by eight o'clock,
to have a quiet hour on the flags before the country
stream set in ; but scarcely another soul passed us in
the next five miles. The first three were along a
dusty road ; and it was not a little refreshing to find
ourselves on the Pimperne Downs at last, and Percy's
string of five, with " C" and " O" on their sheets,
quietly returning from exercise, the leading object in
the foreground. Autocrat, in hound and not in horse
shape, was in our thoughts that day; and leaving them
to wend their way inside the hedge to their stables,
which stand by the roadside some half-mile nearer
Blandford, we struck across the downs to the left.
Passing " the Bushes," we soon struck into the deeply-
wooded recesses of Eastbury Park, amid a troop of
browsing Devons, and some young hunting stock,
which at once told the tale of the " old chestnut
blood." Hard by the kennels the whole of the
seventeen puppies (eleven of them brother and sister
Autocrats) had politely stretched themselves out for
immediate inspection on a straw-spread surface beneath
an ash tree, and lay there dreaming and curling them-
selves into many a fantastic group, over which Frank
Grant or Landseer might have lingered with delight.
As the lots were looked over, they were passed
through into the adjoining paddock; and many a
Dorsetshire man gazed with bitter regret at this grand
pack as they " packed" for the last time under a large
white thorn. Oft had " The Thorn" been trolled at a
Dorsetshire fireside in their honour, and now, alas!
but six short hours, and no blast from Treadwell could
summon his favourites more.
Five minutes' walk brought us to the house, a fine
grey stone structure, with a broad square tower and a
massive ivy-clad gateway. The days of portcullisses
Scarlet.
271
and moats had long passed away before Sir John
Vanbrugh numbered Eastbury Park House among
his triumphs. A natural wall of laurel, laburnum, and
lime trees flanks the stable-yard on one side, and joins
on with that belt of plantation which encircles the
park, and amid which, undisturbed by traps and
strychnine, many a gallant fox-cub has been reared
in its day. The house itself—near whose back-dooi
three or four hogsheads of old and pale ale had begun
to know no rest from pilgrims before noon—is only a
solitary left wing; and the remainder of it, which
passed through three or four families into Mr. Far-
quharson's hands, has long since disappeared. The
deserted wine-cellar, with its prostrate door, its rusty
gratings, and its mouldering ceiling, under whose now-
battered and led-coloured rose many a stoup of Bur-
gundy or Canary must have been drained dry, alone
remains to testify to the hard-drinking spirits, who of
yore wound the reveillee for the roe-hunt from Grange
or Houghton Woods, and killed the yellow-breasted
marten for the hem of the robes of their dames or
ladye loves in the pleasant purlieus of Cranbourne
Chase.
We care not to go into the details of that day. The
Life has already told how the Dorsetshire men sat
cheering on the wall, and ejaculating " Hyde for ever !"
as Mr. Radclyfle formed the new pack ; how they
assured Mr. Arkwright publicly, when he bought the
Banker lot, that he " wouldn't leave a mouse in covert
how they conjured Mr. Scratton " to mind and take
care of Rosamond—she's an uncommon good bitch—
I know her welland how that gentleman was seen
to obey the mandate by taking her tenderly back to
Essex with his own hands. Mr. Osbaldeston strolled
up in the afternoon, to see the horses sold; and old
Percy was there, looking over the lots in the stable,
and recalling many a recollection, as we sat on the
corn-bin together, of the triumphs of the "red and
T
272
Silk and Scarlet.
black cap" of Langton. With him to train, and
Sawyer, and then Conolly, to ride, it was perpetually
seen in front at Salisbury, Weymouth, and elsewhere
in the " south countrie." Grey Marquis, Presentiment,
Garus, and Black-and-all-Black alone won with it
eighty times ; and the last became such a hero in the
Dorsetshire peasants' eyes, that even now they would
as soon strike a horse with a twig of hornbeam as
believe that their black knight could not have
vanquished Eclipse himself. And so the great hunt-
ing era of Eastbury passed away on that pleasant
June afternoon. The cry of another pack is heard in
Coker Wood and Badbury Rings ; but still, long after
the present century is numbered with the past, a pleasant
tradition will linger round Dorsetshire firesides, of how
a former squire of Langton took to hounds when a
mere college stripling, and how even his fifty-second
and last season found him with a heart as young, and
a cheer as shrill as ever.
,, r ,. South Wilts claims its notice, for Mr.
i r. o ring on. £ocjr}ngton>s sake_ ft was he who en-
tered Jem Treadwell, to fox in 1818; and when his
whip, Tom Snooks, next season, blooded an O.B.H.
lad of nine, who contrived to get well up on his pony,
when they killed at Stone's Heath, near Powder Hill,
he little thought that he was entering a future M.F.H.
of that very country, and that the brush Tom pre-
sented, and the moustache he so artistically painted,
would produce such glorious after-fruits at Tubney.
Mr. Codrington was a peculiarly quiet man with
hounds; and as Jem phrases it, "No rating—no
whipcord—make them hunt through anything."
Grovely and Great Ridge were his pet covers in
South Wilts; and he hunted them once a week re-
gularly, and sometimes twice, till the foxes learnt to
fly the instant they heard his horn. He was fond of
walking round and round a gorse with his hounds at
his heels, and then drawing into a meuse; and like
Scarlet,
Mr. Musters, he never cared to have more than fifteen
or sixteen couple of hounds in the woodlands, as he
said they did not run so much from fox to fox.
He rode about eighteen stone on his Downalong;
and when all the field were pounded one day near
Westbury, he got through a great double on him, no
one ever knew how, and laughed heartily at them
when they killed near Earl Stoke. Dark tan hounds
with smutty faces were his fancy; and he had not
only a good deal of the Grafton Bondsman blood,
but got the old grey dog himself from The Duke in
Tom Rose's time. His stock were generally from
231 to 24 inches, grey headed, and rather fond of
hare; but they did not stand over so much ground
as the Cryers. Wanton, the dam of Collier by Cryer,
was a very fine own sister to the celebrated Beaufort
Wellington and Waterloo, and came to Mr. Codring-
ton unentered. Bruiser also was one of a draft from
the Cheshire, and strained Back through their Bangor
and Bruiser to old Gulliver. The Bruisers were
generally dark black tans, great drawers, and remark-
ably steady ; while Collier was a light, airy style of
hound, and both a great hunter and chacer. Mr. Cod-
rington's pack were principally by him, when he
parted with them in 1826, and let Mr. Foljambe have
the pick of the dog-hounds for four hundred guineas ;
but they did not prosper at Grove, where old Collier
also ended his days. The Beaufort Justice sort was
one he much fancied, and hence he borrowed old Jason
by New Forest Justice from Badminton. He was
big, black-bodied, and of great power, and got his
dog-hounds very clever during the short time he lived.
But ere we get among his descendants Mr. Nichoi of
at Badminton we must pause at the New the New Forest.
Forest, that hunting ground of the Justice, who has
for half a century or more perpetuated its fame in
kennel history. He was a son of Jasper, who was by
the Egremont Justice (a very first-class hound), and
T 2
Silk and Scarlet.
came In a draft to Mr. Compton. Jasper still lives in
Marshall's picture which was engraved in 1803, and
represents Tom Sebright's father in his scarlet and
green collar, gazing most affectionately at him over
the half-door. Lord Egremont's Justice sort were
generally about twenty-four inches, and very thick
headed, and the cross between them and the Fitz-
william draughts produced lighter and more airy
hounds, and losing the original head. Twelve were
entered in one litter by Justice from Lightning ; and
Colonel Wyndham and his brother divided them.
The Colonel also got a very good cross between the
Rutland Chanticleer and his Richmond and Fitz-
william blood, and when the brothers gave up, they
sold twenty-five couple of bitches (fifteen of them
spayed) to Sir Henry Oxendon in Kent, but the
latter squared out and got so much flesh over the
muscles, that no work could keep them poor.
Justice's grandsons, Justice, Jason, and Jerker were
all very great in the New Forest in 1815. Neither of
the last two had the substance of Justice, who was of
immense bone, and as Mr. Nichol was wont to say of
him " as big as a deer." This eccentric master used
to go to Sir Thomas Mostyn's kennel for a cross, and
loved his Wrangler and Fleecer right well; but it
was through Sir Thomas's Justice (by the New Forest
Justice from his own Hopeful), who went there as an
unentered draft in 1812, that the Justice blood was
first introduced at Badminton. Philip Payne's draft
came to Mr. Nichol for years, but both his hound-
breeding and hunting, well as he understood them,
were conducted on a very rough principle; and
digging a whole afternoon, fifteen feet after a fox
with his black tan terriers, was the style of thing he
liked best. This, however, was of rare occurrence, as
the foxes used to breed in the morasses among the
alder-stools, and lay curled up there till the hounds,
who soon got as black as ink, drew right up to them;
Scarlet.
275
and then jumped down in view, without any head of
earths to fly to. The New Forest plantations are
now so grown, that the pleasure of seeing the find is
gone, but the bogs still keep up their charter, and
when one of the late Lord Alford's horses ran away
with him, he only stopped him by running him into
one of them near the Doos of Badgery, and christened
him after its name. However, the pace of the
Pytchley one day stopped him for ever, and he died
in the field near Misterton.
In all its other features, there is little New Forest
change in the Forest since Parson Gilpin Scenery,
roamed with his sketch-book through its glades on
the long summer days, and rigidly pulled down the
blinds of his carriage, as his coachman, in drab with
a cocked hat, drove him to Church on a Sunday, that
he might read over his manuscript sermon in peace.
We could not help joining in the old man's enthu-
siasm, as we saw the hounds draw close by Lynd-
hurst, on our way to Mr. Farquharson's last meet.
No wonder there was no find that day among such
posies of " stinking primroses and violets," which
seemed to cluster at the feet of the woodmen as they
sat on the prostrate white trunks of the oaks they
were barking. As we occasionally viewed a scarlet
coat or hound flashing across those glorious green
vistas, beautiful enough in their graceful livery of
spring, to bring a " Capability Brown" on to his
knees, we grudged sadly that the old glories of Lynd-
hurst—when the Prince kept his hunting court at the
King's House, and other hunts sent their keenest of
the keen, to join the party at the Crown and kill a
May fox—should have faded, and that a few most
melancholy hunting pictures, and a fox's head, which
had been painted blue, scores of times, along with
the stable-door, should be now the only signs that
once merry hostel could make.
Many curious stories are told of the scenes between
2 76 Silk and Scarlet.
Mr. Nichol and his whip Joe Peckham ; how they
quarrelled about the number of horns of ale Joe
ought reasonably to drink out hunting, and how the
latter fled for his life to a magistrate " to swear the
peace " after his master had found him standing on
his saddle, and loading his pocket with cob-nuts, in-
stead of watching to see the vixen come across the
riding in cub-hunting time. Lord Kintore bought his
fifty-five couples for a thousand guineas in 1828, but
fifteen couple had the kennel lameness and mange ;
and long before the end of their second season only
seventeen couple were in work. What with these, his
own, and the Southwold, his Lordship had 104 couple
in kennel when he hunted the Old Berkshire and Vale
of White Horse countries, and what between their
two kennels at Wadley and Cricklade, and five days
a-week, John Walker, with Joe Grant and Tom
Snooks as his whips, had a hardish time of it.
R , . It was a lucky chance which led the
fifth Duke of Beaufort to try for a fox
with his coarse stag-hounds of many colours in Silk
Wood, on his way home from hunting. After that,
the kennels at Netherhaven, Wilts, soon lacked their
tenants ; and the deer disappeared from those pad-
docks near Oldbury on the Hill (where Philip Payne
is buried and Will Long lives), beneath the talismanic
influence of the pad, which the chaplain of the Somer-
set family hung upon his bell-pull. Silk Wood has
been true to its destiny ever since, and one season,
under Mr. Holford's fostering care, there were no less
than nine litters in it and his other covers. With
such a nursery of 150 acres to swell the list, the pre-
sent Duke might well calculate that after cub-hunting
he had nearly three hundred brace of foxes in his
country. Will Long once opened it early in the
cub-hunting with forty-nine and a-half couple, and
the cry for an hour and a quarter delighted the
sixth Duke beyond measure. The seventh would as
Scarlet.
277
soon have seen one of his men with his whip in the
left hand, as anything under twenty couple out; and
if it had been his fate to drop once more among the
scenes of his private pupil days, and catch Joe Maiden
dusting a fox with sixty couple on Delamere Forest,
he would have been all the better pleased.
When Philip Payne came from Che- Philip Payne's
shire to Badminton, he took a strong Era-
fancy to Diligent of the badger-pye Abelard blood,
which was well represented in the kennel, and crossed
her with Nectar whom he borrowed for old acquain-
tance sake from Cheshire. This Nectar was a black
tan with long features, coarse neck, and dewlap, all
marking his old Talbot origin; but it was not so much
for that as for his rare legs and feet that Philip fol-
lowed him. The Badminton Nectar had the big neck
and long features of his race, and was a coarse, heavy
hound, " who knew nothing about tiring." At walk
he persecuted the hares day and night, but never
showed any unsteadiness with a fox. He ran for
eleven seasons, and even when he was past all use in
every way, he rode twice a year to the Heythrop
kennels, on the baggage-waggon, for a treat, and
wandered about with a perfect ticket of leave into the
kitchen, or wherever he liked to go. The greatest
care was required in breeding between him and Dori-
mont by Denmark, as they were so closely allied in
blood, through Diligent. Dorimont himself was a
hound with a very short head, and Raffle and Boxer
were two of the best hounds by him. Will Long still
speaks fondly of the style in which the former hunted
a fox half a mile for him along the top of a wall, and
the latter would invariably find three foxes out of
four by his resolution in going through gorse. As a
general thing the Dorimonts ran badger, and the
Duncans (whose sire was also by Denmark) nearly all
yellow pye.
No hounds could ever have too much bone for
278
Silk and Scarlet.
Philip, and taking his notions from Earl Lonsdale,
whom he swore by, and remembering the Gains-
borough hounds whom they had bred so freely from
at Cottesmore, he never liked anything under twenty-
four inches. He also did away with the heavy shoulders
he found in the kennel, and brought in more length
and liberty ; while Will Long in his turn gave them
more fashion, and better fore-hands. Although Philip
made very free with both, he liked Abelard better
than Justice. He was below his standard, but still a
very first flight hound, and got his stock very quick
and airy. His daughter Diligent was from Jessamine,
a daughter of Actress, a thick-marked Yarborough
bitch, who first showed herself out cub-hunting. The
seventh Duke, who was rather dainty on these points,
did not like her half-face, and hence she was never
worked in public again, and died in kennel. She also
bred Danger to the original Danger, but he went early
to the stud, as he was disabled by a cart-wheel. Still
he did his best to avenge himself, as he seized the
wheel and clung to it, dragging his broken limb, so
that Philip might well say he should have a chance
after that.
Dalliance, the dam of Dorimont, was a combination
of the blood of this hero in Ruby (a daughter of
Belvoir Relish), and Sir Thomas Mostyn's Lictor. It
was, as we have before observed, from Bainton that
the Justice sort came to Badminton. The Justice
who introduced it, was a coarse-necked heavy built
hound, of a light hare-pye colour, which came out in
his stock, one of whom, Jericho, carried it to the Old
Surrey. He worked seven seasons, and ran in the
second flight, as most hounds that kill foxes do.
Joiner and Jupiter were two of his best sons ; but the
former's career was cut short early, in front of Glimp-
ton House. Some small plan sticks were put into
the ground to indicate a new walk, and one of them
ran into his heart, and Philip and Will heard " his
Scarlet.
beautiful tongue like a bell" no more. Jason and
Jessie were two more of the Justices, from Lovely by
Mostyn's Lazarus, and Jessamine was the result of
her cross with Waterloo, Both Waterloo and Wei-
lington were by Assheton Smith's Collier from
Gladsome, whom Philip Payne entered in 1811. She
went back through Royster and Vernon's Ranter
to the great Yarborough Ranter, and hence it was
no wonder that Mr. Codrington always vowed that
his Colliers had the rarest blood in England in their
veins.
When Will Long, after whipping in Will Lon(r>
for eighteen seasons, commenced his **
huntsman's career in 1826, he went to Brocklesby on
his first voyage of kennel discovery, but although
he found them rather under the size he had expected,
he sent Dalliance down to their Fairplay. Hence
sprang Freeman, who, after doing the kennel some
good service, went in the spring of 1835, with twenty-
five couple of entered hounds, to the Heythrop.
Four hundred and fifty guineas was their price, and
Lord Southampton paid a thousand for the forty-
five couple, twenty of them unentered, which he had
from Badminton in 1850. Soon after he began, Will
bred his lordship's celebrated Hazard, and took him
to Quorn, where Dick Burton entered him in 1828.
He was by Harbinger, of Lord Lonsdale's blood,
from Purity by Nectar, and was one of the two
or three hounds Lord Southampton retained when
he left Quorn; as, although his lordship did not
take to the Grafton country for a time, he bred a
litter or two of puppies every year, and gave them
away.
The Duke of Grafton and Mr. Drake Hector
sent bitches to Hazard, and his principal
son was Drake's Hector, a name that huntsmen will
never cease to venerate, as he did good without ex-
ception to every kennel that used him. He was a
280
Silk and Scarlet.
very powerful broad-chested, and rather light-coloured
hound, with a very sensible head, and shgrt on the
leg. The latter feature was to be seen in all his stock,
who were remarkable as line hunters, and as sound
and hard fox-hounds as ever went out. Lord Mostyn
had him for a time, and so had Sir Watkin Wynne
and Mr. Selby Lowndes, and he was put away in 1848,
at the North Staffordshire kennels. His son Hermit
was from Fitzwilliam Goldfinch by Yarborough Gany-
mede, and through crossing him with the Dorimont
blood, those illustrious brothers Remus and Rufus
arose, from whom nine and a half couple of the pre-
sent Badminton pack are descended. Each of them
for four seasons had about five couple of the best
Badminton bitches; and the Belvoir, Berkeley, Rut-
land, and Brocklesby kennels used them both a good
deal, but Will Goodall's fancy was more for Rufus.
Potentate, a grandson of Remus, also went to Belvoir,
with whose kennel he was connected on the side of
his dam Whimsy, by Wildman. He was a handsome
style of hound, and a very quick, hard runner, but
without any great substance, and got his stock bigger
that himself, and the bitches invariably bigger than
the dogs. Like Sir Richard's Prompter, he was
so resolute that the whip was always obliged to
hold him when they were baying the fox, and
even then he would hardly be denied without punish-
ment.
The Fitzwilliam Marmion was not very successful
in introducing the Monarch blood ; he was a close
hunter and a capital finder, but required to be crossed
with very hard running bitches. The Fitzwilliam
Finder did far more for Badminton through Freeman
from Drake's Oppidan ; and it was the second of their
two Flyers, father and son, of the Rutland Collier
blood, who got the Fitzwilliam Feudal. Warwick-
shire Tarquin also left his mark on the kennel in the
shape of Trojan from Beaufort Gratitude. There was
Scarlet.
281
never a much better sort, and Will fancied it so much,
that he took especial pains twice over to get Trojan
sound, when he was lamed in the stifle. Flyer,
Warlock, and Prior were the stallion hounds that
Clark selected from Badminton the first year (1853),
that he came to Tubney, and as the Vale of White
Horse is now virtually a Tubney removed, we may
pass to the head-quarters of the old Berkshire at
once.
After Mr. Morrell's entry at Jim Tred- Mr. Morreii's
well's hand, his hunting fancy was Hounds,
fostered to the full during his Eton holidays, by con-
stant practice with his father's harriers. The pack
originally consisted of fourteen couple of the old
Southern breed, and on one occasion they adopted
currant jelly tastes of a higher order, and had a buck
turned down before them in the presence of half
Oxford, on the very Headington Hill, where Mr.
Morrell's house now stands, looking down on the grey
forest of church and college pinnacles. In 1835 he
took the harriers in hand himself, and hunted them for
eleven seasons in the country round Oxford, and on
Ilsley Downs. Latterly they had immense sport, and
not a few of the hardest riding sons of Alma Mater
date their earliest chase experiences from the hunting
lectures and cheery gallops they had with him after
the " straight-backed uns." The pack was principally
kept up by drafts from Mr. Drake's, the Heythrop,
and the Blackmore Vale (Mr. Yeatman's), and con-
sisted at last of twenty-two couple of small fox-hound
bitches, and Hannibal, who had a strong touch of the
harrier about him, and never failed to set the ladies
right at a pinch. In the spring of 1848, Mr. Morrell
took from Mr. Morland that old Berkshire country,
which Lord Kintore and John Walker had made so
famous. Tradition says that five horns are now rust-
ing at the bottom of Rosey Brook (in which Henry
Harris, to his great delight, got a roll his last season),
282
Silk and Scarlet.
but we care not to enquire whether theirs were of the
number*
Foxes had become sadly short; but in Mr. Mor-
land's last season, John Jones had drawn Buscot no
less than twenty-one times, and found them as good
there as in Mr. Pryse Pryse's day. The services of
"Jack" were in due course transferred to Mr. Morrell,
and twenty-four couple of his old favourites came
along with him to the Tubney kennels. Mr. Morland's
blood ran back a good deal to Drake's Marksman,
Wyndham's Warrior, and Osbaldeston's Merryman.
The crosses of Assheton Smith and Wyndham blood
in Saffron and Fairy, and Traveller and Rarity, were
very strong ; and Mr. Morrell was rewarded for his
allegiance to Morland's Warrior of the Old Berkshire
Whirlwind sort, by the entry of Foreman from Faith-
ful, a great finder; while Horlock's Statesman did
him no small service with Famous and Filagree from
old Friendly. In his first summer he entered three-
and-twenty couple, taking half Mr. Drake's draft, with
Mr. A. Thompson, who then hunted the Atherstone;
and casting one's eye down the sire line alone, in that
pleasant-looking thin scarlet octavo, which records the
Tubney history of his ten seasons, we find a strong
infusion, during John Jones's day, of Drake's Bobadil
and Duster, as well as the Southampton Truant and
Archer sort; while Clark's era is marked by a leaning
to the Fitzhardinge and Beaufort kennels.
The reigns of these huntsmen are embodied by
* Scotland can tell an anecdote of John and his old master, when the
former hunted the Fife. John had missed his second horse, and Char-
lotte, the mare on which Mr. Grant painted him, had fallen quite
beaten at a fence out of a wheat-field, after thirty minutes with a second
fox. " What for Charlotte, now, John?'''' called his lordship. " One
hundred and thirty, my lord." " What! is that the loivest ? slid 11 get up
no more." 11 No less, my lord." "But the mare '11 die." "No she
wont, my lord." " Well, I'll have her, dead or alive!" And after lying
twenty minutes, up she got again ; and that was the way John parted
with Charlotte.
Scarlet
283
Goode of Oxford, in two capital paint- John Jones and
ings, which grace the Headington Hill Tom Clark-
library, amid countless heavy-weight carriers, and the
Hercules and Sunderland families. The first in date
has been engraved as a companion to the Heythrop
one, and we seem for years to have never walked up
the High-Street of Oxford, without seeing the pair in
the print-sellers' windows, flanking " Lord Hardinge
and his staff, on the field of Sobraon." John Jones is
on Columbine, and his first whip Will Borrow on
Etonian. Will has been laid to rest in Tubney church-
yard, and his entire grey Buckland (who showed The
Queen's the way over Berkshire, when they came to
Buckland and Beckett) has earned a monument in
Marcham Park ; while Jim Stacey is still as fresh as
he was on the Wood Hill day. It was then that
Jones told him to get forward (after they sunk the
Vale and had a long check) to the head of earths at
Woodhill; and he took one of his celebrated four-
milers, and beating the fox by about thrice the length
of his boots, had the pleasure of seeing him broken-up
at Land Farm, seventeen miles from Milton Hall
where he was found. Tom Clark, whose taste for
hunting first came on him from seeing Mr. Mure's
hounds cross Newmarket Pleath with their fox, when
he was a cotemporary with Nat in Cooper's stables, is
on the chestnut Rob Roy in the second picture ;
while Joe Orchin (who subsequently hunted the
Hambleton until deafness overcame him) is ready for
action on the elegant Sir Warwick, and Will Maiden,
the present Old Berkshire first whip, on Ladybird.
In both of them we miss the master; but Mr. Grant
has supplied the want in that admirable picture of
him upon his white horse Memnon, (whom he rode for
nine seasons), with Rutland, Musical, and Foreman at
his side.
The latter is a combination of the Foreman and
blood of Warrior and Assheton Smith's Sunderland.
284
Silk and Scarlet.
Saffron. Mr. Morrell bought Saffron from George
Carter, and he was a wonderful favourite in the Old
Berkshire for his quickness, and perseverance in his
cast. Eleven of his stock were entered, and it was his
son Sportsman, a descendant through Sophy, of
Ducie's Bertram and Horlock's Baby, whom Clark
before the sale expressed his rapturous desire to
" follow across the Channel with a couple of bitches
and strangely enough he was in the four-couple lot for
which Mons. de Bourxie gave 200 guineas. Sportsman
had a tremendous drive with him, and must always
have something to do, and even when he had been
fired in his stifle, he would be with them if he carried
his leg. The more direct blood of Assheton Smith's
Saffron by Belvoir Splendour from Parasol, (who ac-
companied George Carter to Tidworth) came strongly
into the kennel through his son Sunderland, whose
dam Gratitude was of Heythrop Gulliver and Yar-
borough Gambler extraction. Sunderland was re-
markably stout, and always at home twenty minutes
first after the hardest day, if he was not watched. He
broke his leg as a puppy; but luckily he was out at
walk with a surgeon, who very soon brought matters
about. He was a rich light tan, with a beautiful head
and shoulders, and in these points very much resem-
bled his half-brother Warwickshire Saffron, from whom
they bred a good deal at Badminton. Nearly all his
stock, of whom Mr. Morrell entered sixteen, might be
known by their rich tan smutty faces and peculiarly
broad intelligent foreheads ; but many of them died
of hereditary kidney disease, which killed the old dog
in his sixth season. Saffron and Splendour, his half-
brothers, were both very good : the former had a
beautiful style of flinging and threading his cover with
his head up ; and Splendour, who went to Ireland, was
also an especial finder, and Avith a much more beauti-
ful and ringing tongue, than either. The Old Berk-
shire still have Stickler (from Susan by Foljambe's
Scarlet,
285
Stormer), who was Sunderland's best son, and of the
same colour.
In 1851, the year succeeding Sunder- c .
land and Foreman (who were beaten for
the Cup by Dorimont by Drake's Duster), Bobadil by
Bobadil from Favourite, and Freeman by Sportsman
from Friendly, were esteemed remarkable entries ;
but Rutland and Trumpeter were bracketed for the
Cup. Rutland was nearly twenty-six inches, and one
of seven (including Ruthful and Relish), from Sunder-
land's dam, and by Belvoir Royal, who had been
sojourning at Mr. Drake's, after being exchanged for
Duster, and then went on to Wynnstay. Belvoir
Royal was an airy hound, somewhat light of bone, but
got his stock very clever. He was also rather a
cripple, and had narrowly escaped being cut in two by
Will Goodall's horse at a fence, which made him very
nervous. John Walker used to say of him that he
never saw any hound so frightened to death of doing
anything wrong; and he finally departed to Co. Kil-
dare. His brother Rustic, who went to the Cheshire
and did no good, was best in his work, but had rather
bad pasterns, and got his stock plainer; while Raglan
was as straight as an arrow himself, but got his stock
rather crooked. Both of them came in the evening of
their days to the North Staffordshire kennels, and
were there put away.
Trumpeter, who attended Clark to Trumpeter
Badminton, was a white, and very low- e '
scented hound, and of Fitzwilliam Flasher and Drake's
Grasper descent. He was somewhat throaty, and was
bred from rather for his qualities than his look ; as
he always ran to head and could sound his own trum-
pet into the bargain, whatever pace they were going.
Lord Dacre used his sire, the Puckeridge Trickster,
who pleased Dick Simpson not a little, as he would
draw on ahead, and get to the wind side of him, and
speak minutes before anything else. Sylvia, from a
286
Silk and Scarlet.
Sunderland bitch, and Toilet and Trinket from Relish
were capital daughters of Trumpeter's, and so was
Tawdry, who was found working neck and shoulders
up to her fox in a rabbit-hole, the very first day she
was taken out.
In 1852 a few were entered by Badsworth Waterloo,
by old Why not, by Ducie's Vagabond. In his under-
graduate days Mr. Henley Greaves took a great fancy
to Vagabond, and got him from Joe Thompson, and
drove him in his gig from Oxford to Badsworth, but
he proved to be quite worn out. The Whynots and
the Lubins were always great lines of blood at Bads-
worth ; the former were black-and-tan, and had more
dash, while the Lubins were sound good badger pyes,
and claimed kindred with the Duke of Buccleugh's
Lexicon. The half-faced Fleecer was of this year ; he
was a rare roadster, and so cheerful and persevering in
his cast, that Clark and half Berkshire generally looked
to him in difficulties. He was by Fitzhardinge Furrier,
and Harry Ayris though him so like the old dog in
work and shape, that being out of Furriers, he bor-
rowed and bred from him. Statesman, of this year, a
very capital hound in chase, also went to Berkeley
Castle, but he never got any puppies. The Fitzhar-
dinge Hector was lent them in turn, with especial in-
junctions from his lordship that he was never to go out
in large fields, and in 1853 they entered three-and-
twenty by him.
In 1854, among the first litter of Sunderland
puppies, came Spangle, who is still doing capital
work at Badminton. Boxer and Bobadil, the first
The Hercules of the Bosphoruses, were equal for the
Litter. £Up in 1856; and in 1857, the great
Hercules and Spangle litter carried all before them.
There were originally nine, but two died of distemper
after they had come in from walk. The symmetry
and colour were caught principally from the dam, and
the face from Hercules, of whom Hesperus was the
Scarlet.
287
very image. Honesty was considered better than
Harlequin in their classes, and the latter was run hard
by Baronet, by Bosphorus; but the judicial decision
of the learned Barons, Will Long (who very nearly
took a lane flying, the next season on England's
Glory), and Joe Maiden, was confirmed on a division
of huntsmen, &c., by eleven to eight. So anxious was
Mr. Richard Sutton to have Hercules at the Quorn
sale, that when he arrived just a few minutes too late,
he offered Clark the 210 guineas he had paid for the
lot, to get the son of Albion alone. Not a relic of his
mealy blue skin and nearly hairless head is preserved;
and when we saw him the week before his death, he
seemed to have aged very fast since Quorn, but ran
in the first flight the same as ever. They worked him
for the first time with eighteen couple, and had a
capital trial three miles from Appleton Common up
to New Bridge, and three back to ground at Tubney
Wood. He and Statesman led all the way; Dexter,
another of the Quorn lot, did well; but he was always
greater in the woodlands than in the open, and Trojan,
by Trueman, fat as he was, showed himself a capital
line hunter. The Hercules blood has prospered in
Mr. Montague's hands; and George Whitemore is
especially proud of some bitches by him. The Duke
of Beaufort has also two couple to enter; but he died
so early in his last season, that there were only four or
five litters by him.
The blood bravely held its own again The Last Tub-
when it came before the Old Berkshire ney Hound
Bench next year in the Bitch Puppy Cup; show<
but still, to quote the impressive obiter dictum of Will
Long, " Turn me out Harriet and Sophy, and I dorft
care which I catch hold ofand Joe Maiden was
equally troubled in his mind. Three brother-scarlets
came in to help, and there we all stood in the yard,
that day, Mr. Morrell in the centre, pencil in hand, to
take the votes, while a master of hounds, the late
u
288
Silk and Scarlet.
lamented Hunt Secretary and a few old Berkshire
men, some of them cup winners, were grouped about
among the nine-and-a-half couple of entries. Having
once seen Joe Maiden judge hounds, with his hands
folded across his breast, we shall cease to have any
faith in the saying, " That no man was ever so wise as
Chancellor Thurlow looked." Even if Joe heard the
voice of a relative behind him, whom he had not seen
for years, it is even betting that he would not deign to
turn round, till his kennel mind was quite made up.
Robert Tocock was still pale and weak from a crushing
fall; and when Joe was at his gravest, he kept tapping
his foot for an indefinite period with his stick in despair
of getting a recognition of his sentiments any other
way, and then found that he had been working at the
wooden one. Then there was Will Long, airy and as
stylish as ever, after his seventy years' pilgrimage, with
Jem Hills at his side, still unconsciously replying—-
" Yes, Master !" as in those great days when with Will
Todd he whipped into him in the Badminton and the
Heythrop. Jem doesn't dwell when he is In Banco;
but with one offhand glance, he just catches the gay
workman of his fancy, and thinks about it no more;
while Harry Ayris, after a look, about half-measure
between Jem's and Joe's, turns round to consult his
learned brothers, with that quiet shake of his head,
which has been fatal to so many a Berkeley and Chel-
tenham fox, when hounds drop to hunting, and he falls
to thinking.
judicial Bearing The bitches came first, and very soon
°f Jem Hills. aq km Sophy by Fleecer, Frantic by
Forester, and Harriet, Harmless, and Helen, by Her-
cules, were handed to Harris and Pike, outside. " Put
Frantic and Harmless out !" was the next injunction
of Mr. Morrell to Clark. Then it was the fair Helen's
turn to go ; but she was after Jem Hills' own heart;
and when Mr. Morrell resolved himself into a teller,
Jem placed her second. And now the scrutiny of
Scarlet.
289
scrutinies began. One liked Sophy best behind, and
another went for Harriet's gay and airy forehand.
Another said that " Sophy could race, and Harriet
hunt a fox to death? Save and excepting Jem, they
shook their heads in such despair at splitting the
difference, that Mr. Morrell began to think, that as in
Trumpeter's and Rutland's year, there would be a
bracket, and two cups to give instead of one. At last,
however, the five packed, and Mr. John Aldworth, who
got this cup one year with Toilet, just walked into the
yard to receive the doleful greeting from Mr. Morrell's
lips of " You've just missed it with Sophy." Helen was
a good third, so the shade of Hercules was appeased.
Selim by Fleecer, Royal by Greaves's Render, Fire-
brand by Forester, and Heretic by Hercules were
soon the only standers among the same number of
dog puppies ; though Jasper by Hercules was recalled
for a moment. Firebrand, whose features were a trifle
too long for Will Long's fashion-loving eye, had been
submitted to a most rigid scrutiny, first with his two
feet resting on one brick in the kennel yard floor, and
then on separate ones, to see if he was mathematically
straight, and was pronounced quite the prizeman of
his day. " Unanimous for Firebrandsaid Mr.
Morrell, when he had gone round, pencil in hand ;
and then came the struggle for second. Ayris, Maiden,
and Tocock were all for Royal, and the Master of the
South Warwickshire, as he stood there—
" and came for to hear it,
He werry much applauded the thing they had done."
Long was all for Heretic; and Jem Hills had gone,
it was whispered, minutes before, for something else.
" Jem!s not with the majority again this time? said
we to Will. "Isn't he?—I know Jem's sort of old
and down went the handle of his hunting whip on to
the gay black tan back of Selim by Fleecer, and sure
enough it was.
U 2
Silk and Scarlet.
Farewell to Three weeks later those kennels had
Tubney. become a vast chase mart, for the exchange
of minds between twenty masters and five-and-thirty
huntsmen ; and many a mysterious little knot of three
in the park told that a new whip was being engaged.
A great fox-hunting era was just about to die out, but
there were symptoms of vitality enough about the
patriarch Jim Morgan; and although he was rising
seventy-four, they might well ask Clark, why he
" admitted boys into the kennelWe care not to dwell
upon the woodpecker tap of Mr. Tattersall's hammer,
beneath the elm, near the kennels, and the 29^ guinea
average for the entered, and the 36 guinea for the un-
entered, which it sealed. We must get forward three
months.
The new O. B. H. pack had migrated to Oakley,
and everything looked very hopeless and drear when
we strolled in for the last time to have a look at the
old place. The stables from which Memnon, Eng-
land's Glory, Marlborough, Sir Warwick, Wild Rose,
Fisherman, Harkaway, Chesterfield, Bletchington, and
Topthorn had been sent on to cover so often, were
empty; and a couple of magnolias near the front
door, from which such troops of fox-hunting friends
had departed in an evening, and constituted them-
selves special commissioners to inquire whether the
Oxford hacks were as good as when they kept terms,
only made the desolation more complete. Even the
staunch old chaplain, who not only knew by sight,
but had traced and then written out in text-hand, the
name and pedigree of every hound of that kennel, to
the tenth generation, had fled the spot in despair.
The very straw-thatched houses, in which so many
scions of Sunderland, Hercules, Hector, and Foreman
were nursed, had been taken from that necropolis of
an orchard. The Tubney Ghost, which appeared to
John Jones, and is popularly supposed, even in its
calmer moments/to carry a carving knife, must have
Scarlet. 291
absolute sway now ; and it may be that " the voices
of the night," cheered on by that spectral sportsman,
on Golumpus or Memnon, may be heard at All
Hallows Tide, busy among the hazels of Tubney
Wood, or running the old line of the Bablock Hythe
day.
RAMBLE THE SECOND.
" Held by Diana in due estimation,
Bedeck with a gorse flower the goddess's shrine ;
Throughout the wide range of this blooming creation,
It has but one rival, and that one the vine.
Pluck me then, Bacchus, a cluster, and squeezing it,
Pour the red juice till the goblet o'erflows ;
Then, in the joy of my heart, will I seizing it,
Drink to the land where this Evergreen grows."
THE Heythrop began, in 1835, with Tem HilIs
Jem Hills, who came there from
Lord Ducie's, and twenty-five couples, principally
Dorimants and Nectars, from Badminton. Jem had
been for a considerable time with Colonel Wyndham
in Sussex, and many legends of him still linger about
Petworth, where he was in for a goodly amount of
riding of the Gohanna and Grey Skim hunters. He
played in the Sussex eleven for eight seasons, while
Bainbridge and Lillywhite flourished, and was se-
lected, from his talented batting, to do battle for 300/.
against Hampshire, in Sir John Cope's Park. Amid
these feats with the willow, he nourished and brought
up five cubs from a tea-pot, and he was saddled with
a family of six more, in a most remarkable way.
They had run a heavy vixen in a small cover, near
Eyfold, round and round for nearly an hour and five
minutes, till Jem got wearied out, and stationed him-
self in a ditch to head her. Confiding in his natural
gallantry, she jumped into his arms, and he arrived
at the kennels with her on the pommel of his saddle.
292
Silk and Scarlet.
" Jem's Ditch" at Shillinglee, the seat of Earl Winter-
ton, is also pointed out to this day, and it was there,
when they had run their fox for five hours in the large
coverts, and for nearly fifty minutes more in an acre
spinney, and seemed as far off as ever from killing
him, that Jem lay in ambush, and turned him to them
by moonlight, at just twenty minutes to ten. Will
Staples was once baffled the same way for nearly two
hours in an osier bed, quite as small, near the bend
of the Severn, which had washed all the soil from the
roots ; and it became at last so ridiculous to see the
fox trotting after the hounds, and then dodging under
the roots, that he had to go in and help them.
The echoes of Jem's key-bugleare also still lingering
at Sladeland, and as he played " Over the hills and far
away," with variations, the hounds sat up and charmed
in honour of their favourite musician ; and then, when
such encores became tedious, with one wave of his hand
they would go flying over the brook in a body, and
swing themselves round and back, at another.
Fathers of the When Jem found hirrfself at Heythrop,
Heythrop Ken- he set to work to correct the short head
ne1, and neck and wide chest of the Dori-
mont and Nectar blood, and used Rutland, Pilot, and
Yarborough Plunder. The Pilots had very fine
quality; and Harlequin, a grandson of old Pilot, from
Heroine, by Fitzhardinge Hector, is now one of the
quickest in the kennel. The Plunder bitches were
decidedly out of the common, but rather apt to shed
their somewhat coarse coats. Rutland Grappler, the
sire of the Wynnstay Harold, also did a good deal for
the kennel, but he got them rather short. A good
deal of Warwickshire Bluecap blood came in the
drafts, and Jem sent bitches to the Warwickshire Tar-
quin, by Belvoir Comus, from Warwickshire Testy.
He was a light plain 24-inch hound, and white with
yellow spots; but Jim had marked him doing his
work over some fallows on Roleright Hills, in 1845,
Scarlet.
293
when the fox went to ground, and determined to have
a slice of him. The nick between him and the Rocket
blood was very great, and Theodore, from Termagant,
was so bred. The Bluecap blood in the Heythrop
came from Mr. Drake's, and they were generally black
tan hounds ; lengthy, but rather heavy-shouldered.
The twenty-five inch Drake Boaster did not disap-
point him, and got all his bitches twenty-two inches,
and with very beautiful forehands, while those by
Vampyre by Beaufort Voucher, on the contrary, were
rather heavy-shouldered, and very apt to knock them-
selves to pieces over walls ; and Cheshire Chaser,
whose brother Champion did the North Staffordshire
some service, brought the Badsworth Conqueror and
Foljambe Piper blood into the kennel.
The twenty-five inch Roman-headed Nathan
Nathan was one of Jem's particulars, and
although he was rather long 011 the leg, and got his
stock so, he was as low-scented as a harrier, and could
often carry it over fallows or along a road, when
nothing else coudd touch it, and put the pack to rights
pretty often among the cubs in Wychwood Forest.
He worked him five seasons, and then he went to Mr.
Hillyer's, leaving eight or ten couple of his blood
behind. His science as a road-hunter was such, that
if he had been in the South Warwickshire, Jem would
have no occasion to renew his annual offer to their
huntsmen, beginning with John Jones, to turf over
that piece of the turnpike road which separates the
two hunts near Roleright Hills. Nathan's sons,
"Nobleman and Ferryman, are great at a road now,
and on the last day of the 1857-58 season, the former
carried it down one, for a mile-and-a-half. The others
had faith, but would not speak to it; and J em trotted
behind, strong in the belief that " he never told a lie
yet." Still he wavered in his allegiance, when a woman,
with a sickly child, sitting under the side of a hedge,
vowed that nothing had passed her way, but Noble-
294
Silk and Scarlet.
man knew better, and another nose was added to the
Heythrop store.
Old Affable. „ a proof of Jem's high esteem old
Nathan was crossed with Affable. This
renowned bitch was by Assheton Smith's Ruler, by
Harlock's Freeman, and from Beaufort's Artful, but
falling blind with the distemper, she was never entered.
Ruler came with Jem's baggage in the waggon from
Lord Ducie's, and was such a miserable object, that
Mr. Smith when he saw him as he was, and what he
became, used to declare that no one " ever can know
them till they're two." Affable nicked well with the
Tarquin and Rocket sort, but her best puppy, Merlin,
by Manager by Oakley Factor, wasted early from
kennel lameness. She bred forty-five couple in all,
and the greater part of two litters from her were
entered in one year. Six Affables figure in the Hey-
throp picture, and their dam was as keen of the sport
as any of them. When she got hold of a fox's head,
she would tear it in pieces, and go fairly crazy with
joy. In lack of nobler game, she would wander away
to Woodstock after rabbits for her puppies, crown
down on to them, and steadily dig them out. Lord
Dillon had her, and sent her home to pup; but she
did not admire her change of quarters, and made a
well-meant attempt to carry her puppies back to
Ditchley. By crossing the brook, and thus avoiding
the village, she got four young Plunders safely de-
posited on the common, and she had carried one on
and was leaving it on the steward's door step, when
she was discovered. They also say that she was as
good as the blind guide on the Eastern Counties line,
and that a ladies' maid, who had got lost in the wood
coming from Chesbury, would have been left out all
night, if she had not met her rabbit-hunting, and sub-
mitted to her pilotage.
The Rockets Rocket, to whom Mystery is now
closest allied in blood, was another pre-
Scarlet.
295
sent at parting, to Jem, from Lord Ducie, who had
bred from him and Ranter, through thick and thin.
He was by Osbaldeston's Rocket, from Beaufort's
Dainty by Dorimont, and Rocket himself was by
Lord Vernon's Rally wood, from Baroness, both of
which were in the five hundred guinea pack " The
Squire" bought from his lordship. Having once been
ridden over, he was very shy, and would nip right
round the horses at a check to the front. In Lord
Ducie's hands he was put to Vigorous, Vanquish,
-Vanity, and all old Lord Middleton's best blood, going
back to Mr. Musters ; and he was one of the sixteen
couple that came with Jem from the Vale of White
Horse, where the blood was still lingering, when Dick
Burton left it for Lincolnshire.
Regent was amongst the two Rocket Deathof Ranter,
and Affable litters of one season, and he
greatly delighted Jem in his second, by bringing a
drowning fox out of the Charwell, near Ransome
Park, retriever-fashion, by the nape of the neck. Like
all the Rockets, he was amazingly fond of carrying
the head. His own was rather a thick one, like old
Affable's, and he was eventually drafted for size. Old
Rocket, his sire, was a nice hound, of 23 inches, and
invariably got them with more bone than himself.
He was stifled in his first season, and then ran to head
for six more; and his death was rather a sudden one.
He was sitting down in Heythrop Park, during an
afternoon stroll with Jem, when he broke a blood
vessel, and bled to death on the spot. Oddly enough,
his son Ranter died nearly the same way, when he
was five years old, in a very hot morning, towards the
latter end of cub-hunting. He had run a cub
200 yards into the Ox Copse, on Wychwood Forest,
and killed it; when the hounds were counted over he
was missing ; and it was not until a fortnight after,
that he was found lying dead under an oak tree,
about a hundred yards beyond where the cub was
296
Silk and Scarlet.
broken up. He was buried where he fell, and the
tree is called, in affectionate remembrance of him,
" Ranter's Oak," to this day.
Lifter was a grandson of Rocket's, and strained to
Lord Fitzhardinge's kennel on his dam's side. His
nose would have delighted his lordship beyond
measure, as he would speak to the least touch of a fox,
and was in fact one of the very few drag hounds left;
such as they used to boast of in the Holderness in
Mr. Hodgson's day, which (as they would have it),
feathered at the hedges three hours and ten minutes,
after their fox had gone through. He had this pecu-
liarity, that he never would draw a cover, but tried
every meuse all round.
riarpndn Clarendon, by Ranter did as much for
the Heythrop as any of Rocket's de-
scendants, and got a great many sandy-coloured
hounds. Mr. Morrell used him ; and Conqueror, who
was lost on the ice along with Royalist and Pedlar, was
by him. It was a miracle how the whole pack escaped
that day. They were running across the ice near
New Bridge, when it broke, and let the body of the
pack through, and then closed and caught the three,
while Clark and Will Maiden could give no aid. Cla-
rendon himself went abroad in the drift, as his pace
was so tremendous that he could go clean away from
the pack, and they were always hunting him and the
fox as well. Middleton by Clarendon was, in this
respect, still worse than his sire, and Jem lost many a
fox through him. He would not throw his tongue till
he had got half-a-mile, and then he would try fairly to
race his fox to death over the walls.
Tom Hills Having so often observed Tom Hills
on the Epsom hill, in his green coat and
top-boots, taking his Derby observations, like an old
Surrey general, from the back of Ransley or The
Advocate, we determined to view him in his sphere of
home usefulness, and sought Garston Hall kennels
Scarlet.
297
accordingly. The hall, which boasts of a beautiful
cedar, and a well 365 feet deep, is surrounded by a
little colony of snug cottages, which make up quite a
pleasant village, with Tom as patriarch. The chalk-
stone gout has used him rather ill of late ; and he
had had also a bad fall, which still makes it
difficult for him to raise his left arm to his head.
This is by no means the first of his misfortunes, as he
has broken both arms, three ribs (by falling on his
horn, in the days when they carried them slung), the
cup of his elbow in three or four bits, and his' blade-
bone, as well. Gout, however, bothers him most, and
makes his action rather short, but still he gets along
as of old when he is once on his pigskin throne. It
was with reference to his woes in this way that he
said, when we observed that his eyes were rather shut
in a photograph, " Next time Pit have it taken when
Pve got the gout—that will make me open them fast
enough? Still we found him very cheery, seated in
his arm-chair, which the skin of his once honoured
dark chestnut Paddy has lined.
The chairs in the room had all hound-skin cushions,
taken from nine of the best of the seven couple of
bitches which fell more than a hundred feet down a
cutting on the Brighton rail some years ago. Will
Long, Mr. Davis, Mr. Haigh (an old master of the
pack); Squire Waring, with his Kent harriers ; John
Ward, with Betsy and Blue Ruin ; Lord Derby's stag-
hounds, with Jonathan Griffin on his grey; Brother
Jem (who whipped into him nine years), in the centre
of his Heythrop picture; and the old Surrey Hunt,
after Barraud, lent lustre to the walls. Tom, as all
the world knows, is in the centre of the latter, on
Lounger; while one of his sons is on Paddy ; and the
badger-pye Factor, by Old Surrey Factor out of
Dimple, of his most cherished sort, stands close up to
Lounger's foot. There was also an enormous fox in
a case, but he was not exactly brought to hand in
298 Silk and Scarlet.
Tom's usual style, as the hounds flashed over him into
a cover near Godstone, and a farmer found him lying
dead in a furrow next day.
Tom is rising sixty-four, and just entering his
fortieth season as huntsman with his old Surrey pets.
He has been at it with them ever since he was fifteen,
and whipped in for seven seasons to John Cole. Out
of the other forty-two, three were spent behind the
bar ; but he soon took to the scarlet again. Five of
his sons, all trained by himself or Brother Jem, or
both, are in the profession; and he can say, what
no man ever said before, that three of them—George,
Tom, and Edward (who is with Count Carolli, at
Pesth) are huntsmen, a fourth, Morris, second whip to
her Majesty, and a fifth, Sam, first whip to himself
The old Surrey country is very full of covers, and
the Godstone side, which requires less wet than the
other, is much the best Still the hunting is up-hill
work, in more senses than one, as the flints wear out
a pack in no time. At the end of one season they
had only fourteen couple sound, and had to knock
ten couple on the head for hopeless lameness. Tine-
ture of myrrh is Tom's principal application, and he
finds that the hare-footed hounds stand the flints
much better than the cat-footed ones. Every year
they send out some twenty couple of puppies; but
the walks are not a land of Goshen, and they seldom
enter more than five or six. John Walker and
Brother Jem have principally come to the rescue with
their drafts, and there are about sixteen couple from
Wynnstay in the kennel now. Mr. Davis also sends
Tom some hounds, when they are not quite fast
enough for his purpose ; but still the Old Surrey line
has been well carried on by their Rummager and
Joker. Warrior, the handsomest son of the latter,
never got a whelp ; but he did infinite service to Tom
in the run of his Old Surrey life on the 12th of
February, 1857, with a fox who had already beaten
Scarlet.
299
them twice. The meet was at Nuffield, in the God-
stone country, and they found at Old Park, and killed
in the large coverts at Cansion, after crossing the
river five times ! The twenty-two miles from point
to point was done in four hours and a-half; and a lad
of the name of Richards, on his pony, stuck to them
all the way. Tom's horse, Advocate, was beat be-
yond Dry Hill; and then getting on his son Sam's
Doubtful, " the old un" had such a tumble at the
next fence, that to this day they demand of him in
that part of the country, to send a horse and cart to
fill up the hole he made. Be that as it may, Tom
rose from his mother earth like a very Antaeus re-
freshed ; and as he saw Warrior carry the scent down
a lane into a coppice, he exclaimed, in his unquenched
fervour, to Mr. Ross, "He's been waiting for us; he
must be oivm now / "
" Blest is the eye
Which dwells between the Severn and the Wye,"
has long been a Gloucestershire saying, D
and we felt the truth of it to the full, as
we climbed, one July evening, to the top of the tower
in Berkeley Park, and looked down as well on that
richly wooded panorama, which was the hunting
ground of the Earl for some half a century. Quite
as keen sporting characters as himself were reared
there. Old Pierce used to sit at his cottage door near
Berkeley, when he could hardly stir, and listen to the
Earl's and Harry Ayris's horns all over the Vale ;
and when his lordship passed on his return home,
and stopped, as was his wont, to tell him about the
sport, he was sure to remind him once more, " I've
heard you and Harry all day—it never goes well with
you, ivhen there's so much duet ting'.'
Then there was Jerry Hawkins, who , Hawkin,.
still lives in the print on his thirty-year-
old horse, taking his hat off to cheer Hazard, one of
3°°
Silk and Scarlet.
the few hounds whom the Earl ever had painted. No
one loved better to sit at the corner of Barrow Wood,
to watch for the vixen, or to swim the Severn from
market near Hawe Bridge, and take his chance of
fouling the rope. His love of varmint was not con-
fined to foxes, but the rats had the unlimited run of
his sitting-room, and he knew them all by sight so
well, that when Mr. Giles's first whip clipped one over,
his house-keeper exclaimed, with her apron to her
eyes, that its death was as much as her place was
worth, as " master would be sure to miss it."
Earl Fitzhard- The Earl himself did not fancy any
inge. dog-hound above twenty-three, and never
cared how small the bitches were. He never liked
them shy of tongue, and it was no matter if they
were straight or coarse, provided their work was only
good. " I don't care for all their looks," he was wont
to say; " huntsmen forget to breed hounds for their
noses ; they're all for looks ;—give me the pack that wilt
kill foxes." " We musn't forget the old sort," was the
maxim he impressed upon Harry to the last, and by
that he principally meant the blood which Mr. Corbet
and Will Barrow did such wonders with in Warwick-
shire. He also bought a pack of hounds from Major
Bland in Herefordshire, a rough-looking lot, who, like
Mr. Corbet's, would hunt a fox and catch him when
others "Wouldn't handle him at all. The yellow pied
Monitor went back to Major Bland's sort, and Wolds-
man from the celebrated Beaufort Wanton was one of
his best sons. A second cross, between Beaufort
Woldsman and their own Delicate produced Despe-
rate, Dissolute, Demon, Dervise, Dalliance, Dinah,
and Diligent. The Earl was wont to say of Desperate,
that he was the best he ever saw or had, and that
with a fair scent, he would not be afraid to take out
those seven and catch any fox breathing. Harry
Ayris always hung a little to Dinah, but he thought
that her daughter Waspish by Fitzhardinge, Waterloo
Scarlet.
301
could hunt quite as low a scent. Waspish bred very
few puppies, but among them was a good Melody by
their Manager. Herald by Warwickshire Saffron
from Hyacinth, who goes back to the Desperate sort,
was, along with a daughter of Glider's, the last
hounds the Earl ever saw. They were taken up to
him in his bed-room in his illness, as he was anxious
to have another look at "the old sort," which had
in this instance to be drafted for size, and to judge for
himself as to the blood of Glider, which his friend Sir
Richard Sutton had so ceaselessly pressed upon him.
Lord Fitzhardinge was'especially fond T. H ,
of Chedworth Woods ; and he cared as 6 er°
little about the colour of his hounds, as he did for
them being " sorty." A thousand guineas would not
have bought his favourite Herod by Hazard by Cor-
bet's Foreman, who was as bare as a Berkshire pig,
and with only a few blue hairs on his sides during the
season, and none at all at the end, except under his
neck. He dates nearly forty years back, and the sort
may be said to have died out in 1833, with the one-
eyed Harlequin, who pulled his neck out of joint,
breaking up his fox, with three or four couple more,
at Tockington. They bred from him one season, and
he left a fine black and tan litter of seven from
Radiant, but not so good as the Desperate lot. Hot-
spur by Beaufort Regent, from a daughter of another
Harlequin, had also a strong strain of Herod blood
in him, and a head big enough to have satisfied Lord
Hastings, but he got his puppies nice enough in that
point. Both he and his son Hector were very gay and
wonderful drawers, and there was no hound to whom
the Earl trusted more than Hector to get him out of
difficulties. His beautiful tongue pleased him as well,
and he would sit on his horse for half-an-hour to watch
him puzzle out a line of scent.
Harrogate by Fortitude from Hecuba, Harrogate>
a daughter of Herod, was one of the
302
Silk and Scarlet.
same sort, and Mr. Grantley Berkeley loved him quite
as tenderly. He used to amuse Harry Ayris and his
whips, as a puppy, by standing for minutes together
in the kennel, to wind a fox who was tied up near it,
through a hole in the wail ; then racing round and
round a hundred times to feel for the line ; and then
after deciding that the hole was the point, setting off
to test his opinion once more. He was never known
to speak false in the Oakley country or anywhere else,
and he would stop at four cross roads, and wait till
his master or George Carter gave him a sign. He
was given to Carter when he went as huntsman to the
Grafton country, and there he got worn out. After
that he went to Beacon Lodge, and did a little among
the otters, but he was rather unlucky with his stock,
which were often not quite straight.
Warwickshire Warwickshire Tarquin, who was re-
Tarquin. commended to the Earl by Jem Hills,
did the kennel some good. They had five couple by
him of one entry, and Tamerlane, Trojan, and Tell-
tale from Garland, of the old sort, were very nice in-
dustrious hounds. Tarquin himself was shortish-
necked, and short all together, and his lordship never
fancied him in his work as he did his three sons. Harry
Mickiewood Ayris has rather an affectionate remem-
brance of one of the days he was out, as
it was that on which he first happened to ride Miclde-
wood by the Old Sailor, and continued to do so for
ten seasons. His own horse was beat, and he borrowed
the dark chestnut from John Dinnicombe, and when
he landed over his first leap, a hedge on a bank and
ditch, with the hedge from him, he looked back and
cried, " Thank you, John I you 11 ride Mickiewood no
moved He originally won his name from the fact of
Mr. Grantley Berkeley having found him out in a
blazing twenty-two minutes from Mickiewood Chase,
when seven had a bath in the Rea, but Harry had
never been on him before. Old Ben Chapman used
Scarlet.
303
to admire him wonderfully, and it was his constant
saying that 11A man should carry that Micklewood in
his eye zvhen he goes to buy anything," and " Mind what
you're at; the old horses ears are forzvard," became as
constant a saying in the hunt. But we are forgetting
Tarquin, who became stifled at Berkeley, and then
went to Wynnstay, where he did not get Contest and
any puppies. Lord Henry Bentinck's Con- Comrade,
test and Comrade were both crossed with Tarquin
bitches to give them more style ; but although Con-
test could do his work with the pack, Comrade was
the perpetual victim of stifle lameness, and never
sound for two days together. Among others, they
also used Foljambe's Albion, a light-coloured clever
hound, as well as Belvoir Roman, and Watchman,
with Druid, and the modern Belvoir Rallywood's elder
brother Ranter from the Yarborough kennel. John
Ward of the Worcestershire had also a rare slice of
their Abelard by Hector as a litter of eleven by him
from Beaufort Winifred came in, and were all entered
with the exception of one, which was too small.
Shropshire is full of old hunting Q. ,.
• r ia 1.' r T« n/r j Shropshire.
memories, from the time of I om Moody
and Trojan, and when the flag-staff on the grig-
clad steeps of Haughmond Hill told that Squire
Corbet and Will Barrow had brought back the hounds
from Warwickshire for a few weeks in the season.
Will Barrow, as his epitaph records, enjoys no
more
" The stirring chase
Of hounds and foxes striving in the race,"
and sleeps just under the hill from which he plucked
so many long-tagged trophies. Those were the days
when the Squire had gates four miles round Sun-
dome, and if he did get to a fence, it was always,
" Please oblige me by turning my horse over; and I'll
catch yours "—but he always forgot. Then there was
Sir Richard Puleston, with his curly sterns, who had
X
3°4
Silk and Scarlet.
such a habit of all singling out one hound, and worry-
ing him, that the baronet in vain offered a reward of
200/. to any one who would devise a cure. Will Todd
did not know of the habit when the forty couple were
sold into the Old Berkshire country. They, however,
began the very first night at the Kingston Inn kennels,
and Will procured a great bell, and rung it, and
flogged them, till he almost alarmed the neighbour-
hood. Next day he kept them out in the yard, and
let their unhappy quarry go in and out of the lodging-
house as he liked, and they at last got so frightened,
that at the first tinkle of the bell, whose rope was at
his bed-head, they would stop short in the smallest
jar.
Mr. Peiham and Shropshire has also a keen remem-
his Men. brance of Mr. Peiham, who canvassed
Shrewsbury alphabetically. He put his men into
white coats with black collars and cuffs, and black
velvet breeches; and then, when he had sedulously
made them such guys, he would urge his pony for
miles out of his road, especially to avoid them. He
seems, however, to have kept some eye on them, as he
was once, and only once, heard to say, that the hunts-
Ned Bates man ^ec* Bates was " mouthy," and that
Jacky Tattle, the whip, was "a boy to kill
horses." Ned, who is introduced as whip into Mr.
Corbet's hunting picture, rode good sixteen stone
latterly. He always said " My Honey' when he was
pleased, or the reverse, and had a nose like a red mul-
berry. The Rev. Charles Eaton, who was so great
over Shropshire or Cheshire for twenty minutes on his
scarecrow mare Fair Barbara, once asked him con-
fidentially how much a year oh a fair calculation it
cost him to keep it painted ; but Ned " moved the
previous question," and deftly parried the thrust, with
—" Aye ! my Honey ! if thee'11 put thy mare into my
stable, I'll bring a blanket off my own bed to kiver her
poor bones I'
Scarlet.
305
The brightest era for Shropshire seems will staples and
to connect itself insensibly with Will ins Whips.
Staples and his two great whips, Jack Wiglesworth
and Tom Flint. The dance at Will's wedding was
quite a county event; and Shropshire men roar yet
over poor Tom's celebrated speech—" For the honour
you've done me, in proposing my health in my absence—
that's alivays it, &c.," when he had never left the room.
Tom Matthews did not hold office under Will, but we
can hardly wonder at the devotion, with which he
always watched for the honour of giving up his horse
in a run to him. This happened seldom enough in
Longwaist's day, who was only once seen resting his
weak crooked knees on a hedge-top, quite unable to
rise at it, while Will kept craftily talking to his hounds,
as if that was an attitude of pure choice on his part,
and not of necessity. The Shifnall men wanted sadly
to back Will and that great raking low-back, against
Moonralcer and Mr. Sirdefield, but Will vowed he
could not ride a yard without music.
The Atcham Bridge meet has never TheAtcham
looked itself, since "the three" were wont Bridge Meet,
to wait with the hounds in the meadow for Sir Bel-
lingham. We know no spot so rich in hunting history,
even if Jack Mytton had not jumped those rails, with
his arm in a sling. Everything in the scene is so good
of its kind, and the parts so beautifully disposed in
relation to each other, that an artist could make no
alteration for the sake of breadth or effect. The
salmon-haunted Severn, to whose nymphs the Shrews-
bury boys have addressed such boundless copies of
iambics and Sapphics, both in Butler's and Kennedy's
time, steals quietly past the osier bed where Will used
to hope he was at home, and on through the massive
iron-grey arches to the sea. A rectory and church,
the red stone of whose Early English tower blends
so gracefully with the ivy which half enwraps it,
shuts out the distant Wrekin ; while a herd of dark-
X 2
3°6
Silk and Scarlet.
coloured Herefords, for whom the Royal Society has
not lived in vain, dot the pastures to the left, and
lend life to the deep green mass of Longner's woods
behind.
The Hounds of Large hounds did not suit the small
Shropshire. enclosures of Shropshire in those days,
and they were given up ; but now hounds go over the
fence, and do not, as of yore, require three or four
jumps to get through them. The Cheshire hounds
were, as a general thing, too flying for Will Staples's
purpose, but still some of his best hounds were from
that blood. Virgin by Cheshire Valiant from Fancy
by Lonsdale's Palafox, was good for eight seasons,
but she never left Will's heels for the first, in Shaw-
bury Heath she was invaluable, as it was full of gutters
two feet deep, covered with ling and grig at the top,
and she was the first to find that the fox ran these
ditches, and to teach the others to go there. Will got
experience of something more than ditches here. He
had long noted the old Shawbury Mill dam with a
view to a short cut some day, and when he did try his
hand at it, he and his horse went in together, and the
latter dragged him out as he clung to its tail. Mr.
Smith Owen told him to go home and change, but he
reappeared in twenty minutes, clad in a farmer's shoot-
ing-coat and plaid breeches, and nicked in with his
hounds near Wytheford Bridge.
Shropshire If possible he loved Woodman still
Woodman, better than Virgin, and he never had any
that would face a Shropshire crowd so well, and go
back so resolutely with their hackles up to the place
where they last knew of it. Woodman was by Wild-
boy by Osbaldeston's Wonder from Remnant, and
was rather a flat-sided hound under twenty-three. His
stock were not big, and most of them tick-marked,
and like him, " knew nothing about tiring." Tom
Goosey bred from him at Belvoir, and at the time of
the madness he went to the Cheshire kennel; but good
Scarlet.
307
as he was in his work, he did Joe Maiden no good as
a stallion. Shropshire Bluecap, on the contrary,
brought back the Cheshire General blood into the
kennel, and left some very strong short-legged hounds.
Vulcan by Osbaldeston's Vanquisher was a very
favourite hound with Sir Bellingham ; and he and
Wildboy, the sire of Woodman, were both puppies in
that draft of both packs, which Sir Bellingham took
from the Squire when he sold him his own on leaving
Quorn. Few hounds were so determined and savage
as Vulcan when he was put out, and on one occasion
when he was running hare, and Joe Maiden, who was
then the baronet's second whip, caught him a heavy
broad-sider for it, he flew at him and bit him right
through his boot and stirrup leather.
And now we pass into Joe's old country, Cheshire Blue-
and those "conservative gorses" whose caP-
glories the Arley Hall lyrics will not easily let die.
TheTarporley Club had but just made up its mind to
hunt fox, when
" Bluecap and Wanton taught fox-hounds to scurry,''
and established its renown on Newmarket Heath.
Bluecap was a black-pied twenty-five inch hound, and
was reared at Waverham Wood. He was always at
the head of the pack, and to adopt the words of one
who remembered him when a boy, "We viewed him
with as much veneration as we did Wellington or
Blucher in after-years." Of his daughter Wanton, the
sharer of his triumphs, nothing further is known, ex-
cept that she was smothered in a fox earth, whereas
Bluecap died in the ordinary course of things in 1772.
The latter was such a hero, that when Cooper the
huntsman used to stop on the turnpike, to see his lad
who was at school at Gorstage Coppy, the boys always
rushed out with a bit of bread for him and the terriers,
and felt quite honoured by his acceptance of it. Again,
at holiday time, Cooper Senior esteemed it the highest
3°8
Silk and Scarlet.
treat he could give Cooper Junior, to let him " tak
Bluecap to lie on the bed with thee, if thou woo Id." His
glories were also well diffused through the Potteries,
as every Tarporley week Mr. Smith Barry used to send
the lad a suit with six china buttons, in front; and a
fox, Bluecap, Wanton, Soundwell, Rockwood, and Old
Cooper charging a gate with Cheshire Cheese, engraven
thereon.
Cheshire Philip Payne left the Cheshire for Bad-
Hounds. minton after two seasons, to follow the
Seventh Duke, whom he had seen out so often when a
pupil at Daresbury near Warrington, and then the
next huntsman of note was Will Gaff. He carried no
horn during his fifteen seasons, and trusted entirely to
his wonderful voice. Will Head found the hounds
very wild, but very determined ; and full of the
blood of—
"Those sons of Old Bedford so prized by George Heron."
This sort was always a great one in Cheshire during
that thirty years' mastership, and though they were
generally black tan themselves, they went straight
back to the red tan Southern Hound. Bedford him-
self was descended from Meynell's Splendour and
Ramper; and Gulliver and Grecian, both were badger
pyes and of Bedford lineage. Gulliver was at Hey-
throp in his thirteenth year, and Jem Hills as well as
John Walker bred a great deal from him. His stock
were generally dark tan, very high couraged, and as
stout as steel, and remarkable for their long sensible-
looking heads and large crowns. Victor was another
Tact in Finding. °f the Bedfords, and quite a fugleman to
Joe. He would go a few yards into a
cover, and decide at once if there was a fox ; and if
there was not, he would sit and triumphantly await
the confirmation of his opinion at the huntsman's side.
Mr. Villebois' Hannibal, an ambling sulky hound, who
never forgave a whip, had the same weird-like tact,
Scarlet.
309
and although Ben Foote was at times so incredulous
that he would try down wind and side wind as well,
he found it was no use wasting time when Hannibal
had said No. He was lent to the Warwickshire for a
week, and the very first time he was taken out, he
went and found his fox instantly, and raced into him
over a country which was equally strange to him.
Two Craven men came to Foote at the kennels a few
days after to tell him of the odd coincidence, and the
likeness of the hound they had seen to their own
Hannibal, and as he had then come back and was
specially drawn for them, they were perfectly bewil-
dered to think how two hounds with precisely the
same marks, should be blessed with precisely the same
bump of " locality."
The Hannibal of the Cheshire was the Cheshire
idol of Joe's heart, but he had to be de- Hannibal,
stroyed in the madness along with Envoy and Bravery.
The latter was by Meynell Ingram's Bertram from
Racket of their capital Nathan blood and quite a little
handmaid to a huntsman. She would hunt her fox
like a beagle, and when they were breaking him up,
she would give just one snack, and then sit up and be
the first to move again. Hannibal was by Cheshire
General, and with immense bone and depth of chest,
and measured good nine inches round the arm ; and
he may well hang up with Bravery, and the renowned
bay Pevorett, in the entrance hall at Wolstanton.
The Heythrop Hannibal did little towards repairing
his loss in after-years, but Lord Hawke's Conqueror,
the Grove Watchman, Heythrop Agent, Shropshire
Bluecap, and Rutland General stopped up such gaps
as even the grand entry of twenty-five couple of
puppies, out of the eighty which came in that spring
from quarters, could not quite fill. The Dapper sort
were all whites, and not such hard runners as the
Craftsman, who were principally white as well, but
too quick and jealous for a less flying country.
Silk and Scarlet.
Bonny Bell Wickstead's Harlequin contributed some
very good short-legged hounds to Cheshire,
and his Bachelor was the sire of Bonny Bell, one of
the very fastest that ever huntsman rode to. Un-
fortunately she had to be drafted in her third
season, from having got completely spoilt in a run
from Mobberley Wood. She came out with the fox,
ran close at his brush four miles over the palings, and
across Tatton Park in nine minutes, and killed him.
This coursing ruined her, as she could never be got
to stoop again, and was always dancing about to
get a view. Still, the habit rather amused the
late Sir Watkin, and he thus wrote to Lord Dela-
mere, " Send us all the Bonny Bells you've got—
we've such racing; aivay goes the fox> and then goes
Bonny Belli'
Tom Ranee. Sutton's Wildboy and their own Gul-
liver, Bangor, Manager, Benedict, Watch-
man, Vagrant, Plunder, Champion, and Rockwood
have for some seasons past been the principal sires
in the Cheshire kennel, where Tom Ranee, who was
second horseman for two years to Mr. Gurney,
in Norfolk, is now on the threshold of his thirtieth
season, as whip. We had never seen Tom till
this season, when he requested us to keep a look-
out on the towing-path, near Cran Wood, while he
watched at the top part of the narrow strip of cover,
and as good luck would have it the fox slipped back;
just between us. Then came both to eye and ear,
scarcely sixty yards from us, the terrific embodiment
of that verse, which has enshrined Tom in all Lanca-
shire and Cheshire hearts—
" Tom Ranee has got a single oie, wurth many another's two ;
He held his cap abuv his yed to show he'd had a view ;
Tom's voice was loik th' owd raven's when he skroiked out ' Tally-ho !'
For when the fox had seen Tom's feace, he thoght it toim to go.''
Our gratification was so great, that we made an early
application for his photograph ; though, alas ! no sun
TOM RANCE.
Scarlet.
and no pencil, however cunning, can hit him off, as he
appeared in that moment of grim-extasy.
Joe Maiden has principally clung to The North
his old blood, since he came to the North Staffordshire.
Staffordshire, and his crack Absolute is by Cheshire
Bangor, who goes back to Gulliver from Actress by
Shropshire Ajax, who came to the Wolstanton kennels
when Mr. Davenport bought Captain Candler's pack.
He was the leading hound in that great run of
December 17,1857, when they supposed they changed
foxes, and ran for five hours and a half with scarcely
a check, through eighteen parishes. A man leaving
work at dusk, saw the fox cross the field dead beat,
and Absolute knock him over, and struggle with him
in a dry ditch, while the body of the hounds were
nearly three minutes behind. About a quarter of an
hour after that, Mr. Davenport and his son arrived on
foot, as both their horses had been ridden to a stand-
still, but some one had cut off their hard-earned brush
and bolted with it. Joe was not out that day, but he
had been reduced to the same straits himself on the
memorable February 16, 1832, in the Cheshire coun-
try, when his Filho da Puta horse, Milo, alias " The
Pig," stood still, and was left refreshing himself with a
moist clod, while Joe, lame as he was, raced for the
brush with Mr. Potts of Chester, who had seized on a
horse out of a plough team when his own failed.
Mr. Heron was always very fond of Mr. Meyneii
Mr. Meynell's hounds; and it was Ingram's,
through him that Mr. Meynell Ingram got a good
deal of his grandfather's blood (of which Lord Vernon
had so much at Sudbury), back to Hoar Cross. When
his lordship's hounds were sold at the death of Mr.
George Talbot, who had the management, a few
couples were retained as a foundation for a small pack,
which hunted the Hoar Cross country for three 01*
four seasons; and this was the pack which Mr.
Osbaldeston bought for 500 guineas, when he took it
312
Silk and Scarlet.
conjointly with the Atherstone. Mr. Meynell Ingram
had hunted hare for several seasons with some small
hounds, bred principally from Lord Vernon's and the
Cheshire, and a few from Quorn. When he succeeded
to the Hoar Cross country, with Old Leedham—who
was once second horseman, and then coachman to Mr.
Meynell—as his huntsman, Fallacy, of the Cheshire
Bluecap, and Nelly, of the Meynell Stormer blood,
were given to him by Mr. Heron ; but both of them
were so ill with distemper that they were hardly fit to
bring. He lost Fallacy out cub-hunting on Needwood
Forest Banks ; and she went home again, and entered
so well, that Mr. Heron felt it much more of a duty
than a pleasure to write and inform his friend of her
return. Nathan, who became a very popular stallion,
was by Pytchley Abelard from Nelly, one of whose
daughters, Nightshade, had a great litter by Belvoir
Rasselas, which produced three good stallion hounds,
Rummager, Reveller, and Roman, all black tan.
Reveller was a very clever hound, but unfortunately
got poisoned ; and Mr. Ingram bred a good deal from
Roman, whose best daughter was Hyacinth. But we
must not forget old Agnes by the Hoar Cross Abelard
from Ringlet by Belvoir Governor. She is four-
teen years old, and as her Alaric and Adeline are
right able proxies, she wanders about like a fat Mrs.
Armitage of the kennel, along with Hostile by Sir
Watkin's Admiral, who was making most peaceful
overtures to the haymakers for a share of their supper,
when we first caught a glimpse of the pair. Agnes
has well earned her ease, as she never did wrong, and
would pick out the scent at four roads, when nothing
else could do anything, and even when she was
eleven and quite deaf, she could hunt the line by
herself.
win rinnhv ^ *s many years since Nimrod set
the clubs and the hunting world in a
roar by his " Tour" anecdotes of the dreams, and
Scarlet.
313
the prayers, and the sayings, and the doings, of
the celebrated Holderness master (whom he irreve-
rently wrote of as " Tommy Hodgson"), and his
equally famous whip, Will Danby. The former has
hung up his horn for years, but Will is just enter-
ing upon the fiftieth season of his life in scarlet;
and although the grey hairs may be seen straggling
under his cap, he is a wonderful instance of what a
hardy Yorkshire constitution, good temper, and rigid
temperance can effect for a man in " these degenerate
days." Will is quite a key to Yorkshire hunting his-
tory; but tiles have, of later years, become his thorn
in the flesh. " This draining," as he emphatically
observed to us, when we took counsel with him near
the Hurworth kennels, " is just the ruin of scent; 1
zuish they'd be done with it; when I was a boy, we could
hunt from morning till night." He was born near
Hornby Castle; and the ruling passion with him was
strongly fostered at fourteen, when one of the farm-
houses, included in his father's lease, was converted by
the Duke of Leeds into a kennel for his hounds.
This was the crisis of his fate, and henceforward he
devoted his attention, much more to helping the feeder
to walk the hounds about, than to grounding himself
in the elements of agriculture. His expressed views
on drainage would, in fact, have militated so strongly
against his advancement, that it was well that he
established himself in the good graces of Kit Scaife
the huntsman, and found a more genial outlet for his
energies. When his seven years' probation was over,
some difficulty occurred with the Duke of Cleveland
about foxes, and the hounds were given up. The rare
lot of Pandolpho hunters were sent to the hammer at
Tattersall's, and Kit Scaife, who was always a great
man for kennel condition, took the head of his Grace's
racing stud.
It was a sad pity, as the country was The Duke of
a singularly wild and beautiful one, all Leeds's Country.
3H
Silk and Scarlet.
dells and ling. They were constantly having runs
almost into the heart of Westmoreland, and hounds
kept arriving at he kennel all night. In the cover of
" Cheerless Understone,
Where cock never crew, and sun never shone"
they once divided, and Will had about as much chance
of stopping them as a flight of pigeons. After riding
wildly in one direction, while Kit went in the other, a
shepherd at last halloed to him as if from the clouds
on Whiteside, and descended with Bardolph and half
a dozen hounds. His account was that they had
nearly worried him as well as their fox ; but he had
summoned courage enough to pick up the brush, and
hang it round Bardolph's neck. Of the other run
nobody ever knew anything, except that Baronet and
his party were found at the mouth of an earth at
Masham Moor Heads, thirty miles away.
The Hoiderness This wild sort of training, of which the
above is a mere sample, and three or four
seasons more with the Badsworth and Scarborough,
found Will well up to the mark, when Mr. Hodgson
took the Hoiderness, and beckoned him to his side, as
first whip and kennel huntsman ; and that memorable
pair were in their third season, when "Nimrod" arrived
at Beverley to watch the proceedings from the back
of " Little Shamrock." Few men had such a country
to work in, gentlemen and yeomen all fox preservers
to a man, and looking on
" The green gorse in Dringhoe that waves,"
as the most sacred of plants.
Will very narrowly escaped jumping down a coal
waste ; but the horse's second effort just saved him.
Tack Robinson This leaP WaS generally talked of> with
jack Kobmson. ^ ^ ^ RobinSQn> wWp tQ Mr<
Bethell of Rise, had taken over Wansforth Lock, some
seasons before. He was determined to be with his
Scarlet.
3i5
hounds, and when Mr. Bethell had in vain remonstra-
ted with him, and saw him coolly turn his cap wrong
side first as a preliminary, he turned his back not to
see him killed. However he got safely over, and at
last died in his bed at Sandbeck, where he hunted
Lord Scarbro's hounds. In later life, he was not the
man (as they say in Yorkshire), " to burst himself with
tooth watter"; and six or seven horns of ale in a morn-
ing before cub-hunting, for a few seasons, soon
quenched the fire within him. Old Will Smith once
slipped across the Trent, when the hounds were at
Manby, to meet him, one blazing hot August morning,
at Grove. He could neither hear nor see anything of
the hounds, but he espied some one in scarlet at a
wicket-gate, and tore up the ride to enquire. The
horse was quietly grazing ; and the rider, who proved
to be Robinson, was fast asleep. " Halloo ! old boy,"
said Will, in his fine cheery tones. " where are your
hounds?" "Hounds!" said Jack. " All right ! how
should I know ? they were here half an hour since—that's
you, Will, is it f All right! old fellow—I was just a
bit drowsy." And so after one or two more thunder-
ing claps from Will, to make sure it was " All right,"
the two huntsmen separated, and Will cantered home
again, " more ashamed than I ever was in my life"
But we are forgetting Mr. Hodgson Recollections of
and his Will. They hunted four days a Mr- H°dgson.
week with only thirty-six couple of hounds, and killed
thirty-seven brace of foxes ; and towards the close of
another, they hunted nineteen days, and added twenty
noses after splendid runs to their stable array. They
killed them everywhere, and not content with the
intrusion into Sim Templeman's bed-room, they broke
up another in the drawing-room at Sir Clifford Con-
stable's. In short, the housemaids of the East-Riding
never knew where they had them. On one occasion,
Will was seen up to his waist, wading for his fox in
the German Ocean> beneath the crags of Skeleton
3l6
Silk and Scarlet.
Hill. This was the day when Mr. Hodgson, for
perhaps the only time in his life, composed a triplet,
under evidently a prophetic impulse. They had killed
their first fox up a tree near Gransmoor, and he
suddenly burst out, as they moved on to draw again
with " Will, I say—
"The first we've killed in a tree,
The second we'll kill in the sea,
That's the way it will be."
And so the event proved, and Lord Hawke begged
the pad to nail for luck on the new kennels at Bads-
worth. Will wears a trophy at his watch chain to this
day, in the shape of the tooth of the Dringhoe fox,
which gave them such a run through Nafferton, where
they had a slight check, and past Driffield, to Dotteril
Whin. He was only a hundred yards ahead of the
hounds, within a few fields of the whin, but still they
did not view him till Will cracked his whip, and he
turned nearly broadside to it for an instant. They
ran into him just fifty yards outside the cover, and
Colonel Thompson cut a large " H " on the back of
one of the trees, for a memorial of that day. An
Oustwick Whin fox, which they killed at Little Hat-
field, after twelve miles straight, added another to
their red-letter days ; and as the present master, and
the late Rev. John Bower and Mr. Melford took their
fences, stroke for stroke, Aleck Boswell might well say
to his companion, as they " crept a bit," to keep near
them, "Look at 'em, Will! no country has three
better /"
Mr. Hodgson's All things come to an end ; and Will
Wind-up. shall tell of the wind-up himself. " My
last day and last run in Holderness," he writes, " was
on May 3rd, 1837. The meet was at Water Priory,
the seat of Lord Muncaster. We went twelve miles
to cover, and were at him, on and off, for twelve hours
under a burning sun, and then pulled him down at
Scarlet.
317
5 p.m.; and we knew him to be the same fox we had
dusted twice before, on account of one of his thighs
having the appearance of being clipped. So I think
seventeen hours astride of pig-skin in one day made a
very good wind-up of my career in the Holderness."
The next season found Will installed The York and
at White House, within easy distance of Ainsty.
Bill Scott (who kept a special bottle of raspberry
vinegar for him in the cellarette) as huntsman to the
York and Ainsty. Rosebud and Lolly pop were his
favourite nags, and the former carried him for twelve,
and the latter for eleven out of sixteen seasons ; and
Tarquin, Crotchet by Sir Tatton's Climbank, Trouncer
by Hodgson's Vexer, Nestor; and Triumph, and
Traveller, by Trouncer from Tasty by Trimbush were
among the hounds of his heart, which ran to head
in many a rare thing from Askham Bog, or the Wild
Man.
To be in Will's society, and not learn Trimbush.
about Trimbush, would be drawing him
blank indeed ; and if Mr. Williamson was ever to hear
of it, he would make sure that deponent must have
got hold of the wrong man. Trimbush was by Bads-
worth Tickler from Yarborough Virgin, and so back
to Osbaldeston's Vanquisher, through nearly as many
V's as there are stiles of that shape near Hurworth.
Will Smith sent him to the Ainsty with a broken arm
and a " beautiful pedigree of five-and-twenty years";
but he never greatly distinguished himself, till he
worked it about half a mile down a road near Shipton-
on-Ouse, which the hares were crossing every instant,
while the rest could hardly feather on the grass.
Both Mr. Lloyd and Will thought he was taking it
too far; and the former had just said, " Will! it's
a band or a stallion /" when he " went through the
hedge like a gun," and killed him soon after. Tom
Carter was a great admirer of his, and sent several
bitches to him, but many of his stock let down their
Y
318 Silk and Scarlet.
toes at two years old. He at last became jealous, and
too free with his tongue ; and as he deceived Joe
Maiden twice over in the Cheshire, by making a
scent for himself, he soon ceased to use him. From
thence he went to The Sinnington, and so on to Mr.
Hill's; and some of his granddaughters, with their
long dark-coloured heads, are still to be found in
The Hurworth.
will Danby's Twenty-six brace constituted the spoils
Accidents. 0f will's best season with the Ainsty,
which furnished him with the pet run of his life.
They found at Askham Bog, and killed after four
hours and ten minutes near Anghram, in the presence
of only seven or eight out of three hundred; and
some even of that devoted band had to leave their
horses and finish on foot. At the close of the season
of 1852-53, Sir Charles Slingsby became master; and
as he decided to hunt the hounds himself, Will retired
with a testimonial, such as may well make him say,
" There never was such a well-used man by hunting
gentlemen as I have beenAs regards accidents, he
has hardly so fair a tale, as, in addition to flesh-rents
innumerable, he has had three thigh-wrenches, and all
his ribs laid bare on the right side up to the breast-
bone. His left arm has been broken once, and his
collar-bone twice; his right shoulder has been put
out; he has had a slight fracture of the skull above
the left eye, in consequence of his horse catching in a
sheep-net; and he also lay for nearly three weeks in
a state of coma, the result of a rheumatic fever, from
swimming a river.
The Hurworth Time has, however, come with healing
Country. wings in each instance, and has left no
trace of these highly varied chances of war; and as
retirement at Acomb was not his forte, he became the
huntsman of the Hurworth in '55. With the excep-
tion of the country on both sides of the Tees, which
separates Yorkshire and Durham, this hereditary
Scarlet.
3J9
hunting-ground of the Wilkinson family is of a stiff
"up-lill. and down-dale character." Still the foxes
generally hang to the riverside, which can be reached
in half an hour from nearly all the covers, and point
away down a good scenting country for Yarm. Their
best cover is Fighting Cocks, which was laid down by
the present master with I4lbs. of seed to the acre, and
includes from eighteen to twenty acres of good gorse,
which can bear sifting pretty often during the season.
The blood of Hurworth Fury, crossed with that of
Badsworth Whynot, is well represented in the kennel
by Worker, Woodman, and Wonder ; but Buccleuch's
Traveller, who came in a picked ten-couple draught,
which Mr. Robinson gave John Glover when he re-
signed his hounds to Earl Wemyss, has done as much
good as anything to them when crossed with the
blood of Sir John Cope's Galopade and their Fury.
The Galopades were also to be found in those forty-
one couples, young and old, which Joe Mason sent off
with such sorrow from the station at Bedale to Quorn,
and which have for three seasons, more than kept up
the glowing In Memoriam he pronounced at parting.
Ten couple of them are still in kennel, and if the
unhappy chop had not occurred, and his lordship had
carried out his intention of taking a picked pack for
the Gartree Hill fox, which beat him five times one
season, we will warrant that Treadwell would not have
left either Albert, Ravisher, Ringwood, Reveller, or
Chauntress behind. As for the Furies, we quite forget
whether Will was speaking of Freeman and Fencer
from Fanny, or Tomboy, Trouncer, Terrington, and
Trueman from her sister Famous, when he said, " They
tak such pains and have such pluck ; they fairly lift a
fellow's cap off his head with delight." Famous was
remarkable in the manner of her death; as she tried
to get at her puppies through a small window, and
fell into the meat boiler on the other side.
The Badsworth Whynot, who generally got white
Y 2
32°
Silk and Scarlet.
SirTatton hounds like himself, was by Sir Tatton
Sykes. Sykes's Warrior, who entered himself
his first day, and brought the head home in his
mouth, and about thirty more that season. Splen-
dour (the sire of Warrior and his Brother Wildair),
was perhaps the finest hound Sir Tatton ever bred ;
Chalon painted him, and Tom Carter always said that
he despaired of having another like him. He was by
Mr. Hill's Alfred from Lord Middleton's Darling, and
so back through Monson's Duster to Vernon's Victory.
Comrade, who went to Sir Richard Sutton's, was by
him from Charming; and at one time there were
six couple of stallion hounds in the kennel, all by
him, and enough Comrades to make up any pack.
Climback was one of them, and his sons Champion
and Carver were both high wranglers in Sir Tatton's
tripos. Clinker, by Champion from Blowzy, a daughter
of own sister to Bondsman, has been a good deal
used since the present Lord Middleton took to the
hounds: and Mr. Hodgson was wont to say of him
that he would go a hundred miles any day to see
such a workman. He has none of it; but Mr.
Hodgson, as a general thing, did not care about a
little neckcloth, and said " it helps to keep their noses
down."
Sir Tatton, as well as the York and Ainsty, and
Mr. Hill, bred a good deal from Bondsman by Cruiser,
as he liked his deep tongue as well as his work. He
was a rare line hunter, and there was none of that
tiring and skirting which has been fastened by so
many on the blood of Layman, who was the sire of
his dam Bluebell. Cruiser, who was by Musters'
Solomon, and entered in 1852, was always in high
favour at Birdsall; and Mr. Ferneley's art was invoked
to immortalize him. Denmark by Splendour, Pleader,
bred by Lord Yarborough, Trojan, Furrier by Osbal-
deston's Flagrant, Walter, and Woldsman, who broke
his shoulder out at quarters, and yet could lead them
Scarlet.
321
in any weather in the meets near home, were also
among the Birdsall particulars. Carter hankered
after the Fitzwilliam Shiner for years, but he got him
nothing good when he did succeed in begging him of
Tom Sebright. The cross did not suit, although he
had the very flowers of the pack for one or two sea-
sons, and they were rather inclined to be noisy. Vice-
roy went to the Duke of Buccleuch's; and his son
Highflyer, from the Duke's Harriett, has been used to
some purpose in Earl Wemyss's kennel. Sir Tatton
was always very particular about legs and feet, and
his hounds were generally big, with especially great
ribs, deep in the brisket, and, as Mr. Conyers and
Mr. Marriott used to think, somewhat flat-sided;
although oddly enough, it was quite a phrase of Tom
Carter's, " Let me see their sides in a line with their
thighs."
Mr. Conyers, who took the Lonsdale Mr Conyers
and Sykes drafts for years, considered
the flat sides their great excellence, as they never
tired with Jim Morgan in his heavy road work,
sometimes twenty-four miles to cover. At times Jem
has ridden his hack thirty-three miles from his house
to Little Burnfield, had a second breakfast there, and
then taken his hounds ten miles to draw. " We'll
stick to the flat uns, Jim, in Essex, whatever they say,"
was his constant remark; " they'll bear far more
fatigue than those square heavy houndsSize was
also a great point with Mr. Conyers, and in 1847 he
had twenty-five couple of twenty-five-inch hounds;
and led by Barmaid, who was nearly as big as any of
them, they fairly swept like a hurricane, from scent to
view, into their fox over the Roothings. In the wet
weather, the bitches were invariably beaten by the
dog-hounds. The former had not the necessary stride
for the ditches, of which the sides were hollow; and
they jumped, as Jim says, "with their hind legs short,
another on top of them, and so the ditches were full."
322
Silk and Scarlet.
Wildair by Yarborough Warrior from Fitzwilliam's
Willing (whose dam, Julia, ran into her fox alone
in Lady Sparrow's park from Brampton Wood, after
eleven hours' cub-hunting) was a great hound with Mr.
Conyers; and so were Tragedy and Madcap, who
would neither of them draw a yard, and Joyful
by Justice from Primrose. Justice was drafted by
John Ward from the Cambridgeshire kennel at three
years old, but he cannot remember what for; and
Primrose, like Beauty and Bashful, was of the Lons-
dale blood. Beauty goes down to posterity in the
portrait with her master; and for her and Bashful,
both of whom he bred himself, he refused a hundred
guineas from Mr. Assheton Smith. There is a great
deal of the old Lonsdale blood in the present Earl's
pack at Tring; and it was principally obtained by
drafts from Charles Payne.
The Brocklesby. , W'U Smith of the Brocklesby, was
laid to rest full twelve years before we
ever sallied forth on our summer ramble for " scarlet"
incidents, and many a cheery story of man and hound
has gone with him. " Stick to Ranter" was the last
kennel injunction he gave to his son Will, as he lay on
his death-bed at Barnoldsby; and it has not been for-
gotten, either by him, or his brother Tom. He tried
several dashing experiments, which many less ex-
perienced huntsmen would not have thought of; on
one occasion he clipped a hound, and on another he
took out a pack of bitches, all in season. " The nose
of Yarborough" had lost none of its fame in his hands,
but in obedience to the wishes of the late lord the
standard was reduced to twenty-three and a-half for
dogs, and twenty-two for bitches. The stallion sue-
cession goes back to Dover, in 1786, who traced his
lineage through Fitzwilliam Ranger. The original
Ranter of 1790 was Dover's son from Red Rose,
sister to Ringwood, the hound which Stubbs painted.
Fitzwilliam Traitor contributed its Truant, in 1797 ;
Scarlet.
323
then came Ranters and Ringwood in a long black tan
line. Reveller and Relish by Rector by Savilles'
Rallywood were of Smith's own breeding, and great
favourites in 1823. Then there were Druid by Flasher,
a son of old Furrier ; the grey Trimmer, with his deep
note, who found nineteen out of twenty foxes, with the
little bitch Prattler always at his side ; and Jailer by
Sir Tatton Sykes' Monarch, a very clever hound
indeed. None of them could carry a scent like him
through the steam of a hundred horses on the road ;
and on one occasion he took it half a mile along the
top of a sod wall at Croxby Warren, with the pack
on both sides, and his great bushy tan stern waving
like a banner, till "the Brocklesby boys" were in
raptures.
Will used to say that he always went EndofOsbai-
to Sir Tatton's for ribs, and used his deston's Furrier.
Furrier by Osbaldeston's Flagrant; while Fitz-
hardinge's Desperate, Foljambe's Prompter by
Hodgson's Valiant, and his Herald by Osbaldeston's
Ranter ; and the badger pye Cheshire Benedict by
Galliard followed in due course. The Quorn Fur-
rier also ended his days with him. Mr. Osbaldeston
gave him to Lord Yarborough, when he was nine years
old; but he was scalded in the back the following
year (1830), and, as he failed to get any more puppies,
he was put away. There is no picture extant of this
patriarch of hounds, and no one at Brocklesby re-
members where he was buried. Fairmaid was one of
the very last litter by him, and her Dashwood by
Yarborough Druid did, along with Foljambe's Albion,
and Belvoir Guider, and Chacer, enormous good to
the Bramham Moor. At one time or another that
kennel-book could show, in the term of its time-
honoured toast, full "twenty-five couple" of Dash-
woods, principally bitches. The old dog, who came
from the Duke of Buccleuch's to the Bramham Moor,
was rather ugly and leggy, short in the ribs, and pig-
324
Silk and Scarlet.
mouthed ; and his stock slightly inherited the last
peculiarity, along with very nice necks and shoulders.
Brockiesby Stud Ruler was one of the greatest of the
Hounds. Brockiesby kennel cracks, and he came in
an odd way. Mr. Foljambe had allowed him to pick
one of his best puppies, and, when he inquired about
it, Will told him that it always sneezed after feed-
ing ; and the consequence was that he sent for it
back, and that rich yellow pye by Albion, the very
best of his entry, arrived in its stead. Will used also
to be perpetually chopping hounds with Sir Richard
Sutton ; and it was thus that Basilisk by Sir Richard's
Ringwood from Bragela came into his hands. He
was put to Rosebud, who went back through Rector
to Foljambe's Piper, and ran to head in her eleventh
season, and Rallywood, Rocket, and Royster were the
produce. Never was there a more luckless trio, in one
sense of the word. Rocket, a very handsome dog,
curiously marked on one side, was kicked and killed
in Grimsby Field ; Royster fell down a chalk pit in
Irby Dales ; while Rallywood, after getting his thigh
broken, and being used a good deal at Brockiesby,
departed, leaving Yarborough Harper, the sire of
Wynnstay Royal, behind, and made a new pack for
Belvoir. Tom Smith has of late made most use of
Nettler by Noble, a son of Ranter from Audible by
Foljambe's Albion, and Ruler by Ruler from Victory
by Rallywood; and hence the good old sort knows
no decay.
The Grove Osbaldeston's Ranter was equally the
Hounds. making of Mr. Foljambe's kennel, which
had been previously strengthened through Roderick
by some plain but very good Richmond hounds. At
one time he had twenty-five couple by him, among
whom were Stormer, Sparkler, Harbinger, and Herald.
Harbinger, who was the most racing of the lot, was
given in his prime to Earl Wemyss. Stormer was
not clever to look at, but first-rate in his work, and
Scarlet.
325
did Bel voir great good, especially as a bitch-getter;
but for handiness there was nothing to beat Sparkler,
and one wave from Mr. Foljambe's hand would send
him flying over any double. Tom Carter used to
doat on his beautiful appearance and fine ribs; and
Lord Henry Bentinck liked nothing better than Con-
quest from his Corned/. Bonny Lass was another of
his rare granddaughters, and ran very forward in her
tenth season with her hearing and eye as good as
ever, and not a toe down. She was so resolute, that
on one occasion she crowned down on to her fox, as
it would have done on to a rabbit's nest, and dug and
ate him up, with the exception of the head, pads, and
brush.
Herald hunted five seasons at Grove, Herald and
and then went to Lord Ducie's and Comus.
several other kennels, till at last Lord Henry Bentinck
purchased him in a five-couple lot. He delighted
Mr. Foljambe most in a run from Babington Springs
up to Bevercoats Park, where the hounds came to a
check. There was a halloo at the bottom of the park,
and Mr. Foljambe blew them away to a fresh fox.
Still Herald would not go; and Merry saw him
waving his stern, and then collar the hunted one, and
kill him in a briar-bush. Mr. Foljambe might well
say when Will reached him, with the fox on his saddle,
that such a kill was worth a king's ransom. Dick Burton
put Herald away when he was nine years old, and the
operation very nearly proved fatal to himself. The
old dog blew the two drops of prussic acid out on to
his face, as he rolled over; and as Dick rubbed it off
hastily with his glove, it got slightly smeared on
his own lips ; and it was not till after he had re-
covered from a species of fainting-fit, which lasted
more than two hours, that he bethought himself of the
circumstance.
Comus from Crazy was Herald's best son, and the
kennel used him with still greater freedom and success.
326
Silk and Scarlet.
He was a wonderfully clever made " Belvoir tan," of
about twenty-three-and-a-half inches, and especially
great in drawing, and picking out a scent on a cold
day. Dick Burton used to say that, with the excep-
tion of Rachael by Osbaldeston's Rasselas, whom he
brought with him from Lord Ducie's, and who earned
his eternal gratitude, with carrying it by herself
through more than a hundred horsemen, down the
cliff to Riseholme Wood, on his and her maiden day,
in Lincolnshire—that there was no nose he could
trust to like Comus's.
Comrade, Con- was Pei*fect in his WOrk Up to his
test, and seventh season, when he died rather sud-
Craftsman. denly. In 1847 Lord Henry's kennel
was half full of Comuses ; and it was generally con-
sidered a hard-running blood, which required to be
crossed with line-hunters. Contest, Craftsman, and
Comrade were three very eminent brothers by him
from his lordship's Sanguine by Foljambe's Sparkler.
Contest was never known to smeuse, but took his
gates like a greyhound. Comrade and Craftsman
were both better than him in their necks and shoulders;
and the latter was given to Sir Watkin Wynne, and
got some fifteen couple before he was passed on to
the Duke of Beaufort, who has always had a wonder-
ful liking for the sort. At one time his Grace had seven
couple in work by the three brothers. John Walker en-
tered seven sisters by the latter from Precious, among
which are Curious and Cheerful. Curious was in her
turn the dam of Conjuror (by Fitzwilliam Harbinger,
a grandson of Yarborough Rally wood), who measures
thirty-two inches round the heart, as attested by Lord
Berners' bullock-tape. Grappler is also a Craftsman
after John Walker's own heart, and he and Conjuror
were among " the boys that tickled up the Cheshire
fox " from the Rawheads on the last Monday of '58.
Some men holloaed at him from the Peckforton Castle
Hills; and his death-warrant was signed as he sank
Scarlet.
327
into the Vale of Destruction, in a line for Beeston
Station, and John Walker called up Cockatoo ; but
not sealed till he had given them an hour and five
minutes through Harlaston Gorse to Acton, over the
finest part of Cheshire. Render, Clasper, and Charon,
the latter from a Comus bitch, were all celebrated
Contests in the Burton country ; and so were Clans-
man, Carnage, Candid, and Clarion from Destiny by
Driver, a nephew of Herald's. Driver was quite one
of Dick Burton's adjutants, and the admiration was
remarkably mutual. On one occasion they ran a fox
for three hours in Harpwell Gorse as if they would
tear it down, and not one hound outside for the last
twenty minutes. Driver was the only one missing
after they had killed ; and in a few minutes he ap-
peared, with the brush in his mouth, and solemnly
laid it at Dick's feet, before the assembled field.
Strange to say, he did the same thing over again in
the course of the next season's cub-hunting. Con-
test is in Earl Wemyss's kennel, and his six couple
of one-season hounds—more especially Honesty, He-
roine, Harbinger, and Highflyer, inheriting as they
do his muscular back and loins—are in high favour
with his lordship and Will Channing.
The match between Earl Fitzwilliam's Earl Fitz-
and Mr. Meynell's hounds took place in William's,
the days of Will Deane, who had come with the
hounds from Lord Crewe and Foley's, in Worcester-
shire. Mr. Meynell brought his ten couple from
Kimbolton Castle to the tryst at Hunt's Closes, and
the hounds were stopped at the end of forty minutes,
when, as Milton tradition has it, Darter and the
original Druid, both of them tans, were a good first
and second. The Druids were generally dark tans,
and Dreadnought was a great hound of the sort.
When Tom Sebright succeeded John Clark in 1821,
there were a great many blue pied, who ran back to
old Glancer. The two sorts united well in Jason, from
Silk and Scarlet.
whom sprang the celebrated Yarborough Druid. Jason
by Genial from Duchess was an old stager when Tom
Sebright came, and it was of Genial (who had been
killed by a kick from a horse just before), that Lord
Lonsdale said, he was the best constitutioned and
stoutest hound he ever used.
Milton stud His lordship had also a great many
Hounds. 0f the Monarch sort. He was by Yar-
borough's Fairplay from his Vanity, and was entered
in 1826, and Tom still loves to tell how he went right
away from the body of the hounds near Weston Grove
in a great run from Elton's New Closes. The yellow
pied Marmion was a son of his, and got his stock with
very gay heads and necks, and principally of that
colour. He was given to Mr. Foljambe, but died on
the kennel bench very soon after he came; and his
grandson Marmion by Monarch from Felix, who goes
back on his dam's side through Flourish and Finisher
to Osbaldeston's Ferryman by Furrier, was used by a
great many kennels. The Fatals were also of the
Ferryman blood, and Tom thought that nothing nicked
better than their cross with the Hermits. John Ward
liked the old blood when he whipped into Tom, and
the Cambridgeshire kennel in his day was full of
Monarchs and Fatals. Marksman, for whom Lord
Macclesfield gave 50 guineas at Mr. Henley Greaves'
sale, is a fine combination of Marmion with Badsworth
Mindful, who goes back, like Badsworth Lubin to
Buccleuch's Lexicon. Marplot, the handsomest old
hound in the kennel, is all that is left of the sort ; and
Lord Ducie's Marplot, who made that celebrated
jump over the pommel of Lord Portman's saddle, as
he stooped to open a gate, did not belong to it, but
was of Fitzhardinge blood.
The Shiners have always been very celebrated at
Milton. He dates about 1824, and was by the Scar-
bro' Saladin of the Monson blood, and from Traffic
by Yarborough Trimmer. The yellow pied Sports-
TOM SEBRIGHT.
Scarlet.
329
man from Faithful by Yarborough Flasher was the
one who did most for the blood, and was particularly
noticed for his beauty. Shiner himself was given by
Lord Fitzwilliam to the Duke of Bedford, at the end
of his sixth season, and not only ran well to head in
the Oakley, but stocked that kennel and the Cam-
bridgeshire to boot. John Walker also dipped into
the sort through Sultan (the sire of Wynnstay Sultan),
and so did Mr. Henley Greaves, who had ten couple
by him from Badsworth Caroline. Lifter and Pleader,
both very dear to Tom, strained back to Drake's
Plector ; and Hermit, who was by Hector from Gold-
finch by Yarborough Ganymede, went to the Duke of
Beaufort's, and left several especially excellent daugh-
ters behind him.
Badminton paid off his debt to Milton, in the capital
cross between their Flyer and Fitzwilliam Blithesome
by the Yarborough Bluecap, which produced Feudal.
Nearly all this family were rich smutty-faced tans, with
rare shoulders and chests, but perhaps slightly thin
thighs and quarters. Flamer, one of his sons, who
goes back to Osbaldeston's Vanquisher, distinguished
himself greatly two seasons ago, not only by joining
the cry the first day he was taken out, but by bringing
home the head as well. Looking back through the
vista of half a century, perhaps Tom was never quite
so proud of a pupil as when he rode home from
Aversley Wood that day. Ottoman, to whom he has
especially clung of late, is a combination of Yar-
borough Orator, and Vanity by Belvoir Victor; and
is a lengthy hound, with great bone, and requires
rather an airy style of cross. His shoulders are
not quite so elegant as some, and his bitches are
especially fine, and bigger than his dogs. Eleven
couple have been entered by him at Milton ; and
Wynnstay had a good slice out of him through
Pantomime by their Warrior, who is a grandson of
Yarborough Rosebud.
33°
Silk and Scarlet.
Mr. Osbai- Tom Sebright involuntarily sends us
(lesion's Entry.. back to the days when he whipped in to
" The Squire," fifty years ago, on the very first day
that glorious rider carried his horn as master, in
the Burton country. No master had been better bred
to it, as far as strength of character was concerned ;
and it was told of his mother that, when some one
brought her the rumour (during the heat of a ten days'
election at York) that her son was hurt out hunting,
she said, " Don't talk to me about my son—he knows
how to fall well enough—how goes the poll f" Tom
remembers, as if it was yesterday, that the first run
was thirty-two minutes to ground without a check
from Eagle Low Wood ; and when they had dug
down to him, with what delight he turned round and
said, " This is a good beginning, sir; there's a fox
a-piece for us in this earthl' And so having disposed
of one, they had two hours and thirty-five minutes
with the other; but in spite of four long checks, every
horse was beaten to a stand-still. And so we trace
the pair on through the South Notts and Atherstone
countries, till we find them with Furrier, Rocket,
Vaulter, and Vanquisher, and others as good as they,
among the pasture lands of Leicestershire. Early in
his career, the Squire bred a great deal from Wildboy
by Monson's Wonder, who came in the pack which he
purchased from his lordship. Vaulter's brother Vigi-
lant by Vernon's Vigilant was the harder runner of
the two ; but Vaulter was the huntsman's friend, and
could put them all to rights on a bad scenting day.
Vanquisher was as hard a runner as he was handsome;
and, like Furrier, he was eventually given to Lord
Yarborough for a stud hound.
Tarquin. Sti11 that most unerring" and melodious
of finders, the twenty-four inch Tarquin,
was Sebright's delight, and two sisters of the same
litter were nearly as great. His hind quarters were his
plainest part; and he was an odd, short-tempered dog,
Scarlet.
33i
who bore speaking to so ill, that he and the Squire fell
out. Over and over again, the Squire was heard to
say to him, "Ah ! Tarquin, if you don't like me, I like
you;" but the proud blood of Trickster by Belvoir
Topper steadily refused to make it up. He took no
notice of the hounds till after Christmas, but he did
no harm ; and it was in a fine run from Wragby
Woods towards Market Rasen that he suddenly came
out, like a shot, from the body of them, and rolled his
fox over, single-handed. He especially distinguished
himself in the suburbs of Lichfield, when he carried it
by himself along nearly three hundred yards of wall,
at the bottom of some gardens; and deaf to the
shrieks of the women, who rushed frantically at their
clothes-lines, to try and rescue some articles at least
from the grasp of the scarlet Philistines, marked him
for his own between two store pigs in a stye. For six
seasons he did his work well; and, in after years, Tom
gently laid his remains under a slab, in the path from
the huntsman's house at Quorn to the kennel. Then,
for the first and last time, did Tom give way to the
seductions of verse; and we wish that a tithe of our
poets could express their ideas with half the grapple
and feeling that he did. A slate was got from the
Switheland Pits, and he " furnished copy" to the stone-
cutter as follows:—
" 'Tis here my favourite Tarquin lies—
Turn away sportsmen, and wipe your eyes J
Not the only favourite in the pack,
But Tarquin never in work was slack."
Rocket (the sire of Prodigal, and espe- Furrier
daily great down a road), and Furrier,
were both stud-kings at Quorn in their turn. Furrier
was by the Belvoir Saladin, and originally came in a
draft from the Duke of Rutland, with whom " The
Squire" exchanged very freely. They did not think
very highly of him, as his work was not brilliant
z
332
Silk and Scarlet.
enough to rub off the impression left by his legs, which
had become crooked from being tied up at quarters.
It was not, in fact, until February that he came, by a
sudden impulse, out of the ruck, with Heedless, another
draft bitch, and leading the pack by ten yards, neck
and neck, over Garthorpe Lings, brought that renowned
fox, " Perpetual Motion," to book at last. He was a
black-and-white twenty-four-inch hound, high on the
leg, very stout, and a hard runner, but not a great line-
hunter. The latter was his sister Frantic's great forte.
She came in a draft to the Southwold, when at barely
thrce-and-twenty, John Walker commenced his career
as huntsman under Mr. Pelham ; and she went
back to Brocklesby, after she had a litter to their
Minister.
The Descendants At one time "The Squire" had forty
of Furrier. couple of light and smart, but sadly mute,
bitches in the Quorn kennel; and he took at least half
of them with him to Northamptonshire, and showed
wonderful sport for his first two seasons. In 1831 he
had twenty-six couple of them at Brixworth ; and
there were about ten or twelve couple of them in the
seventy which Mr. Harvey Combe bought from him in
1835. Castor, Flasher, and Random were very noted
Furrier dogs; and Mr. Parry had eight or nine very
choice bitches by them in a draft from Will Todd,
who hunted Mr. Combe's for the six seasons they were
at Ricksmansworth. The Pilgrims and Rummagers—
the one with their long, solemn heads, and the others
all gaiety—were among the " Osbaldestons" which
clustered round Dick Simpson of the Puckeridge on
his rare crooked-kneed Struggles ; and knew the
cunning notes of that horn, which Will Rose always
vowed that he blew to pieces one day, whereas Dick
solemnly declares to us that York fell on that side
near Reed Wood, and stove it in. There were scarcely
seven couple of Castors left when Mr. Combe's pack
were put up at Tattersall's, in the July of 1840; and
Scarlet.
333
Malibran, the pink of the bitches, and Melody from
Musical (of whom the 1831 Pytchley list merely says,
" Bred by Lord Sondes") were in the five couple lot,
which were bought in for 1360 guineas! Minnie and
Merryman were own brother and sister to them, but
of different litters; and Mr. Combe had Minnie painted,
and would never part with her. Like nearly all the
Furrier dogs, Merryman was a splendid jumper; and
on one occasion, when Lord Ducie borrowed him for
the Vale of White Horse, he got among the stone
walls and had all the fun to himself. His lordship
gave a long price for Hector simply for the sake of
his Ranter blood, as a fork thrust at his quarters had
totally lamed him. He also once sent to Jack Shirley,
to offer him ten guineas for Castor, who was then
nearly worn out ; but Sir Richard Sutton had just
taken a dislike to him, and had ordered him and Fal-
staff, another Furrier dog, to be hung a few days
before ; while Flourisher was retained.
In 1836, the picked twenty couple of Mr. Combe in
the pack had a very narrow escape, when Lincolnshire.
Sir Richard invited Mr. Combe to have four days in
the Burton country. They went down with the boiler
in the canal-boat to Leicester, while Will Todd
travelled by coach, and a bitch was taken with hydro-
phobia on the voyage, and bit several of them. It
was a melancholy time in Lincolnshire, as they hunted
four days and only killed one fox. One Furrier ran
away from the pack, and killed a lamb, and they saw
him no more. Another was tied temporarily to a car-
riage-wheel, and gnawed it in two; and at last they
had to shoot four couple, get muzzles made for
the remainder, and van them back to Cobham.
Luckily the trouble stopped there, and the muzzles
still hang up in a shed—a sort of memento which
.Will Todd does not at all need, as he was up three
weary nights with them, watching for their jaws to
drop.
Z 2
33 4
Silk and Scat let.
Will Todd Will ^ad, however, been pretty well
used to hardships, as when he had ridden
for five years in London after Lord Scarborough, he
helped to take a shipload of horses to Russia, and
might have been seen struggling across the ice at Cron-
stadt, with his portmanteau on his head, to reach a
timber ship bound for England. Then followed six-
teen years as whip under Philip Payne and Will Long,
at Badminton, which he inaugurated by cheeking a
fox for a mile and a half on Ramsden Heath, and
effectually preventing him from getting into the
Forest. The Sixth Duke, who had been watching
him with great delight, might well say, " If your
young hounds, Philip, enter as well as the new
whip, they'll do well." His most favourite recollec-
tions with the Furriers, is of a day when they found at
Islip Woods, and killed him after an hour in the wood-
lands. His horse over-reached and split his hoof
nearly to the shoe, and when he had got on one of
Tilbury's, they found again near Harefield, and came
away at a tremendous pace over grass to Batcher
Heath, by the corner of Moor Park to Oxey, up to the
Marquis of Abercorn's, and then straight to the reser-
voir on the Edgeware Road. Near the metropolis,
Will's horse tired, and Mr. Combe gave him up his
chestnut Blunder, and he viewed his fox as he bent
back to Harrow, and then got among some flags,
beneath where they were building a ball-room. The
school lads came out in full force, and rather
puzzled the hounds, and he was never found till the
next day.
The Oakley Merryman was among the four or five
Marmions. couple of Castors which went in the pack
to Lord Southampton in 1841. This was the second
time his lordship had bought a pack outright, and
Ottoman by Pytchley Orpheus, Hannibal, Hesperus,
Highflyer, Hercules, and Honesty composed the cream
of the Oakley one, which came with Mumford and
Scarlet.
335
George Beers to Quorn when the Marquis of Tavi-
stock gave up his hounds the first time. The latter
four were by the Oakley Hercules, for whom Mr.
Musters had a very strong regard. The pack were
rather unsizeable when they arrived at Quorn, the
dogs large (beginning with the 25-inch Hannibal), and
the bitches light of bone. Six or seven couple of
Marmions by Pytchley Marmion, came along with
them, and it was because Sir Harry Goodricke
thought that Merlin and Marmion of that blood were
soft, that he got rid of the whole pack after the retire-
ment of Lord Southampton (who had bred a good
deal from draft bitches, many of them by Belvoir
Layman), and replaced them with Mr. Newman"
hounds, which were principally Badminton drafts, and
as wild as hawks. Neither huntsman nor whips
thought that the Marmions were fairly condemned, but
that they were simply rather delicate hounds, with very
fine noses. However, twenty couple were packed off
to Russia, and the rest into all lands. And so ended
one Oakley pack. Never was there a fairer sports-
man than its noble master, and he would go so far as
to make his whips stop the hounds to let a sinking
fox get a little farther ahead.
Will Wells's journals, although their WillWells
faded ink sorely tests the eyesight, tell
of many a great day with this pack in its early days.
His style of drawing up his remarks is unique, and
he terms the whole—" A Journal of the Operations of
the Oakley Foxhounds, 18—," and heads each entry
as " The Meet at (say) Yardley Chase on Monday as
specified below." The Oakley and the Cross Albans
countries were then united, and in 1811-12 the cub-
hunting began on July 13th, and the season usually
ended on May 4th. Will seems to have been as-
tonished at his own labours, as after recording that
they killed forty-four brace of "foxies" (as he affec-
tionately called them), he adds—" Here ended the
336
Silk and Scarlet.
season, comprising a period of nine months and
twenty-three days, or 299 days." The Journal seems
to record every emotion he felt; occasionally it ob-
serves—" Here was a most cheering cry and adds,
after an unsuccessful lift, " the intelligence was of the
falsest kind." On one occasion he seems to have been
quite out in his calculations, and he thus took care to
acquaint posterity. " And the fox was viewed by
Mr. Lee ; and the hounds were carried to the spot
two minutes after the fox was viewed ; and the scent
was so very bad, that by tucking the hounds' heads
up, they would never once hit off the scent again ;
nor could one own the scent; not one hound. So we
lost our fox by tucking the hounds' heads up to get
them near to their fox, after hunting him very pretty
for two hours over a pretty country." Still, pretty as
this country might have been in his eyes, seeing that
he hunted it for four-and-twenty years, the Woore
country suited him equally well; and it was there
that "the varmint old fellow" was seen in his glory in
later years—" Though with scarce a whole bone in his
skin ;" and ready to break his ribs for the third, and
his collar-bone for the eighth time, if he could only
get the chance.
Modem Oakley The- best blood in the Oakley kennel •
Hounds. between 1835-46 was from Jasper, an
active light-coloured hound of twenty-three inches,
while Cottesmore Grecian, from whom he was one or
two degrees removed, was said to measure twenty-
seven. They sent out a litter of twelve by him in one
year, and got them all through the distemper; and
when they had drafted the biggest and the smallest,
the rest made a very level lot. Jasper came with
Phcenix, (a perfect terror to a fox), and Tuneful, in a
lot, as a present from the Earl of Lonsdale to the
Marquis of Tavistock; and George Beers was especially
fond of crossing the Jasper bitches with the Fitzwilliam
Monarch and Fatal blood. Prizer, an old-fashioned
Scarlet.
337
broad-nosed hound, also did him great good ; and
although he never borrowed him, his was just one of
the heads which the late Lord Hastings cast about for
so anxiously.
The accompanying illustration, which Lord Hasti
is copied exactly from a little drawing
which his lordship once brought down to Will Derry,
at the kennel, and which Will has treasured ever since,
shows exactly the model head at which his lprdship
wished to arrive. Sir Harry Goodricke gave him
twenty couple of The Quorn, with a very good Fatima,
Furrier, and Ferryman, amongst them ; and he set
about putting the broad base and heavy lip of the
Southern hound upon them. The head of Luther, a
Layman hound, which he got from Tom Goosey, just
suited him ; and sleepy as he looked, he was always
forward when the fox sank. Lancaster from the
Cheshire kennel, rather pleased him in this respect;
and so did Royal, whom he got from Mr. Greene of
Rolleston. As to foxes' heads, he had also a theory
that they should be as big as those of the hounds.
These ideas were, however, sadly foiled by having
madness in his kennel, all one season, and in six or
seven weeks no less than thirteen-and-a-half couple
were seized. Will Head first found it out from his
boiler, who told him, when he came back from exer-
cise, that Pliant had been very odd with the other
Silk and Scarlet.
hounds, and had just gone to fight Stately, who had
puppies. The latter seemed to know instinctively that
something was wrong, as they were screaming and
scrambling up the wall one upon another, in ghostly
terror. As the effects of Pliant's bites, of which she
had been very liberal, became more evident, the pack
began to play antics, pick up straws, and then try to
tear bricks out of the walls ; or go round and round.
Their tongues swelled, and their eyes became red, and
when they went in to try them with cold broth before
hunting, they would often have turned quite black in
the night. At last it became so bad, that Will Head
simply watched with a twelve foot ash-pole and a noose
at the end, and dragged them out, morning after morn-
ing, to their doom.
RAMBLE THE THIRD.
" Oh ! who has been in such a scene,
That scene can e'er forget,
In sorrow's mood—in solitude,
That scene will haunt him yet;
In festal times, in other climes,
He'll think of days so dear,
And take a cup and drain it up,
To saddle, spur, and spear."
sir Richard OIR RICHARD SUTTON swore by
Sutton. ^ the Bel voir and the Yarborough
kennels. In Will Smith's day, he was always chop-
ping and changing with him, and sent ten couple of
bitches to his cracks each season that he was at
Burton. He had also the Rutland draft for many
years, and he was wont to say that he always thought
his own hounds the first in the world, till he saw the
Duke's, every summer. In the Burton country, he
had kept his standard rather large, but he got them
Scarlet.
339
smaller at last, and never liked to exceed twenty-three
inches. His bitches especially were sadly mute, but
he used to draw comfort from that, by vowing that it
was not a fault, but a beauty; and that as the first
few were the only ones that could possibly have the
scent, they alone had a right to open. One of his
greatest delights, when he was in the Cottesmore
country, was to select ten couple, and join packs with
the Duke. Osgodby Coppice furnished them a capital
day's sport, and another challenge to Lord Forester
resulted in such a hard ringing day, that Ben Morgan's
horse dropped in Honeypot Lane ; and one that had
been ridden by the Duke's first whip died that night.
Once too they clashed, and had a capital forty minutes
with a head at the end of it; and on another occasion
both packs, when Sir Richard was master of the
Quorn, met by chance at Owthorpe, and ran out of
the Vale to Cotgrave, and killed at Cotgrave Gorse.
The Cottesmore Sorcerer (who never got but one litter
of two), by Sir Tatton Sykes's Bajazet from Sym-
phony, put them right up a road, and Will Goodall's
cheery comment of " Well done, old Bobtail /" de-
lighted Sir Richard beyond measure. At these times
Sir Richard always said, " Now, Will, you be hunts-
man, and I'll whip in to you!'
The Duke of Beaufort's Potentate His Favourite
(whose son Primate, from Beaufort Fatal Hounds,
is the sire of ten and a half of Earl Wemyss's best
hounds) took his work with Sir Richard's for a season.
His own Potentate was one of six couple by Trueman
from Parasol; and Trueman by Belvoir Trueman
from Yarborough Pastime, was the very idol of his
heart. He not only took him regularly in his carriage
to cover, but would never let him go to any meet
where there was likely to be a crowd of " thrusting
scoundrels." He was a good-looking black and white
hound, with a slightly tan face, perhaps a little heavy-
shouldered, but with immense power and bone. Being
34°
Silk and Scarlet.
a very remarkable line hunter, he required bitches
with plenty of drive, and at one time there were as
many as twenty-two couple in the kennel by him.
Fifteen and a half couple by him were put up at the
first Quorn sale, but the received opinion among
huntsmen seems to be that the blood was a little slack
with an afternoon fox. His sisters Traffic and
Twilight were very good, and he generally got his
bitches best and with very great quality. Songstress
and Sanguine, from Singwell, were very choice, and
Auditor and Albert were among the best of his sons.
Sir Richard kept the old dog for seven seasons, and
then gave him to Earl Wemyss, who had Albert as
well. His lordship had only one left by him ; and he
died in his possession.
Glider, a little, light, even-made hound of about
twenty-one inches, and remarkably good in his work,
was another of Sir Richard's tenderest fancies latterly.
He was by Lumley's Pontiff from his own Gadfly, and
in direct descent from Vine Grampian. He got his
stock large, and when he had used him pretty freely,
he sent him to Berkeley for a season in exchange for
their Albert. Ayris was using him at the time of the
first Quorn sale, and in the last letter that Sir Richard
wrote to the Earl a few days before his death, he
reiterated his favourite maxim, "Put bitches to my
Glider." Dairymaid from Dorcas was by him, and
formed one of the lot for whom Mr. Richard Sutton
gave 200 guineas. Guider by Drake's Duster, from
his beautiful bitch Gamesome, was another of his
darlings, and so was the hard-running Dexter, and the
rare drawer, Hercules, both of whom went to Mr.
Morrell's. Then there was Daphne by Dryden
(brother to Dexter) from Tuneful, a daughter of
Rutland Trouncer, of whose cave exploit we shall tell
hereafter; and Ringwood by Bragela by Chaser, a
clipping little hound, and very unlike his leggy red
sire Charon.
Scarlet.
34i
Sir Richard's patience as a huntsman sir Richard's
was most eminently displayed in the Patience,
great run of twenty miles, from point to point, on
December 27th, 1850. The find was at Cossington
Gorse, and after some very slow hunting over the
Heaths beyond Scorford, they eventually brought
him to hand in four hours at Denton Park. Sir
Richard went home in the Duke's carriage, while the
hounds stopped all night at the Belvoir kennels ; and
Will—when he returned from hunting, and found Jack
and his Trueman party—did not fail to dwell, in his
merry style, upon th.e enormity of running a fox over
the heart of his country, and asking for " grub" and
bed as well; let alone never giving him a chance of
bringing it back to Quorn.
Latterly Sir Richard did not ride with JackM
so much nerve : and did not like brooks.
Jack Morgan, on one occasion, rode his horse for him
over Stanton Wyvile Brook, and then carried him
through it on his shoulders ; and two years before he
died, he crossed the Smite in the same primitive
fashion, with his bearer fairly up to his hips in mud.
Jack joined Sir Richard from Mr. Mure, and became
his head whip when his brother Ben was made hunts-
man to the Berwickshire. Before he took to hounds,
he had become pretty well bronzed under the sun of
the tropics, whither he went off at a moment's notice.
He and another man had been put in charge by old
Jim Morgan, of twenty couple of hounds, bull-dogs,
terriers, &c., which were intended for the East. By
the time the voyage from Gravesend to Poitsmouth
was complete, J ack's travelling companion proved to
be so dull*a student, that he forgot thedogs' names as
fast as he learnt them, and as he was haunted with a
vague idea that they would eat him on the voyage,
the captain told Jack to jump on board, and come to
the East. Boy-like, he did so, without having time
even to write to his father, and set to work at once to
342
Silk and Scarlet.
build up a place for his pupils in the forecastle. Old
Jim bore the suspense like a philosopher ; as he felt
an inward assurance that a sharp lad like his Jack had
" lit on his legs somewhere." Once at Calcutta he
stayed three or four years, and after winning several
races on the Arabs, and keeping up his hunting
science among tigers and jackals, the present hunts-
man of the Southwold set foot on English soil once
more, and after a few seasons with Mr. Mure took his
degree at Cottesmore and Quorn.
Last Days of Sir Richard delighted most in Mundy's
sir Richard. Gorse, Walton Thorns, and Scraptoft;
and in his last three seasons, the latter cover held a
fox, which had beaten him at least eight or ten times.
On the very Friday before he died the meet was at
Barkby Hall, and his three sons, Mr. Banks Wright
and the veteran Will Butler, came with him on the
drag. The second, or the big pack, was out that day,
and Sir Richard rode Shankton and Harkaway. A
fox was soon found, which was killed in a drain near
Queeniborough ; and then he said, " Will! there s a
good-fox lives at Scraptoft: well give him a gallop."
And so they did, ten minutes in cover, and five-and-
thirty minutes out, and ran into him near Beeby.
" Jack ! its one of the best days I ever saw. I feel
better. I hope I shall meet yon at Ratcliffe on Tnes-
day"—were the last words he said to his favourite
whip, and went up to London immediately after.
Tuesday came ; and the Leicestershire field heard the
sad news from the lips of the house-steward, just as
they were leaving Ratcliffe Hall to draw.
Great Runs with Mundy's Gorse and Aylesford Gorse
the Duke of each furnished a rare hour and five mi-
Rutland s. nutes, without a check, on the day the
Duke of Rutland was invited to come into the Leices-
tershire country in the interval, after it had lost its
lamented chief. Mr. Wood of Market Overton, and
Mr. Burbidge of Thorpe Arnold, were the leaders in the
Scarlet.
343
first, save and except Will Goodall on Catch-me-who-
can. " Give me the brush, Will," said Mr. Wood who
had left his horse and run into the field, "Tin first tip."
" How can that be when I've got him ?" responded Will;
" I wouldnt let you have it for a hundred guineas."
This was on Jan. 9th, 1856, and they killed both their
foxes. Well might Will appraise the brush after that
fashion, as only once before or since have the Duke's
got so far into Leicestershire. On that occasion
(March, 1857) they found a fox at Melton Spinney,
which left Ranksboro' to the left, through Owston
Wood and John O'Gaunt's, and over Tilton Field, to
Skeffington, where they ran into him in The Lincolnshire
the open. Oddly enough, they had only a Fens-
week before made their longest voyage of discovery in-
to the uttermost part of Lincolnshire, in a run of two
hours and twenty minutes, from Falkinham Gorse.
They crossed the Forty Foot river, and killed him
near Pinchbeck, and an old woman who had never
seen hounds and scarlet before, drove her pig and cow
into her sitting room, screamed that the Russians
were coming, and put up her shutters, in anticipation
of a siege. After receiving a most scorching bene-
diction from one of the natives of those wilds, who
gasped out that he was " cutting all the whate up,"
Will left his horse fast in the mud with a tamer
native to hold up his head, till ropes could be got,
and ran to the end on foot.
The Belvoir annals can furnish runs Remarkable
quite as remarkable as that, in a different Kills*
degree. In that season of 1854-55, when every spring
near the Ropsley kennels was dried up, and when
Will had to pay eight shillings for each cartfull of
water for the hounds; when he never had but one wet
shirt himself, and that on the day of the battle of the
Alma ; and when he had not one fall, and killed 110
foxes in 112 days, he had a pair of blazing twenty-five
minutes, going on at one time. A brace of foxes went
344
Silk and Scarlet.
away from the plantations near Beck, and the twenty
couple divided to a hound, one fox taking a ring to
the right, and the other to the left, and both died
honourably within a few yards of each other, close by
where they were found. Unlike Captain Macheath,
he was enabled in the same year to be happy with
both his charmers ; as the hounds found a brace at
Leadenham Park, came away with them in two
bodies, ran parallel, and killed them both, almost to a
moment, and within a hundred yards of each other,
near the Newark road.
win Goodaii. Goodall's early career began at the
late Mr. Drake's, where his father still
lives ; and many and long were the hours he waited
outside the House of Commons during the Reform
Debates of 1832, when his master was member for
Amersham, and the 'grooms had no covered shed.
What stories he could tell of how Ben Foote rated
him for stealing away with hounds, and having his
first run when he was merely stationed to watch if the
fox came out in a rushy corner ; and how Griff Lloyd
always forgot to pay him the half-crown he agreed on,
for carrying him bodily over a brook. He broke in
Flounce and Fop, that celebrated brother and sister,
for Mr. Tom Drake, for whom he first acted as cover-
boy; and after serving four years under Goosey as
second whip, he was made the Belvoir huntsman on
Tom's resignation in '42. Tom Flint was but too
conscious of his one sad failing ; and he and Will
were such good friends, that he would have cheerfully
stopped and whipped in to him, if the Duke had seen
fit. Up to that point, the Belvoir hound standard had
been twenty-four, but Will reduced it an inch.
Crack Belvoir Jasper, brother to Juniper who went
Hounds. back to Mr. Compton's blood ; Topper,
whom Mr. Shawe brought with him from Sir Thomas
Mostyn's, and Saladin, the sire of Furrier, were deemed
by Goosey among the fathers of the pack. He also
I,.,.. ... ...
IT F '.her- d' C-rTntha®-
TTM JLATTIE WI3LIL vCAtc^DAILIL
Scarlet.
345
entered ten couple by Layman, from whom Joe
Maiden bred a litter in Cheshire, and liked the sort as
much as Tom Carter did. Splendour, sire cf the
Duke of Grafton's Saffron, and Rockwood were also
very great with him, the latter more especially, from
his recollections of how he brought home the head on
that Goadby Gorse day, whose finish Ferneley's pencil
has so well preserved. The run was to Preston Wind-
mill in the Cottesmore country ; where Rockwood
killed him under a gateway; and as, by the rules of fox-
hunting, they could not dig, they tied some gorse to a
pole, and pushed the fox and Rockwood out together.
Goofeey also thought highly of Rasselas by Clinker,
who proved himself one of the best stallion-hounds in
the kennel; and be was nearly as fond of his sister,
Ringlet, from whom/ -the -Rutland Stormer was de-
scended. His daughter, Careful--made some wonder-
ful hits in 1839, Vhen:she was seyen years old; and
Mr. Assheton', Smith offered Lord Forester 100
guineas for her." Cl^ndrous,.knottier of TheCottam
his daughters, died a very 'glorious death Thorns Day.
on the Cottam Thorns day. She was very old at the
time, and was only taken out for artreat, wfien their
fox ran the line of Needham Hills, and was killed
after four hours in Benington Fen. The Duke and
Will were the only two left, and they could hardly
raise a trot down the last lane, when they thought
they heard them grab him in the next field ; but the
night was so dark that, after leaving their horses and
scrambling through the hedge, they had to feel in their
mouths to see if they were correct. Old Clamorous
had never worked harder; but apoplexy came/on
about an hour after feeding, and she lay >at full length
dead on the bench next morning.
Yarborough Rally wood, who has vir- Rallywoocl
tually made the Belvoir kennel what it
is, never ran to head, but always got to the end
of great runs. He was very long and low; the exact
346 Silk and Scarlet.
image of the Ringwood that Stubbs painted for
Brocklesby, and with somewhat round quarters, which
made him rather the harrier, and although good
twenty-three, he was mean to those who like a big
hound. In fact, he was quite a multum inparvo, and
Will thus summed up his merits in the last sentence
of the last letter he ever wrote us: "He was the
lowest dog I ever saw in my life, with the largest fore
rib, combined with a beautiful neck and shoulders,
and a pleasing intelligent countenance." Old Will
Smith wanted the Belvoir Grappler, and said " /'//
give you anything in the kennel for himf and Will
selected Rallywood, in spite of his broken thigh.
This exchange was never made, owing to Smith's un-
timely death, and Grappler died at Belvoir; but the
negotiations were renewed with young Will Smith,
and he sent Rallywood, by whom he had at one time
about fourteen couple of working hounds, and got
Trouncer in exchange, and then Raglan by Rustic,
whom he liked no better. Will was so fond of his
prize, when he at last got hold of it, that fifty-three
couple of his puppies, from ten couple of " the very
best stuff" in the kennel, were sent out in the second
season. He came to Belvoir in 1851, at nine years
old, and was worked a whole season, and when he
died in 1853, he found a fitting necropolis in the
centre of a flower plot, in Will's garden ; and a red-
currant tree now blooms over his remains.
Raiiywood's Clinker and Chaser were the first of
Descendants, his and raced in their eighth season
like greyhounds. Their immense pace they inherited
from their dam Caroline, whose dam Toilet added to
this quality the knack of being able to go just as fast
or as long, in or out of condition. Caroline once
found a fox in the woodlands by herself, and went
away before the whole pack. Not a hound could
catch or gain a yard on her, and she at last ran
bang into him alone. Rallywood, Sailor, and Lucifer
Scarlet.
347
have been the last great immediate descendants of
him ; and Comely and Clara by Lucifer from Cautious
by Craftsman were two of John Walker's " dearies" ;
but Comely lost her foot by a stub, in cub-hunting,
and it mortified and dropped off, and they only
saved her to have one litter by Yarborough Nettler.
Pyramid, the victim of a somewhat similar misfor-
tune, we saw wandering about the Wynnstay pad-
dock ; but in her case the fox curled round, when
she seized it, and bit her hamstring clean in two.
Lucifer was a tremendous runner all his time, and
especially remarkable as a puppy, and Lucifer and
before he ever came in from quarters, he Victor,
would regularly appear at the meet, and run with the
hounds. He was quartered at Hose, and on one
occasion he was going with his master to Melton
Market, when he espied the Duke's second horseman,
and on second thoughts went with him to Piper Hole.
They found at Clawson Thorns, and had an excellent
run with a kill, and Lucifer well up. Just as they
were going to draw again, he took right off with a
hare, and they lost him, till they had hunted their
next fox nearly up to Lord Harboro's park, when he
was seen racing to meet them, among hosts of hares.
The pack were stopped, as usual, at this point; and
when he had taken a turn at a deer, in Croxton Park,
coming back, he had his supper at Belvoir, and was
sent home.
This was also the habit of his brother Lictor when
he was at walk at Clawson. He would sometimes
join Will, and then a day or two after, by way of a
change, he would be seen remarkably busy with Sir
Richard Sutton's. He once joined the Quorn at Hoi-
well Mouth, and they killed their fox in the woods,
close by Belvoir Castle. Sir Richard and Lord
Rosslyn had arranged to take the draft that season,
and the former was so pleased with Lictor's work,
that he said to Jack Morgan, " Get off\ Jack, and see
A A
343 Silk and Scarlet.
if he's straight; if he is I'll have him, if I get first
pick." Jack shook his head after the inspection, and
said, " He'll never come to Quorn, Sir Richardand
so it proved, as Will Goodall worked him six seasons,
and then Lord Henry's, Sir Watkin's, and Mr. Devon-
port's kennels used him. It was always said that he
carried the scent across some dry fallows that day,
near Clawson Thorns, and Will never failed to point
him out to Jack when he came to the kennel, with—
" There, my lad, that's the dog that killed your fox for
you; you wont have him; I'll keep him to show me
the road into some of your country I'
rp The Pytchley bred a good deal from
Trouncer. J J . \
1 rouncer by 1 rimmer, who was one of
the most intelligent hounds that ever drew a cover.
One day the Duke's had had a capital run from
Croxton Park, and they then went for an afternoon fox
to Melton Spinney, and ran up wind, twelve miles, to
Belvoir. Will was left alone when he got there, and
he had quite lost the hounds, after vainly trying to
track them on the rides. The present Lord Scar-
borough and Mr. Drummond were the first to come
down from the Castle, when they heard his horn;
and then Trouncer opened in reply on the top of
Blackberry Hill. When Will spoke to him, he can-
tered away and waved his stern, and looked over
his shoulder at him, to bring him along till he guided
him to a cave, under the hill, where a fire had been
lighted for tea parties in summer. There were the
pack as black as sweeps, from their vain efforts to get
up the chimney after the fox ; and Will had to dis-
lodge it as he could. All Trouncer's descendants were
full at head, and one of them, Destitute by Sutton's
Dryden, from Tuneful, one December night, when
it was almost dark, jumped the Croxton Park wall
with the body of the hounds, and turning to the left,
while the whole of the others flashed to the right,
killed her fox by herself. Dryden did the kennel
Scarlet.
349
great good, especially with Daphne and Dowager,
who in a run when, as Will's diary has it, " Guider,
Trusty, and Notary were making hits all day over the
plough," raced clean out of the pack, and into their
fox about fifty yards a-head of everything, after a
blazing hour from Humby Wood, and killed him by
themselves, two fields from Newton Gorse. Since
they got so well set up with Rallywoods, the Belvoir
have used but very few stallions from other kennels.
Warwickshire Saffron did little for them ; but Fol-
jambe's Duster and Finder answered well, and they
have the Drake Duster blood in perfection through
Songstress and Guider, by whom, at one time, they
had three couple of stallions, of whom Gamester was
among the foremost.
Like his sire, who ran seven seasons, Belvoir Comus.
Grappler was a great finder, and so was
Comus, whose stock have been the most persevering
of line hunters. There was such a run on him at the
kennel, when he was in his zenith, that for nearly a
month Will's great bed, which was popularly sup-
posed to be able to contain three huntsmen with ease,
and four at a pinch, was never empty, as no less than
60 couple of bitches were sent to him and his com-
peers. He is a remarkably large wiry dog, by Cham-
pion by Fitzwilliam Shiner, from Barmaid, with a
beautiful forehand, though his roach back.rather spoils
him. Champion was unusually clear-winded, and it
made very little difference to him if he had been in
kennel a month. The Brocklesby, Lord Henry's, and
Mr. Foljambe's, all had Comus, and Mr. Davenport has
since used him. His dam Barmaid was always in
high favour with Will Goodall. In her first season,
she was so inveterately fond of hare, that she was all
but condemned. However, as good luck would have
it, the fox was lost after a capital run at Sir Thomas
Whichcote's, amid hundreds of hares ; they came to a
check, and all passed t.ie smeuse but her. She stopped
a a 2
35°
Silk and Scarlet.
and flew the hedge into the field, and spoke ; and
little as he believed her, she at last seemed so deter-
mined, that Will backed her over three fields. Not
another hound spoke up to that point ; but the cry
began in the third field; the trot merged into a
gallop ; they raced into their fox after three miles,
and the credit and life of the future dam of Comus
was saved.
Win Goodaii's Two long December evenings we
Diary. spent with Will Goodall at Belvoir, to
look over his diary, and have a little chat about
the collection of materials for this chapter. He went
with us heart and soul, when he heard it sketched
out ; gave us what he called " the cream of my hunt-
ing funand there are, in fact, few pages in which
we do not recognise some story or remark that we owe
to him. Still there would have been many more, but
for his peculiar dislike to speak of any run, however
great it might be, without a head at the end. It was
dismissed into the abyss of Time, as not worth re-
membering. Writing seemed his delight; and instead
of preserving them in print, he actually copied out the
whole of the price-lists of the hounds at the Quorn
sales, to which he felt far too sad to go. His cor-
respondence with other huntsmen was enormous ; and
in the Exhibition year he visited sixteen kennels, and
never got to Hyde Park at all. He loved these out-
ings, but still he was glad to get home; and watching
his bees by the hour, and playing with his boys at
cricket, were his chief summer pleasures. Croxton
Races he enjoyed amazingly ; and as usual he came
to his wife for a handful of silver, for his friends
amongst the yokels, who generally expected a glass of
ale, if he had not caught them heading foxes or giving
false halloos during the season. They used always to
be on the look-out for him, as he kept the course with
his whips, and many a joke passed between them.
There was a great story against one of them for his
Scarlet.
35i
avarice. Will had marked him down during the year
for something ; and as he was one of the " good boys"
that day, and kept behind the cords so well, he was
honoured with half-a-crown. He positively grumbled ;
and Will, in his pleasant way, said, " Well, give it me
back J" and the man, thinking, from the tone, that it
was to be exchanged for a crown, did so, and off Will
rode with it, and taught him a lesson which his
comrades did not forget to keep alive. He was rather
amused this year with five of the Farmers' Plate
horses getting distanced, and made a note of it in his
Hunting Diary along with Zuyder Zee's victory. Two
or three more days' hunting followed, and then the
last one, when they met at Belvoir.
His phraseology was very unique and expressive;
and " screamed over the fallows," " raced into him and
eat him," " a blazing hourf " blew him up in the
openf &c., were great expressions with him, and very
characteristic of the ceaseless energy of the man. His
diary, which will, we trust, be printed, is a very re-
markable work—quite as much for the little comments
on man, horse, and hound throughout it, as for its
vivid description of the sport itself. Passing events
are interspersed here and there. We find the death
of "my much respected friend John Ashbourn" chro-
nicled near Mr. Assheton Smith's; and the marriage
of a first-flight Meltonian is not forgotten. He never
failed to see what every hound was doing, and at
night a little cross was put above each of their names
for every good hit they had made. When it was
something out of the common, they had a note as
well. For instance, " Lucy made a famous hit at
Williford, and won her fox " Belle showed great
superiority of nose and "Wishful beat the whole
pack, and, racing out of it, caught the fox." Wishful,
however, catches it herself in a widely different sense
from his pen that self-same season ; and we find it
down against her in black and white that she " and
352
Silk and Scarlet.
Willing behaved very ill, running hare most obsti-
nately in Easton Wood." There is also a word of
condolence " for poor old Trusty, who never got away
from Irnham Wood, and missed it altogether." He
tells, too, how on one occasion he "had eleven and
a-half couple of stallions out;" how "George and Jem
both got into Lenton Brook how " Knipton gave
me a terrible fall, jumping into a blind grip (no fault
of his) and how he had to whip off at night, "leaving
him to give us another good run, and die, I hope,
honourably in the open."
The closing entry was as follows—
"On Wednesday, April 6th, we met at Bel voir. Found our first fox
in Barkston Wood ; run ringing about the hills with a very bad scent
for two hours, when the hounds began to improve, getting off a vixen
which had laid up her cubs. On to an old dog-fox. They set to like
business ; and after running him hard for an hour-and-half, they forced
him out over the Doghorse pasture—a ring over Musson's farm, and
back to the wood. Away again, the same ring, in view of the hounds
to cover in a large drain, which Comely was soon in, and drove him
out; and they killed him most handsomely in the open, after being en-
gaged from first finding in the morning for four hours—thus ending one
of the worst seasons on record. A hot sunny day like June, wind South,
glass very low, and the ploughs as dry and hard as iron, the hedges and
trees all as green as in the middle of summer, and a great many nests of
young birds already hatched. Leverets and cubs are very forward ;
indeed, such a forward spring has never been known by the oldest'
inhabitant.
Hounds out this, the last day—
Barbara Racket ■ Caroline Captive Charlotte
Duchess Redrose Rival Careless Hostess
Lenity Rally Redwing Dulcet Ruin
Lively Comely Sempstress Gertrude Bonnylass
Furious Famous Chorus Gracious Norah
Wanton Rachel Comedy Clara Novelty
Willing Destitute Waspish [i6£ couple].
I rode a horse of Markwell's on trial, but did not like him. Second,
Knipton ; third, Tom Chambers, on Staunton's horse.
Times out, ioi ; foxes killed, 56."
h- d ath ^ kac* ^ fr°m the ^rst °f the three
1S e ' horses near the Reeded House, when he
Scarlet.
353
lay for full a minute on his horn, which he invariably
carried in his breast for convenience, or a cold which
had been lingering about him, laid him low at last,
just at daybreak, on the third anniversary of that very
May-day on which the Hunt had presented him with
its memorable tribute, and the Grantham inn had
rung again with the chorus, " Bill Goodall is the boy !"
They took his horn to his bedside some days before
he died, and he showed them exactly how he fell;
and half-sitting up, took it with all the animation of
health, as if it revived him to lay hold of it again. He
had only once risen from his bed during his ten days'
illness, and that was to show Lord Henry Bentinck
his young Rallywoods of the third generation in the
new entry. As if with a sort of melancholy prescience
that it was not to be, he often said how he " should
love to see them at two-years-old but they only
swelled that strange mournful requiem for him which
arose from the kennel, and fairly thrilled through the
mourners as the hearse moved away. He lies not
many paces from Tom Goosey, just within the church-
yard gate at Knipton, and under the shade of that
bold chain of woodlands in which his cheery voice had
been heard, early and late, for seventeen seasons. By
all, from " my kind Lord Duke" as he called him, when
his Grace bent over him to bid him farewell, down
to the humblest labourer, for whom he always had
some pleasant greeting or other, his memory will ever
be cherished. Among his brother huntsmen he had
long lived down all jealousy, and they freely accorded
to him that high position which he had so fairly won
both in the field and the kennel, and which he so un-
assumingly maintained. Those who knew more of his
inner life, or saw him on his death-bed, could trace to
its true source that consistently gentle firmness which
made him all-powerful in managing a cloud of horse-
men ; and it would be well if many who love the sport
as dearly as he did, would ponder, now that he is gone,
354
Silk and Scarlet.
over the great and striking lesson which his life taught,
and which his fame sealed.
,, , , , And so leaving Belvoir, we get back
Mr.JohnWarde. ^ . ' , . ° .r
once more to .Northamptonshire, tifty
years ago, Mr. John Warde, with Jem Butler and his
son Will (so renowned in after years with the Bads-
.worth and Mr. Foljambe's), might have been seen-at
Sywell Wood, and if a rate was heard, it was certain
to be at the expense of a Charon, or a Cerberus, a
Solomon, or some other mythological or scriptural
name. Cerberus went back to Mr. Lee Anthony's
Clothier ; and the wisdom of Solomon was extended
over twenty-six inches. Philip Payne never liked Mr.
Warde's hounds, and thought them loose and weak-
loined. None could stoop better to a scent, but they
had no drive about them ; and fine as the bitches
looked, they were rather too heavy, and lost action
very early ; looking, so Will Butler used to say, "good
seven, when they were four!'
TheLambton His hounds in the Craven country
Hounds. afterwards were of a very different stamp,
and it was from his Jasper, Prodigal, and President,
that the Lambton pack principally sprang. Under
Winter, in 1828, the latter were in their glory, and
Sedgefield had become quite a Melton of the North;
but at last they were bred in and in, till there was no
music left, and huntsmen began to speak of their legs
from a mere tobacco-pipe point of view. Mr. Lambton
would never let them be pressed, or allow any one, if
he could help it, to be in the same field with them,
and hence they fared very ill in Leicestershire with
Lord Suffield, though their pace was tremendous when
they did get away. Three thousand guineas were
given by his lordship for 58^ couple of old, and 20
couple of young hounds, and Mr. David Robertson
got 47! of them for 750 guineas. In Northumberland,
Charles Treadwell got a chance with them at last, and
increased his "nose" score from 32 brace to 44! brace
Scarlet.
355
in four seasons. For three weeks in the wild weather
they could not kill a fox, except by chopping, and
then they went out twenty-one days, and killed
twenty-two foxes in succession.
The days of Dick Knight, who spurned the lapstone
and the awl at Roade, for the horn and spurs, are
spoken of elsewhere ; and for the pleasant era of Lord
Althorp's mastership, we have those The Aithorp
quaint vellum-backcd volumes of the late Era-
Charles King's to fall back upon. It is well known
that Charles offered to ride, dance, play the fiddle,
and hunt a pack of hounds, against any man in the
Midland counties ; and to these he might have added
a fifth accomplishment, namely, keep a diary.
In those days they had a much wider range of
Pytchley country, and generally began on July 26th,
and hunted up to the 3rd or 4th of May. No day
closed without his putting down the list of the hounds,
with observations. And very varied they are.
" Gouty shown symptoms of tongue"—" Syren rather
noisy"—" Plunder noisy at the fences"—" Glider (Fitz-
william) ran a hare to Byfield, and back to Charwelton
Spinneys." Then after the cheering announcement
that " the young hounds joined in the cry," it is can-
didly stated that they ran a cur and two greyhounds
half a mile down a lane. On November 18th, 1816,
there was " still corn standing in Kilsby field and
not long after "Young F." is gibbeted, as having
" dug out a fox, and sold him in Kettering Market."
Crick had its origin about that time, Crick
from the fact of a fox having been found
in a hedge-row, and being killed after a severe run in
Oxfordshire. When the cover had been made, they
went to it once a fortnight, and the horses were pre-
pared as if for a Derby. The fields were not so large
then, and the foxes better, and in fact there has not
been a great thing from it since the fifty minutes to
Naseby Reservoir in Mr. George Payne's day. Very
356
Silk and Scarlet.
fearful were Charles King's troubles, forty years ago,
when he got among the " Crick thrusters and well
might he, in the bitterness of his heart, record at night,
" The day being bad, and the horsemen mad, drove
the hounds mad, so we made mad work of it, and lost
a brace of foxes."
No keener souls than Lord Althorp and Sir Charles
Knightley ever watched the work of hounds, and they
were seldom away from the kennel for nine months in
the year. Once they rode over there from Pytchley
in a deep snow, and took fifty couple out; and Lord
Althorp always spoke fondly of it, even when politics
and shorthorns had deadened his heart to his first great
love, and said that he " should never forget the beau-
tiful music of Sywell Wood." His lordship reduced
his standard by crossing with Mr. Assheton Smith's,
for whose use he sometimes paid Tom Wingfield 25/.
a year ; and besides Champion and Pontiff, he was
especially fond of their Saladin. It was on Nov. 10th,
1817, that he got the fall, from which he never really
recovered, in the course of a two hours' run from
Brampton Wood ; and then the reins departed for a
season into Sir Charles's hands ; and he found himself
with fifty couple, principally by Ottoman, Orpheus,
and New Forest Justice.
v. , „ . Two years before there had been some
a &er un ma. ^ C0Upie foy Outlaw, who was bred by
Mr. Lee Anthony in the Oakley country. The old
dog was light of tongue, and straight-necked, and
could not turn with his fox; but to those who, like
Will Butler, made it
" Their delight on a cloudy night,
In the season of the year,"
to go badger-hunting, he was worth his weight in
gold. The Pytchley spinneys were full of them ; so
much so, that shortly after reading in the diary that
" we found old Bobtail not ripe for running, and killed
Scarlet.
357
him," there occurs an entry, "Sept. 19th, 1818, dug
Brampton Wood fox out, and found five'badgers in
one drain." Scarcely any are left now; and one of
those few is transplanted to the Brocklesby country
to act as an architect of earths.
Mr. Assheton Smith's Denmark was a Badgers
most wonderful dog for badgers, and very
soon learnt, under Jack Shirley's tuition, that the
bridge of the nose and the brisket were the only
vulnerable points. The majority of hounds do not
enjoy it like a fox, and never know what to make of
it as it runs through the low cover, or faces them with
its back against a tree. Sherwood Forest used to be
very full of them, and so was " the Dukery." Mr.
Lumley Savile's hounds, which then hunted these
parts, came across them so frequently, that they learnt
to " unbutton a jack-badger's jacket just like a rabbit."
On one occasion, when the earths had been more than
usually well stopped, they took forty couple into
Winkbourne Hills and Acrine Brale, and were home
again before nine, with three foxes and four badgers
for the hunting journal. The music that morning was
like "a peal of church-bells"; and when the hounds
got back to kennel, they looked as if they had been
inside a dead horse.
Mr. Savile's pack were a very rough- Mr> Musters>
looking lot; but still Mr. Musters fancied
their Rallywood and Regent, and bred extensively
from them in 1820. The Nottinghamshire Squire was
very fond of small bitches, from twenty-one to twenty-
two inches, and began his breeding principally from
Lord Yarborough and the Duke of Rutland's Saladin,
whom Mr. Shawe always said was his best. Saladin's
daughter Proserpine was the dam of the celebrated
Pilot (by Rutland Rasselas), who came to Mr. Musters
in a draft, and became the hound of his heart. Know-
ing him to be peculiar in his habits, especially in
drawing a cover, he would never let him be spoken to,
353
Silk and Scarlet.
and they would hear his peculiar yapping note right
away by himself, when nothing else would speak.
He did not get clever dog-hounds, but Mr. Musters
had twenty couple of Pilot bitches by him when he
gave up the Pytchley. According to his contract, he
proposed to leave another twenty couple for the
country, when he finished in the April of '27 ; but
" The Squire " would not deign to accept them. Mr.
Musters continued to breed from Lord Yarborough ;
and with some eight-and-twenty couple of hounds in
his kennel, Bunney Park to draw, and Baronet to ride,
he was as happy as a boy to the last, and brought his
eighteen brace a season to hand. His dog pack were
about twenty-three-and-a-half in height, and as steady
as they could be ; but the bitch pack were rather wild.
Nine couple of the best were selected for the latest
picture that was painted of them, with himself on
Baronet; and poor Mark well on a brown mare, and
Humphrey Pierce on a chestnut sire, were the servants
who were grouped on the canvas with that undisputed
king of gentlemen-huntsmen.
Loid Chester- When Lord Chesterfield had the
field. Pytchley country, with Will Derby as
huntsman, he bred considerably from Belvoir Rasselas
and Splendour. The latter had come to Brixworth
as a draft hound through Mr. Errington, from whom
his lordship bought the pack ; and like Pilot, he drew
by himself, and was a great hound for going through
gorse. Tyrant by Sir Richard Sutton's Woldsman
was, however, the pet of his lordship's fancy, and
when he had done with him he gave him to SirTatton.
On one occasion they found a brace of foxes in an
osier-bed at Misterton, and all save him went to the
one who broke on the Lutterworth side; but his lord-
ship had the hounds stopped, and put to the fox which
Tyrant brought out by himself; and they killed it,
after a great run, near Flecknoe.
Mr. Tilbury, with a truly prophetic eye, asked Sir
Scarlet.
359
Francis Goodricke the name of his horse that morning;
and on being told that it was " Patent Lever," he re-
joined—"Mind they don't make a stop-ivatch of him
before thef re done'.' And sure enough the baronet was
glad to stop at Walton's Holt, four miles off the finish.
There were other runs as great in that short but merry
Northamptonshire reign, and none greater than that
from Kelmarsh to Stoke. On this memorable day,
Mr. Stubbs on Baronet and Will Derry on a grey,
were both in Loatland Brook together, forming the
most impressive of tableaux. Baronet had jumped
short, and was scrambling out with his own rider on
his back, and the weight of Will and his grey to boot.
Lord Chesterfield got well over lower down, on Mar-
mion ; they just heard him say, " Fm so glad Will's in
the brook? but they never caught him till they killed,
five miles away. Perhaps the fastest forty minutes
was when his lordship was on Claxton, and Will was
tearing away on a chestnut mare after losing his
stirrups in Creaton Brook. They found at Berrydale,
away past Cottesbrook Cow Pasture, leaving Spratton
on the right, and close by Merry Tom (whose bones
were never found till they were dug up at the stile
where he died, by the Harborough Railway navvies),
to Pitsford across the turnpike to Boughton Green,
and ran into him on Moulton Lings. Their longest
runs were with a Long Ould fox, which they had to
bequeath to Mr. Tom Smith. In the first run with
him the hounds were stopped at Earls Barton, after
running twenty-five miles ; and in the second, at Ket-
tering, after twenty miles. Mr. Smith always thought
that he ran him to Lamport one day, and chopped
him the next.
Mr. George Payne, who bought fifteen The PytchI
couple at Mr. Greene's sale, bred very few
hounds, as he did not like to spare his best bitches,
and the kennel which ranked Destiny and Dainty by
Sir Tatton's Dragon from Quorn Gainsome among its
360
Silk and Scarlet.
best, was principally kept up by the drafts from Lord
Henry Bentinck's. When the late Lord Alford sue-
ceeded him, he had a large draft from the Duke of
Rutland's ; but since then they have bred their own,
and principally used the Belvoir and Fitzwilliam
stallions. Barrister, that mightiest of jumpers, by Fitz-
william Bluecap, has been the sire of many very good
hounds ; but still the Pillager blood has been the chief
stay to Charles Payne. Pillager ran six seasons, and
never had a whip except to put him from the trough ;
and at present there are twenty couple, principally tan
hounds, related to him. He was by Juggler by Lons-
dale Senator from Playful (an own sister to Burton
Contest), whom Mr. Payne got along with Prophetess
in a draft. Helicon, Hotspur, and Prosper have been
all great Pillager dogs, and Pliant by Pillager especi-
ally distinguished herself in a run of thirty-five minutes
from Lord Spencer's cover to Sulby Reservoir. The
fox ran alongside it, and then dashed in midway, and
while the other hounds all got to the middle, and cast
themselves right and left, she was the only one that
crossed at once, and got half a mile past Sulby Hall,
towards Marston Hills, before the body of hounds
could get on terms with her. The fox, however, was
so washed that they never enjoyed it after.
Twelve Hours Pillager died rather suddenly in his
in Geddington sixth season, and hence Will Goodall,
ciiaee. wjj0 ra^her fancied him, never got a
chance. It was inflammation of the liver and not a
hard day, which killed him, but he went through one
calculated to kill a dozen packs. This was early in
August, 1853, and the scene a twenty-five acre planta-
tion near Geddington Chace, close by the high road
from Kettering to Stamford. They found at a quarter
past five, and after being at it three hours with their
first fox, changed on to a shabby little vixen, who
slipped like a witch through the briars and sedge ; and
when she had been headed three times, fairly defied
Scarlet.
361
the dog pack to make her break. During the whole
day they only threw up twice, and Charles Payne
went in and cast them across it. For four hours
they expected to kill every minute, but all in vain,
and Lord Hopetoun and Captain Newland rode
home, quite tired out at three. A sort of cordon of
country people was drawn up in one corner, but she
slipped through their legs, over and over again, and
even when the second whip had been despatched to
Brigstocke for four couple of the best bitches, and they
had tried their best for another hour, she was as lively
and inexhaustible in her dodges as ever. Pillager
and Helicon (who was then a mere puppy), ran with
the bitches to the last, and not only went home with
their sterns up, but were the first off the benches in
the morning. Every hound was stripped bare in his
breast and fore-legs; Jasper and his sister Joyful
dropped beaten on the road ; and Charles Payne was
so anxious about them all, that he went to see them
twice after feeding.
The Pytchley country has always been ~ ,
celebrated for its foxes, but unfortunately c ey °xes'
there has been a sad craven habit of running them
with greyhounds, and one man is known to have killed
eleven in one year. In Mr. Musters's mastership, the
Sulby Gorse fox was as renowned as the Gartree Hill
one in Mr. Osbaldeston's, at Quorn. They both
finished on the same day in their two countries, and
as each had determined to have a turn at their old
foe, Mr. Musters offered to back himself for 5/. to kill
his fox, against "The Squire" killing his. He went
out of the gorse at the first crack of the whip, past
Bosworth, and leaving Theddingworth on the right, to
Laughton Hills, where a man stood at the head of the
earths. Bending rather more towards Sibbertoft, he
ran the same line back again, and near Theddingworth
they viewed him in a large pasture. " There he goes"
said Mr. Musters ; " they shan't say I killed him unhand-
362
Silk and Scarlet.
some." In this spirit he wouldn't lift his hounds a
yard ; and a flock of sheep bringing them to a check,
his fox got 'a field ahead, and though they once spoke
to it on the road between Harboro' and Welford, they
never could hunt him afterwards. " The Hunsbury Hill
Devil" was another of Mr. Musters's " difficulties" for
three seasons ; and generally took off by Wootten and
Delapre. On the last occasion, Will Derry tried to
head him at a gate ; but he would stop for no one,
and led them right through Brayfield Furze and
Yardley Chase nearly to Olney Bridge, where they
lost him. They gave him such a dusting that day,
that he appeared no more at Hunsbury Hill, which
had then some capital lying, and it was thought that
the dark-coloured fox which George Carter killed with
the Duke of Grafton's next day, travelling in the direc-
tion of Newport, must have been the old Pytchley hero
in banishment.
„ . „ The importation of foxes has increased
Foreign Foxes. 4. ± 4. j v • • j 4.1 L
to a very great extent, and it is said that
in one year about a thousand were in Leadenhall
market. The supply comes principally from Holland.
It does not do to enquire where ail of them come
from, but it is certain that Essex is fearfully stripped,
and Norfolk as well. A great many have come from
Scotland, and Ireland has of late become rather an
importing than an exporting country.
The largest order ever executed, was for a celebrated
ex-master of hounds in one of the Southern countries.
Philip Castang, the well-known Leadenhall dealer, had
an unlimited commission to stock the country, and in
three weeks, by writing to Holland, France, Germany,
and Scotland, he got together about seventy-five
brace, dogs or vixens, just as they chanced to come,
small ones at twelve and sixpence, and large at fifteen
shillings. As it was a remarkably good order, and he
did not wish to give time to have it limited by post,
he divided them into fourteen lots, and packed them
Scarlet.
363
off on the six heavy coaches, beginning at six in the
morning, and finishing off at 8 p.m., with two boxes
on the top of the mail, so that cubs kept arriving at
The Squire's, all day and night as well. That gentle-
man was considerably astonished at his agent's acti-
vity; but he sent a cheque, and simply said that
he should require no more. However, so many of
them preferred the better lying of the adjacent
country, that several more went down in subsequent
seasons.
Foxes are not so plentiful on the Con- „
,, 1 X.-11 ^1 foreign Foxes.
tinent as they once were; but still the
French peasants who dig them out in the sandy dis-
tricts between Boulogne and Paris, are seldom allowed
more for them than a couple of francs and a dinner.
The original French fox had a very long narrow head,
and was rather long in the leg, and not so bright in
colour as the English fox, but now there is hardly any
difference between them. Russian foxes are blacker
than ours, and Tom Goosey had a very favourite one,
which used to live on a slab in his garden, and now
confers lustre in death along with Mr. Lorraine Smith's
hunt sketches, on the Belvoir Inn parlour. The Ca-
nadian foxes are very like our own ; and an octo-
genarian ex-master of the Montreal hounds assures
us that when he used to hunt them with his twelve
couple, in covers about forty miles by twelve, they
would perpetually head back when they had run six
miles in it, as if they did not like to venture into a
strange country. The German foxes are grey in the
muzzle, and, like the Dutch ones, have a more bluff
countenance, and a bull head. They arrive with rabbit
cargoes from Ostend, and at times from Rotterdam in
cattle-boats. French foxes come over less punished
than they used to do, when the communication was
slower ; but as masters of steamers will not take them
as freight, they import them in small egg-boats, ten
or so in a box, with some plucks for provender.
13 B
364
Silk and Scarlet.
Turning-down We believe that " Frenchmen " were
Foxes. f[rst- imported before the Revolution by
some of the noblesse who had been guests at Althorp,
but Dick Knight never thought much of them. In
the first year of his Pytchley mastership, Lord Alford
imported six brace of the largest Scotch ones he could
procure. Three brace were turned down at Cottes-
brook, but they were not found for two seasons, and
Charles Payne could never account for more than
three brace altogether either by brush or hearsay.
This was not the first time that turned-down foxes have
mysteriously disappeared. The last day that Sir
Bellingham Graham was in the Pytchley country, he
got thirteen foxes down from Herring's, and kept them
in a straw place all night. The meet was at Lamport,
and they drew every wood for miles round ; but to
the sad disappointment of an enormous field, they
were all blank.
Some large Sardinian foxes were once turned
down at Belvoir, but they thought nothing of Black-
berry Hill, and did little else but prowl, wolf fashion,
about the houses. Sir Harry Goodricke was as un-
lucky with the three brace of Russian foxes which
were sent him from Count Matuzevich. They were
shaggy, rather long on the leg, and small headed, and
took their feed regularly all summer at John O'Gaunt's;
but when the season came, they had absconded, and
they never could get the slightest glimpse, or trace
the faintest cross, of them. The Count also sent a
few to Mr. Greene, and one or two of them showed good
sport. Captain White sent a former Quorn master
some very good ones from Derbyshire, which he kept
in training, when cubs, in a barn, by the aid of a
terrier and a four-in-hand whip. No pupils could
have turned out better, two of them especially, which
ran the same line from Peatling Gorse, nearly to
Shankton Holt, where the Captain was up both times,
and recognised them by his private " broad arrow."
Scarlet.
36.5
Mr. Horlock also introduced some forty brace of
Holland foxes, very lengthy, " with ears like donkeys,"
and very thick brushes. They had nothing of the
phlegmatic character of their country of dykes about
them, and were nearly as good as his Cliffe Wood fox,
which was found three or four times a season for four
seasons, and went as straight as a line each time for
Rookeley. Harry Ayris also ran one for four or five
seasons from Haselton Grove to Iford, and he will
have it that Jem Hills brought him back past Hasel-
ton Grove to Chedworth Woods.
It has always been a saying in the The Heythrop
Heythrop, " better by half shoot a child Foxes.
than kill a fox," but alas! one of the finest of them
was once found drowning in a trap, and his stuffed
remains are in Jem Hill's parlour as a warning to evil
doers. The Brewin are the largest forest foxes, and
have very long legs, and a great deal of white about
them. Sometimes it comes out very prominently in
a particular year, and extends to stockings up to the
knee. " The Forester " was one of the best of his
clan, and for three seasons he defied Jem's wiles, but
the last day of the 1856-57 season from Oddingly
Ashes was fatal to him, and he was headed at the
earths near the Cider Wells, after an hour and a
quarter, and killed. Jem got two or three very red
Irishmen, but they did not like his look at all, and, on
further consideration, decided to emigrate, nobody
knew where.
It has always been a joke of Jem's TreeClimbers
against Harry Ayris that his foxes are
"of the squirrel sort;" but seeing that Jem's own
have become so terrified of him, that they have lately
felt compelled to reside in the trees at Middle Aston
Gardens, thirty feet from the ground, we do not
expect that he can throw a stone at the Berkeley
foxes again, fond as they have always been of climb-
ing. The Shropshire foxes had once the same habit;
366
Silk and Scarlet.
and in Mr. Smyth Owen's time they found three in
one tree at Barton-on-Sales, one of which ran down
the inside of the trunk. The Cantlop fox always re-
sided in a tree, and Jack Wiglesworth knew almost
to a yard where to go to, to whip him down. For five
or six seasons, he was always lost near Cantlop Mill,
as he went between the mill wheel and the mill, and
ran his line back when they were casting forward
for Eaton Maskett. The miller honourably kept his
secret, but he was worried at last with a trap round
his foot, and the country people said that he lifted
up the earth, when he was buried, and mourned for
him, as an old county worthy with a vested right in a
mill.
Whaddon Chase has produced some rare bob-tails;
and the Brocklesby had their " Bobby," but without a
brush at all, and of five years' honest standing before
hounds, when they ran into him at last. Probably
they would not have done it then, if a footman, who
commanded too good a view of the tree of refuge from
his pantry window, had not dishonourably peached.
The Wing fox was also of great renown, but he fairly
beat Mr. Selby Lowndes after some great runs in the
second season. They had a check near Cresslow, and
lost him in Mr. Drake's country, and they never found
him more. Joe Maiden had also several fierce tussles
with " The Tiger," who looked like one, as his dark-
whiskered form swept out of Huxley Gorse for three
seasons. He got quite tired of Joe's assaults at last,
and after giving them sixteen miles with two checks
through Stapleford Gorse, Tarvin Delamere, and Piele
Decoy, he was viewed for the last time under Tarvin
Church, and never came back from the Forest.
Many great foxes retire from an ungrateful country
at last, in this fashion, after they have beaten both
huntsmen and hounds. Charles Tredwell had a light-
coloured friend of this kind, whom he generally found
for five seasons at Colthorp or Marston Whin, and
Scarlet.
367
drove into the York and Ainsty. The most beautiful
fox that ever came to London, is said to have been
one which was trapped in a Norfolk warren; and
perhaps the biggest ever seen in Yorkshire was
one killed in Will Danby's time, in a thirty-five
minutes from Skipworth Common to Barlow Vil-
lage. Foxes might well prosper in Holderness, as
on more than one occasion old James Stavely, who
was a sort of amateur guardian of Hatfield Whin, did
not scruple to square his good wife with a new gown
or a work-box, and then kill her chickens for the cubs,
out of pure philanthropy. He argued that it was better
for the interests of sport that he should give them her
chickens, than that they should eat their own dam, as
cubs in some few instances, one of them in Oldwick
Wood, have been known to do if she can bring them
no food. His heart fairly bled with sympathy
when he heard of the boast of the Cottam Warren
guardian, tha t he had killed eighty brace of Sir Tatton's
in two years, and that the more foxes Tom Carter
brought through it the better, as he was " sure to have
them as they come back." The Sledmere Whin fox
fell into nobler hands, as Mr. Foljambe brought him
back as the best trophy of his brief visit with his
hounds to that country. He was as handsome a fox
as was ever killed in Yorkshire, with white pads,
throat, and breast, and white up to the hocks and
under the belly, and his head, we believe, still hangs
in the entrance hall at Osberton.
Will Long had also a celebrated piebald friend, who
was known as " Old Bald," for three or four seasons,
and was then wantonly shot. They were never done
seeing his white face and neck going as straight as a
line from Toxley ; and the veteran Will Baker used
regularly to say, " Fve got Old Bald for you . again F
On one occasion he jumped up by the side of a pond
near the cover, and the delight of the old sportsman
was so great, that he set off when he had gasped out
368
Silk and Scarlet.
" Blessed ! if it ain't Old Baldf and rode like distrac-
tion as he never did before or since. Ropsley Rise had
also its " Old Piebald," but Will Goodall gave him such
tremendous drillings, always down wind, for six
seasons, that he turned quite grey with trouble at
last. His home was the woodlands, which he would
never leave, and many of the woodmen said they
remembered him for nearly eleven years. His fur was
like fringe, and his skin was as thick again as it ought
to have been, when they grabbed him at last; and as
they could hardly pull him to pieces, Will considered
that it would be best to skin him, and to have a cap
made out of it, which could defy Time.
A Farewell we have fairly run from scent to
view, and our note-book, the companion
of so many pleasant days, is thrown, blotted and
helpless, into the waste-basket at last. After wan-
dering with it, according to Bradshaw and the sign-
posts, nearly three thousand leagues, we may well
feel glad it is gone ; and it must go hard with us
indeed before we buy its little marble-backed sue-
cessor, and make a sporting Ulysses of ourselves
again. We have left few nooks of real " Silk" or
" Scarlet" interest unexplored, from the pleasant
meadows
" Where Greta trips with twinkling feet
To join the statelier Tees,"
down to the glades of the New Forest and the haunts
of the White Collars. In Nimrod's day, the Turf,
the Chase, and the Road were as inseparable as the
"Three Legs of Man" on the Manxman's shield.
The memory of " The Road," with " Sir Harry Pey-
ton's greys, Lord Sefton's white-legged chestnuts,
Annesley's roans, Fitzroy Stanhope's dark-browns,
Dolphin's pies, Russell's speedy bays, Barry's whites,
Lord Harborough's fast little browns,"* and all the
* Sketches by Whiz.
Scarlet.
369
other crack turns-out of the Twickenham Club, has
its one modern Recorder; and it required no
little hardihood on our own parts to determine not to
sever The Turf and The Chase.
We would never have intermeddled with the latter,
if the most subtle of tempters had not suddenly
appeared in the form of Dick Christian. It was
nothing but the bewitching conversation of that
ancient fossil of a man, which made us disregard all
red-tape precedents, and dash at the subject "for
better for worse," and trust to luck and labour to pull
us through.
If a gig-coalition had not been proposed, Dick's
like of extreme Leicester usefulness, spent in " ketch-
ing 'em up, and making 'em go," with those lank,
weird-like fingers, would have been infallibly a sealed
book to hunting generations to come; and hence if
the " Scarlet" chapter to which it gave birth, is not
strictly orthodox, we must suffer as unwilling martyrs
to literature together.
THE END.
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