Silk and scarlet

Front matter

"THE DRUID" SPORTING SERIES

LONDON: FREDERICK WARNE 8c CO

FREDERICK WARNE & CO., Publishers,

Preface

A 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 provoking 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 every one (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 Leicestershire, 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, "J toddled behind." After 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 proofsheets 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. Osbaldeston'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 agricultural 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,

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 astonishment 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

B know what injury you're doing yourself, delaying my lecture so long." It seemed to me that we had indulged 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 dogroses, 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 journey, 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 occupationroads 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 you've come. What a general sketch of X 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 lungs" 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,

"' I used to sleep on my right side, now I goes on my left." "Ah!" he says, "/ 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 his " Po^ and of it till Mr. Kirk, he comes to me at tUre on society Croxton Races, and he says, " Why, in general; Dick, you've 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 Ouorn and Cottesmore 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 fust 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

B 2 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 SysonbyHaii. 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-blackall 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 steeplechase 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. tjie countly iongest 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 ? I forget which is oldest, you or me." " I'll speak presently," I says. — " / was born in March '79, and I think, sir, you would have coined about August '78 ;" and he says, " Vll be bound you're right!' Them were the very words we had, plump before all the gentlemen 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 Goody er'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 hunting ; 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

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 breakfast. 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 natty. use(j 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 kindhearted 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. J

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 Quartermaine does now. At those very owdacious places, poor little fellow, he used to holler out, " Where arc you f" 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 tin on afore us ; take fast hold of his head, and don't fear nothing." I 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 conies over it;" and my word we won it for him. We've got pretty well out of this rough „ ,, - ..

ii- rri » i j. On the Turnpike.

travelling now. 1 here 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

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, " / hear some one a hollering ; I'll lay any money it's Christian in that 'ere ditch!' 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.

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 TheWasteWalk# 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 5lbs. 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 morning" 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 suggesweather, 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 experienced 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 i o 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'll have none of that, I'm 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 brandyand-water, and all that ; but I says, " Bring me an apple ;" 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 Quorley 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.

T A, _ I know'd Jem Mason well. He used

Jem Mason. r>

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 Harrow 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, 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 „ g. _ him and a lot of hard riders two seasons whichcote ago. They run from Colston cover. Jem p°ui;ded hi™

, . on IvCffwortn

gets first to a high gate, near Buckminster, 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 can't 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 Wnght ; 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 gentlemen shouting " Well done, Dick!" ''Well done, Bill!'"

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, I'm ready prepared for you ?" We Reconciliation. were \[\^ 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 Bill1? 17/ 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 f" " Well!" 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 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 ?