CHAPTER VII.
THE WILLEY KENNELS.
The Willey Kennels—Colonel Apperley on Hunting a Hundred Years ago—Character of the Hounds—Portraits of Favourites—Original Letters—Style.
“Tantivy! the huntsman he starts for the chase, In good humour as fresh as the morn, While health and hilarity beam from his face, At the sound of the mellow-toned horn.”
THE style of hunting in vogue in Squire Forester’s day was, in the opinion of authorities on the subject, even more favourable to the development of bodily strength and endurance than now. The late Mr. Thursfield, of Barrow, was wont to say that it was no unusual thing to see Moody taking the hounds to cover before daylight in a morning. The Squire himself, like most other sportsmen of the period, was an early man.
[Picture: Childers, Pilot, and Pigmy]
Col. Apperley says: “With our forefathers, when the roost-cock sounded his clarion, they sounded their horn, throwing off the pack so soon as they could distinguish a stile from a gate, or, in other words, so soon as they could see to ride to the hounds. Then it was that the hare was hunted to her form by the trail, and the fox to his kennel by the drag. Slow as this system would be deemed, it was a grand treat to the real sportsman. What, in the language of the chase, is called the ‘tender-nosed hound,’ had an opportunity of displaying itself to the inexpressible delight of his master; and to the field—that is, to the sportsmen who joined in the diversion—the pleasures of the day were enhanced by the moments of anticipation produced by the drag. As the scent grew warmer, the certainty of finding was confirmed; the music of the pack increased; and the game being up, away went the hounds in a crash. Both trail and drag are at present but little thought of. Hounds merely draw over ground most likely to hold the game they are in quest of, and thus, in a great measure, rely upon chance for coming across it; for if a challenge be heard, it can only be inferred that a fox has been on foot in the night—the scent being seldom sufficient to carry the hounds up to his kennel. Advantages, however, as far as sport is concerned, attend the present hour of meeting in the field, independently of the misery of riding many miles in the dark, which sportsmen in the early part of the last century were obliged to do. The game, when it is now aroused, is in a better state to encounter the great speed of modern hounds; having had time to digest the food it has partaken of in the night previous to its being stirred. But it is only since the great increase of hares and foxes that the aid of the trail and drag could be dispensed with without the frequent recurrence of blank days, which now seldom happen. Compared with the luxurious ease with which the modern sportsman is conveyed to the field—either lolling in his chaise and four, or galloping along at the rate of twenty miles an hour on a hundred-guinea hack—the situation of his predecessor was all but distressing. In proportion to the distance he had to ride by starlight were his hours of rest broken in upon, and exclusive of the time that operation might consume another serious one was to be provided for—this was the filling his hair with powder and pomatum until it could hold no more, and forming it into a well-formed knot, or club, as it was called, by his valet, which cost commonly a good hour’s work. The protecting mud boots, the cantering hack, the second horse in the field, were luxuries unknown to him. His well-soiled buckskins, and brown-topped boots, would have cut an indifferent figure in the presence of a modern connoisseur by a Leicestershire cover side.” “Notwithstanding all this, however,” he adds, “we are inclined strongly to suspect that, out of a given number of gentlemen taking the field with hounds, the proportion of really scientific sportsmen may have been in favour of the olden times.”
The Willey Kennels were within easy reach of the Hall, between Willey and Shirlot, where the pleasant stream before alluded to goes murmuring on its way through the Smithies to the Severn. But in order to save his dogs unnecessary exertion there were others on the opposite, or Wrekin, side of the river—
“Hounds stout and healthy, Earths well stopped, and foxes plenty,”
being mottoes of the period. The dogs were of the “heavy painstaking breed” that “stooped to their work.” How, it was said,
“Can the fox-hound ever tell, Unless by pains he takes to smell, Where Reynard’s gone?”
Experience taught the Squire the importance of a principle now more generally acted upon, that of selecting the qualities required in the hounds he bred from; and by this means he obtained developments of swiftness and scent that made his pack one good horses only of that day could keep up with. He prided himself much upon the blood of his best hounds, knew every one he had by name, and was familiar with its pedigree. Portraits of four of his favourites were painted on canvas and hung in the hall, with lines beneath expressive of their qualities, and the dates at which the paintings were made. The Right Hon. Lord Forester takes great care of these, as showing in what way the best dogs of that day differed from those of the present; and through his kindness we have been enabled to get drawings made, of which his lordship was pleased to approve, and we fancy there is no better judge living.
Three of these are shown in our engraving at the head of this chapter.
Pigmy, the bitch in the group nearest to the fox, is said to have been the smallest hound then known. Underneath the portrait are the following lines:—
“Behold in miniature the foxhound keen, Thro’ rough and smooth a better ne’er was seen; As champion here the beauteous Pigmy stands, She challenges the globe, both home and foreign lands.”
1773.
The one the farthest from the fox, is a white dog, Pilot; and underneath the painting is the following:—
“Pilot rewards his master Rowley’s care, And swift as lightning skims the transient air; Famed for the chase, from cover always first, His tongue and sterne proclaimed an arrant burst.”
1774.
The dog in front, with his head thrown up, is Childers; and underneath the picture are these lines:—
“Sportsmen look up, old Childers’ picture view, His virtues many were, his failings few; Reynard with dread oft heard his awful name, And grateful Musters thus rewards his fame.”
1772.
The following letters from Mr. Forester to Walter Stubbs, Esq., of Beckbury, afterwards of Stratford-on-Avon, where he became distinguished in connection with the Warwickshire Hunt, show how particular he was in his selection. It would seem that whilst admiring the Duke of Grafton’s hounds, which under the celebrated Tom Rose (“Honest old Tom,” as he was called), who used to say, “a man must breed his pack to suit his country,” gained some celebrity, he not unnaturally preferred his own. We give exact copies of two of his letters, they are so characteristic of the man. In all the letters we have seen he began with a considerable margin at the side of the paper, but always filled up the space with a postscript:—
“WILLEY HALL, March 15, 1795.
“DEAR SIR,
“I beg leave to return you my hearty thanks for your civility in sending your servant to Apley with three couple of my hounds that run into your’s ye other day. Could I have returned compliment in sending ye three couple, that were missing from you, I should have been happy in ye discharge of that duty, so incumbent on every good sportsman. I hear you are fond of the Duke of Grafton’s hounds. It’s a sort I have ever admired, and have received favours from his Grace in that line, having been acquainted together from our infancy up; and on course, most likely to procure no very bad sort from his Grace’s own hands. I have sent you (as a present) a little bitch of ye Grafton kind, which I call Whymsy, lately taken up from quarters, and coming towards a year old. She’s rather under size for me, or otherwise I see not her fault. She’s, in my opinion, _a true Non-Pareil_. Your acceptance of her from me _now_, and any other hound of ye Grafton sort, that may come in near her size, will afford me singular satisfaction; as I make it a rule that no man who shows me civility shall find me wanting in making a proper return.
“I am, dear sir,
“Your obliged and very humble servant,
“G. FORESTER.
“P.S.—Next year Whymsy will be completely fit for entrance, but rather too young for _this_. The Duke’s hounds rather run small enough for this country. I see no other defect in them. They are invincibly stout, and perfectly just in every point that constitutes your real true fox hound.”
* * * * *
“WILLEY, April 19, 1795.
“DEAR SIR,
“Per bearer I send you yr couple of bitches I promised you. The largest is near a year old, the lesser about half a one, and if she be permitted to walk about your house this summer, will make you a clever bitch; further, she’s of Grace Grafton’s kind, as her father was got by his Grace’s Voucher, and bred by Mr. Pelham. Blood undeniable, _at a certainty_. As to yr dam of her, she’s of my old sort, and a bitch of blood and merit. The other bitch I bred also, _to ye test_ of my judgment, from a dog of Pelham’s. I call her handsome in my eye, and not far off _being a beauty_. Her dam was got by Noel’s famous Maltster, out of a daughter of Mr. Corbet, of Sundorn, named Trojan. I wish you luck and success with your hounds, and when I can serve you _to effect_, at any time, you may rely on my faithful remembrance of you.
“I remain, dear sir,
“Your very humble servant,
“G. FORESTER.
“P.S.—The largest bitch is named Musick, the lesser is named Gaudy.
“P.S.—We have had good sport lately; and _one particular_ run we had, upon Monday last, of two hours and one quarter (from scent to view), without one single interruption of any kind whatever.”