The Eton College hunt

by Anthony Crommelin Crossley

A. M. Grenfell, now the most successful Master of this period, has sent me this letter:

“Campbell (E. G. Campbell, Master 1891) died of fever during the South African War. Ward’s régime was chiefly remarkable for the purchase of the hound van. It was during a hunt when Ward was Master that I swam the lake at Ditton. The hare had crossed to the island and the hounds wouldn’t cross. So I very stupidly gave them a lead, and got a bad go of ‘flu,’ in spite of being dried in the kitchen by the Duchess of Buccleuch—aged about 90. Reggie Ward, my whip, died, but Bobbie and his brother (Sir John) are still alive. They succeeded each other as Masters.”

Grenfell’s successor, W. R. O. Kynaston, has also written to me. He says:

“There was one day I remember well, you will probably find all about it in the Field, hounds changed once or twice, ran straight and right away from us. I sent ‘the field’ back in time for lock-up and went on with the whips after them. We got to hounds eventually when it was pretty dark; there was no sight of the van, and being near Richings Park, Mr. Meeking’s, went in there; Hume Meeking was whipping in that day. Had our dinner there, and took hounds back to Windsor in the guard’s van from Langley station, getting to Windsor station about 9 p.m. Attended the Head Master next morning, explained the hounds changed hares and went too fast to be stopped, was told I was responsible, and if we couldn’t stop the hounds must have smaller ones! Offered to be swished, but had all ‘bills’ stopped for the rest of the Half, instead, much to my disgust. Hope you will have a good season; best of luck to the Hunt.”

Here is a letter from Sir Edward Davson, third whip in 1894, which contains two anecdotes of beagling in the nineties:

“I do not know if you are dealing with the question of costume worn, but, when I first ran with the hounds, I think that the only distinction between the Master and whips and the field was that the former wore the existing beagle coat, otherwise wearing ordinary knickerbockers and colour caps. I think that white knickerbockers and white stocks were introduced about 1892, and that the hunting caps were introduced by Kynaston in 1893.

“The kennels in my year were in a miserable part of the town, kept by old Lock, who also ran a Turkish Bath there, and my recollection of Lock was that he was to be found either up at the kill, wherever this might be, dressed in a brown knicker-bocker suit, or else wandering round his own place dressed only in a very brief pair of scarlet bathing drawers.

“I remember that there was an old lady who lived out Horton way who had a strong objection to hounds hunting round her place, as she declared that they disturbed her fowls and ruined the flower-beds in her garden. We were accordingly requested by the Head not to go near the place, and did our best to carry out instructions, but on one occasion, when we met at Datchet, the hare made a bee-line for the place, the hounds in close pursuit. As we drew near we discovered the lady in command of a force consisting of two gardeners armed with pitchforks, who endeavoured to ward off the attack. The hare, however, meant reaching what it evidently considered a sanctuary, and in the end there was a beautiful kill in the middle of the lawn, with the old lady rushing up and down screaming, and the two men brandishing the pitchforks but not knowing what to do with them, as they were evidently as reluctant to provoke bloodshed (except on the hare) as we were. A strategic retreat was then carried out, but our unpopularity became if possible even greater, and I expect that if we had had occasion to visit the lady again we should have found a battery of guns masked behind the laurel bushes.

“On another occasion I remember a great run we had from Dorney to Taplow, where the beaten hare endeavoured to elude us by getting through a palisade surrounding a private park. One of the whips promptly scaled the paling, another sat astride on the top and the third lifted up the hounds, with the result that in a short time we deposited the whole pack in the grounds. We did not at the time realise that the grounds were really the private pheasant preserve of an eminent J.P., but, as he happened at the moment to be taking a walk round to inspect his birds, he very soon made his presence known by addressing to us a volley of the most abusive language that I think up to then it had ever been our privilege to hear. Meanwhile the hounds were busy coursing the pheasants, and it was only on our pointing out that he was himself causing a prolongation of his troubles that we all were summarily ejected by the gate. A letter of complaint to the Head Master caused our appearance in Chambers a few days later, where we were suitably, if mildly, reprimanded by the Head and were also requested to write an ample letter of apology. This was duly done, and apparently so ably that it touched the heart of our host-by-compulsion, who promptly wrote that he would be glad to see us again, and invited the Master and whips to go and lunch with him. All therefore in this case ended well.”

The most successful Masters of this period were A. M. Grenfell, in whose season fourteen hares were killed in twenty-six hunting days, and G. Robarts, who in thirty hunting days killed fifteen hares.