THE
ETON COLLEGE HUNT.

T. C. GOULDSMITH (Master 1921-22).

THE
ETON COLLEGE HUNT

A SHORT HISTORY of
BEAGLING AT ETON

BY
A. C. CROSSLEY

ILLUSTRATED BY J. ROBERTSON

WITH
CONTRIBUTIONS ON HARE HUNTING
BY COLONEL ROBERTSON-AIKMAN,
MAJOR FISHER, MR. G. H. LONGMAN,
MR. HOWARD-VYSE AND OTHERS

ETON COLLEGE
SPOTTISWOODE, BALLANTYNE & CO. LTD.

First Published March 1922.
Second Impression February 1923.

PREFACE.

There seems to be no real reason for writing a Preface to this book except for the purpose of thanking the many Old Etonians who have given me their assistance in its production. At the same time I should like to take this opportunity of explaining that, when I began compiling this record of the Eton College Hunt, it was mainly for the purpose of amusing myself during the intervals of school work, football and beagling in the Michaelmas Half of 1921, and it was not until the book was nearly finished that I became bold enough to imagine that it might be of interest to others who, like myself, have hunted the hare on the ploughs of Dorney and Datchet.

I am only too conscious of the inadequacy of my own work, but, in spite of its defects, I hope that this short history of a pack of Beagles which has been in existence for 64 years, and which has given their first experience of hound lore to so many eminent amateur huntsmen, may be of some interest to Etonians past, present and future.

I then decided to enlarge the original scope of the book by obtaining contributions from recognized authorities on the various aspects of Hare Hunting. I have added these in the shape in which I received them as Part II., and I must thank Col. Robertson-Aikman, Maj. Fisher, Mr. G. H. Longman and Mr. Howard-Vyse for their great kindness in giving me their help.

I would also like to thank Messrs. Longman for their kind permission to include Ch. III. of Part II. which has already appeared in the ‘Hare’ volume of the Fur and Feather series published by them: Messrs. Arnold for their kindness in allowing me to give a story of Rowland Hunt; Mrs. Grazebrook for lending me the diaries and photographs of her father, Edward Charrington; and Col. Meysey-Thompson for the loan of his diary and for his many letters which have helped to throw light on an otherwise dark period.

A. C. CROSSLEY.

Eton, December 1921.

CONTENTS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE ETON COLLEGE HUNT.

PART I.

CHAPTER I.
THE OPPIDAN BEAGLES.

It was a manly country-loving boy who first undertook the task of introducing Beagles to Eton; a boy, versed in the etiquette of hunting and devoted to a healthy open air life, who loved a horse and who loved a hound, fond of music and fond of dancing, who spent every moment of daylight in cultivating the instincts of a clean country-bred Englishman.

Edward Charrington is unfortunately dead. He died in 1894, but he left behind him a diary of his last two years at Eton, and in this he gives a lucid account of how he initiated the Beagles. He acted on a sudden inspiration. Within a week he had actually got together subscriptions and purchased two couples of beagles. But it is better to give the story in his own words, in extracts from his diary:

“Monday, Jan. 18th, 1858. Thought of getting up some Beagles.

“Tuesday, Jan. 19th. Got up £7 10s. for the Beagles.

“Thursday, Jan. 21st. Ran with Lawless and Hussey. Beagles. Bad run.

“Saturday, Jan. 23rd. Went with Vyner after 12 and bought two couples of Beagles. There were eight to choose from. We tried them all in a field. Gave £3 a couple for them. Ran a drag after 4, of four miles. I am huntsman, Johnstone mi. whip.”

All this is clear enough except the mention of Lawless and Hussey. Charrington’s pack was undoubtedly the nucleus of the Oppidan Hunt which existed till its amalgamation with the College Pack in 1866. But Lawless and Hussey kept a few Beagles at the same time. The present Lord Cloncurry, Valentine Lawless at Eton, has given me the following account of his Beagles and how they originated.

“I shall be glad if I can help in facts for your book about Eton and the Beagles, but after a lapse of more than sixty years it is not easy to write from memory without notes. Keeping dogs was an offence under strict school rules, though the rule had been often broken, and in Oct. 1857 or Feb. 1858 Dr. Goodford, who was then Head Master, invited me to breakfast at his house and to talk over the question of ‘Lower Boys frequenting Tap.’ As you know, ‘Tap’ was a private room in a public-house beyond Barnes Bridge where beer and mutton chops were served, and where drinking the ‘Long Glass’ and other time-honoured customs were maintained.

“Dr. Goodford proposed that, if I (as Captain of the Boats) would put up a notice in Tap, ‘that no Lower Boys be admitted to this room,’ he would withdraw the rules against dogs so far as to authorise the College Beagles and he would give recognition and assistance. My notice remained on the wall in ‘Tap’ for thirty years, it may be there now for all I know. As Captain of the Boats, I became nominal Head of the Hunt, but I was a bad runner, and a long-legged boy named Hussey, stroke oar of the ‘Victory,’ became the real Master and Huntsman of the first official Beagles. Before that time, Beach in 1854, and Charrington later, had kept a few couples.”

Col. Meysey-Thompson of Westwood Mount, Scarborough, has given me most of my knowledge regarding Charrington and the rival pack of Lawless and Hussey. He says in one letter:

“I have a hazy idea that Hussey had three or four Beagles, but he did not do much with them. Nor did in fact Charrington or the Edwards’ (a third rival pack about which I know nothing). They pottered about with them, though Charrington’s pack was a little more pretentious. But they were not recognised by the Masters of Eton; only about seven or eight of Charrington’s personal friends knew that they existed.[1] It was some time before the Beagles were allowed, and I can remember conversations that took place with Balston before they became a permanent institution.”

Again in a letter to the late Vice-Provost (F. H. Rawlins) in 1899 Col. Meysey-Thompson says:

“Although Charrington kept a few rather nondescript hounds in 1859 (and 1858), they were not really looked upon as a school pack, and had not much more title to this description than those kept at the same time by another boy ‘Edwards,’ both packs hunting anything and being taken out just when the whim of their owners seized them. Charrington’s, however, were undoubtedly the nucleus of the present hunt. I remember one hound he had that towered over the others, and was so very much faster that he always had a short belt buckled round his neck somewhat to assimilate his pace to that of his comrades, but even then he was usually about a quarter of a mile ahead.”

In another letter he writes: “The fact is that in the early years—certainly up to 1861—it was a rather scratch affair. ‘Joby’ acted very often as huntsman or whip, and those who were so called ‘whips’ scarcely received a formal appointment at first, but had the whips handed over to them at the meet.”

W. T. Trench, the Master in 1862, wrote to the late Vice-Provost a letter in which he questions Charrington’s position as the first Oppidan Master. I quote from his letter, but I think his evidence is overborne, and that there is little real doubt that the Eton Beagles owe their existence to the zeal and enthusiasm of Charrington and his College contemporary, R. H. Carter (about whom more anon). He says:

“The Eton College Chronicle which you sent me woke up many memories of the good old Eton days. I think the Chronicle is wrong as to Charrington having been the first Oppidan Master. The present Lord Cloncurry (then Valentine Lawless) and Hussey got up Beagles in 1858. I don’t think there were more than two or three couples. Charrington’s was a rival pack. He and his supporters hunted sub rosa. No one except a few privileged ones knew where they met. Lawless and Hussey were high up in the School then, Charrington and his lot much lower down.”

On more than one occasion Charrington combined forces with Lawless, sometimes with considerable success. The combined meets attracted a big Field, which proved that the interest in the Beagles was rapidly growing. Here is an entry from Charrington’s diary:

“Tuesday, 9th of Feb. 1858. Wh. Hol. I bought a hare. Got her from Ipswich and joined packs with Hussey. Met at Sanatorium and turned her out; over a hundred fellows out. Hussey hunted the hounds. Ran her to Chalvey and lost her there.”

But, whatever the footing of Lawless and Hussey, it is to Charrington that we owe the Oppidan Beagles. His was a subscription pack of 8½ couples of hounds. His subscriptions in 1858 we do not know, but his 1859 funds amounted to no less than £52 10s. Thus the hunt was placed on a sound business footing.

Considering the inconveniences, the sport was apparently good. There were terrible difficulties. There used to be Chapel at 3 o’clock for all, and after 12 was too short altogether for a pack of Beagles to wear down a hare.

Col. Meysey-Thompson writes:

“It should not be forgotten what a very limited time we had in which to reach the kennels, get the pack out, find a hare, return with the hounds to the kennels (the Master and Whips), and be ‘changed’ and either in school or Chapel by 3 p.m.—missing our dinners sometimes. When there was ‘Absence’ it was worse, for we had to be there, and I remember on one occasion Balston finding fault because so many boys were late for Absence, and I pointed out to him that we the Whips were there, although we had had to go to the kennels, a long distance out of the homeward path, so that the others should have been there too if they had hurried up. He accepted this plea. We never got out of school till 11.45, and were supposed to be at dinner by 2 p.m. In the afternoon when there was ‘short’ Chapel we did not get out of Chapel till 3.20, had to change and have one run and be in by lock-up, which of course was early. I sometimes wonder how we did it, when perhaps we had run very nearly to Maidenhead. It was the getting back which was the crux.”

The pack was kennelled near the Dorney Road beyond the Sanatorium, the kennel huntsman being Alf Joel, Joby Minor as he was called. There is always a Joby at Eton, and this one undertook the duties of kennel huntsman. Charrington used to give him various sums of money (he had no fixed salary), for which he fed and housed the hounds.

Charringon’s Beagles hunted anything; a bagged fox, which resided at the kennels “within earshot of the musical harmony of his relentless pursuers,” an occasional bagged hare; innumerable bagged rabbits, which invariably met with untimely ends; a drag, usually a hare-skin, and anything else which presented itself.

Here are some extracts from his diary which illustrate the character of the sport:

“Thursday, 28th Jan. 1858. Went out hunting with the Beagles. Very good run. Found a rabbit and killed. Finished at Salt Hill. Went in there and refreshed ourselves.

“Saturday, 6th Feb. Went out before breakfast with the Beagles and found a hare but did not kill it. Met at Philippi. One dozen rabbits came for sport. We turned them out and killed them. One ran into the river by Upper Hope.

“Thursday, 18th Feb. Stayed out. The Beagles met at the Iron Bridge over Chalvey. Mitchell mi. gave us a live hare to turn out before them. We turned it out in view and she took us a long round by the gasworks, where a man caught and turned it out again, and we ran it for 30 minutes and lost it by Chalvey Village across the road there. Altogether we ran this hare 55 minutes.”

The most interesting development comes a little later. The Masters did not all by any means approve of the institution of Beagles, although they must by now have known of the College pack, which had already existed a whole season. On the 13th of March the following entry appears:

“Goodford sent for me and stopped the Beagles. Didn’t care for that. Joined with Hussey after 4, turned out a brace of hares and killed them. One ran into the Cemetery Churchyard and jumped the wall about five feet high. Coming home we saw a weasel up a tree. Soon stoned him down, and after rushing up and down a hedge for some time Modesty killed it. I have sent it to be stuffed.”

But the Half was nearly at an end, and it closed without further incident. Dr. Goodford made no further attempt to check the progress of Beagling during the fortnight that remained, either because he imagined that his order had been obeyed or because he was disposed to wink at their existence.

This is what the late Mr. Charles Tayleur of Buntingsdale Hall, Market Drayton, said of Charrington and his Beagles in a letter to the late Vice-Provost in 1899:

“Charrington was at my Tutor’s, a friend of mine though a trifle senior, and we used to go hunting with terriers or anything we could find; till it was, I believe, at my suggestion that a few Beagles should be got together, that Charrington adopted the idea. I helped him from the start in conjunction with Johnstone, and afterwards had as coadjutor Chambers and I believe Schneider, but in the early days whipping-in was done by any one appointed that was out. This was certainly the first pack of Beagles, as those started by Lawless were an afterthought on the part of some seniors in the School. We ran a drag to start, and hares when we could find them; but we got into trouble sometimes hunting the latter at first. The first bag-fox we hunted was sent to me from Leadenhall Market by my uncle, the late W. Tayleur of Buntingsdale, and he showed us many a good run—as we kept him pretty fat to prevent him outrunning our small pack. However we eventually lost him in Stoke Park after a good run. I myself saw him crossing the Park, but we had to stop the hounds. The first day we ran him he was taken in the farmyard of a man called Aldridge. I believe that he showed us many a hare afterwards.”

There is rather a good story about old Mr. Tayleur of Buntingsdale, who has long since departed this life. He had an old shepherd on his estate, and one day, shortly after he had changed his name from Taylor to Tayleur, he met him in his park.

“What do you call your dog?” he asked. “Wal,” replied the shepherd, “ah used to call ’im ‘Growler,’ but I suppose I shall ’ave to call ’im ‘Growl-E-U-R’ now.”

The 1859 season was a highly successful one. There were, as I have already said, no less than 58 subscribers. The staff was the same, and the names of the hounds are given in the [appendix] at the end. Ricardo and Lord Parker used to whip in when the regular whips were absent. No more attempts were made on the part of the Head Master to put down the Beagles. Here are some of the best runs:

“Monday, Feb. 28th. Met at Athens. In coming to the meet the fox got out of the bag and we could not find him for 1½ hours. Had a most splendid run to Stoke of about five miles, and he went to ground in a hollow tree. We could not find him, but since learned where he was and sent for him.

“Friday, 11th March. Met at Easy Bridge. Turned down a fresh untried fox which came from London this morning. I got him from Rebbets, Leadenhall Market. He was very wild and gave us a very quick 2½ miles run to Aldridge’s, where the hounds ran him into a pond, and we could not get him out, for he got among some rushes in the middle. At last I offered 10s. to any one who would get him out, and Alf Joel took his coat and waistcoat off and swam in and caught him by the brush and pulled him out.”

The sequel to this incident is not so amusing. The fox was so perished by his adventure in the pond that he died the same night in spite of attempts to revive him with brandy before the kitchen fire of a farmhouse.

“Wednesday, 16th March. Met at Cuckoo Weir. Had a capital run with the big fox to Slough, where he ran to ground on the railway line about ¼ mile from the station. We could not get him out of the pipe he had run up, and two bull terriers and several navvies were at work more than four hours digging him out. We found a leveret and ran and killed it there. The hounds did not get home till 6 o’clock.”

Edward Charrington.

(Founder of the Oppidan Beagles.)

But the run of the season comes as late as Thursday, 28th of March. The entry is as follows:

“Half holiday. Met at Sanatorium. Had a brace of bagged hares. The first did not give us much of a run, but the second gave us a clipper; the run of the season in fact. Ran a ring to Chalvey, to the Sanatorium, away to Slough and Upton Park, where we killed. Vide Bell’s Life for Sat. 26th.”

In this run they joined forces with the College pack for the first time. Two more days they repeated the experiment, and then not again until the amalgamation in 1866. After such an extraordinary run it is surprising that the arrangement was not made permanent, but the fact remains that the packs continued separate for another six years.

Charrington’s last run with the Beagles was the climax of his Eton career. Here is the entry in his diary. It will describe better than any words of mine what must have been his feeling of satisfaction at having accomplished a work that was destined to prosper long after he himself had died.

“Monday, April 11th. The last day of the season. Met at Philippi. Had a capital run for the wind up and killed our hare in the Field all amongst the fellows playing at cricket.”

I wish I knew something about Johnstone, but no information whatever has come into my hands concerning him, except that he was Charrington’s principal coadjutor.

In 1860 R. E. Moore was Master, and of him I know very little indeed, except what Col. R. F. Meysey-Thompson says in a letter.

“In 1860 R. E. Moore in Sixth Form was Master, and the pack began to be looked upon as a recognised institution, though it was not until the next year 1861 that a regular subscription was made when J. G. Chambers was Master (afterwards so well known as a ’Varsity oar and champion walker and for many years the umpire at the ’Varsity Boat Race).”

Moore actually secured the Head Master’s leave to keep Beagles, and henceforward it became an official sport at Eton. Moore had for his only whip Baker mi., who performed the (?) unparalleled feat of winning the School Steeplechase while still in jackets.

All through this period the Beagles were growing in importance in the School. They did not force themselves forward, but almost imperceptibly they began to assume the position they have held ever since. And they continued to prosper during the next three years under the Mastership of J. G. Chambers, W. T. Trench and F. G. Pelham.

Schneider and Senhouse were Chambers’ whips, and at the end of the season a presentation was made to him as a testimonial. During the next year W. T. Trench held office with F. G. Pelham and H. M. Meysey-Thompson (now Lord Knaresborough) as his whips. W. T. Trench in a letter said: “We wound up the season with a drag to Maidenhead, when the subscribers very kindly presented me with a silver cup, which I am proud to have on my dining table now.”

F. G. Pelham was Master during the following season. He won the Mile and was second in the Steeplechase in 1863. As his second whip he had W. R. Griffiths, the Captain of the Boats. Pelham also had a testimonial presented to him.

I have passed over these three years lightly because little information has come to hand and no anecdotes at all. It is too long ago to expect much, and what I have are merely isolated statements. But in 1864 I am on firmer ground. Col. R. F. Meysey-Thompson has supplied me with a diary which contains a complete record of the season’s sport. H. M. Meysey-Thompson was Master, and his whips, A. Turnor and S. H. Sandbach, are still alive. There is so much to be said about H. M. Meysey-Thompson that a letter from A. Turnor will not be inappropriate here as giving an excellent and vivid summary of the sport.

“North Stoke, Grantham.

“The recollection of the Eton Beagles in 1864 is perhaps more vivid than my recollection of Aeschylus and of Homer. The kennels were on Dorney Common, a miserable and ramshackle construction, and a bagged fox resided within earshot of the musical harmony of his relentless pursuers. Joby Minor, the most artful poacher in Eton, was kennel huntsman, ran with the drag and administered to the comforts of the fox. The hounds, a somewhat unlevel pack, were contributed by the ardent sons of Nimrod who valued more the hunting lore of Beckford, Silk and Scarlet, and such like sporting authors, than anything Greece or Rome could produce in the way of Classics. W. T. Trench and his brother Benjamin, Lord Worcester, Dick Thompson and the writer were notable amongst others who brought hounds, and the Hon. Evelyn Pelham and the present Lord Knaresborough were amongst those who carried the horn. The sport was of the finest, and the climax was reached when hounds found a wild hare, and after a choral service of two hours hunted her to the death.

“On one of those rare but memorable occasions when the writer was handling the hounds, a yokel possessed of no sporting or manly instincts struck the exhausted hare with a spade and hid it in a cart. The huntsman with the aid of his Beckford perceived what had happened, and boldly and determinedly wrested the hare from the yokel and gave it to the hounds, thus fulfilling the loftiest instinct of venery.

“All concerned enjoyed the sport. The hounds obviously, the fox because he knew that he could baffle his pursuers, and the boys because it called for the exercise of skill, sight, intellect and endurance. Above all Joby Minor because he drew a salary.

“It is recorded that on one occasion a beagle entered the schoolroom in Schoolyard of Mr. William Johnson, a kind, eccentric, but very short-sighted Master. Forty voices, gratuitously and somewhat officiously, informed him of the patent fact, causing a requisite but temporary cessation of work. His reply was: ‘Stop. I will deal with the intruder.’ He seized a large key, gazed steadily and threw it in exactly the opposite direction to the spot on which the unconcerned hound was sniffing the untainted air. Due notice was taken by the class and the Master adequately informed.”

During the Mastership of H. M. Meysey-Thompson the kennels were improved considerably, and he presented the pack with the first “copper” that they ever had for cooking the hound food. They had a fairly good season, and some interesting runs are recorded in the diary which has been lent me by Col. R. F. Meysey-Thompson. Here is one of the most remarkable:

“Tuesday, Jan. 19th. Had a bag-fox. A bright day but a good many clouds about and a splendid scent. Turned him down by Crosse’s Farm. Away he went, past the river jump into the road leading to Aldridge’s, down which he went to the left till he came to the grass field there, up which he turned to the left through Aldridge’s rushy field straight for Dorney, where he was coursed by some greyhounds, but he went away through Burnham Abbey, when he turned to the left to Maidenhead. Here he was headed and turned to the right to the gardens at Burnham (which are about two miles distant from the Abbey), where we lost him. Distance about seven miles. Time, 40 minutes. Crosse was riding, and said it was all he could do to keep up. He said Ferryman and Boscoe led the whole way. We who were running got in about twenty minutes after. Only about twelve out of a field of about forty showed up at the end. We were obliged to get into a cab, as many of us as could, and just got back for absence.”

The whole principle of the Beagles before the amalgamation was entirely different from what it is to-day. The pack was privately owned by various boys, who brought hounds from their homes and lent them for the season. It may be of interest to give the names of the hounds together with those of the boys who owned them:

Col. Meysey-Thompson says: “Any one lending hounds was entitled to run with the pack without paying any subscription, though some did not avail themselves of this exemption. Only Fifth Form were allowed to run with the pack, but a Lower Boy bringing a hound had the special privilege of accompanying the pack.”

H. M. Meysey-Thompson (the brother of the Colonel) was a good runner. In 1863 he won the Hurdles and was third in the Mile, and in 1864 he won the Steeplechase (the ambition of all beaglers) and was second in the Mile. Turnor and Sandbach were also good runners. The best run the Beagles had during his Mastership was in the region of Dorney, where they ran a hare for an hour and five minutes, covering more than six miles. In the end she burst her heart just in front of hounds.

There was a curious and not altogether pleasant incident at the end of the season. A presentation to H. M. Meysey-Thompson was arranged chiefly under the fostering care of a boy named Kennion (now Bishop of Bath and Wells), and he was offered his choice of an oil painting of the pack or of a silver hunting horn. He chose the latter. At the breakfast which was held in honour of the event, W. W. Wood got up, and proposed that it should be made a horn of office instead.

A very warm discussion ensued, and the question was put to the vote and carried, to the chagrin of those who had been chiefly instrumental in raising the subscription. The horn is still in existence. A beautiful piece of work it is, with the names of every Master since 1864 inscribed on it. It is now kept on the dining-room table of the house at which the Master of the Beagles boards.

Kennion was a regular follower in those days. It is surprising how many churchmen, and eminent churchmen at that, have enjoyed the sport with the Eton Beagles. Three Bishops to-day, the Bishop of St. Albans, the Bishop of Bath and Wells, and the Bishop of Cape Town, were all keen followers at Eton. M. B. Furse, Bishop of St. Albans, was actually first whip in 1889, while the late Canon E. K. Douglas was one of the most successful of the early Masters. There is scarcely anything so pleasing as to see a parson taking his own line over a hunting country. They are few in number these sporting parsons, but very often they are the best sportsmen of all.

In 1865 C. S. Newton was Master with R. F. Meysey-Thompson as his first whip and E. Royds as the second whip. Royds was a very good long-distance runner, and won both the Mile and the Steeplechase in 1865, while R. F. Meysey-Thompson was a good all round athlete.

I have no records of this season at all, and so must pass it over without comment. The only thing we do know is that near the end of the Half the Oppidans ran a drag to Salt Hill and invited the Master and whips of the College Beagles. It was at this drag that the followers were regaled with champagne and sandwiches, a custom which had become a regular one. And here the amalgamation of the two School packs was proposed. But I will leave the account of this for another chapter.

THE SORT OF DAY WE ALL KNOW.

CHAPTER II.
THE COLLEGE HUNT.

The College Hunt was founded in 1857 by R. H. Carter with J. A. Willis as his whip. It is a great misfortune that from this year until 1863, when the Journal Book was started, we know very little about it. Carter hunted them for no less than three years, which proves at least that he was an enthusiast. His pack consisted of all kinds of nondescript “dogs”; there was no standard of size, and report has it that it included a retriever.

AN OLD-TIME BEAGLER.

The pack was kennelled by one Ward in the Playing Fields, and hunted drags chiefly, but also wild hares when they were found. Sometimes they turned out bagged rabbits. One thing however we do know. They made an agreement with the Oppidan pack somewhere about 1859 by which the Oppidans took the country west and the Collegers the country east of the Slough Road.

The Hunt soon adopted a button with E.C.H. on it. There is a story of Provost Hawtrey arresting one of the whips in the Cloisters and demanding what the lettering on the button was intended to mean. The boy, aghast (for beagling was not allowed in those days), mentioned the letters E.C.H., whereupon the old man, who was not averse to personal flattery, took it to be a compliment to himself as they were his own initials.

One of the runs of 1859 was actually recorded in Bell’s Life. As I have already noted in the previous chapter the Oppidans joined forces with the Collegers on three occasions, this being one of them.

Carter was succeeded by T. J. Huddleston, and Huddleston by E. E. Witt, who held the hounds for two seasons. Of neither of these do we know anything. But Thackeray, who succeeded Witt, first instituted the Journal Book, which was kept right up to the time of the amalgamation in 1867. I have also been greatly helped by the only two College whips of this period who are still alive, R. V. Somers-Smith and A. A. Wace. Here is a letter from the former which covers this whole period from the season of 1863 to the amalgamation:

“I went to Eton as a Colleger in the autumn of 1862, and first ran with the Beagles in the following spring. Thackeray was then the Master, for which position his chief qualification was a copious vocabulary. We then chiefly hunted drags; only occasionally trying for a hare, never with any success.

“The pack had then been in existence only a few years; they were kept at the lodge at the Slough end of the Playing Fields by Ward, the groundsman, and were a mongrel lot. One or two real beagles, some cast-off harriers, some nondescripts, ‘just dogs.’

“As late as 1862 they kept a badger; the brute knew his job and trotted along until overtaken, when he sat down until the field came up. One of the whips carried a sack and a pair of tongs, and the badger was by help of the latter dropped into the former and carried home.

“There was a story against Lewis, one of the whips, that on one occasion the badger took refuge in a useful outhouse adjacent to a cottage, and Lewis was discovered sitting on the sack to prevent the badger escaping this way, making dives at him with the tongs when the badger threatened his legs.

“Lewis was Master in 1864; he was a little Welshman, rather prematurely aged; he was quite a sportsman but a poor runner. I used often to take a whip in his day, but do not think I was in ‘office.’ A. A. Wace was first whip.

“Lewis went to Merton; rather distinguished himself there as a rider—Merton being then a hunting College—and died suddenly in his room there in 1869.

“In 1865 A. J. Pound became Master. Pound was a remarkable character—intellectually rather below the average, but endowed with some originality and an exceedingly strong will. I have sometimes doubted whether he was quite ‘right’; he looked at the world and mankind from a point of view entirely his own, and made no effort to adapt himself to convention of any kind. But he was thoroughly honest and straightforward; the kindest and most faithful of friends.

“He subsequently went to the Bar, the last profession for which he was fitted, was for a time a magistrate in British Guiana, married an American, and latterly fell into pecuniary difficulties and took his own life.

“His eldest son is a distinguished sailor.

“Pound took up the Beagles seriously. He got together quite a decent little pack, and began to hunt hares regularly.

“Our great difficulty was the shortness of the time at our disposal. ‘After 12,’ the interval between 11 o’clock school and dinner at 2, after allowing for time spent in changing, we seldom saw even an hour’s actual hunting. Too short a time for beagles to run down a hare. ‘After 4,’ from Chapel to lock-up, was little better, especially as hares always made it a rule to run away from home, compelling us often to whip off in order to get back in time. One of my most abiding recollections is that of long trots back from the parts beyond Langley and Slough to get back to Absence.

“Pound adopted a scheme of his own of hunting in the morning. With one or two choice spirits he would arrange that we should be early at the ‘Saying Lesson,’ then the invariable early school, thus getting away soon after 7.30, run across to the ‘Dolphin’ at Slough (which stood on the site of Aldin House where old John Hawtrey subsequently flourished), breakfast on beer and biscuits and hunt until it was time to get back to 11 o’clock school. That gave us a good two hours’ actual hunting, and we began killing hares pretty often.

“I was Pound’s first whip and principal coadjutor for two years, and it nearly killed me! In fact I was sent home in the middle of the Summer Half of 1866 supposed to be threatened with consumption. Tindal and Gosset were whips, and subsequently Armitstead, who was a very fine cross-country runner, and at Oxford an oar of some repute.

“Of the 1867 season I have no recollection. I was not allowed to run for reasons of health, and I cannot even remember the name of the Master; possibly this was the year of amalgamation.”

Here is the first run recorded in the Journal Book:

“The E.C.H. met for the first time this season at the kennels. There was a large muster. The hounds were laid on in a wheat field of Gough’s adjoining the S.W.R. and ran at a tremendous pace down the grass meadows, crossing the S.W.R. and into Datchet plantation, in the plough beyond which a check ensued, which allowed time for the remainder of the field to get up with hounds. Some cold hunting now ensued, but hitting the scent off in one of Cantrell’s fields near Ditton Park they carried it at a great pace as if for Langley Church. The pace however was too good, and they ran into him in a field adjoining the London Road.

“After an interval of about ten minutes the hounds were laid on in a field adjoining Ditton Park, and, the scent having considerably improved, it was but few could live with them. The fencing here was very severe, numerous being the purls, and some stiff water-jumps intervened to cool the ardour of gentlemen who were too ambitious of shewing in the front. It was evident from the terrific pace they were now holding that nothing could live before them. And it was not long before they ran into their prey just as he was crossing the Upton Road.”

There is a complaint at the end of the field pressing on the pack, “and that there was far more noise than is consistent with the decorum of the hunting field.”

Here is a merry account:

“The running of the hounds could be seen all the way from Riding Court up to the Langley Road, and it was pronounced by all to be faultless. While a drag was being sent back two fields were drawn blank. The hounds, having been laid on, ran from Langley Broom down to Datchet Wood. The way in which they swung their own casts was the admiration of all beholders. ‘Hark! forrard!’ was again the cry as they bowled like marbles over the crest of the hill, making the welkin ring with their melody. When in the bottom they bent to the left; each hound scoring to the cry, as with the pack at her heels puss sought the friendly coverts of Ditton Park, having crossed the line which the drag had taken in full sight of the hounds. The huntsman and first whip, kindly assisted by Mr. Lewis, soon got the hounds out again. Home was now the word, and home we went after genuine sport, the field declaring that the only doubt was which was the better run of the two.”

The Beagling Book of this period abounds in quotations from the inimitable Mr. Jorrocks.

“Better to rove in fields for health unbought

Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught,”

is a very true maxim, and Lewis has very aptly applied it to Beagling. Even as early as Thackeray’s season, however, they killed one wild hare after a good run. But a drag was the usual order, and it was poor sport really for boys especially because hounds ran as if glued to the scent. Occasionally this was varied with a rabbit, but just as the hare almost invariably escaped, so did the rabbit almost invariably succumb before two fields had been crossed.

Of course the great handicap was time. But the letter which I have already given has shown the immense difficulties in this respect. What enthusiasm was required to surmount them all and to carry on as they did!

All the accounts of the College Races are also included in the Journal Book. There was an unpleasant incident at the end of the season which may as well be recorded just to show how to deal with people who are not gentlemen.

“It was much to be regretted that several ‘gentlemen,’ who in no way contributed to keep up sport, thought it necessary to make remarks which only showed their ignorance of the art of venery, and complained of there being no sport for their adequate remuneration for subscriptions. Their subscriptions were returned, and, extraordinary to relate, the E.C.H. still existed. These gentlemen (?), like the ‘London Brigade’ with the Queen’s Hounds, were generally if not always choked off at the first check, and, if there was no check, were indeed ‘lost to sight’ but not ‘to memory dear.’”

And here is the obituary notice of a really kind and pleasant farmer, Mr. Gough of Datchet. A sporting farmer is a treasured article in any country, and when one dies the Hunt sustains a serious loss. This Mr. Gough had been particularly good to the E.C.H.

“The E.C.H. has much reason to regret the loss of Mr. Gough, a tenant farmer, who by his sportsmanlike conduct conduced in no small measure to the prosperity of the Hunt. On his land a sure find might be anticipated, and bagmen were unknown commodities. By his example several of the surrounding farmers were induced to open their lands to the E.C.H., and, though a lawn meet was not often the fashion, Mr. Gough’s hospitable house was never drawn blank for beer and luncheon. The ‘Gough breakfasts’ in the Lent term afforded many a pleasant recollection for dreary after fours, and his tales, though generally ‘twice told,’ were rarely tedious.”

H. J. L. B. Lewis was Master in 1864 with J. B. Wood, A. A. Wace, who is still alive, and R. V. Somers-Smith as his whips. Here is a letter from Mr. Wace which describes the sport with admirable vivacity:

“The Master of the College Beagles in 1864 was Lewis. He rejoiced in five Christian names; three, really surnames, indicated Celtic origin, of which he was very proud. Though of a short sturdy frame his lungs were not so good as his heart, as an early death at Oxford showed; and being slow over plough he left much of the field work to his long-legged whips. Lewis had learned how to handle hounds in kennel and field in Wales, and he gave us a very happy season with his knowledge, generosity and good temper. We had, if I remember right, five or six couples; dwarf harriers, rather than the beagles of Sussex; though there was one true to the latter type which generally did as well at a bad check as Lewis did. They were kennelled at Ward’s Lodge on the Datchet Road. We hunted, I think, three days a week, and our country extended from Salt Hill and Cippenham to as far beyond Datchet as the calls of hall or lock-up allowed us to get. After we had got our little pack and our lungs into some training by following drags we took to hares, but without much success except for exercise. Agar’s Plough and Cippenham were always good draws; but we rarely killed, for Ditton Park, lying in the centre of our country, was too convenient a sanctuary. It had its advantages, however, for us as well as for the hares, as we learnt to bless it as an excuse for being late for hall or lock-up. We could so often honestly say that we had lost time in getting hounds out of the Park coverts; and that seemed to please the Master in College; for, as he often told us, its ducal owner was his wife’s cousin. Hounds, then often disappointed, required blooding with a bagged hare or rabbit, neither ever giving a decent run; and I disliked the job all the more because Sussex had shown me a better way of using beagles for rabbits; and I thought of the hours spent with my gun in a ride while real beagles hustled rabbits round and round a big wood. Tiring perhaps of these ‘bags’ we yield to a suggestion, made I think by Joby Minor, that a badger would give us more fun, certainly more scent, and would always live to fight beagles another day.

“It was bought and did give us some fun at first; but this palled because the badger soon realised that it could save its skin without so much exertion as a long run over heavy ground. It used to make for a long coppice beyond the Datchet Road, and when the pack ran into him there he would run up and down immune, and finally run quite kindly into the bag in which he had left his pleasant quarters at Ward’s Lodge. He also developed a natural love of drains; and thereby hangs a tale, memories of which seem to discredit Joby Minor. Our badger had found a drain under the S.W.R. a nicer refuge than even that wood, and so Joby was ordered to stop it before unbagging the badger out that way. One ‘after twelve’ we had a merry run up to that drain but found it stopped. Hounds swore badger was inside; Joby swore he had stopped it; and suggested that finding this the badger had got out to the metalled line one way or the other, leaving on that no scent. It was dangerous to test this, and, casts on the fields either side failing, we drew off homewards. On the run back suspicions seized us, and two of us undertook to shirk hall or cut it short and run out again to that stopped drain before Chapel. Joby was right, but very wrong too! He or his understudy had stopped the drain, but not till the badger had been allowed to run in! He unstopped it when we were safely gone, and the badger had walked into its familiar bag. Had we two not met him just leaving the line he would probably have tried to sell us that badger the following week! I still cannot think unkindly of Joby when I recall the humour of this incident; or think of the Beagles of 1864 and of many friends who followed them, of whom two later on—Frere and Somers-Smith—ran for Oxford over shorter distances than we covered.”

Lewis was famous for his Rape of the Block, which was restored to the Head Master in 1891. The Block, as all Old Etonians will know, is used by offending boys to kneel on during the process of being swiped.

About this time the kennels underwent some improvement. “A new room was added, a new palisade raised and the brick pavement laid down. The appearance of the whole was workmanlike and neat, but not gaudy, reflecting credit on Mr. Martin, the carpenter.”

“Con—found all ’ares wot takes to parkses” (vide Mr. Jorrocks) was very appropriate to their country with Stoke Park and Ditton Park in the middle of it as tempting places of refuge for a sinking hare.

On one occasion in Lewis’s season he was favoured with a visit.

“Wednesday, St. Matthias’ Day, dies creta notandus, the great Pomponius Hego and Scrutator, known as having long held a proud position in the first flight of the E.C.H., leaving the ‘Shires’ favoured the provinces with their presence. Thackeray and Moore brought down a hare from Oxford, which Pound turned out at Queen Anne’s Spring.”

The sport, however, on this occasion was not good, “every inch of scent being trodden out by gentlemen who seemed to have discovered the secret of perpetual motion.” This season ended after rather unsatisfactory sport. In Lewis’s case ‘the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak,’ and he frankly owned that his running powers did not enable him to prove a capable huntsman. Ichabod, Ichabod.

But Pound got together a much better pack. His season has already been so well described by Mr. R. V. Somers-Smith that it is unnecessary for me to add anything. Pound seemed in all his accounts to have been completely dissatisfied with the world in general, for he scarcely ever praises anything in big records, and he speaks of almost everything in embittered terms.

On one occasion a hare was put up at 10.45, i.e. a quarter of an hour before school. The huntsman and whips returned to school while the hounds went on by themselves and killed their hare, which was stolen by and afterwards recovered from a sweep. This was only the third occasion on which a wild hare had ever been killed by these hounds.

One day the hounds joined with the Prince’s Harriers, and the Prince and his retinue passed close by and inspected the little pack, “no doubt with an admiring eye!” The unlevelness of the pack may be shown by the measurements taken on March 25th, 1865:

This was by far the most successful season the E.C.H. had ever seen.

So much for the College Beagles. It is to be wondered at that at this time there should have been two packs of beagles in the school, but it was about then that the differences between the Collegers and the Oppidans were one by one abolished. The amalgamation of the Beagles was almost the last of these reforms, and some account of it will be given in the next chapter. It was quite natural that the attempts to introduce beagles should have begun in an unofficial and semi-organised manner. But the pack in the time of Pound was very different from that of Carter. Just as the Oppidan pack had been brought to a respectable standard, so had the College pack; and it only remained for the amalgamation (hideous word!) to establish hunting at Eton on a very firm basis.

GOOD-NIGHT.

CHAPTER III.
THE AMALGAMATION.

The idea of amalgamating the College and the Oppidan packs of Beagles was first mooted in 1864, but little came of it, probably owing to the reluctance of College to renounce the undoubted advantages which it possessed. A. J. Pound, the Master of the College Beagles in 1865 and 1866, was opposed to the scheme for reasons which he has shown in the Journal Book of the College Beagles (pp. 223, 224). Towards the end of the season of 1864, on March 16th to be exact, the Oppidan Beagles invited the Master and Whips of their neighbours to their annual drag at Salt Hill, where they partook of refreshments, liquid and solid. During these Mr. E. Royds arose and proposed “That the two packs be amalgamated.” These are the words which A. J. Pound has written in the Journal Book, and which adequately express his view of the proposal:

“Mr. Pound seconded the motion, though much against the grain. It may be well to make a few remarks here showing the advantages and disadvantages. It may as well first be mentioned that it is almost a settled thing that the two packs be amalgamated next year. The advantage of this arrangement will be entirely on the side of the Oppidans, the increase of country enabling them to hunt every day of the week, and good kennels in lieu of their present ones. The disadvantages on the side of College, inasmuch as the subscription being so much heavier than the present one, none will care to join who do not try to ‘run to hounds,’ and in all probability none, Colleger or Oppidan, who cannot ‘run to hounds’ will be allowed to join. The great amusement of the Easter Half will be snatched away from College, and we fear loafing will increase in a double proportion. Still it is to be hoped that Collegers will try and hold their own against the Oppidans in the amalgamated field, and we think all must see that this step is a necessary one and cannot be prevented now that the amalgamation has proceeded so far and Collegers are admitted to all the races. College must go with the age, for the age will not go with College.”

The College Beagles had only two more days hunting and then Pound closed the Journal for the season in the following way:

“May the E.C.H. never amalgamate, may the E.C.H. never enjoy worse seasons than the two last, are the fervent prayers of Mr. Pound, who with deep regret resigns his post of Master to Mr. Armitstead.”

The obvious reluctance of Pound to amalgamate and his bitter phrases regarding the whole proposal certainly seem strange to us who live in days when there is little if any difference between Collegers and Oppidans (except brains). Perhaps he was angry at being, so to speak, “cornered” at the Salt Hill refreshment table. Probably he was in a false position. In 1864 the Collegers had been admitted to all School races, and so were scarcely in a position to refuse flatly what was simply a request of the Oppidans. In his entry many of his remarks seem somewhat lacking in common sense. If there was an increase of country for the Oppidans surely the same applied to the Collegers. Again it appears selfish to grudge the Oppidans the use of the kennels, especially when the combined pack would obviously be much improved by hounds from the Oppidan pack.

Indeed his only real grievance seems to be that many Collegers would not be allowed to run with the beagles and that others would not be willing to do so owing to the increased subscription. There seems to have been at the time a desire to keep the field very select, a membership of only seventy boys being allowed. Perhaps the Head Master objected to many boys being allowed to run. Or again perhaps the Masters considered themselves unable to control a larger field. But it is at least peculiar that as large a field as possible was not encouraged to run with the beagles. It would have meant a larger subscription, and consequently a better pack and better sport. As it was, however, the subscription was one pound, and only twenty boys from College were admitted by the terms of the treaty drawn up later in the year. This treaty we shall append shortly.

Even allowing this to be a grievance, it seems surprising that Pound should oppose what seemed a most desirable object. Obviously the amalgamated pack would be better run and would in all probability show better sport. Moreover, Collegers and Oppidans were growing more and more friendly every year. Already nearly all the differences between the two sections had been abolished. It almost looks as if Pound wished that they still existed. “College must go with the age, for the age will not go with College.” It is a sentence which might mean almost anything. The Oppidans had received the Collegers into all their sports, and yet the latter do not seem to have welcomed the change.

The next development of the proposal appeared in the Chronicle of Nov. 22nd of the same year (1866). Here the leading article was devoted to this purpose, and this is too important not to be quoted in full. Without it, the proposal might, and probably would, have been allowed to “drop unnoticed” perhaps for a considerable number of years. After a few preliminary remarks, it goes on as follows:

“Now we may as well begin by stating that our suggestions refer principally to an idea which has been started before this, but has been allowed to drop again unnoticed, although we must say we think the idea a most felicitous one to all parties whom it concerns. We refer to the idea once brought forward, of Oppidans joining their beagles with those of the Collegers—a plan which we think would tend greatly to further and increase the harmony and goodwill that we are happy to say at present exists between these two essential parts of one school. We all know that combination is strength, and we have been delighted to watch the gradual admission of Collegers into all the privileges and sports of the Oppidans, beginning with the amalgamation of Lower Club and Lower College at Cricket, the admission of Collegers into the VIII., which occurred the same year, and lastly the admission of Collegers into ‘the Field’ (one of them having been no insignificant member of a wonderfully good XI.) and into all the sports and races which have hitherto been open exclusively to the Oppidans. We have therefore one other arrangement to propose, which, if duly carried out, will complete the bond of unity and harmony between us, and will also, we have no doubt, give universal satisfaction, viz. the amalgamation of the Oppidans’ and the Collegers’ packs. Its advantages, we think, must be apparent to all; and we defy its most strenuous and determined opponents, if indeed any such exist, to find any good grounds for defence. We should have all the advantages of a far larger extent of country to hunt over; and that, if some of the farmers are going to be as reluctant, and we might almost say as disagreeable, as last year, would be no inconsiderable gain to our hunt.[3] In a word, more country, more friends and more good-fellowship are the three leading features of the new scheme of amalgamation that we are proposing.

“Again we would venture to suggest that, as in due proportion to the school Oppidans would compose at least three-fifths of the subscribers, the huntsman should be an Oppidan and the first whip a Colleger; while the other whip should, we think, be either a Colleger or an Oppidan according to merit, just as there happened to be one or other really fitting for the office.

“We think then that we have thus shown the great advantages derived from amalgamation; and we hope that we have sufficiently convinced, not only those who have a hand in the management of all these things, but all our readers, that what we have here recommended is the right thing to do. We would conclude by venturing to hint that the ‘Master,’ whoever he may be, should be decided on as soon as possible, as there is much to be done this Half, especially if amalgamation is really brought about. Arrangements will doubtless have to be made for kennels that will suit both parties (though we suppose that the old kennels will be just as convenient for Collegers as ourselves); needful repairs have to be executed, farmers consulted; various other necessary requirements attended to.”

Of course this leader was written by an Oppidan. But nevertheless, it seems to place before the School the true facts of the case, and to show that the proposal was much to be desired and would eventually prove a benefit to both parties. Besides, the leader had yet another merit. It provided a basis for the treaty which had of necessity to be drawn up if the amalgamation were decided on. It suggested that the membership of the pack should be in some accordance with the respective numbers of Collegers and Oppidans. “At least three-fifths” are the words, but they certainly seem to imply that the author considered that a yet larger proportion of Oppidans would be desirable. He also says that, owing to the necessary disparity of numbers, an Oppidan should take the mastership and a Colleger the first whip; while the second whip should be awarded purely for merit.

Such an article as this could not be lightly passed over by those who had a hand in the management of the beagles. There was only a bare month between Nov. 22nd and the end of the school-time. In January 1867 the following entry is to be found in the Journal Book (p. 236):

“January 1867. The Beagles have been amalgamated with the Oppidan pack, and the following are the Articles of Agreement:

I. In consequence of the wishes of both parties, it has been resolved to amalgamate both packs of Beagles.

II. No one will be allowed to run who has not paid his subscription.

III. That a board be put up at the beginning of the Easter Half for fellows to enter their names.

IV. That no one below Remove will be allowed to enter, and that the number be limited to 70, Fifth Form receiving the preference.

V. Of which there may be 20 Collegers.

VI. That one pound subscription be paid throughout.

VII. That the appointment (of Master) is in the hands of the Captain of the Boats, who may be guided in his choice by the result of the Steeplechase.

VIII. That when a Colleger is huntsman an Oppidan shall be first whip, and when an Oppidan is huntsman a Colleger is first whip.”

Thus did the amalgamation become an accomplished fact. It had been brought about not without some manœuvring and considerable difficulties. Certainly, however, from the rules which we have just quoted from the Journal Book, it seems as if College, as well as the remainder of the School, welcomed the change. “By the wishes of both parties” seems fairly to put the point beyond dispute, even though it was written by an Oppidan, W. C. Calvert.

The terms of the treaty seem eminently just. The suggestions of the Chronicle were obviously considered and were to a large extent adopted. The disparity of numbers (50 Oppidans, 20 Collegers) seems perfectly fair on reflection. The clause (VIII.) allowing either a Colleger or an Oppidan to be huntsman, but ensuring that if the huntsman be an Oppidan the first whip must be a Colleger, seems fairer than the Chronicle’s proposal that the huntsman should always be an Oppidan and the first whip a Colleger. The only peculiarity of the treaty is contained in Clause VII.; that the appointment of the Master should rest in the hands of the Captain of the Boats seems a mistake. Obviously the fittest person to choose the Master was the previous Master. The Captain of the Boats could not have known whether a boy possessed the necessary qualifications or not. But it does not greatly matter. So far as we know this privilege was never used. Indeed the whole treaty fell into abeyance before very long. The distinction between Collegers and Oppidans grew less and less, and only Clause IV. remained for any length of time. This limit of seventy was finally abolished in 1876. Unfortunately we have no record of the actual members of the E.C.H. after the amalgamation. But we do know that it proved an unqualified success and that beagling became more and more popular from this time onwards.

The amalgamated pack had a good set off in the season of 1867. F. E. Armitstead, who had been first whip of the College Beagles in the previous season, did not, surprisingly enough, become the first Master of the combined packs. Instead he took the first whip, and the more important office was occupied by W. C. Calvert, an Oppidan, who had not held any official position the previous year. During this season the E.C.H. gave up hunting drags, and from this time onwards the hare became the sole quarry. The pack consisted of 1½ couples of College hounds, one hound (Boscoe) from the Oppidan pack, and 2½ couples of hounds which had belonged to neither pack. In addition to these, there were 1½ couples of first season hounds, out of Jargon, by Smuggler, the property of the College Hunt; 2 couples presented by Mr. Calvert, and a couple lent by Lord Mandeville. In all nine couples of working hounds. Jargon and Joyful had both hunted with the pack since 1863, when the Journal Book was first kept. The former was evidently a most remarkable hound. She was a big “black, tan and white” bitch standing 16½ inches. There is a painted photograph of her in the Journal Book (1865), together with A. J. Pound, R. V. Somers-Smith, and another hound Valiant, and, judging from the number of times she is mentioned, she must have been a most reliable bitch with a good nose and plenty of dash.

As has already been remarked, bagged foxes and hares had been turned down occasionally in the previous seasons. Only once after this date was a bagged hare turned down, and this in the mastership of F. Johnstone. The first whip has made an entry in the Journal Book in which he expresses his loathing of this “sport,” and his hope that the Master would not provide any more bagged hares. After this date, no bagged hares were hunted, and with the exception of the annual drag at the end of the season the wild hare became the sole quarry.

The E.C.H. in the period after the amalgamation produced some well-known sportsmen, among them such names as the Duke of Beaufort (then Lord Worcester), Mr. E. P. Rawnsley and Mr. G. H. Longman. Mr. E. P. Rawnsley has written the following long and interesting letter about beagling at Eton in his day, containing a story which shows that even Head Masters are not incorruptible at times:

“When I went to Eton in 1864 there were two packs of beagles, Collegers’ which hunted east of Slough Road, and Oppidans’ which hunted west of Slough Road. Hares in the Oppidans’ country were very scarce indeed, and hunting depended on an occasional bag-fox, which ought to have been tabooed, and a drag, the latter a poor game for us youngsters who toiled along and never saw a hound after first field. The packs were amalgamated in 1866. The Oppidans’ pack had been kept up town, very poor kennels and badly done. After the amalgamation the kennels were at the end of the Playing Fields, and more trouble was taken that the hounds were better done. There was no hunting before Christmas, only after, till the end of March. At best the hounds were only a scratch lot, different boys getting their people to keep one or a couple most of the year. I whipped in to F. Johnstone in the spring of 1869; his father, I think, was then Master of what we now call the Derwent, and he knew all about it and was quite good at the game. One whip was an Oppidan, the other a Colleger. I don’t think my Colleger had ever been out hunting before, and, as Johnstone expected his hounds turned when he wanted them, I had nearly all the work to do; cracked up in consequence. It was very hard work in those days; we could not start till after Absence, had then to run to the meet, get a hunt and run home again in time for lock-up, never having more than three hours to do it all in, no allowance being made to the whips.

“I remember one day in particular, Johnstone was not out and I was hunting hounds the far side of Langley; we had quite a good run and killed—a great event in those days. Just as we had taken off pads and mask, up jumped a fresh hare, away the pack went with a burning scent, and it was a long time before we could get at them to stop them. It was getting dark, and quite five miles from home, no chance of getting in for lock-up, but we had the hare! So it was duly carried, such an object it looked, without feet or ears and stiff as a stake, and left with our compliments at the Head’s house, the clock struck nine as we stood there. I suppose we were all reported for coming in so late, but we never heard anything more. I suppose the hare was a peace-offering.

“In autumn of 1869, I remember, Jack Thompson (Mr. Anstruther Thompson’s eldest son), George Wickham and I, all very keen, went to several of the farmers and did our best to get them to keep hares, and we certainly were better off the next year. There were hardly any hares on the Dorney side; beyond Salt Hill and Langley were best, but nowhere good. In those days we never got a day off for a hunt; I only remember one, to Oakley Court, where we were most hospitably entertained but had a blank day. When at Eton last June I had a look at hounds and kennels. Very different from old days, kennels roomy, airy and clean, and hounds with a nice bloom on them ready to go into work when wanted.”

Another well-known name is that of Lord Derwent, who as Francis Johnstone was master in the same year that E. P. Rawnsley was second whip. In a letter he gives a short record of his beagling career at Eton from the time that he became a whip.

“In 1868 I was second whip to Walter Calvert, Armitstead, K.S. being first whip. The amalgamation of the two packs had taken place, and an arrangement made, I imagine, that a Colleger should always be on the hunt staff. In the following year, 1869, I was master, Browne, K.S. was first whip, and E. P. Rawnsley, who has only just retired from the mastership of the Southwold after a long and very successful career as huntsman of that pack, was second whip. During the year I ran with the Eton beagles, we had only “after 12” and half holidays to hunt on. So our efforts were limited from the point of view of time, and I do not recollect killing many hares, but latterly no bag-foxes were kept to hunt.

“I paid a visit in the Lent Half of this year to the new kennels, and only wished I was young enough to follow the charming pack on foot as of yore.”

The name of E. P. Rawnsley is too well known and honoured to be passed over thus lightly. For forty years he was Master of the Southwold, and he is well known not only in Lincolnshire but in every part of England as one of the most devoted supporters of hunting.

Johnstone’s season was better than either of those of W. C. Calvert. But although the latter killed only three and two hares in his two seasons respectively, yet he showed some good runs, and the amalgamation was universally acclaimed as a success.

Before proceeding further it will perhaps be as well to give some account of the country hunted by the E.C.H. at that time. It was bounded on the south by the River Thames and on the north by the chain of woods from Taplow to Stoke, and by the Great Western Railway from Slough to Langley. It was and is still split into two parts by the Slough Road, across which hares scarcely ever run. On the west side of the country lay the villages of Eton Wick, Dorney and Burnham. This was the country previously hunted over by the Oppidan Hunt, and below the railway at Salt Hill hares used to be very scarce. In the Salt Hill country, however, and up towards Stoke and Burnham, they were much more plentiful. On the east of the Slough Road lay the villages of Datchet, Wyrardisbury (Wraysbury), Horton and Remenham. Most of the country is plough, and what grass there is, lies chiefly on the Dorney side of the country. Near the village of Datchet Ditton Park is situated with its house surrounded by a moat across which more than one E.C.H. hare has swum.

During the ten years after the amalgamation the kennels were at the Black Pots end of the Playing Fields, and Ward, the groundsman who tenanted the cottage and whose backyard took the place of kennels, acted as kennel huntsman. There is no information about this man Ward save that the hounds were kennelled at his cottage until 1876, when Rowland Hunt transferred them to better kennels up town. Here is a letter from Rev. W. Vickers, the brother of one of the early whips:

“It was my elder brother V. W. Vickers (who died in 1899) who was second whip in 1873, with W. A. (Billy) Harford as first whip and Hon. C. Harbord as master.

“The pack were kennelled at Ward’s Lodge, at the extreme east end of the Playing Fields, Ward acting as K.H.

“In 1874 Harford was master, with L. Heywood Jones and Hon. E. W. Parker as whips. My brother was responsible in 1873 for the account of sport reported in the Chronicle, and was occasionally very riled by the editor, who, like Miss Lucy Grimes, of the ‘Swillingford Patriot’ in Sponge’s Sporting Tour, used to correct his effusions by substituting ‘puss’ for ‘hare,’ and so on! He hunted the Trinity Beagles at Cambridge for two seasons, succeeding that fine sportsman G. H. Longman.

“Of the School tutors of my day, C. Wolley-Dod, the tallest and thinnest of Masters, was a keen beagler, also my tutor G. R. Dupuis—both of them in long frock coats and top hats. A. Cockshott too was a good friend to, though not a follower of, the hunt; on more than one occasion securing us a bill-day. One of these, I remember, was to Mr. Hall-Say’s place, Oakley Court. I don’t remember much of the day’s sport, but have a lively recollection of the lunch—a spread which made more than one of us feel, when we found our afternoon hare, that there were occasions when the saying ‘Fox hunting on foot is but labour in vain,’ applied also to hare hunting!

“The pack in my day was like the old-fashioned ‘trencher-fed’ hunts—the members bringing up in beagle term a hound if they had one, the contribution of a hound taking the place of the one pound subscription. It was wonderful (or so we keen ones thought) the sport such a scratch pack showed.

“One day is impressed on my memory (in Fenwick’s mastership, I think), when we ‘burst up’ three hares! The meet, I think, was Dorney Gate. I forget how two were killed, but the third swam the river near Athens, waited for us on the further bank, and was killed on Windsor racecourse.

“Another little incident. Meeting at the kennels we ran a hare into Datchet Vicarage garden and were gratified to see the Vicar come out of his house, hatless, to join (as we thought) in the chase. But no! his ill-directed energy was against the chase, which he forcibly reminded us was a trespass!

“The ‘hunt servants’ wore no sort of uniforms—merely change coat, knickers and stockings, with House-colour cap and ‘muffler.’ A little latitude was allowed them as regards lock-up. Just as well! For I remember one day a hare took us nearly to West Drayton!

“Of the first flight in my day no one could come up to C. E. Munro Edwards. I do not think he ever held office, though he afterwards became, with F. Selater, the founder of, and whips to, the Christ Church Beagles, with which I, an outsider (of Magdalen), had the special privilege of running. His wind was simply inexhaustible!

“Speaking of this reminds me of an incident which has nothing to do with E.C.H. beyond the fact that the actors in it were the two whips. My brother and Billy Harford by some means got out of 11 o’clock school in time to meet the Queen’s staghounds on their opening meet at Salt Hill. The stag ‘took soil’ in that pool close to the line, near the present Burnham Beeches station. The two lads manned a boat which they found near the cottage and succeeded in ousting the stag. The Press next day, alluding to the incident, remarked that ‘the two young Etonians appeared quite in their element.’ Rather amusing, as they were both inveterate dry-bobs and probably never entered another boat during their time at Eton!

“The largest number of hares killed in one season was by F. Johnstone in 1869. The pack was still rather a scratch one, and did not belong to the hunt, but to individuals. Undoubtedly they had some wonderful runs, but there were still terrible disadvantages, especially as regards time. Moreover, the conditions under which the pack was kept were very unsatisfactory, and Ward made much too much money out of them. There was a subscription of one pound for every one, but there were no facilities such as a hound van.”

Perhaps it would be interesting to some to give the accounts of a few of the best runs from the Beagle Books.

“Saturday, Jan. 23rd, 1868. Upton Church. A hare was viewed away at the further corner of Mr. Nixey’s Plough, which as usual made straight for Ditton, but failing to find an open smeuse went away to Riding Court, where she turned homewards. The hounds hunting well followed her with a burning scent, though many doubled some way past Datchet plantation; here a fresh hare being started in her line enabled her to escape dead beat, while the second hare carried the hounds across the L. & S.W.R. to Black Pots and was next seen swimming under Victoria Bridge, whereupon Mr. Calvert amidst great applause swam in and picked her up, and she was given up to the pack. Time, 40 minutes, second hare 20 minutes.”

“Wednesday, March 25th, 1868. Saw a run which was, alas! the last to many members of the E.C.H., but which was in every way worthy of that renowned hunt. The meet was at the Three Tuns, and a hare was found almost immediately on the left side of the Farnham Road. She gave us a merry spin without a check up to Farnham, where the hounds were brought to their noses, and it was with the greatest difficulty that they regained the line owing to the very dry state of the ground. At last, however, they worked it slowly down to Baylis House across the Farnham Road, where the scent began to improve. The hare then crossed the G.W.R. and ran a ring in front of Mr. Aldridge’s farm, and, just as the pack were going to return home, she jumped up a few yards before them; the hounds dashed off full cry past Baylis House across some grass fields up to Stoke palings. Here they turned sharp to the right and at rather a slower pace crossed the Farnham Road and made as if for Britwell. Again they turned for Farnham, near which they were whipped off, as not only time but daylight had failed. Time, 2 hours 26 minutes.”

A very good hunting run, as every one who knows the country will agree.

In Johnstone’s season the best run was that already described by Mr. Rawnsley; and the incident of presenting the hare to the Head Master is duly recorded in the Beagling Book. The account of the run ends with the remark: “May the E.C.H. enjoy many such days and many such a finish.”

Mr. G. H. Longman writes:

“My mastership of the Eton Beagles extended over the two seasons 1870 and 1871, for in those days there was no hunting done at Eton before Christmas. The kennels were at the end of the Playing Fields, close to Black Pots. The rule was either to subscribe a sovereign or bring back a couple of beagles, and the pack consisted entirely of hounds so procured. Naturally the result was a rather unlevel lot, but they did their work quite well, and I recollect that some hounds brought by one of the Anstruther-Thompsons were about the best we had.

“Two hounds particularly remain in my memory, namely ‘Rustic’ and ‘Rival.’ I have in my possession now a coloured photograph of the pack, taken by Messrs. Hills & Saunders, which was presented to me on the completion of my second season of mastership. The occasion was celebrated by a breakfast at the White Hart Hotel in Windsor, and, though the authorities must, I think, have been aware of the fact, they neither took the slightest step to prevent nor resent it.

“F. A. Curry and L. G. Wickham whipped in to me in 1870: G. H. Armitstead and Hon. H. C. Legge in 1871.

“Nobody was allowed off Absence at that time, nor were we allowed to attend that function ‘changed.’ I used to go, therefore, with a great coat and pair of trousers over my beagling kit. Three Lower Boys were in readiness at my tutor’s door, which was just opposite Schoolyard, one to take off the coat, and the other two to haul away each at a leg of the trousers, so that I was able to start off in a twink immediately after I had answered my name.

“Our time being extremely limited we used to advertise a meet at say Langley station for ten minutes after two o’clock, Absence being at two. The kennelman brought the hounds to the meet coupled, and took them home in the same manner. We used always to draw at the double, and if possible coupled up the hounds in time to get back before lock-up, the run home testing our endurance to the uttermost.

“This description of our methods will show how strenuous the work was, but, though we did our best to get back in time for lock-up, I remember very well one occasion when a hare rose in view just as we were about to couple up the hounds. It was out West Drayton way. Off went the hounds in full cry, and we were unable to stop them for something under an hour, after—among other things—having swum across the Colne. We were an hour and a half late for lock-up, and my tutor, instead of taking a reasonable view of such an unavoidable episode, sent me up to the Head Master. Dr. Hornby was full of threats to stop the whole thing, but finally contented himself with setting me the fifth Iliad to write out, thinking that this would prevent my hunting the next half holiday. I did hunt though, for my method of writing out this Iliad was as follows: taking three pens sloped one over the other I sat up all night and wrote out one-third of it. This I showed up at one o’clock the next day at the Head Master’s house, and never heard anything more of the matter.

“The farmers were extremely friendly, and indeed I only recollect one who denied us permission to hunt over his land. The original refusal was probably due to some misunderstanding; but the quarrel had been emphasized by the fact that the beagles had, once or twice, run over his land after permission had been withdrawn. In my two seasons, however, chiefly on F. A. Curry’s advice, we strictly respected his decision: with the pleasing result that, I believe, before the commencement of the next season, permission was again gladly given.

“Half a century is a considerable time, and I am sure readers will readily forgive my inability to recall any more episodes of the season 1870-71.”

Under the mastership of F. Fenwick a wonderful day’s sport was enjoyed on Feb. 22nd, 1872, when no less than three hares were killed within two hours. The meet was at Athens, and a short time before the meet two hares had been seen to swim the river from the Eton side, a striking proof that hares will take to the water even when not pressed. Hounds were taken over the weir bridge and both these hares were killed after short runs, but the hunt of the day was yet to come. A hare was found near Surley, and after a fast ringing hunt of 1 hour 10 minutes was rolled over in the open near Aldridge’s. The account of the run ends with the words:

“Thus it was

‘From a find to a run,

From a run to a view,

From a view to a kill

In the open.’”

But the good runs are too numerous for selection to be easy, and at any rate there is no great interest in the mere recounting of a run. But this chapter cannot close without mention of the annual drag to Franklin’s, a farmhouse near Bray, where the members of the hunt were entertained with unlimited champagne and sandwiches. Unfortunately this custom was not repeated after the year 1869 for reasons which are not known, but which may easily be imagined.

“AN UNPARDONABLE INTRUSION.”

CHAPTER IV.
ROWLAND HUNT AND HIS SUCCESSORS.

The year 1876 was as full of surprises as any that the E.C.H. has ever seen. It was a year of changes, one might almost say of revolution. For ten years the hunt had struggled on since the amalgamation with no very marked improvement in the sport. The pack belonged to various boys. It consisted of hounds of all sizes and shapes. Many things were crying out for reform.

The year did not open with any great promise. None of the whips of the previous season remained to hunt the hounds, and so the office of Master devolved on Rowland Hunt, whose chief qualification was that he was an amazingly good runner. He had never once whipped-in the year before, and is not even mentioned in the Journal Book previous to 1876. But directly the season began, he astonished everyone by the talent and knowledge he displayed. Not only did he prove the most successful huntsman the E.C.H. had ever possessed, but he showed himself to be an organiser of the highest degree. No sooner had he taken over the Mastership than he realised that the hounds were disgracefully kennelled, and that Ward, the kennelman, was making a great deal too much money out of them. He obtained leave from the Head Master to have the hounds removed to kennels at the back of a Turkish Bath in the town. Here he made an arrangement with William Lock, who kept the Turkish Bath. But it is better given in his own words:

“It has been arranged that Lock is to receive £53, for which he is to keep 15 couples of Beagles and do everything for them, in the way of feeding, straw, coal, etc., and that if the Master wishes they should be taken a week before the beginning of the Half to get them in condition. For this £53 Lock’s boy takes the Beagles to the meet and takes them back, etc.”

At the end he says:

“I have found Lock to be a thoroughly steady, honest man, and I think he can be trusted in anything.”

I have mentioned Hunt’s dealings with Lock, first partly because Lock entwines himself in the history of the pack from this time onwards, and partly because the kennels of a pack of hounds are next in importance to the pack itself, and the change of kennels was one of the most important of Hunt’s many reforms.

Hunt in his first season killed 15 hares; that is, he more than doubled the record for any previous season (seven hares by F. Johnstone). In his second season he beat his own record by two. These wonderful results were the effect partly of his talents as a huntsman and partly of the way in which he reformed the E.C.H. He was the first to see the need of three whips at Eton. Moreover they (the whips) soon learnt (for Hunt’s tongue was particularly caustic and his expressions well chosen and to the point) that they were not out hunting for pleasure. Hunt’s tactics were to have one whip wide and forward on each flank, and one with him to stop hounds running heel.

Rowland Hunt has sent me his own recollections of the E.C.H., which I append here:

“When I took the Eton College Beagles, they were kennelled at a house at the end of the Playing Fields towards Datchet. My recollection is that the conditions there were very unsatisfactory, and that the man in charge made far too much money out of them and did not feed them well. I got the then Head Master to have the kennels moved to somewhere over Barnes Bridge, and they were kept by a man named Lock, and, as far as I remember, he did them very well, and I think he took them to the meets. I think we improved the pack considerably by getting fresh hounds, some of which were, I think, obtained from the late Mr. Fellowes of Shotesham Park—about 16 inches—really dwarf harriers, but there was no foxhound blood in them, and they had very good noses and could get along.

“I think the whips knew about as much about hunting as I did, but, as far as I remember, it was roughly the usual way to have one whip somewhat wide and forward on each flank and one with me to stop hounds running heel or a fresh hare. On account of the short time for hunting, we took every possible advantage of a hare and never allowed hounds to potter. We lifted hounds and cut off corners when the chance occurred, but I don’t think it was done enough to stop hounds hunting well. We had to run risks, as it was very difficult to catch a hare in the time allowed between Absence and lock-up. I don’t remember for certain which was the best country; it is too long ago; but think it was towards Maidenhead. I don’t remember any trouble with the farmers, but we got into a deuce of a row with an old gentleman once for killing one of his hares in the middle of March. It was a long day with Mr. Vidal, and I had to go over on Sunday and apologise to the old boy and he became friendly, but I missed Chapel and had to square the Praepostor—wasn’t that the name of the cove who marked you in or out? I think we used to reckon that we went to the meet at about seven miles an hour. May I venture to express the opinion that hunting the hare on foot with 15-inch beagles is real hunting, and real sport, and that the hare has a very good chance of escaping, especially after Christmas? As I dare say you know, a hare is a much more tricky animal to hunt than a fox.”

Hunt’s personality was amazing. He had a way which carried all before it. He was versatile, and, as well as being a wonderful runner, he was an excellent shot, a fearless rider and a good fisherman. He was, moreover, a keen politician, even while at Eton, and has only just given up taking an active share in the politics of the country.

Hunt was a good rider and used to hunt the Wheatland hounds on Arab horses. Some one remarked that “to see him charging great hairy fences was a sight for the gods!”

At Cambridge one day he saw a mounted farmer. “Hi, you elderly, yellow-bellied oyster,” shouted he, “have you seen our hare?” Naturally the farmer was offended, but Hunt smoothed over the difficulty and explained it away by saying that it was one of his most endearing epithets.

And now after not having hunted for some twenty years, he has again taken on the Mastership of the Wheatland hounds. He hunts them himself with two amateur whippers-in.

Hunt was a wonderful runner at Eton. In 1876 he won the Steeplechase with consummate ease, after having lost a shoe early in the race. There was a rule in those days that no one who had previously won a race was allowed to enter for that race next year. Hunt in 1877 started for the Steeplechase in full school dress and finished an easy first, clearing the School Jump at the finish so as not to wet his clothes.

He was slovenly as to his dress, and several stories are told of his appearance. Once he appeared on parade in beagling shoes which he bought from Gane’s in the High Street and wore on every possible occasion. He always ran with his shirt hanging out behind, at least his shirt always came out when he ran. He did not care a button what he wore; his clothes were bought merely with a view to respectability and not to smartness. His language was his own; he had a knack of coming out with peculiar expressions, and yet his personality was delightful. In some mysterious way he smoothed over every trouble. There was only one farmer who gave him any difficulty, and he made friends with two enemies of the E.C.H. On one occasion he disturbed the pheasant coverts of a certain gentleman, who was furious, as was his keeper; but Hunt on going to apologise so touched the heart of the old gentleman that from that time forth he was one of the firmest friends of the hunt. Hunt gives a list of farmers in his time, and his remarks on how to treat them are well worth recording:

“Great care should be taken about Mr. ——, as he is a very awkward customer and an awful snob, and so he must be dealt with very gingerly.

“Those marked * must be called on personally. Game, two pheasants and a hare, must be sent to all these farmers annually as early as possible in the football Half. Be careful to address all with an Esq. to their names.”

It is such little attentions as these that make the difference between a friend and supporter and an enemy. Hunt instituted this custom of sending game to the farmers, and very successful it proved. It has become a permanent custom, and is regularly observed to this day.

Hunt brought the pack to a much higher standard than it had ever attained before, and left the foundations of an excellent kennel of hounds. Some of them, as will be seen from the photograph, were somewhat weak below the knees. But it must be remembered that careful breeding had not yet brought the beagle to the standard of to-day. The sport showed was in every way wonderful. The accounts of his runs in the Beagle Book are very entertaining, and his language was as varied as it was appropriate. Some of his best runs are worth quoting. There were so many good ones that selection is difficult. Here are a few:

“Thursday, March 30th. The meet was Dorney Gate. We soon found to the left and ran slowly for about a hundred yards, when they settled fairly to her, and positively raced as hard as they could lay legs to the ground to the river. Then, turning to the right, they ran through Taplow Spinney (they had run so fast that only Hunt and Bigge, who had got a good start, were anywhere near them). Then they ran on without dwelling for an instant, and bearing to the left and then to the right they skirted Dorney Village, leaving it on the left, and on nearly to Dorney Gate, where they caught sight of her, and so, instead of returning to her form, she made for some haystacks of Mr. White’s, but being routed out of there she made her last effort in the open. But Harmony was too much for her and she was pulled down in the open, after having been run in view for a good half mile. Mr. Fellowes was very quick in getting the hare from the hounds, for which the Master is much obliged. Time, 49 minutes; distance, 7 miles.”

The run that follows is typical of Hunt’s language:

“We found again after a short time and ran like old gooseberry up to Dorney Village, where she tried to enter a garden, but there being no entrance she turned round and made for the G.W.R., which she skirted almost down to that interesting public called Botham’s, where she turned sharp round and made back again to her form. But we had to whip off as it was getting very late. Time, 55 minutes. Having to whip off so many times plays Old Nick with us, but it can’t be helped.”

Here is an unfortunate incident recorded:

“Just after the beginning of the run, we are sorry to say that Mr. Douglas came a real imperial cropper in charging in his usual determined way a very high stiff piece of timber with a huge ditch on the other side. He was so badly hurt that he had to be taken home in a fly. Hunt only managed to get over the fence by landing on his head on the other side, so it was ‘rather a stinker.’”

Referring to a run when C. P. Selby-Bigge had come down for a day’s beagling, Hunt says:

“Mr. Bigge showed us that he had lost none of his ancient speed or powers of endurance, and we were delighted to see his gigantic form once more among us.”

And after they had killed a hare in the River Thames, he said:

“It was a very pretty sight to see the hounds dash into the river without the slightest hesitation, four or five abreast, headed by the old white bitch Bonnybell.”

Here is just one more good hunt:

“Colnbrook Cross Roads. We drew the Island blank but found directly we got outside it and ran well along the side of Richings Park, which she threaded and broke again for the Colne, which she crossed and then recrossed, causing very difficult hunting. Then having got some way before us she began a series of tricks enough to puzzle Old Nick himself, but old Limber seemed to understand her dodges, and it was wonderful to see the way he picked out her doubles and then brought the whole pack round him in a second with one of his well-known notes so welcome to hounds as well as huntsman. We went on thus very slowly for some way when luckily our hare got up again and we got on better terms; but we soon got on to some black fallow and they had to hunt every yard and at last to be lifted on to some grass, where they hit it off again and ran nearly back to the plantation, where she turned round and lay down by the Colne. She got up in view, and they ran well for some little time. But getting on to some black fallow again, they could not even own the line, so Hunt lifted them over and they soon took it up on the other side and ran pretty well over a road and round a pretty big field, where we again viewed her, and this time she went decidedly groggy. She ran some way down a road (bless the roads!) and we had a little difficulty, but we soon got on her in a wheat field, where we viewed her, and she had been joined by another hare. This was a bad job, and Hunt felt rather up a tree. However he halloed to inform the fresh hare of our arrival. Accordingly, when they got to the ditch at the bottom, they separated, and Hunt by a great effort just managed to whip them off the fresh hare, and as our old hare had stopped behind a tree, not being able to get over the ditch, when Hunt got over it he found Mr. Portal at the bottom of the ditch (it was about four feet deep), having got hold of the hare, with the pack worrying and tearing at the hare on top of him. The pack also were most of them in the ditch, and we had quite a job to get him out. Why on earth the hounds did not bite him nobody knew, for he wouldn’t loose the hare and neither would the hounds, so we had to pull the whole boiling up together. He luckily escaped with a scratch or two, and looked very lovely when he appeared looking rather as if his clothes were made of damp mud. The time was 2 hours 25 minutes. An excellent performance for hounds, huntsman and whips, for not only was the scent execrably bad on the fallows, but the hare was one of the strongest and biggest ‘whatever was seen,’ as Mr. Jorrocks would say. It was quite the finest hare Hunt ever killed.”

ROWLAND HUNT (CENTRE) WITH HIS WHIPS AND HOUNDS.

E. K. Douglas (the late Canon E. K. Douglas, of Cheveley, Newmarket) closed the Journal Book of this good season with the following remarks:

“This ended the season of 1877, one of which the E.C.H. may be justly proud and which we can hardly ever expect to be equalled. No less than seventeen hares were killed and almost every day we enjoyed a thoroughly good run. We cannot praise too highly the exertions of Mr. Hunt, the Master, to whose wonderful skill and pluck the excellent sport enjoyed throughout the two seasons in which he carried the horn is entirely due. His loss cannot be too deeply deplored, while the E.C.H. owe their thanks to Mr. Portal for his untiring energy in the field.

“Owing to the exertions of Rowland Hunt the pack of 1877 was brought into a most efficient condition, and by judicious selection and drafts the foundation of an excellent pack has been made, which it will be the duty of future Masters to maintain.”

One other great reform is due to Rowland Hunt. He realised the necessity of increasing the subscribers, and consequently he obtained leave for 120 instead of 70 boys to run with the beagles. When this limit of 120 became obsolete I cannot ascertain, but no such limit exists to-day.

And now for Lock. Probably he was about the most unconventional kennel huntsman that ever existed. He was short and fat and kept a Turkish Bath in the High Street. How Hunt discovered his capacities for keeping a pack of hounds is a mystery, for he was always to be found in his premises attired in a very brief pair of scarlet bathing drawers.

Lock was quite a character. He grew to have a wonderful knowledge of the country. He seldom went out of a walk and yet always seemed to find his way to the kill. When he was out beagling was the only time when he doffed his bathing drawers and substituted a pair of brown knickerbockers. The hounds were very fond of him. According to up-to-date ideas he did not do them well, but he did his best and kept hounds fairly fit throughout the season. The kennels themselves were rather a ramshackle construction, and not really fit for housing a pack of hounds. But they were an improvement on the old ones, especially as the hounds only spent three months in the year there; and they were considered sufficient by many capable masters right up to the time when the twin Grenfells, those two great Etonians who as every one knows fell in the service of their country, took upon themselves the task of erecting new and up-to-date kennels.

AN AWKWARD MEETING.

Rowland Hunt left Eton and went to Cambridge, to do for the Trinity beagles what he had already done for the Eton beagles. There is no greater testimonial to his work at Eton than the fact that crowds of Old Etonians flocked to subscribe to the Trinity beagles directly they heard that he had undertaken the mastership. E. K. Douglas, his second whip, reigned in his stead. From 1876 onwards for the next ten years the sport was consistently good. Hunt had brought the Eton beagles to a higher standard of efficiency than they had ever enjoyed before. It merely remained for the succeeding masters to keep up this standard, which, it can be asserted with truth, they have not failed to do.

Douglas was remarkable for his versatility. Few Etonians can boast the honour of having had such a career at Eton as he. Senior keeper of the Field, Master of the Beagles, and a prominent member of the Cricket XI., is a wonderful record for anyone. Here is a letter from R. D. Anderson, a whip in 1878, which includes one or two interesting anecdotes:

“It is difficult to think of special incidents with regard to the beagles in 1878 when I was first whip, but I enjoyed every moment of it.

“Douglas had a delightful personality, and there was no friction of any sort with farmers or school authorities.

“After a strenuous football season, during which Douglas had been senior keeper of the Field, he was obliged, by doctor’s orders, to be rather careful of himself, so that occasionally he had to take a rest from the active duties of huntsman. He was also in the Cricket XI. and got 53 at Lord’s against Harrow. I remember on one occasion, when the hounds were about to cross a road, hearing a lady’s voice call out ‘Stop.’ This was not a request to the hounds or the Field, but an order from Her late Majesty Queen Victoria to stop her wagonette, a carriage she invariably used in her drives round Windsor, to allow the hounds to go by without interfering with the sport.

“On another occasion a stag which was being hunted by the royal staghounds crossed a field which we were drawing, and, although we did our best to whip them off, two-thirds of the pack went after the stag, and we did not get them all back for nearly a fortnight. Only a few months ago I was interested to discover that quite accidentally I had originated the jacket now adopted by the hunt. I never could run unless thoroughly warm, and upon asking Denman & Goddard what was the thickest material they could suggest I ordered a velveteen Norfolk jacket, which I still possess.”

Douglas went into the Church and, I am sorry to say, died about a year ago; he rose to be a Canon and lived at Cheveley, near Newmarket, respected and revered wherever he went.

Invitation meets were always a joy in those days. Once or twice every season the E.C.H. used to meet outside their own country at the invitation of various hospitable people. One of the most favourite of these meets was at Wooburn Green, where a certain Mr. Gilbey lavished hospitality on the master and whips and a few kindred spirits. This particular meet was famed for its luncheons and its hills, two delights which it will at once be seen are scarcely compatible with each other.

Douglas was terribly handicapped by the weather, which was execrable, at least so far as hunting was concerned. Dry winds and a clear sky prevailed throughout the month of March, with the result that very poor sport was shown during the latter part of the season. However he killed eleven hares, a number by no means to be despised when there is only the Easter Half to do it in. He entered in the Beagle Book what must have been some excellent advice to new masters. Some of the previous masters were flooded with useless hounds as a result of advertising for them in the E.C.C.,[4] for in those days few of the hounds actually belonged to the hunt, and even those few were not kennelled at Eton in the non-hunting months, but were walked by different boys at the request of the Master.

Douglas says: “As regards hounds, it is best to insert a notice in the Chronicle at the end of the Football Half to the effect ‘that the Master will be glad to have back any hounds (not belonging to the E.C.H. itself) which were regularly hunted to the end of last season,’ and if he thinks he will want more, it will be found better for him to ask fellows who, he thinks, know a good hound when they see one, to bring any they can, rather than to issue a general invitation to the school. If he does the latter he will probably find himself overwhelmed with every description of cur under the sun.”

There was some discussion as to who should succeed Douglas as master. The present Lord Hawke was approached, but declined in favour of his friend A. H. Beach, who had a pack of beagles at Basingstoke. This is what he says:

“Archie Beach and I were great pals, and on being offered the mastership I said he must take it on as he had a pack of his own at Basingstoke, and would make a much better huntsman. He was an artist at his job, and we had a very good season.”

This season, 1879, was remarkable because the officials of the E.C.H. adopted a distinctive dress for the first time. R. D. Anderson, in the letter inserted above, claims that he introduced the brown velvet Norfolk jacket which became the hunt uniform until 1904. A. H. Beach (now Maj. A. Hicks Beach) says that he asked permission of the Head Master for the master and whips of the beagles to wear a brown velvet Norfolk jacket; the remainder of the uniform was not introduced till later, and the pictures of this time give a peculiar impression of an ordinary school cap and muffler, with dark knickerbockers and stockings of very varied designs, with the rather picturesque brown velvet Norfolk jacket as a quite distinctive feature.

Mr. Gerard Streatfeild writes:

“Your letter recalls an excellent season and many happy recollections. The year I was whip (Beach master) the master and whips assumed the velveteen coat as uniform for the first time. Rupert Anderson the previous season (master, E. K. Douglas), one of the whips, wore a velveteen coat throughout the season and was duly admired; so much so that Archie Beach copied it for the hunt the next season, and it has stuck. At the end of the season we secured two bag-foxes from (I think) Leadenhall Market. The result was not brilliant, the first getting away from hounds and getting into Stoke Park, which at that time was strictly preserved for game, and we heard a good deal on the matter; the second fox refused to run at all and finally took refuge behind a stable gate in Dorney Village, and I have a lively recollection of being told off to collect him from thence, no pleasant job as he was very nasty; he was returned to his bag, and what his ultimate fate was I fail to remember.

“Dan Lascelles (Hon. D. H. Lascelles) carried a whip most of the season, as Hawke (Lord Hawke) did not come out much as he was anxious to win the School Steeplechase, and thought beagling might make him stale. Hawke was offered the mastership before Beach, but declined the honour and selected being first whip.”

On the very first day that Beach took out the beagles a hare began to swim the river with half the pack behind her. She was brought to land by a man in a boat and was killed shortly afterwards.

Beach was one of the few masters who entered in the Beagle Book the names of those who ran well. On one occasion the name of Aikman occurs, now Col. Robertson-Aikman, who has been Master of Foxhounds for five and Harriers for twenty-two years. He won more of the prizes for harriers at Peterborough Hound Show than any one else, and his sideboard is covered with cups.

Of the Eton Masters at this time, Mr. Vidal, Mr. Cockshott, Mr. Marindin and Mr. Bourchier were very kind, the two former on more than one occasion obtaining leave for bill-days, i.e. a bill off boys’ dinner and Absence. Mr. Vidal left Eton in 1881, much to the regret of everyone concerned with the E.C.H. A more loyal supporter of beagling at Eton than he could not have been discovered, and at the end of almost every season’s beagling at Eton till 1881 the masters have entered in the Journal Book a special note of gratitude for his support. While he was at Eton he used to go up and judge at horse shows. Once he travelled as far as Chicago, U.S.A., in order to judge the Arabs at a great American show. After he left Eton he retired to Suffolk, where he bred horses till his death in 1909. He had a large family, and one of his daughters is the Dame at Mr. Stone’s house to-day.