LETTER XX
In my seventeenth Letter, I gave you the opinion of my friend ****—“that a pack of fox-bounds, if left entirely to themselves, would never lose a fox.” I am always sorry when I differ from that gentleman in anything; yet I am so far from thinking they never would lose a fox, that I doubt much if they would ever kill one. There are times when hounds should be helped, and at all times they must be kept forward. Hounds will naturally tie on a cold scent, when stopped by sheep, or other impediments; and, when they are no longer able to get forward, will oftentimes hunt the old scent back again, if they find that they can hunt no other. It is the judicious encouraging of hounds to hunt, when they cannot run, and the preventing them from losing time by hunting too much when they might run, that distinguishes a good sportsman from a bad one.1 Hounds that have been well taught, will cast forward to a hedge, of their own accord; but you may assure yourself that this excellence is never acquired by such as are left entirely to themselves. To suffer a pack of fox-hounds to hunt through a flock of sheep, when it is easy to make a regular cast round them, is, in my judgment, very unnecessary; it is wilfully losing time to no purpose. I have, indeed, been told, that hounds at no time should be taken off their noses: I shall only say, in answer to this, that a fox-hound who will not bear lifting, is not worth the keeping; and, I will venture to say, it should be made part of his education.
Though I like to see fox-hounds cast wide and forward, and dislike to see them pick a cold scent through flocks of sheep to no purpose; yet I must beg leave to observe, that I dislike still more to see that unaccountable hurry, which huntsmen will sometimes put themselves into the moment their hounds are at fault. Time ought always to be allowed them to make their own cast; and, if a huntsman be judicious, he will take that opportunity to consider what part he himself has next to act: but, instead of this, I have seen hounds hurried away the very instant they came to a fault; a wide cast made; and the hounds at last brought back again to the very place from whence they were so abruptly taken; and where, if the huntsman could have had a minute’s patience, they would have hit off the scent themselves. It is always great impertinence in a huntsman, to pretend to make his cast before the hounds have made theirs. Prudence should direct him to encourage, and I may say, humour, his hounds, in the cast they seem inclined to make, and either to stand still, or trot round with them, as circumstances may require.
I have seen huntsmen make their cast on bad ground, when they might as easily have made it on good; I have seen them suffer their hounds to try in the midst of a flock of sheep, when there was a hedge near, where they might have been sure to take the scent; and I have seen a cast made with every hound at their horse’s heels. When a hound tries for the scent, his nose is to the ground; when a huntsman makes a cast, his eye should be on his hounds; and when he sees them spread wide, and try as they ought, his cast may then be quick.
When hounds are at fault, and the huntsman halloos them off the line of the scent, the whippers-in smacking their whips, and rating them after him; if he should trot away with them, may they not think that the business of the day is over? Hounds never, in my opinion (unless in particular cases, or when you go to a halloo), should be taken entirely off their noses; but, when lifted, should be constantly made to try as they go. Some huntsmen have a dull, stupid way of speaking to their hounds: at these times little should be said, and that should have both meaning and expression in it.
When your huntsman makes a cast, I hope he makes it perfect one way, before he tries another; as much time is lost in going backwards and forwards. You will see huntsmen, when a forward cast does not succeed, come slowly back again: they should return as fast as they can.
When hounds are at fault, and it is probable that the fox has headed back, your cast forward should be short and quick; for the scent is then likely to be behind you: too obstinate a perseverance forward, has been the loss of many foxes. In heathy countries, if there be many roads, foxes will always run them in dry weather: when hounds, therefore, over-run the scent, if your huntsman return to the first cross-road, he probably will hit off the scent again.
In large covers where there are several roads; in bad scenting days, when these roads are dry; or, after a thaw, when they carry—it is necessary that your huntsman should be near to his hounds, to help them, and hold them forward. Foxes will run the roads at these times, and hounds cannot always own the scent. When they are at fault on a dry road, let not your huntsman turn back too soon; let him not stop, till he can be certain that the fox is not gone on. The hounds should try on both sides the road at once: if he perceive that they try on one side only, let him try the other on his return.
When hounds are running in cover, if a huntsman should see a fox come into a road, and cannot see which way he turns afterwards, let him stand still, and say nothing: if he ride on, he must ride over the scent; and if he encourage the hounds, they most probably would run beyond it.
Wide ridings cut through large woods, render them less exceptionable to sportsmen than they otherwise might be; yet I do not think that they are of service to hounds: they are taught to shuffle; and, the fox being frequently headed back, they are put to many faults: the roads are foiled by the horses, and the hounds often interrupted by the horsemen: such ridings only are advantageous, as enable the servants belonging to the hounds to get to them.
If a fox should run up the wind when first found, and afterwards turn, he will seldom, if ever, turn again. The observation may not only be of use to your huntsman in his cast, but may be of use to yourself, if you should lose the hounds.
When you are pursuing a fox over a country, the scent being bad, and the fox a long way before, without ever having been pressed; if his point should be for strong earths that are open, or for large covers where game is in plenty—it may be acting wisely to take off the hounds at the first fault; for the fox will go many miles to your one, and probably will run you out of all scent; and, if he should not, you will be likely to change at the first cover you come into. When a fox has been hard pressed, you have already my opinion, that he never should be given up.
When you would recover a hunted fox, and have no longer scent to hunt him by, a long cast to the first cover which he seems to point for, is the only resource that you have left. Get thither as fast as you can, and then let your hounds try as slowly and as quietly as possible. If hunting after him be hopeless, and a long cast do not succeed, you had better give him up. I need not remind you, when the scent lies badly, and you find it impossible for hounds to run, that you had better return home; since the next day may be more favourable. It surely is a great fault in a huntsman to persevere in bad weather, when hounds cannot run, and when there is not a probability of killing a fox.2 Some there are, who, after they have lost one fox, for want of scent to hunt him by, will find another: this makes their hounds slack, and sometimes vicious: it also disturbs the covers to no purpose. Some sportsmen are more lucky in their days than others. If you hunt every other day, it is possible they may be all bad, and the intermediate days all good: an indifferent pack, therefore, by hunting on good days, may kill foxes, without any merit: and a good pack, notwithstanding all their exertion, may lose foxes which they deserved to kill. Had I a sufficiency of hounds, I would hunt on every good day, and never on a bad one.3
A perfect knowledge of his country, certainly, is a great help to a huntsman: if yours, as yet, should have it not, great allowance ought to be made. The trotting away with hounds, to make a long and knowing cast, is a privilege which a new huntsman cannot pretend to: an experienced one may safely say, A fox has made for such a cover—when he has known, perhaps, that nine out of ten, with the wind in the same quarter, have constantly gone thither.
In a country where there are large earths, a fox that knows the country, and tries any of them, seldom fails to try the rest. A huntsman may take advantage of this: they are certain casts, and may help him to get nearer to his fox.
Great caution is necessary when a fox runs into a village: if he be halloo’d there, get forward as fast as you can. Foxes, when tired, will lie down anywhere, and are often lost by it. A wide cast is not the best to recover a tired fox with tired hounds: they should hunt him out, inch by inch, though they are ever so long about it, for the reason I have just given, that he will lie down anywhere.
In chases and forests, where high fences are made to preserve the coppices, I like to see a huntsman put only a few hounds over, enough to carry on the scent, and get forward with the rest: it is a proof that he knows his business.
A huntsman must take care, where foxes are in plenty, lest he should run the heel; for it frequently happens, that hounds can run the wrong way of the scent better than they can the right, when one is up the wind, and the other down.
Fox-hunters, I think, are never guilty of the fault of trying up the wind before they have tried down: I have known them lose foxes, rather than condescend to try up the wind at all.
When a huntsman hears a halloo, and has five or six couple of hounds along with him, the pack not running, let him get forward with those which he has: when they are on the scent, the others will soon join them.
Let him lift his tail hounds, and get them forward after the rest: it can do no hurt: but let him be cautious in lifting any hounds, to get them forward before the rest: it always is dangerous, and foxes are sometimes lost by it.
When a fox runs his foil in cover, if you suffer all your hounds to hunt on the line of him, they will foil the ground, and tire themselves to little purpose. I have before told you that your huntsman, at such a time, may stop the tail hounds, and throw them in at head: I am almost inclined to say it is the only time when it should be done. While hounds run straight it cannot be of any use; for they will get on faster with the scent than they would without it.
When hounds are hunting a cold scent, and point towards a cover, let a whipper-in get forward to the opposite side of it: should the fox break before the hounds reach the cover, stop them, and get them nearer to him.
When a fox persists in running in a strong cover, lies down often behind the hounds, and they are slack in hunting him, let the huntsman get into the cover to them: it may make the fox break; it may keep him off his foil; or may prevent the hounds from giving him up.
It is not often that slow huntsmen kill many foxes: they are a check upon their hounds, which seldom kill a fox but with a high scent, when it is out of their power to prevent it. What avails it, to be told which way the fox is gone, when he is so far before that you cannot hunt him? A Newmarket boy, with a good understanding and a good voice, might be preferable, perhaps, to an indifferent and slack huntsman; he would press on his hounds while the scent was good, and the foxes that he killed he would kill handsomely. A perfect knowledge of the intricacies of hunting is chiefly of use to slow huntsmen, and bad hounds; since they more often stand in need of it. Activity is the first requisite in a huntsman to a pack of fox-hounds: a want of it, no judgment can make amends for; while the most difficult of all his undertakings is the distinguishing between different scents, and knowing with any certainty the scent of his hunted fox. Much speculation is here required—the length of time that hounds remain at fault; difference of ground; change of weather;—all these contribute to increase the difficulty, and require a nicety of judgment, and a precision, much above the comprehension of most huntsmen.
When hounds are at fault, and cannot make it out of themselves, let the first cast be quick: the scent is then good; nor are the hounds likely to go over it:—as the scent gets worse, the cast should be slower, and be more cautiously made. This is an essential part of hunting, and which, I am sorry to say, few huntsmen attend to. I wish they would remember the following rules, viz. that, with a good scent, their cast should be quick; with a bad scent, slow; and that, when their hounds are picking along a cold scent, they are not to cast them at all.
When hounds are at fault, and staring about, trusting entirely to their eyes and their ears, the making a cast with them, I apprehend, would be to little purpose. The likeliest place for them to find the scent, is where they left it; and when the fault is evidently in the dog, a forward cast is least likely to recover the scent.4
When hounds are making a regular cast, trying for the scent as they go, suffer not your huntsman to say a word to them: it cannot do any good, and probably may make them go over the scent: nor should you suffer either the whip or the voice of your whipper-in to be now heard; his usual roughness and severity would ill suit the stillness and gentleness which are required at a time like this.
When hounds come to a check, a huntsman should observe the tail hounds: they are least likely to over-run the scent; and he may see by them how far they brought it: in most packs there are some hounds that will show the point of the fox, and, if attended to, will direct his cast. When such hounds follow slowly and unwillingly, he may be certain that the rest of the pack are running without a scent.
When he casts his hounds, let him not cast wide, without reason; for, of course, it will take more time. Huntsmen, in general, keep too forward in their casts; or, as a sailor would say, keep too long on one tack: they should endeavour to hit off the scent, by crossing the line of it:—two parallel lines, you know, can never meet.5
When he goes to a halloo, let him be careful, lest his hounds run the heel, as much time is lost by it. I once saw this mistake made by a famous huntsman:—after we had left a cover which we had been drawing, a disturbed fox was seen to go into it: he was halloo’d, and we returned. The huntsman, who never inquired where the fox was seen, or on which side of the cover he entered, threw his hounds in at random, and, as it happened, on the opposite side: they immediately took the heel of him, broke cover, and hunted the scent back to his very kennel.
Different countries require different casts. Such huntsmen as have been used to a woodland and inclosed country, I have seen lose time in an open country, where wide casts are always necessary.
When you want to cast round a flock of sheep, the whipper-in ought to drive them the other way, lest they should keep running on before you.
A fox seldom goes over or under a gate, when he can avoid it.
Huntsmen are frequently very conceited, and very obstinate. Oftentimes have I seen them, when their hounds came to a check, turn directly back, on seeing hounds at head which they had no opinion of. They supposed the fox was gone another way; in which case, Mr. Bayes’s remark in the Rehearsal always occurs to me, “that, if he should not, what then becomes of their suppose.” Better, surely, would it be, to make a short cast forward first; they then might be certain the hounds were wrong, and, of course, could make their own cast with greater confidence:—the advantage, next to that of knowing whither the fox is gone, is that of knowing with certainty whither he is not.
Most huntsmen like to have all their hounds turned after them when they make a cast: I wonder not at them for it, but I am always sorry when I see it done; for, till I find a huntsman that is infallible, I shall continue to think the more my hounds spread the better: as long as they are within sight or hearing, it is sufficient. Many a time have I seen an obstinate hound hit off the scent, when an obstinate huntsman, by casting the wrong way, has done all in his power to prevent it. Two foxes I remember to have seen killed in one day by skirting hounds, while the huntsman was making his cast the contrary way.
When hounds, running in cover, come into a road, and horses are on before, let the huntsman hold them quickly on beyond where the horses have been, trying the opposite side as he goes along:—should the horsemen have been long enough there to have headed back the fox, let them then try back. Condemn me not for suffering hounds to try back when the fox has been headed back: I recommend it at no other time.
When your hounds divide into many parts, you had better go off with the first fox that breaks. The ground will soon get tainted; nor will hounds like a cover where they are often changing.
If a cover be very large, and you have many scents, be not in a hurry to get your hounds together; if your pack be numerous, let them run separate, only taking care that none get away entirely from the rest:—by this means many foxes will be equally distressed; the hounds will get together at last; and one fox, at the least, you may expect to kill.
The heading a fox back at first, if the cover be not a large one, is oftentimes of service to hounds, as he will not stop, and cannot go off unseen. When a fox has been hard-run, I have known it turn out otherwise; and hounds that would easily have killed him out of the cover, have left him in it.
If it be not your intention that a fox should break, you should prevent him, I think, as much as you can, from coming at all out of the cover; for, though you should head him back afterwards, it most probably would put the hounds to a fault. When a pack of fox-hounds once leave a cover after their game, they do not readily return to it again.
When a fox has been often headed back on one side of a cover, and a huntsman knows there is not anybody on the other side to halloo him, the first fault his hounds come to, let him cast that way, lest the fox should be gone off; and, if he be still in the cover, he may still recover him.
Suffer not your huntsman to take out a lame hound. If any be tender-footed, he will tell you, perhaps, that they will not mind it when they are out: probably they may not; but how will they be on the next day? A hound not in condition to run, cannot be of much service to the pack; and the taking him out at that time may occasion him a long confinement afterwards: put it not to the trial. Should any fall lame while they are out, leave them at the first house that you come to.
I have seen huntsmen hunt their young blood in couples. Let me beg of you not to suffer it. I know you would be sorry to see your hounds hanging across a hedge, grinning at each other, perhaps in the very agonies of death: yet it is an accident that often has happened; and it is an accident so likely to happen, that I am surprised any man of common sense will run the risk of it. If necessary, I would much rather they should be held in couples at the cover-side, till the fox be found.
The two principal things which a huntsman has to attend to, are the keeping of his hounds healthy and steady. The first is attained by cleanliness and proper food; the latter, by putting as seldom as possible any unsteady ones among them.
At the beginning of the season, let him be attentive to get his hounds well in blood. As the season advances, and foxes become stout, attention then should be given to keeping them as vigorous as possible. It is a great fault, when hounds are suffered to become too high in flesh at the beginning of the season, or too low afterwards.
When a fox is lost, the huntsman, on his return home, should examine into his own conduct, and endeavour to find in what he might have done better: he may, by this means, make the very loss of a fox of use to him.
Old tieing hounds, and a hare-hunter turned fox-hunter, are both as contrary to the true spirit of fox-hunting as anything could possibly be:—one is continually bringing the pack back again; the other as constantly does his best to prevent them from getting forward. The natural prejudices of mankind are such, that a man seldom alters his style of hunting, let him pursue what game he may; besides, it may be constitutional, as he is himself slow or active, dull or lively, patient or impatient. It is for that reason that I object to a hare-hunter for a pack of fox-hounds; for the same ideas of hunting will most probably stick by him as long as he lives.
Your huntsman is an old man; should he have been working hard all his life on wrong principles, he may be now incorrigible.
Sometimes you will meet with a good kennel-huntsman; sometimes an active and judicious one in the field: some are clever at finding a fox, others are better after he is found; while perfection in a huntsman, like perfection in anything else, is scarcely ever to be met with:—there are not only good, bad, and indifferent huntsmen, but there are, perhaps, a few others, who being, as it were, of a different species, should be classed apart;—I mean such as have real genius. It is this peculiar excellence, which I told you, in a former Letter, I would rather wish my first whipper-in to be possessed of than my huntsman; and one reason, among others, is, that he, I think, would have more opportunities of exercising it.
The keeping of hounds clean and healthy, and bringing them into the field in their fullest vigour, is the excellence of a good kennel-huntsman;6 if, besides this, he make his hounds both love and fear him; if he be active, and press them on while the scent is good, always aiming to keep as near the fox as he can; if, when his hounds are at fault, he makes his cast with judgment, not casting the wrong way first, and only blundering upon the right at last, as many do; if, added to this, he be patient and persevering, never giving up a fox while there remains a chance of killing him—he then is a perfect huntsman.
Did I not know your love of this diversion, I should think, by this time, that I must have tired you completely. You are not singular, however, in your partiality to it; for, to show you the effect which fox-hunting has on those who are really fond of it, I must tell you what happened to me not long ago:—My hounds, in running a fox, crossed the great Western road, where I met a gentleman travelling on horseback, his servant, with a portmanteau, following him. He no sooner saw the hounds, than he rode up to me with the greatest eagerness. “Sir,” said he, “are you after a fox?” When I told him that we were, he immediately stuck spurs to his horse, took a monstrous leap, and never quitted us any more till the fox was killed. I suppose, had I said that we were after a hare, my gentleman would have pursued his journey.
