LETTER XXIV

I am now, my friend, about to take leave of you; and, at the same time that I give repose to you, let me entreat you to show the same favour to your hounds and horses. It is now the breeding season; a proper time, in my opinion, to leave off hunting; since it is more likely to be your servants’ amusement than yours; and is always to the prejudice of two noble animals, which we sportsmen are bound in gratitude to take care of.

After a long and tiresome winter, surely the horse deserves some repose. Let him, then, enjoy his short-lived liberty; and, as his feet are the parts which suffer most, turn him out into a soft pasture. Some there are who disapprove of grass, saying, that, when a horse is in good order, the turning him out undoes it all again. It certainly does: yet, at the same time, I believe that no horse can be fresh in his limbs, or will last you long, without it. Can standing in a hot stable do him any good?—and can hard exercise, particularly in the summer, be of any advantage to him? Is it not soft ground and long rest that will best refresh his limbs, while the night air and morning dews will invigorate his body?¹ Some never physic their hunters; only observing, when they first take them up from grass, to work them gently: some turn out theirs all the year. It is not unusual for such as follow the latter method, to physic their horses at grass: they then are taken up, well fed, and properly exercised, to get them into order: this done, they are turned out for a few hours every day when they are not ridden. The pasture should be dry, and should have but little grass: there they will stretch their limbs, and cool their bodies, and will take as much exercise as is necessary for them. I have remarked, that, thus treated, they catch fewer colds, have the use of their limbs more freely, and are less liable to lameness, than other horses. Another advantage attends this method, which, in the horses you ride yourself, you will allow to be very material: —Your horse, when once he is in order, will require less strong exercise than grooms generally give their horses; and his mouth, in all probability, will not be the worse for it.

The Earl of Pembroke, in his Military Equitation, is, I find, of the same opinion:—He tells us, “it is of the greatest consequence for horses to be kept clean, regularly fed, and as regularly exercised: but whoever chooses to ride in the way of ease and pleasure, without any fatigue on horseback; or, in short, does not like to carry his horse, instead of his horse’s carrying him—must not suffer his horse to be exercised by a groom; standing up on his stirrups, holding himself on by means of the reins, and thereby hanging his whole dead weight on the horse’s mouth, to the entire destruction of all that is good, safe, or pleasant, about the animal.” And in another place he says: “Horses should be turned loose somewhere, or walked about every day, when they do not work, particularly after hard exercise: swelled legs, physic, &c., will be saved by these means, and many distempers avoided.” He also observes, that “it is a matter of the greatest consequence, though few attend to it, to feed horses according to their work. When the work is hard, food should be in plenty; when it is otherwise, the food should be diminished immediately—the hay particularly.”

I have no doubt that the noble author is perfectly right in these observations: I am also of opinion, that a handful or two of clean wheaten straw, chopped small, and mixed with their corn, would be of great service to your horses, provided that you have interest enough with your groom to prevail on him to give it them.

Such of my horses as are physicked at grass, have two doses given them when they are turned out, and three more before they are taken up. Grass-physic is of so mild a kind, that you will not find this quantity too much; nor have I ever known an accident happen from it, although it has been given in very indifferent weather. I should tell you, that my horses are always taken in the first night after their physic, though the printed directions, I believe, do not require it. Such horses as are full of humours should be physicked at house, since they may require stronger doses than grass-physic will admit of; which I think more proper to prevent humours than to remove them. The only use I know in physicking a horse that does not appear to want it, is to prevent, if possible, his requiring it at a time when you cannot so well spare him; I mean the hunting season. should an accident of this kind happen, Stibium’s balls, of which I send you the receipt, will be found of use:—

A ball (of one ounce weight) is to be given for three mornings successively. The horse must be kept fasting for two hours after he has taken it; he then may have a feed of corn, and soon after that, moderate exercise: the same should be repeated four days afterwards. These balls purify the blood, and operate on the body by insensible perspiration.

I frequently give nitre to such of my hunters as are not turned out to grass: it cools their bodies, and is of service to them: it may be given either in their water or in their corn: I sometimes give an ounce in each.

To such of my horses as are thick-winded, and such as carry but little flesh, I give carrots. In many stables they are given at the time of feeding, in the corn: I prefer giving them at any other time; for it is a food which horses are so fond of, that if by any accident you should omit the carrots, I doubt whether they would eat the corn readily without them.

I think you are perfectly in the right to mount your people well:—there is no good economy in giving them bad horses: they take no care of them, but wear them out as soon as they can, that they may have others.

The question that you ask me about shoeing, I am unable to answer: yet I am of opinion, that horses should be shod with more or less iron, according as the country wherein they hunt requires; but in this a good farrier will best direct you. Nothing, certainly, is more necessary to a horse than to be well shod:—the shoe should be a proper one, and it should fit his foot. Farriers are but too apt to make the foot fit the shoe.² My groom carries a false shoe, which just serves to save a horse’s hoof, when he loses a shoe, till it can be put on again. In some countries you see them loaded with saws, hatchets, &c. I am glad that the country in which I hunt does not require them. In the book that I have just quoted, you will find the shoeing of horses treated of very much at large. I beg leave, therefore, if you want further information on that head, to refer you to it.

Having declared my disapprobation of summer hunting, on account of the horses, I must add, that I am not less an enemy to it on account of the hounds also: they, I think, should have some time allowed them to recover the strains and bruises of many a painful chase; and their diet, in which the adding to their strength has been, perhaps, too much considered, should now be altered. No more flesh should they now eat; but in its stead should have their bodies cooled with whey, greens, and thin meat. Without this precaution, the mange most probably would be the immediate consequence of hot weather; perhaps madness— Direful malady!

As a country life has been recommended in all ages (not less for the contentment of the mind than the health of the body), it is no wonder that hunting should be considered by so many as a necessary part of it, since nothing conduces more to both. A great genius has told us, that it is

With regard to its peaceful state, according to a modern poet,

And, for the contentment which is supposed to accompany a country life, we have not only the best authority of our own time to support it, but even that of the best poets of the Augustan age. Virgil surely felt what he wrote, when he said, “O fortunatos nimium, sua si bona, nôrint, agricolas!” and Horace’s famous ode, “Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,” seems not less to come from the heart of a man who is generally allowed to have had a perfect knowledge of mankind; and this, even at the time when he was the favourite of the greatest emperor, and in the midst of all the magnificence of the greatest city, in the world.

The elegant Pliny also, in his Epistle to Minutius Fundanus, which is admirably translated by the Earl of Orrery, whilst he arraigns the life that he leads at Rome, speaks with a kind of rapture of a country life: “Welcome,” says he, “thou life of integrity and virtue! Welcome, sweet and innocent amusement! Thou art almost preferable to business and employment of every kind!” And it was here, we are told, that the great Bacon experienced his truest felicity. With regard to the otium cum dignitate, so much recommended, no one, I believe, understands the true meaning of it better, or practises it more successfully, than you do.

A rural life, I think, is better suited to this kingdom than to any other; because the country in England affords pleasures and amusements unknown in other countries; and because its rival, our English town (or ton) life, perhaps is a less pleasant one than may be found elsewhere. If this, upon a nice investigation of the matter, should appear to be strictly true, the conclusion that would necessarily result from it might prove more than I mean it should; therefore we will drop the subject. Should you, however, differ from me in opinion of your town-life, and disapprove what I have said concerning it, you may excuse me, if you please, as you would a lawyer who does the best he can for the party for whom he is retained. I think you will also excuse any expressions that I may have used, which may not be current here; if you find, as I verily believe you may, that I have not made use of a French word, but when I could not have expressed my meaning so well by an English one. It is only an unnecessary and affected application of a foreign language, that is deserving of censure.

To those who may think the danger which attends upon hunting a great objection to the pursuit of it, I must beg leave to observe, that the accidents which are occasioned by it are very few. I will venture to say, that more bad accidents happen to shooters in one year, than to those who follow hounds in seven. You will remind me, perhaps, of the death of T——k, and the fall of D——t; but do accidents never happen on the road? The most famous huntsman and boldest rider of his time, after having hunted a pack of hounds for several years, unhurt, lost his life at last by a fall from his horse, as he was returning home. A surgeon of my acquaintance has assured me, that, in thirty years’ practice in a sporting country, he had not once an opportunity of setting a bone for a sportsman, though ten packs of hounds were kept in the neighbourhood. This gentleman, surely, must have been much out of luck, or hunting cannot be so dangerous as it is thought: besides, they are all timid animals that we pursue; nor is there any danger in attacking them: they are not like the furious beast of the Gevaudan, which, as a French author informs us, an army of twenty thousand French chasseurs went out in vain to kill.

If my time in writing to you has not been so well employed as it might have been, you at least will not find that fault with it: nor shall I repent of having employed it in this manner, unless it were more certain than it is, that I should have employed it better. It is true, these Letters are longer than I first intended they should be: they would have been shorter, could I have bestowed more time upon them. Some technical words have crept in imperceptibly, and with them, some expressions better suited to the field than to the closet: nor is it necessary, perhaps, that a sportsman, when he is writing to a sportsman, should make excuses for them. In some of my Letters you have found great variety of matter: the variety of questions contained in yours, made it sometimes unavoidable. I know that there must be some tautology. It is scarcely possible to remember all that has been said in former Letters; let that difficulty, if you please, excuse the fault. I fear there may be some contradictions for the same reason; and there may be many exceptions. I trust them all to your candour; nor can they be in better hands. I hope you will not find that I have at different times given different opinions; but, should that be the case, without doubt you will follow the opinion which coincides most with your own. If on any points I have differed from great authorities, I am sorry for it. I have never hunted with those who are looked up to as the great masters of this science; and, when I differ from them, it is without design. Other methods, doubtless, there are, to make the keeping of hounds much more expensive; which, as I do not practise myself, I shall not recommend to you:—treated after the manner here described, they will kill foxes, and show you sport. I have answered all your questions as concisely as I was able; and it has been my constant endeavour to say no more than I thought the subject required. The time may come, when more experienced sportsmen, and abler pens, may do it greater justice: till then, accept the observations that I have made: take them, read them, try them. There was a time when I should readily have received the information which they give, imperfect as it may be; for experience is ever a slow teacher, and I have had no other. With regard to books, Somerville is the only author whom I have found of any use on this subject. You will admire the poet, and esteem the man; yet I am not certain that you will be always satisfied with the lessons of the huntsman. Proud of the authority, I have quoted from him as often as it would suit your purpose; and for your sake have I braved the evident disadvantage that attended it. I wish this elegant poet had answered all your questions: you then would have received but one letter from me, to refer you to him. That no other writer should have followed his steps, may, I think, be thus accounted for:—Those gentlemen who make a profession of writing live chiefly in town, consequently cannot be supposed to know much of hunting; and those who do know any thing of it, are either servants who cannot write, or country gentlemen who will not give themselves the trouble. However, I have met with some curious remarks, which I cannot help communicating to you. One author tells us, that “coursing is more agreeable than hunting, because it is sooner over;” “that a terrier is a mongrel greyhound;” and, “that dogs have often coughs from eating fishbones.”

Another (a French author) advises us to give a horse, after hunting, “a soup made of bread and wine, and an onion.” I fear an English groom would eat the onion and drink the wine.

The same author has also a very peculiar method of catching rabbits, which you will please to take in his own words: he calls it, Chasse du lapin à l’écrevisse. “Cette chasse convient aux personnes qui ne veulent employer ni furets ni armes à feu; on tend des poches à une extrémité d’un terrier, et à l’aûtre on glisse une écrevisse; cet animal arrive peu-a-peu au fond de la retrait du lapine, le pique, s’y attache avec tant de force, que le quadrupède est obligé de fuir, emportant avec lui son ennemi, et vient se faire prendre dans le filet qu’on lui a tendu à l’ouverture du terrier. Cette chasse demande beaucoup de patience: les opérations de l’ecrevisse sont lentes, mais aussi elles sont quelquefois plus sures que celles du furet.”

This gentleman’s singular method of hunting rabbits with a lobster, reminds me of a method that Harlequin³ has of killing hares (not less ingenious) with Spanish snuff. Brighella tells him, that the hares eat up all his master’s green wheat, and that he knows not how to kill them. “Nothing more easy,” replies Harlequin—“I will engage to kill them all with twopennyworth of snuff. They come in the night, you say, to feed on the green wheat: strew a little snuff over the field before they come: it will set them all a-sneezing: nobody will be by to say God bless you ! and, of course, they will all die.”

I believe that, during our present correspondence, I have twice quoted the Encyclopédie with some degree of ridicule: I must, notwithstanding, beg leave to say, in justice to myself, that I have great esteem for that valuable work.

On opening a very large book, called the Gentleman’s Recreation, I met with the following remarkable passage: “Many have written of this subject, as well the ancients as moderns, yet but few of our countrymen to any purpose; and had one all the authors on this subject (as indeed on any other), there would be more trouble to pass by than to retain; most books being fuller of words than matter, and of that which is, for the most part, very erroneous.” All who have written on the subject of hunting, seem to agree in this at least—to speak indifferently of one another.

You have observed in one of your letters, that I do not always follow my own rules; and, as a proof of it, you have remarked that many of my hounds are oddly named. I cannot deny the charge. I leave a great deal to my huntsman; but if you aim at perfection, leave as little as you can help to yours. It is easier, I believe, in every instance, to know what is right, than it is to follow it; but if the rules I have given are good, what does it signify to you whether I follow them or not? A country fellow used to call every directing post that he saw, a doctor. He was asked, Why he called them so? “Why, master,” said he, “I never see them but they put me in mind of the parson of our parish, who constantly points out a road to us which he does not follow himself.”

If I can add to the amusement of such as follow this diversion, I shall not think my time has been ill employed; and, if the rules which are here given may any way tend to preserve that friendly animal, the hound, from one unnecessary lash, I shall not think they have been written in vain.⁴ It never was my expectation to be able to send you a complete treatise: Thoughts upon Hunting, in a series of familiar Letters, were all that I proposed to myself the pleasure of sending. The trouble I have taken in writing them entitles me to some indulgence; nor need I, therefore, whilst I endeavour to render them of use, stand in any fear of criticism. Yet if any man, as idle as I have already declared myself to be, should take the trouble to criticise these Letters, tell him this:—An acquaintance of mine, who had bestowed much time in improving his place, whenever he heard it found fault with, asked “Where the critic lived? Whether he had any place of his own? Whether he had attempted any improvements? and concluded with promising a peep at it.” The gentleman here alluded to had less humility than your humble servant: take, therefore, my sentiments in the following lines:—

The inclosed curious manuscript was called by its author a hunting song; it is worth your notice:—once more farewell.

[¹The question of summering hunters is still being debated, and each system has its advocates. We agree with Beckford that turning them out to grass is the best plan, and if they get a few old beans they won’t lose much muscle. Even if when they come up from grass their legs are not so fine as those that have been standing in the stable, they will be found to stand their work better than the others.]

²I venture to give the following rules on shoeing, in a short and decisive manner, as founded on the strictest anatomical and mechanical principles laid down by the best masters:—The shoe should be flat, and not turned up at the heel, or reach beyond that or the toe; but the middle part should extend rather beyond the outward edge of the hoof, that the hoof may not be contracted; the outward part of which may be pared, to bring it down to an even surface, to fit it for the fixing on of the shoe. If the foot be too long, the toe may be pared, or rasped down; which, in many cases, may even be necessary to preserve the proper shape of the hoof, and bring the foot to a stroke and bearing the most natural and advantageous. Neither the horny sole, or frog (meant by Nature for the guard of the foot and safety of the horse), are upon any account to be pared, or cut away. The small, loose ragged parts that at times appear, should be cut off with a pen-knife; but that destructive instrument called the butteris, which, in the hands of stubborn ignorance, has done more injury to the feet of horses than all the chases of the world, should be banished for ever.

³The Harlequin of the Italian theatre, whose tongue is at liberty, as well as his heels.

⁴Strangely unfortunate should I think myself, if, while I profess to be a friend to dogs, I should prove their bitterest enemy; and if those rules, which were intended to lessen, should increase their sufferings; convinced as I am by experience, that a regular system of education is the surest means to render correction unnecessary. Hard is that heart (if any such there be), which can ill-use a creature so affectionate and so good; who has renounced his native liberty to associate with man, to whose service his whole life is dedicated; who, sensible of every kindness, is grateful for the smallest favour; whilst the worst usage cannot estrange his affection, in which he is, beyond all example, constant, faithful, and disinterested; who guards him by night and amuses him by day, and is, perhaps, the only companion that will not forsake him in adversity.