LETTER IX

The variety of questions which you are pleased to ask concerning the huntsman, will perhaps be better answered when we are on the subject of hunting. In the meantime, I will endeavour to describe what a good huntsman should be. He should be young, strong, active, bold and enterprising; fond of the diversion and indefatigable in the pursuit of it: he should be sensible and good-tempered; he ought also to be sober: he should be exact, civil, and cleanly; he should be a good horseman and a good groom: his voice should be strong and clear; and he should have an eye so quick, as to perceive which of his hounds carries the scent when all are running; and should have so excellent an ear, as always to distinguish the foremost hounds when he does not see them: he should be quiet, patient, and without conceit. Such are the excellences which constitute a good hunstman: he should not, however, be too fond of displaying them till necessity calls them forth: he should let his hounds alone whilst they can hunt, and he should have genius to assist them when they cannot.

With regard to the whipper-in, as you keep two of them (and no pack of fox-hounds is complete without), the first may be considered as a second huntsman, and should have nearly the same good qualities. It is necessary, besides, that he should be attentive, and obedient to the huntsman; and, as his horse will probably have most work to do, the lighter he is, the better; though, if he be a good horseman, the objection of his weight will be sufficiently overbalanced. He must not be conceited. I had one formerly, who, instead of stopping hounds as he ought, would try to kill a fox by himself. This fault is unpardonable: he should always maintain to the huntsman’s halloo, and stop such hounds as divide from it. When stopped, he should get forward with them after the huntsman.

He must always be contented to act an under part, except when circumstances may require that he should act otherwise;¹ and the moment they cease, he must not fail to resume his former station. You have heard me say, that where there is much riot, I prefer an excellent whipper-in to an excellent huntsman. The opinion, I believe, is new; I must, therefore, endeavour to explain it. My meaning is this: That I think I should have better sport, and kill more foxes, with a moderate huntsman, and an excellent whipper-in, than with the best of huntsmen without such an assistant. You will say, perhaps, that a good huntsman will make a good whipper-in; not such, however, as I mean; his talent must be born with him. My reasons are, that good hounds (and bad I would not keep) oftener need the one than the other; and genius, which, in a whipper-in, if attended by obedience, his first requisite, can do no hurt— in a huntsman is a dangerous, though a desirable, quality; and if not accompanied with a large share of prudence, and, I may say, humility, will oftentimes spoil your sport, and hurt your hounds. A gentleman told me, that he heard the famous Will Dean, when his hounds were running hard in a line with Daventry, from whence they were at that time many miles distant, swear exceedingly at the whipper-in, saying, “What business have you here?” The man was amazed at the question. “Why, don’t you know,” said he, “and be d—d to you, that the great earth at Daventry is open?” The man got forward, and reached the earth just time enough to see the fox go in. If, therefore, whippers-in be left at liberty to act as they shall think right, they are much less confined that the huntsman himself, who must follow his hounds; and consequently, they have greater scope to exert their genius, if they have any.

I had a dispute with an old sportsman, who contended, that the whipper-in should always attend the huntsman, to obey his orders (a stable-boy, then, would make as good a whipper-in as the best); but this is so far from being the case, that he should be always on the opposite side of the cover from him, or I am much mistaken in my opinion: if within hearing of his halloo, he is near enough; for that is the hunting signal he is to obey. The station of the second whipper-in may be near the huntsman: for which reason, any boy that can halloo, and make a whip smack, may answer the purpose.

Your first whipper-in being able to hunt the hounds occasionally, will answer another good purpose; it will keep your huntsman in order. They are very apt to be impertinent, when they think you cannot do without them.

When you go from the kennel, the place of the first whipper-in is before the hounds; that of the second whipper-in should be some distance behind them; if not, I doubt if they will be suffered even to empty themselves, let their necessities be ever so great; for as soon as a boy is made a whipper-in, he fancies that he is to whip the hounds whenever he can get at them, whether they deserve it or not.

I have always thought a huntsman a happy man: his office is pleasing, and at the same time flattering: we pay him for that which diverts him, and he is enriched by his greatest pleasure;² nor is a general after a victory, more proud than is a huntsman who returns with his fox’s head.

I have heard that a certain duke, who allowed no vails to his servants, asked his huntsman what he generally made of his field-money, and gave him what he asked instead of it. This went on very well for some time, till at last the huntsman desired an audience. “Your grace,” said he, “is very generous, and gives me more than ever I got from field-money in my life; yet I come to beg a favour of your grace—that you would let me take field-money again; for I have not half the pleasure now in killing a fox that I had before.”

As you ask my opinion of scent, I think I had better give it you before we begin on the subject of hunting. I must, at the same time, take the liberty of telling you, that you have puzzled me exceedingly; for scent is, I believe, what we sportsmen know least about; and, to use the words of a great classic writer:—

Somerville, who, as I have before observed, is the only one that I know of who has thrown any light on the subject of hunting, says, I think, but little about scent. I send you his words: I shall afterwards add a few of my own.

I cannot agree with Mr. Somerville, in thinking that scent depends on the air only: it depends also on the soil. Without doubt, the best scent is that which is occasioned by the effluvia, as he calls it, or particles of scent, which are constantly perspiring from the game as it runs, and are strongest and most favourable to the hound, when kept by the gravity of the air to the height of his breast; for then it neither is above his reach, nor is it necessary that he should stoop for it. At such times, scent is said to lie breast-high.³ Experience tells us, that difference of soil occasions difference of scent; and on the richness and moderate moisture of the soil does it also depend, I think, as well as on the air. At the time when leaves begin to fall, and before they are rotted, we know that the scent lies ill in cover. This alone would be a sufficient proof that scent does not depend on the air only. A difference of scent is also occasioned by difference of motion: the faster the game goes, the less scent it leaves. When game has been ridden after, and hurried on by imprudent sportsmen, the scent is less favourable to hounds: one reason of which may be, that the particles of scent are then more dissipated: but if the game should have been run by a dog not belonging to the pack, seldom will any scent remain.

I believe it is very difficult to ascertain exactly what scent is: I have known it alter very often in the same day. I believe, however, that it depends chiefly on two things— “the condition the ground is in, and the temperature of the air;” both of which, I apprehend, should be moist, without being wet. When both are in this condition, the scent is then perfect; and vice versâ, when the ground is hard and the air dry, there seldom will be any scent. It scarcely ever lies with a north, or an east wind: a southerly wind without rain, and a westerly wind that is not rough, are the most favourable. Storms in the air are great enemies to scent, and seldom fail to take it entirely away. A fine sunshiny day is not often a good hunting day; but what the French call jours des dames, warm without sun, is generally a perfect one: there are not many such in a whole season. In some fogs, I have known the scent lie high; in others, not at all; depending, I believe, on the quarter the wind is then in. I have known it lie very high in a mist, when not too wet; but if the wet should hang on the boughs and bushes, it will fall upon the scent, and deaden it. When the dogs roll, the scent, I have frequently observed, seldom lies; for what reason, I know not: but, with permission, if they smell strong when they first come out of the kennel, the proverb is in their favour; and that smell is a prognostic of good luck. When cobwebs hang on the bushes, there is seldom much scent. During a white frost the scent lies high; as it also does when the frost is quite gone. At the time of its going off, scent never lies: it is a critical minute for hounds, in which their game is frequently lost. In a great dew, the scent is the same. In healthy countries, where the game brushes as it goes along, scent seldom fails. Where the ground carries, the scent is bad, for a very evident reason, which hare-hunters, who pursue their game over greasy fallows and through dirty roads, have great cause to complain of. A wet night frequently produces good chases, as then the game neither like to run the cover nor the roads. If has been often remarked, that scent lies best in the richest soils; and countries which are favourable to horses, are seldom so to hounds. I have also observed, that, in some particular places, let the temperature of the air be as it may, scent never lies.

Take not out your hounds on a very windy or bad day.⁴

The sentiments of Mr. Somerville always do him honour, but on no occasion more than on this.

In reading over my Letter, I find that I have used the word smell, in a sense that, perhaps, you will criticize. A gentleman, who, I suppose, was not the sweetest in the world, sitting in the front boxes at the playhouse on a crowded night, his neighbour very familiarly told him that he smelt strong. “No, Sir.” replied he, with infinite good humour, “it is you that smell—I stink.”

¹When the huntsman cannot be up with the hounds, the whipper-in should; in which case, it is the business of the huntsman to bring on the tail hounds along with him.

²The field-money which is collected at the death of a fox.

[³We know as little about scent now as they did a hundred years ago, but it is generally safe to assume that it will never be first class with a falling barometer.]

[⁴This familiar quotation is about all the man who hunts to ride knows of Beckford, and because the advise is not practicable in these days, he condemns the rest of the work as not worth reading. Because it occasionally happens that there is a good scent in a high wind, Beckford must necessarily be a fool. If the book is carefully read, it will be seen Beckford only hunted two days a week, and as the weekly fixtures were not published he had the choice of days. The advice was given in the interest of hounds, not with any reference to the likelihood of a gallop, and it holds good to this day. A windy day may do young hounds a lot of harm, and will sometimes make old ones unsteady.]