HUNTING THE FOX

CHAPTER I

THE FUTURE OF FOX-HUNTING

When we declared war upon Germany in 1914, many people thought, some perhaps hoped, that Fox-hunting in the British Isles was doomed. It would appear that the former are likely to experience a pleasant shock of surprise, while the latter— if there be any—may be disappointed. For the immediate consequence of mobilization was the recognition of Fox-hunting as a first-class national asset. It is not too much to say that the Expeditionary Force could not have left England unless the nation could have drawn upon studs of well-bred hunters to bring the Peace establishment of Army horses up to war strength. Never were Cavalry so quickly or so well mounted as those regiments of Regulars and Yeomanry who embarked for France in August 1914.

But quite apart from the point of view of national utility, Fox-hunting will surely survive from its own innate qualities. The manner in which it has lived through all the obstacles of war time is a sufficient testimony to its vitality. And here let us pay our tribute to those who have helped the sport through these critical times: to the tact and sagacity of the Committee of the M.F.H. Association, and above all to those who through age, sex, or any other reason, were prevented from serving in the Army, and who took the Hounds out day after day under very trying conditions. To ride a horse half-fit and to ride that horse all day; to hunt Hounds that are poorly fed; to know that even if they were in good enough condition to tire their Fox he would almost surely find an open earth; to be short-handed both in the hunting-field and in the kennel; to have a diminishing number of walks for puppies;— all these things have not made the management of hunting during the War a very pleasing occupation. From the point of view of the Master and his Staff the only compensation that can be imagined, beyond the gratification of duty done, is that the Hounds have not been ridden over by a large and impetuous Field. Even this advantage has its objectionable side: the Huntsman wants at least enough people out to catch his horse if he has a fall and turns him loose.

However, we seem to have put the worst behind us, unless indeed we have another war. We may breathe again now that we have been able to breed and enter a certain number of young Hounds each year. In the last resort this was the only thing that really mattered. Had the great governing Kennels of England ceased to produce the Foxhound, the end would not have been far distant. All else can be re-created except the Hounds. The “raw material” will breed itself fast enough. All the rest is well within the range of British genius. So far indeed from making Fox-hunting more difficult, the revival of agricultural prosperity is calculated to make it easier than it has been for many years. When prices were high in the Early and Middle Victorian Age, a large proportion of farmers could afford to hunt, and did hunt, while farmers generally enjoyed such a degree of affluence that they did not trouble very much about claims. Moreover, they could afford to look after their fences in the proper way, instead of mending them with wire. When prices fell in the early ’eighties and agricultural depression looked as if it had come to stay, the hunting farmer became rarer; Hunt Committees had to spend more money on claims; fences were neglected for lack of funds and labour, and wire was used in some countries to save trouble. In fact, owing to the low prices, a general hand-to-mouth state of things prevailed on the land that did not make the management of a hunting country quite so easy as it had been in the golden age. On the other hand, as we have lately realized to our cost from the national point of view, the area under grass increased steadily, and in a certain sense—possibly overestimated—enhanced the charm of riding over the country. But, as well as the grass, riches were all this time increasing in the commercial world, albeit at the expense of a neglected agriculture, and the successful Briton, as is his wont, turned his eyes to the hunting-field, hired a hunting-box, and spent his money on the Sport of Kings. So Fox-hunting continued to flourish, supported by a sound balance at its bankers’, and, above all, by the love of sport inherent in all classes of the realm. If this brief analysis of the fortunes of the chase be correct; if agricultural prosperity has gone hand in hand with the prosperity of hunting; if hunting has become more popular not because of agricultural depression, but in spite of it, then we have nothing to fear from a revived agriculture. The farmer will have the golden key in his hand, and be able to mount his horse and show us the way over the fences. Human nature will probably be much the same after the War as it was before the War.

Hunting, like the drama or any other institution, depends for its existence on the support of public opinion. Public opinion is not an easy thing to define; probably when we speak of public opinion we refer to that amount of thought, tradition, sentiment, and practical support which can be brought to bear on any given proposition. The life of a thing will ultimately be secured by the number and the ability of the people who intend to make it a success. A bad cause well organized may survive long enough to astonish even its own devotees. But a good cause is never lost. Fox-hunting is a good cause, if ever there was one. And the War has surely increased the number and ardour of its supporters. The one thing that all Fox-hunters in the Fighting Services have looked forward to throughout the War was the great day when they would hunt again. Hundreds of boys who had never even ridden before the War found a fresh charm in life by learning to ride and to love horses. Any one can testify to this who has seen the sad faces of all ranks in a Cavalry regiment in the throes of being de-horsed and put on to bicycles. And not only did these boys learn to ride, but many of them while training at home had their first taste of the elixir of the chase, and will be good friends to Fox-hunting for all time.

On the whole, then, we may expect to be confronted with nothing very new in the management of hunting after the War. If there be any one who is temperamentally opposed to sport, and would injure it if he could, he is hardly worth considering. His whole outlook would probably be anti-social and un-English in whatever rank of life he is to be found. He can perhaps best be described as the spiritual descendant of that often-quoted band of reformers who wished to put a stop to bear-baiting not because it gave pain to the bear, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators. The only pressure to which Fox-hunting might have to yield to a certain degree in some countries does not proceed from any prejudice against sport, but is purely economic in its character. The national need for houses or gardens, or public works, may by common consent become more imperative in certain suburban districts than the national need for the local Hunt, which may fail to sustain what has probably been for many years somewhat of a spoon-fed existence. Changes of this kind are purely local, and will have no effect on hunting as a whole. Let us not forget that Foxes were once hunted and killed in Mayfair and Kensington, and that hunting did not cease in the British Isles because Lord Berkeley was no longer able to kennel his Hounds at Charing Cross. For every pack that was disestablished by the expansion of cities, others were formed in rural districts, until we now have more packs of Foxhounds in the United Kingdom than ever we had before.

There remains one cardinal principle with regard to the spirit of Fox-hunting. If it is to retain its vigour, it must never become the privilege of any particular class. Like all other really good things it is either national or else it is nothing. If ever it presents the appearance of being based upon exclusiveness the whole fabric will dissolve. The proper preservation of Fox-hunting is a trust held by all parties to its direction, whether landowners, farmers, or subscribers, in order to provide the healthiest form of British sport for every one who can enjoy it, whether on foot or on horseback. There is a young generation growing up who have not had the tonic of Military Service. Hunting is the one field sport left in these islands—with the possible exception of Deer-stalking, which is only enjoyed by a small minority—that in the face of modern luxury still calls for courage, endurance, decision, and nerve. Let us hand it down to those who come after us in its best and purest form.