When the war cloud broke over Europe in the summer of 1914 the E.C.H. was in a very flourishing condition. During the season 1913-14 38 hares had been killed, which remains a record for the pack. There was every prospect of a good year to follow, especially as R. D. Crossman was to have stayed till the end of the Easter Half, and he had already hunted the hounds with considerable success.

But all this was changed. Crossman and R. W. G. Dill, his first whip, both got commissions. They left at Christmas. Crossman closed the Journal Book in the following way:

“I think it is rather hard luck on Dill and myself having to leave, but country comes even before hunting, and I only hope this infernal war will end soon.”

He went out to fight and was killed. His whip Dill went right through the War but emerged unhurt. Few more promising hound men ever existed than R. D. Crossman, but, like many another, he gave up everything to serve his country.

G. G. Cox-Cox, Crossman’s second whip, stayed until Christmas 1915, and was succeeded by W. A. D. Eley in the Easter Half. Both the seasons 1914-15 and 1915-16 were fairly successful, though in the latter only nine hares were killed. The war-time conditions were of course very difficult. Little breeding took place, and consequently the pack decreased in size. The food also was inferior; but Champion always had the hounds fit and ready for work. Owing to the E.C.O.T.C. parading every Thursday the beagles were only able to hunt two days a week in the Easter Half.

During a hunt about this time a very promising young bitch was killed on the railway line close to Remenham. I mention this because it has been my misfortune on the very day I am writing this to see for the first (and I hope the last) time a hound run over by a train. The accident was unavoidable. All the whips were 300 yards behind and the train came out of a mist. Poor Ranter was cut in two, and it was a miracle that the whole pack was not destroyed. From time to time these accidents have occurred, especially often at this place (on the bridge at Remenham), and future Masters will do well when hunting this part of the country to have several fellows always on the line, because hares invariably cross it.

Mr. A. Knowles, first whip in Easter Half 1915, has supplied me with the following information:

“As far as I can remember the Prince of Wales came out with us twice during the Michaelmas Half of 1914. Once a meet at the Sanatorium and once at the Queen’s Head, Bray. If there is no note of it in the Beagle Book Champion will remember the details. In the Easter Half of either 1914 or 1915, from a meet at Datchet, we got mixed up with the Windsor Drag. The hare crossed the line of the drag. Some of the drag hounds continued with the beagles, and I think that an odd couple or so of the beagles joined the drag hunt. Anyhow I remember shutting up about three couple of the drag hounds in Datchet on the way back to kennels in the evening, and sending a message for them to be fetched.

“In 1912 there was a very good hunt, which ended with the hare swimming out and drowning in a reservoir at Staines. Another time I remember having a good hunt somewhere in the neighbourhood of Ditton. We lost the hare in a garden, and found her eventually in a basement cellar. I think that was in 1914 Easter Half, but I am not certain. I hunted hounds one day Easter 1915, meeting at the ‘Prince of Wales’ on the Slough Road. We found immediately, circled round by Butts back to the ‘Prince of Wales’ field, then the hare ran the Slough Road to the ‘Burning Bush,’ down Common Lane to the Drill Hall, and was picked up ‘stone cold’ by some Coldstream Guardsmen who were having a lesson in map reading by the bridge over Jordan. Of course the hare was lost, as far as we were concerned, because I was not informed of her fate until too late.

“In 1913 Michaelmas Half, from a meet at the Sanatorium, the hare ran up the Racket Court field (next to Walpole House) from South Meadow and was killed in the garden of Booker’s House opposite the old Fives Courts.”

To all who admire and follow the career of the Prince of Wales it will be of interest to know what is written of him in the Journal Book by R. D. Crossman. There had been a splendid hunt of 1 hour 5 minutes when the hare had squatted. It was, however, 20 minutes before she was put up and killed.

“The Prince of Wales was again with us, and he runs really well. He thoroughly enjoys every bit of sport, and is always willing to turn hounds, etc. It was he who spotted our last hare squatting, after at least five of us had walked over her.”

In the Michaelmas Half of 1916 R. F. Goad hunted hounds, and was succeeded at Christmas by H. K. M. Kindersley, whom I vaguely remember nearly tripping me up in the High Street when he was in “Pop” and intended to fag me in the street. One day during his Mastership two hares, which were running together in front of hounds, were both killed by an express train near Burnham station. After the season, which was not a particularly good one, only 12 hares being killed in 21 hunting days, the hounds were all walked by various people. Champion went to work on the land at a neighbouring farm.

They were collected again at the kennels at the beginning of the Michaelmas Half, 1917, after a great deal of correspondence. Many of them were terribly fat, and it was greatly to Champion’s credit that he got them fit for hunting at all. Not only this, but up to Christmas they had quite a successful season under the Mastership of S. A. Parker. Parker’s third whip, the Marquess of Worcester, was also Keeper of the Fives Courts. He now hunts his own pack of foxhounds in the Badminton country on the Wilts and Gloucester border. His father, the Duke of Beaufort, was a keen follower in the sixties.

At Christmas the hounds were definitely dispersed. It was, in the opinion of many, a great mistake, as probably they could have been kept up cheaper at Eton than by various people who kindly consented to walk couples. The Rev. C. A. Alington, who had succeeded Canon Lyttelton as Head Master in January 1916, wrote to the Food Controller for his advice and instructions, and in consequence the pack was disbanded.

There was even some talk of Champion leaving and of getting up a subscription for him. As Parker has said in the Journal Book, there would have been no lack of subscribers. Fortunately, however, for the hunt, Champion did not leave, but remained until the hounds were restarted in December 1919.

Immediately after the War was over there were many letters to the Eton College Chronicle, demanding that the beagles should be restored. O.E.’s from every part of the country wanted to know the real state of things. It shows how much the E.C.H. was held in esteem that so many, who had ceased from taking any active part in the administration of the College, should have realised that the restitution of hunting at Eton was a thing highly desirable in itself and in its result.

The first of these letters appeared in the Chronicle of Dec. 5th, 1918. It ran as follows:

This was answered by the Master, E. V. Rhys, in a letter in which he stated that after a long discussion it had been decided not to hunt owing

During the Michaelmas Half 1919 J. F. de Sales La Terrière took the matter in hand, and he may now have the satisfaction of knowing that it was entirely due to him that the E.C.H. has again been set on its legs. He confronted the Head Master on several occasions and eventually secured his permission to collect the hounds. Circulars had been sent to all the farmers, and practically no unfavourable replies had been received. The Head Master made three stipulations: that the Hunt must not be subsidized from outside, that no Lower Boys should run, and that hunting should close on March 20th.

Experience has subsequently proved that the Slough Motor Dépôt has not by any means spoiled the hunting country of the E.C.H. True it has had the effect of putting an end to hunting in the Salt Hill country, but many old Masters have expressed their opinion that they would never willingly have hunted there at all owing to the danger of the railway to hounds.

La Terrière had to surmount many difficulties in his work of getting the hounds back. He has told the story in his own words in the Journal Book:

“As we were in a muzzled area, I went down to the Police Station to find out if there were any restrictions about hunting. They were decidedly vague about the whole affair, but advised me to write to the Board of Agriculture and Fisheries to find out if a permit was necessary or not. This I did, and on receiving no answer from them I got leave to go up to Town and stir them up a bit. When I got there I was told that I could collect the hounds from unmuzzled areas, but as we were in a special area we were on no account to hunt them.

“This at first seemed to be the final stroke of bad luck against the hunt, and at that time there was apparently no chance of restarting them in the Easter Half, owing to the fact that there would be no person left who knew anything about the country. But nothing daunted I decided to collect the pack here, because, if the muzzling order came off in January, as was expected, they would be ready for hunting.

“When I started to collect them, I discovered that I could only get very few here owing to the accursed muzzling order, and also to certain unaccountable circumstances. ‘Bellman,’ ‘Cautious’ and ‘Comrade’ were in muzzled areas and could not be shifted. ‘Bruiser’ had died a natural death. Mrs. Barnard had knocked ‘Spinster’ on the head, as she had grown too old and fat. The hound ‘Rambler,’ which had been adopted by Champion in 1916, walked away as curiously as he had come. But the final blow came when I heard that a boy, Gage, had sent out to Germany both ‘Caroline’ and ‘Grappler,’ as he thought the E.C.H. had finally stopped. This naturally reduced the pack considerably, and, had it not been for the kindness of Mr. St. George, we could never have hoped to carry on. Mr. St. George, whose son was killed in France, and had been a whip in 1912, presented the hunt with two young couple by ‘Whitby’ out of ‘Melody,’ both of which had formerly belonged to the E.C.H. and had been given to him. If these shape as well in the field as they do in the kennels, we ought to be able to carry on till better times come.

“‘Havvy’ (the late Mr. R. S. de Havilland) managed to persuade Glyn to stay on for one more Half so as to be Master. He is the last of the old stagers. I mean by that that he is the last person who was noticeable before the hounds were stopped in 1917. I wish him the best of luck, though I fear he will have a tough job. Floreant canes Etonenses.”

And so, in the following January, some two hundred Etonians were once more treated to the delights of beagling after a lapse of three years since Parker hunted the E.C.H. It was not a good season so far as regards kills. How could it have been with only seven couples of old hounds in the kennels? But some wonderfully good runs were provided, and I remember after one good day returning an hour and three-quarters late for lock-up. F. M. G. Glyn, the Master, was a good runner, and beagling became very popular. Only three hares were killed in all, two of them on one day. The first of these was killed in the boys’ part of Mr. Marten’s house, to the immense delight of the owner. Another hare was killed in a garden close to Chalvey Grove, and I remember an old woman trying to sweep hounds away with a broomstick.

Here I will give the personal reminiscences of T. C. Barnett-Barker, Master in the season 1919-20, which will bring us right up to date, and will describe better than any words of mine the final triumph of hunting at Eton and the situation of beagling to-day.

“During my first two years at Eton (1915 and 1916) I was a Lower Boy. To a Lower Boy beagling is generally forbidden, and consequently only rumours reached me about the beagles. Once or twice I was fagged to kennels, but I only took a furtive glance at the hounds.

“My third year, when the customary notice came round asking for the names of prospective beaglers, I decided to make the experiment. This decision was not made without a feeling of misgiving, as I thought it more a sport for my elders and betters, because in those days all the ‘celebrities’ beagled, or so it seemed to me at the time. Some of my friends took me to the first meet, and I remember being haunted by the childish yet awful idea that I might do something wrong. However, one soon learnt there was not much time for doing wrong, the only necessity being to try to keep up with hounds.

“Vaguely I remember struggling and inwardly praying for a check. When at last I did catch up, it was generally time to go home, unless one wished to violate the laws of lock-up. As yet I was not one of those ‘bravos’ who cared little for their tutors and lock-up, yet inwardly admiring them and longing to be one of them. And so it was that with persistent regularity I used to reach my house just as the lock-up bells broke out.

“The after-sensations of a day’s beagling are hard to describe, but all who beagle with a true heart know the infinite joy of sitting in a comfortable armchair by a warm fire just ‘thinking it over.’

“Before the end of my first season I had made friends with the kennel huntsman, of whom more hereafter, and even began to criticise inwardly the Master and whips, so conceited was I.

“Mentioning whips, I remember one day, when nearly all the field had gone home after a poor day, we found a hare which took us a two mile point before we checked. When I arrived on the scene I remember the Master saying, ‘Congratulations, you may have your whips.’ From that day the height of my ambition at Eton was fixed.

“The War was now in full swing, and the authorities bowed to the demands for economy by demanding that the pack should be disbanded, or, more accurately, sent out to walk. It was not for me to criticise, but it was never quite clear to me how economy was effected, all that happened being that the hounds were overfed individually instead of being economically fed as a pack.

“During this awful period I often used to walk to the forsaken kennels on Sunday and ‘talk hunting’ with Champion, the huntsman. At last the War was over, and before long the survivors of the old field began to talk about reassembling the pack.

“At first every one seemed against it, though probably this was more fancy than fact. Old Etonians were not silent on our behalf: they signed petitions, wrote letters, and in fact did all they could do. Probably it all helped, and the Head Master met them half-way, and said his decision would rest on the goodwill of the farmers, which he proposed to ascertain by sending a letter to each of those over whose ground we normally hunted.

“The result of those letters was that 97% of the farmers were not only willing but anxious to have the beagles back. It was not until it fell to my lot to visit these farmers, as representative of the E.C.H., that I quite realised the reason for so much generosity on their part.

“The next difficulty was to find a suitable Master. Several enterprising individuals offered their services, and finally a Master was chosen from amongst the few left who had been at all conspicuous in the old field.

“Just as things looked brighter, and five couples of old hounds had been collected, we were put in the Rabies area, and only by the individual efforts of my predecessors did we finally get a permit to hunt. The first official hunt was a surprise to every one; the surprise being the field, it seemed as if all Eton had turned out, in reality about 400. Of these 400 nearly all were what, for want of a better term, I got to know as the ‘Middle Class.’ By this term ‘Middle Class’ I mean neither the very small nor the very big, and all celebrities were conspicuous by their absence. This gave me extreme satisfaction, for I felt that all who were out were out to see the sport, and not to disport before their humbler brethren.

“Cutting the story short, we had runs which would do credit to any five couple of old hounds, but somewhat naturally we could not kill, and the result was that the field dwindled, until only the keenest were left.

“Near the close of the season I was made third whip. My summer was spent in selfishly hoping the other whips would leave before next season, which they most kindly did do, and I entered the winter (1920) as Master.

“Thanks to the kindness of certain benefactors and by dint of judicious buying, we now had 13 couples of hounds, and my hopes rose accordingly.

“I soon found in Mr. R. S. de Havilland, the Treasurer, the kindest and most sympathetic supporter. He gave me the impression that, whatever might go wrong and whatever every one else thought, he would always be on my side and ready to back the beagles against any one. From him I soon mastered what I might call the ‘etiquette’ of the hunt, and all the small delicacies which surrounded it.

“The practical side came from another quarter, and in the shape of none other than the renowned kennelman, Champion. He is probably one of the most delightful and certainly the most entertaining character I came across. Many a day I used to go up to kennels to listen to him tell stories. The seriousness which accompanied the most obvious remarks was a continual source of delight. A riddle of his about the Mayor of Cork I shall never forget, but unfortunately it was quite unrepeatable.

“No one could pass old Champion without an allusion to his family. At present they number four, and include himself, his wife, a son and a small daughter. No one could be more obliging and kind-hearted than Mrs. Champion, always ready to offer you a seat by a warm fire, and in fact to do those hundred and one things that ‘always count.’ As to George, I remember him before the War stopped us, when, though far younger than any of us, he used to keep going all day and never give in; after the War he seemed almost grown up and became like an auxiliary whip to me, his help at times being quite indispensable. He could run and keep up better than our best, and none of us were keener sportsmen. Lastly, though only a T.Y.O. filly, the youngest member already knows all the hounds by name, and they certainly all know her, willingly offering their backs for a ride.

“Well, to leave this wonderful family I go back to where we found them. I soon learnt from Champion my first duty was to visit all the farmers over whose land we hunted, some thirty in all.

“Starting with those near home, I at once discovered a most agreeable fact, for they were all so kind and generous that I soon realised why it was that only 3% had any objection to us restarting after the War. One day I am going to farm myself, so we had a good ground for conversation that helped to break the ice after an informal introduction. It was then that I got to know them, and knowing them meant liking them.

“I cannot pay these farmers a greater tribute than to say that no one of them ever showed me anything but the greatest civility and kindness. Of course, some pointed out perfectly legitimate annoyances, but they never showed any bitterness in expressing them. It is with a certain feeling of bitterness that one realises that all we give in return to these farmers, who offer their crops to trample and hedges to break, is a brace of pheasants and a hare if they are lucky.

“Of course I could fill a book with accounts of our sport that winter, but I must confine myself to a few remarks. Any success we had when I was Master was not due in any degree to me, but to the hounds. I believe all the joy of beagling, and its value as a sport, is to watch the hounds work, and with a good pack the less the Master interferes the better, and then only when the hounds seem to look to him for help. Of course I am prejudiced, but our pack seemed to me close on perfection by the time we reached the Easter Half: steady, obedient and fast; to watch them spread like a fan at a check and then a whimper (no babblers, mind!), and all the pack were away again raising their enchanting song.

“I never wanted a show pack; what I wanted were good noses, good bone, good feet. Noses they certainly had, and the way the eight season bitches stayed was enough indication of bone and feet. We try to keep the pack between 14½ inches and 15½ inches, as this will give a pace which allows all to see a good share of the run, and it also allows one to kill hares, and, since all packs seemed to be judged (in my opinion quite wrongly) by the number of hares they kill, it follows you must have speed in your pack. This is especially the case when hares are too numerous, and unless you press your hare continually a change is inevitable.

“Before finishing I should like to add a word about the rumour which at one time was rampant, that half the beaglers spent their time in smoking and other divers amusements. All I can say is that, whatever foundations there were for starting the rumour (it started long before my time), there is certainly very little reason for going on with it.

“The popularity of beagling amongst Masters, boys, farmers, and even outsiders, is very fast on the increase, and may beagling at Eton one day fulfil my most extravagant dreams, for I assure you there is no better training for mind and body to be got anywhere for the modest sum of two pounds.”[10]

To T. C. Barnett-Barker it is impossible to render sufficient praise. His interest in the E.C.H. was whole-hearted. He was not a great runner. He had not a particularly good hound voice. But nevertheless, his perseverance and keenness overcame everything, and he provided the only thing necessary to render beagling at Eton as popular as it has ever been, a really good season. To kill 36 hares in 49 hunting days with a pack consisting largely of eight season hounds is a great achievement.[11] But this is what he did, and now it will be comparatively easy for future Masters to continue showing good sport.

During Barnett-Barker’s Mastership Mr. R. S. de Havilland, who had filled the post of Treasurer since 1899, expressed his intention of resigning. He was presented with an illuminated address by the hunt. I have already mentioned how much he had done for the beagles. His death has caused a vacancy at Eton which it is impossible to refill, and the E.C.H. has lost its best friend. No stauncher supporter ever existed. Requiescat in pace.

Mr. E. V. Slater has taken on the duties of Treasurer, and has already proved himself to be a worthy successor to his great predecessor.

And what of Champion? Or should I say of the Champions, for the family now consists of four? Champion married in 1903, and the family besides himself are his wife, than who no kinder or more courteous woman ever existed, his son George, who with the blood of so many huntsmen in his veins is certain to prove his worth, and who is already showing that he is inheriting his father’s knowledge and love of hounds, and his five-year-old daughter Marjory, to whom the hounds are always ready to lend their backs for a ride. Those readers who have ever had the pleasure of knowing Champion will be pleased to hear that he ran third in the veterans’ race at the police sports at Aylesbury, and could have been first, only he went for the third prize, a spacious and very comfortable walnut chair.

During this Michaelmas Half, season 1921-2, the hounds have shown very fair sport, in spite of an execrable scent on dry hard land, and have killed eleven hares. Thanks to the very kind loan of six couples of hounds by Capt. E. C. Portman, the pack is well up to the standard of last year’s, and every one can look forward with optimism to the future.

How can I end this history more appropriately than by the words which have closed every season’s beagling in the Journal Book for the last twenty years, and portray the hopes of any one who has ever hunted with the E.C.H.?

FLOREANT CANES ETONENSES.