Chapter XXVIII: The Hit-Im and Hold-Im Shire Hounds

DESCENDING Long Benningborough Hill on the approach from the
west, the reader enters the rich vale of Hit-im and Hold-im
shire, rich in agricultural productions, lavish of rural
beauties, and renowned for the strength and speed of its foxes.

As a hunting country Hit-im and Hold-im shire ranks next to
Featherbedfordshire, and has always been hunted by men of wealth
and renown. The great Mr. Bruiser hunted it at one time, and was
succeeded by the equally great Mr. Customer, who kept it for
upwards of twenty years. He was succeeded by Mr. Charles Crasher,
after whom came the eminent Lord Martingal, who most materially
improved its even then almost perfect features by the judicious
planting of gorse covers on the eastern or Droxmoor side, where
woodlands are deficient.

It was during Lord Martingal’s reign that Hit-im and Hold-im
shire may be said to have attained the zenith of its fame, for he
was liberal in the extreme, not receiving a farthing
subscription, and maintaining the Club at the Fox and Hounds
Hotel at Hinton with the greatest spirit and popularity. He
reigned over Hit-im and Hold-im shire for the period of a quarter
of a century, his retirement being at length caused by a fall
from his horse, aggravated by distress at seeing his favourite
gorses Rattleford and Chivington cut up by a branch-line of the
Crumpletin railway.

On his lordship’s resignation, the country underwent the
degradation of passing into the hands of the well-known Captain
Flasher, a gentleman who, instead of keeping hounds, as Lord
Martingal had done, expected the hounds to keep him. To this end
he organised a subscription—a difficult thing to realise even
when men have got into the habit of paying, or perhaps promising
one—but most difficult when, as in this case, they had long been
accustomed to have their hunting for nothing. It is then that the
beauties of a free pack are apparent. The Captain, however,
nothing daunted by the difficulty, applied the screw most
assiduously, causing many gentlemen to find out that they were
just going to give up hunting, and others that they must go
abroad to economise. This was just about the gloomy time that our
friend the Major was vacillating between Boulogne and Bastille;
and it so happened that Mr. Plantagenet Brown, of Pangburn Park,
whose Norman-conquest family had long been pressing on the vitals
of the estate, taking all out and putting nothing in, suddenly
found themselves at the end of their tether. The estate had
collapsed. Then came the brief summing-up of a long career of
improvidence in the shape of an auctioneer’s advertisement,
offering the highly valuable freehold property, comprising about
two thousand five hundred acres in a ring fence, with a modern
mansion replete with every requisite for a nobleman or
gentleman’s seat, for sale, which, of course, brought the usual
train of visitors, valuers, Paul-Pryers, and so on—some lamenting
the setting, others speculating on the rising sun.

At the sale, a most repulsive, poverty-stricken looking little
old Jew kept protracting the biddings when everybody else seemed
done, in such a way as to cause the auctioneer to request an
_imparlance_, in order that he might ascertain who his principal
was; when the Jew, putting his dirty hands to his bearded mouth,
whispered in the auctioneer’s ear, “Shir Moshes Mainchance,”
whereupon the languid biddings were resumed, and the estate was
ultimately knocked down to the Baronet.

Then came the ceremony of taking possession—the
carriage-and-four, the flags, the band of music, the triumphal
arch, the fervid address and heartfelt reply, amid the prolonged
cheers of the wretched pauperised tenantry.

That mark of respect over, let us return to the hounds.

Captain Flasher did not give satisfaction, which indeed was not
to be expected, considering that he wanted a subscription. No man
would have given satisfaction under the circumstances, but the
Captain least of all, because he brought nothing into the common
stock, nothing, at least, except his impudence, of which the
members of the hunt had already a sufficient supply of their own.
The country was therefore declared vacant at the end of the
Captain’s second season, the Guarantee Committee thinking it best
to buy him off the third one, for which he had contracted to hunt
it. This was just about the time that Sir Moses purchased
Pangburn Park, and, of course, the country was offered to him. A
passion for hunting is variously distributed, and Sir Moses had
his share of it. He was more than a mere follower of hounds, for
he took a pleasure in their working and management, and not
knowing much about the cost, he jumped at the offer, declaring he
didn’t want a farthing subscription, no, not a farthing: he
wouldn’t even have a cover fund—no, not even a cover fund! He’d
pay keepers, stoppers, damage, everything himself,—dom’d if he
wouldn’t. Then when he got possession of the country, he declared
that he found it absolutely indispensable for the promotion of
sport, and the good of them all, that there should be a putting
together of purses—every man ought to have a direct interest in
the preservation of foxes, and, therefore, they should all pay
five guineas,—just five guineas a-year to a cover fund. It wasn’t
fair that he should pay all the cost—dom’d if it was. He wouldn’t
stand it—dom’d if he would.

Then the next season he declared that five guineas was all
moonshine—it would do nothing in the way of keeping such a
country as Hit-im and Hold-im shire together—it must be ten
guineas, and that would leave a great balance for him to pay.
Well, ten guineas he got, and emboldened by his success, at the
commencement of the next season he got a grand gathering
together, at a hand-in-the-pocket hunt dinner at the Fox and
Hounds Hotel at Hinton, to which he presented a case of
champagne, when his health being drunk with suitable enthusiasm,
he got up and made them a most elaborate speech on the pleasures
and advantages of fox-hunting, which he declared was like meat,
drink, washing and lodging to him, and to which he mainly
attributed the very excellent health which they had just been
good enough to wish him a continuance of in such complimentary
terms, that he was almost overpowered by it. He was glad to see
that he was not a monopoliser of the inestimable blessings of
health, for, looking round the table, he thought he never saw
such an assemblage of cheerful contented
countenances—(applause)—and it was a great satisfaction to him to
think that he in any way contributed to make them so—(renewed
applause). He had been thinking since he came into the room
whether it was possible to increase in any way the general stock
of prosperity—(great applause)—and considering the success that
had already marked his humble endeavours, he really thought that
there was nothing like sticking to the same medicine, and, if
possible, increasing the dose; for—(the conclusion of this
sentence was lost in the general applause that followed). Having
taken an inspiriting sip of wine, he thus resumed, “He now hunted
the country three days a-week,” he said, “and, thanks to their
generous exertions, and the very judicious arrangement they had
spontaneously made of having a hunt club, he really thought it
would stand four days.”—(Thunders of applause followed this
announcement, causing the glasses and biscuits to dance jigs on
the table. Sir Moses took a prolonged sip of wine, and silence
being at length again restored, he thus resumed):—“It had always
stood four in old Martingal’s time, and why shouldn’t it do so in
theirs?—(applause). Look at its extent! Look at its splendid
gorses! Look at its magnificent woodlands! He really thought it
was second to none!” And so the company seemed to think too by
the cheering that followed the announcement.

“Well then,” said Sir Moses, drawing breath for the grand effort,
“there was only one thing to be considered—one leetle difficulty
to be overcome—but one, which after the experience he had had of
their gameness and liberality, he was sure they would easily
surmount.”—(A murmur of “O-O-O’s,” with Hookey Walkers, and
fingers to the nose, gradually following the speaker.)

“That _leetle_ difficulty, he need hardly say, was their old
familiar friend £ s. d.! who required occasionally to be looked
in the face.”—(Ironical laughter, with _sotto voce_ exclamations
from Jack to Tom and from Sam to Harry, of—) “I say! _three_ days
are _quite_ enough—_quite_ enough. Don’t you think so?” With
answers of “Plenty! plenty!” mingled with whispers of, “I say,
this is what he calls hunting the country for nothing!”

“Well, gentlemen,” continued Sir Moses, tapping the table with
his presidential hammer, to assert his monopoly of noise, “Well,
gentlemen, as I said before, I have no doubt we can overcome any
difficulty in the matter of money—what’s the use of money if it’s
not to enjoy ourselves, and what enjoyment is there equal to
fox-hunting? (applause). None! none!” exclaimed Sir Moses with
emphasis.

“Well then, gentlemen, what I was going to say was this: It
occurred to me this morning as I was shaving myself——”

“That you would shave us,” muttered Mr. Paul Straddler to Hicks,
the flying hatter, neither of whom ever subscribed.

“—It occurred to me this morning, as I was shaving myself, that
for a very little additional outlay—say four hundred a year—and
what’s four hundred a-year among so many of us? we might have
four days a-week, which is a great deal better than three in many
respects, inasmuch as you have two distinct lots of hounds,
accustomed to hunt together, instead of a jumble for one day, and
both men and horses are in steadier and more regular work; and as
to foxes, I needn’t say we have plenty of them, and that they
will be all the better for a little more exercise.—(Applause from
Sir Moses’ men, Mr. Smoothley and others). Well, then, say four
hundred a-year, or, as hay and corn are dear and likely to
continue so, suppose we put it at the worst, and call it
five—five hundred—what’s five hundred a-year to a great
prosperous agricultural and commercial country like this?
Nothing! A positive bagatelle! I’d be ashamed to have it known at
the ‘Corner’ that we had ever haggled about such a sum.”

“You pay it, then,” muttered Mr. Straddler.

“Catch him doing that,” growled Hicks.

Sir Moses here took another sip of sherry, and thus resumed:—

“Well, now, gentlemen, as I said before, it only occurred to me
this morning as I was shaving, or I would have been better
prepared with some definite proposal for your consideration, but
I’ve just dotted down here, on the back of one of Grove the
fishmonger’s cards (producing one from his waistcoat pocket as he
spoke), the names of those who I think ought to be called upon to
contribute;—and, waiter!” exclaimed he, addressing one of the
lanky-haired order, who had just protruded his head in at the
door to see what all the eloquence was about, “if you’ll give me
one of those mutton fats,—and your master ought to be kicked for
putting such things on the table, and you may tell him I said
so,—I’ll just read the names over to you.” Sir Moses adjusting
his gold double eye glasses on his hooked nose as the waiter
obeyed his commands.

“Well, now,” said the Baronet, beginning at the top of the list,
“I’ve put young Lord Polkaton down for fifty.”

“But my Lord doesn’t hunt, Sir Moses!” ejaculated Mr. Mossman,
his Lordship’s land-agent, alarmed at the demand upon a very
delicate purse.

“Doesn’t hunt!” retorted Sir Moses angrily. “No; but he might if
he liked! If there were no hounds, how the deuce could he? It
would do him far more good, let me tell him, than dancing at
casinos and running after ballet girls, as he does. I’ve put him
down for fifty, however,” continued Sir Moses, with a jerk of his
head, “and you may tell him I’ve done so.”

“Wish you may get it,” growled Mr. Mossman, with disgust.

“Well, then,” said the Baronet, proceeding to the next name on
the list, “comes old Lord Harpsichord. He’s good for fifty, too,
I should say. At all events, I’ve put him down for that sum;”
adding, “I’ve no notion of those great landed cormorants cutting
away to the continent and shirking the obligations of country
life. I hold it to be the duty of every man to subscribe to a
pack of fox-hounds. In fact, I would make a subscription a first
charge upon land, before poor-rate, highway-rate, or any sort of
rate. I’d make it payable before the assessed taxes
themselves”—(laughter and applause, very few of the company being
land-owners). “Two fifties is a hundred, then,” observed Sir
Moses, perking up; “and if we can screw another fifty out of old
Lady Shortwhist, so much the better; at all events. I think
she’ll be good for a pony; and then we come to the Baronets.
First and foremost is that confounded prosy old ass, Sir George
Persiflage, with his empty compliments and his fine cravats. I’ve
put him down for fifty, though I don’t suppose the old sinner
will pay it, though we may, perhaps, get half, which we shouldn’t
do if we were not to ask for more. Well, we’ll call the
supercilious old owls five-and-twenty for safety,” added Sir
Moses. “Then there’s Sir Morgan Wildair; I should think we may
say five-aud-twenty for him. What say you, Mr. Squeezely?”
appealing to Sir Morgan’s agent at the low end of the table.

“I’ve no instructions from Sir Morgan on the subject, Sir Moses,”
replied Mr. Squeezely, shaking his head.

“Oh, but he’s a young man, and you must tell him that it’s
right—_necessary_, in fact,” replied Sir Moses. “You just pay it,
and pass it through his accounts—that’s the shortest way. It’s
the duty of an agent to save his principal trouble. I wouldn’t
keep an agent who bothered me with all the twopenny-halfpenny
transactions of the estate—dom’d if I would,” said Sir Moses,
resuming his eye-glass reading.

He then went on through the names of several other parties, who
he thought might be coaxed or bullied out of subscriptions, he
taking this man, another taking that, and working them, as he
said, on the fair means first, and foul means principle
afterwards.

“Well, then, now you see, gentlemen,” said Sir Moses, pocketing
his card and taking another sip of sherry prior to summing up;
“it just amounts to this. Four days a-week, as I said before, is
a dom’d deal better than three, and if we can get the fourth day
out of these shabby screws, why so much the better; but if that
can’t be done entirely, it can to a certain extent, and then it
will only remain for the members of the club and the strangers—by
the way, we shouldn’t forget them—it will only remain for the
members of the club and the strangers to raise any slight
deficiency by an increased subscription, and according to my plan
of each man working his neighbour, whether the club subscription
was to be increased to fifteen, or seventeen, or even to twenty
pounds a-year will depend entirely upon ourselves; so you see,
gentlemen, we have all a direct interest in the matter, and
cannot go to work too earnestly or too strenuously; for believe
me, gentlemen, there’s nothing like hunting, it promotes health
and longevity, wards off the gout and sciatica, and keeps one out
of the hands of those dom’d doctors, with their confounded
bills—no offence to our friend Plaister, there,” alluding to a
doctor of that name who was sitting about half-way down the
table—“so now,” continued Sir Moses, “I think I cannot do better
than conclude by proposing as a bumper toast, with all the
honours, Long life and prosperity to the Hit-im and Hold-im shire
hounds!”

When the forced cheering had subsided, our friend—or rather Major
Yammerton’s friend—Mr. Smoothley, the gentleman who assisted at
the sale of Bo-peep, arose to address the meeting amid coughs and
knocks and the shuffling of feet. Mr. Smoothley coughed too, for
he felt he had an uphill part to perform; but Sir Moses was a
hard task-master, and held his “I. O. U.‘s” for a hundred and
fifty-seven pounds. On silence being restored, Mr. Smoothley
briefly glanced at the topics urged, as he said, in such a
masterly manner by their excellent and popular master, to whom
they all owed a deep debt of gratitude for the spirited manner in
which he hunted the country, rescuing it from the degradation to
which it had fallen, and restoring it to its pristine fame and
prosperity—(applause from Sir Moses and his _claqueurs_). “With
respect to the specific proposal submitted by Sir Moses, Mr.
Smoothley proceeded to say, he really thought there could not be
a difference of opinion on the subject—(renewed applause, with
murmurs of dissent here and there). It was clearly their interest
to have the country hunted four days a week, and the mode in
which Sir Moses proposed accomplishing the object was worthy the
talents of the greatest financier of the day—(applause)—for it
placed the load on the shoulders of those who were the best able
to bear it—(applause). Taking all the circumstances of the case,
therefore, into consideration, he thought the very least they
could do would be to pass a unanimous vote of thanks to their
excellent friend for the brilliant sport he had hitherto shown
them, and pledge themselves to aid to the utmost of their power
in carrying out his most liberal and judicious proposal.

“Jewish enough,” whispered Mr. Straddler into the flying hatter’s
ear.

And the following week’s Hit-im and Hold-im shire Herald, and
also the Featherbedfordshire Gazette, contained a string of
resolutions, embodying the foregoing, as unanimously passed at a
full meeting of the members of the Hit-im and Hold-im shire hunt,
held at the Fox and Hounds Hotel, in Ilinton, Sir Moses
Mainchance, Bart., in the chair.

And each man set to work on the pocket of his neighbour with an
earnestness inspired by the idea of saving his own. The result
was that a very considerable sum was raised for the four days
a-week, which, somehow or other, the country rarely or ever got,
except in the shape of advertisements; for Sir Moses always had
some excuse or other for shirking it,—either his huntsman had got
drunk the day before, or his first whip had had a bad fall, or
his second whip had been summoned to the small debts court, or
his hounds had been fighting and several of them had got lamed,
or the distemper had broken out in his stable, or something or
other had happened to prevent him.

Towards Christmas, or on the eve of an evident frost, he came
valiantly out, and if foiled by a sudden thaw, would indulge in
all sorts of sham draws, and short days, to the great disgust of
those who were not in the secret. Altogether Sir Moses Mainchance
rode Hit-im and Hold-im shire as Hit-im and Hold-im shire had
never been ridden before.

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