Bracebridge Hall: Falconry

Falconry

    Ne is there hawk which mantleth on her perch,
      Whether high tow'ring or accousting low,
    But I the measure of her flight doe search,
      And all her prey and all her diet know.
    SPENSER.

There are several grand sources of lamentation furnished to the worthy
squire, by the improvement of society, and the grievous advancement of
knowledge; among which there is none, I believe, that causes him more
frequent regret than the unfortunate invention of gunpowder. To this he
continually traces the decay of some favourite custom, and, indeed, the
general downfall of all chivalrous and romantic usages. "English
soldiers," he says, "have never been the men they were in the days of
the cross-bow and the long-bow; when they depended upon the strength of
the arm, and the English archer could draw a cloth-yard shaft to the
head. These were the times when, at the battles of Cressy, Poictiers,
and Agincourt, the French chivalry was completely destroyed by the
bowmen of England. The yeomanry, too, have never been what they were,
when, in times of peace, they were constantly exercised with the bow,
and archery was a favourite holiday pastime."

Among the other evils which have followed in the train of this fatal
invention of gunpowder, the squire classes the total decline of the
noble art of falconry. "Shooting," he says, "is a skulking, treacherous,
solitary sport in comparison; but hawking was a gallant, open, sunshiny
recreation; it was the generous sport of hunting carried into the
skies."

"It was, moreover," he says, "according to Braithewaite, the stately
amusement of high and mounting spirits; for, as the old Welsh proverb
affirms, in those times 'You might know a gentleman by his hawk, horse,
and greyhound.' Indeed, a cavalier was seldom seen abroad without his
hawk on his fist; and even a lady of rank did not think herself
completely equipped, in riding forth, unless she had her tassel-gentel
held by jesses on her delicate hand. It was thought in those excellent
days, according to an old writer, 'quite sufficient for noblemen to
winde their horn, and to carry their hawke fair; and leave study and
learning to the children of mean people.'"

Knowing the good squire's hobby, therefore, I have not been surprised at
finding that, among the various recreations of former times which he has
endeavoured to revive in the little world in which he rules, he has
bestowed great attention on the noble art of falconry. In this he of
course has been seconded by his indefatigable coadjutor, Master Simon:
and even the parson has thrown considerable light on their labours, by
various hints on the subject, which he has met with in old English
works. As to the precious work of that famous dame, Julianna Barnes; the
Gentleman's Academie, by Markham; and the other well-known treatises
that were the manuals of ancient sportsmen, they have them at their
fingers' ends: but they have more especially studied some old tapestry
in the house, whereon is represented a party of cavaliers and stately
dames, with doublets, caps, and flaunting feathers, mounted on horse,
with attendants on foot, all in animated pursuit of the game.

The squire has discountenanced the killing of any hawks in his
neighbourhood, but gives a liberal bounty for all that are brought him
alive; so that the Hall is well stocked with all kinds of birds of prey.
On these he and Master Simon have exhausted their patience and
ingenuity, endeavouring to "reclaim" them, as it is termed, and to train
them up for the sport; but they have met with continual checks and
disappointments. Their feathered school has turned out the most
intractable and graceless scholars; nor is it the least of their trouble
to drill the retainers who were to act as ushers under them, and to take
immediate charge of these refractory birds. Old Christy and the
gamekeeper both, for a time, set their faces against the whole plan of
education; Christy having been nettled at hearing what he terms a
wild-goose chase put on a par with a fox-hunt; and the gamekeeper having
always been accustomed to look upon hawks as arrant poachers, which it
was his duty to shoot down, and nail, _in terrorem_, against the
out-houses.

Christy has at length taken the matter in hand, but has done still more
mischief by his intermeddling. He is as positive and wrongheaded about
this as he is about hunting. Master Simon has continual disputes with
him as to feeding and training the hawks. He reads to him long passages
from the old authors I have mentioned; but Christy, who cannot read, has
a sovereign contempt for all book-knowledge, and persists in treating
the hawks according to his own notions, which are drawn from his
experience, in younger days, in rearing of game cocks.

The consequence is, that, between these jarring systems, the poor birds
have had a most trying and unhappy time of it. Many have fallen victims
to Christy's feeding and Master Simon's physicking; for the latter has
gone to work _secundum artem_, and has given them all the vomitings and
scourings laid down in the books; never were poor hawks so fed and
physicked before. Others have been lost by being but half "reclaimed,"
or tamed; for on being taken into the field, they have "raked," after
the game quite out of hearing of the call, and never returned to school.

All these disappointments had been petty, yet sore grievances to the
squire, and had made him to despond about success. He has lately,
however, been made happy by the receipt of a fine Welsh falcon, which
Master Simon terms a stately highflyer. It is a present from the
squire's friend, Sir Watkyn Williams Wynn; and is, no doubt, a
descendant of some ancient line of Welsh princes of the air, that have
long lorded it over their kingdom of clouds, from Wynnstay to the very
summit of Snowdon, or the brow of Penmanmawr. Ever since the squire
received this invaluable present he has been as impatient to sally forth
and make proof of it as was Don Quixote to assay his suit of armour.
There have been some demurs as to whether the bird was in proper health
and training; but these have been overruled by the vehement desire to
play with a new toy; and it has been determined, right or wrong, in
season or out of season, to have a day's sport in hawking to-morrow.

The Hall, as usual, whenever the squire is about to make some new sally
on his hobby, is all agog with the thing. Miss Templeton, who is brought
up in reverence for all her guardian's humours, has proposed to be of
the party, and Lady Lillycraft has talked also of riding out to the
scene of action and looking on. This has gratified the old gentleman
extremely; he hails it as an auspicious omen of the revival of falconry,
and does not despair but the time will come when it will be again the
pride of a fine lady to carry about a noble falcon in preference to a
parrot or a lapdog.

I have amused myself with the bustling preparations of that busy spirit,
Master Simon, and the continual thwartings he receives from that
genuine son of a pepper-box, old Christy. They have had half a dozen
consultations about how the hawk is to be prepared for the morning's
sport. Old Nimrod, as usual, has always got in a pet, upon which Master
Simon has invariably given up the point, observing in a good-humoured
tone, "Well, well, have it your own way, Christy; only don't put
yourself in a passion;" a reply which always nettles the old man ten
times more than ever.

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