Bracebridge Hall

Hawking

At an early hour this morning the Hall was in a bustle, preparing for

the sport of the day. I heard Master Simon whistling and singing under

my window at sunrise, as he was preparing the jesses for the hawk's

legs, and could distinguish now and then a stanza of one of his

favourite old ditties:

Breakfast being finished, the chivalry of the Hall prepared to take the

field. The fair Julia was of the party, in a hunting-dress, with a light

plume of feathers in her riding-hat. As she mounted her favourite

Galloway, I remarked, with pleasure, that old Christy forgot his usual

crustiness, and hastened to adjust her saddle and bridle. He touched his

cap as she smiled on him and thanked him; and then, looking round at the

other attendants, gave a knowing nod of his head, in which I read pride

and exultation at the charming appearance of his pupil.

Lady Lillycraft had likewise determined to witness the sport. She was

dressed in her broad white beaver, tied under the chin, and a

riding-habit of the last century. She rode her sleek, ambling pony,

whose motion was as easy as a rocking-chair; and was gallantly escorted

by the general, who looked not unlike one of the doughty heroes in the

old prints of the battle of Blenheim. The parson, likewise, accompanied

her on the other side; for this was a learned amusement in which he took

great interest; and, indeed, had given much counsel, from his knowledge

of old customs.

At length everything was arranged, and off we set from the Hall. The

exercise on horseback puts one in fine spirits; and the scene was gay

and animating. The young men of the family accompanied Miss Templeton.

She sat lightly and gracefully in her saddle, her plumes dancing and

waving in the air; and the group had a charming effect as they appeared

and disappeared among the trees, cantering along with the bounding

animation of youth. The squire and Master Simon rode together,

accompanied by old Christy mounted on Pepper. The latter bore the hawk

on his fist, as he insisted the bird was most accustomed to him. There

was a rabble rout on foot, composed of retainers from the Hall, and some

idlers from the village, with two or three spaniels for the purpose of

starting the game.

A kind of corps de reserve came on quietly in the rear, composed of Lady

Lillycraft, General Harbottle, the parson, and a fat footman. Her

ladyship ambled gently along on her pony, while the general, mounted on

a tall hunter, looked down upon her with an air of the most protecting

gallantry.

For my part, being no sportsman, I kept with this last party, or rather

lagged behind, that I might take in the whole picture; and the parson

occasionally slackened his pace and jogged on in company with me.

The sport led us at some distance from the Hall, in a soft meadow

reeking with the moist verdure of spring. A little river ran through it,

bordered by willows, which had put forth their tender early foliage. The

sportsmen were in quest of herons, which were said to keep about this

stream.

There was some disputing already among the leaders of the sport. The

squire, Master Simon, and old Christy, came every now and then to a

pause, to consult together, like the field officers in an army; and I

saw, by certain motions of the head, that Christy was as positive as any

old, wrong-headed German commander.

As we were prancing up this quiet meadow every sound we made was

answered by a distinct echo from the sunny wall of an old building that

lay on the opposite margin of the stream; and I paused to listen to the

"spirit of a sound," which seems to love such quiet and beautiful

places. The parson informed me that this was the ruin of an ancient

grange, and was supposed by the country people to be haunted by a

dobbie, a kind of rural sprite, something like Robin-Goodfellow. They

often fancied the echo to be the voice of the dobbie answering them, and

were rather shy of disturbing it after dark. He added, that the squire

was very careful of this ruin, on account of the superstition connected

with it. As I considered this local habitation of an "airy nothing," I

called to mind the fine description of an echo in Webster's Duchess of

Malfy:

[Footnote A: Bekker's _Monde Enchant**]

I had paused on a rising ground, close to Lady Lillycraft and her

escort, from whence I had a good view of the sport. I was pleased with

the appearance of the party in the meadow, riding along in the direction

that the bird flew; their bright beaming faces turned up to the bright

skies as they watched the game; the attendants on foot scampering along,

looking up, and calling out, and the dogs bounding and yelping with

clamorous sympathy.

The hawk had singled out a quarry from among the carrion crew. It was

curious to see the efforts of the two birds to get above each other; one

to make the fatal swoop, the other to avoid it. Now they crossed athwart

a bright feathery cloud, and now they were against the clear blue sky.

I confess, being no sportsman, I was more interested for the poor bird

that was striving for its life, than for the hawk that was playing the

part of a mercenary soldier. At length the hawk got the upper hand, and

made a rushing stoop at her quarry, but the latter made as sudden a

surge downwards, and slanting up again evaded the blow, screaming and

making the best of his way for a dry tree on the brow of a neighbouring

hill; while the hawk, disappointed of her blow, soared up again into the

air, and appeared to be "raking" off. It was in vain old Christy called

and whistled, and endeavoured to lure her down; she paid no regard to

him; and, indeed, his calls were drowned in the shouts and yelps of the

army of militia that had followed him into the field.

Just then an exclamation from Lady Lillycraft made me turn my head. I

beheld a complete confusion among the sportsmen in the little vale below

us. They were galloping and running towards the edge of a bank; and I

was shocked to see Miss Templeton's horse galloping at large without his

rider. I rode to the place to which bank, which almost overhung the

stream, I saw at the foot of it the fair Julia, pale, bleeding, and

apparently lifeless, supported in the arms of her frantic lover.

In galloping heedlessly along, with her eyes turned upward, she had

unwarily approached too near the bank; it had given way with her, and

she and her horse had been precipitated to the pebbled margin of the

river.

I never saw greater consternation. The captain was distracted; Lady

Lillycraft fainting; the squire in dismay; and Master Simon at his wits'

end. The beautiful creature at length showed signs of returning life;

she opened her eyes; looked around her upon the anxious group, and

comprehending in a moment the nature of the scene, gave a sweet smile,

and putting her hand in her lover's, exclaimed feebly, "I am not much

hurt, Guy!" I could have taken her to my heart for that single

exclamation.

It was found, indeed, that she had escaped, almost miraculously, with a

contusion of the head, a sprained ankle, and some slight bruises. After

her wound was stanched, she was taken to a neighbouring cottage until a

carriage could be summoned to convey her home; and when this had

arrived, the cavalcade, which had issued forth so gaily on this

enterprise, returned slowly and pensively to the Hall.

I had been charmed by the generous spirit shown by this young creature,

who, amidst pain and danger, had been anxious only to relieve the

distress of those around her. I was gratified, therefore, by the

universal concern displayed by the domestics on our return. They came

crowding down the avenue, each eager to render assistance. The butler

stood ready with some curiously delicate cordial; the old housekeeper

was provided with half a dozen nostrums, prepared by her own hands,

according to the family receipt book; while her niece, the melting

Phoebe, having no other way of assisting, stood wringing her hands and

weeping aloud.

The most material effect that is likely to follow this accident is a

postponement of the nuptials, which were close at hand. Though I

commiserate the impatience of the captain on that account, yet I shall

not otherwise be sorry at the delay, as it will give me a better

opportunity of studying the characters here assembled, with which I grow

more and more entertained.

I cannot but perceive that the worthy squire is quite disconcerted at

the unlucky result of his hawking experiment, and this unfortunate

illustration of his eulogy on female equitation. Old Christy, too, is

very waspish, having been sorely twitted by Master Simon for having let

his hawk fly at carrion. As to the falcon, in the confusion occasioned

by the fair Julia's disaster the bird was totally forgotten. I make no

doubt she has made the best of her way back to the hospitable Hall of

Sir Watkyn Williams Wynn; and may very possibly, at this present

writing, be pluming her wings among the breezy bowers of Wynnstay.