First Published: 1935
Made and Printed in Great Britain at The Mayflower Press, Plymouth. William Brendon & Son Ltd.
Product Dimensions: 22.2cm x 15cm x 4cm approx
Book Weight: 600g approx.
254 pages +
** VERY RARE **
Introduction by Viscount Castlerossee
"MY friend Mr. James Wentworth Day has, after much close study, discovered the fact that since time immemorial there are other sports in London besides the hunting of rich men by poor women. Jimmy Day has turned day into night. Read his book and you will be bitten. Bitterns boom. I have been bitten by Jimmy Day, that is why I am booming his book. Jimmy Day knows his subject, which is rare amongst authors."
CASTLEROSSE
Author's Preface
THIS book was suggested by Lord Castlerosse, which is perhaps why the somewhat hetero-geneous result is not unlike him. Valentine Castlerosse is a curious, gay, quick-witted, loyal and romantic mixture. He is a sentimentalist and a satirist, a cynic and an Irish landed gentleman. He is the nearest approach to an eighteenth-century Corinthian that one is ever likely to meet in this synthetic age. He mirrors something of the London we have lost, a livelier, more scandalous, more robust and more liveable London. I am glad that he fathered this book.
And his sage and sentimental advice was this.
“Write a book that will bring the fields and the villages to London. London is sick of itself. We are all going back to the primitive. Look at the rich people who now go yachting instead of to the South of France—and the poor people who go hiking instead of to the cinema. So take the Londoner into the country—or bring the country back to London. The Londoner is really a villager at heart."
I agree up to a point. There is much of the countryman in the Londoner's heart. He may not wish to live among green fields or endure the solitude of the high hills, but his soul still answers to the enchantment of a bird on the wing, the grace of a squirrel, the old eternal beauties of the Thames sliding to the sea under the sunset.
So I have tried to put together, I fear most inconsequently, some sort of sentimental, dis-connected story about the birds and animals which are part of London. They, after all, are as much inheritors of the City as we. Their forebears were here when Bermondsey was a salt marsh, when Vauxhall was a bog, when the woods of Hampstead hid the tall deer, and the flat fields of Middlesex were tilled by yeoman farmers who shot their partridges within sight of the dome of St. Paul's.
My thanks in this work are due firstly to that eminent ornithologist, Mr. A. Holte Macpherson for his more than kind assistance with the unique list of London birds which he has compiled with infinite patience, and which I am here privileged to record.
It should be of permanent and lasting value. I am indebted to my old friend, Sir Hagberg Wright, the head of the London Library, for much valuable help in research, and I owe perhaps a bow across the grave to that remarkable chronicler of his time, Pierce Egan, the odd, amusing, cockneyfied Irish chronicler of London life, sport and vice, who has left us in his books certain mirrors of fun and character which neither time nor changing fashion can ever break.
I have to thank the editors of the Sunday express, Daily Express, Evening Standard and Evening News, for the permission to reprint chapters which have appeared in their pages from time to time. Thirdly, I thank also the person without whose help and assistance this book, in common with several others, would never have been completed without the burning of much belated oil, my friend and invaluable assistant, Miss Cohen (Mrs. W. L. Friedberg).
I must thank also Mr. Walter T. Spencer, the well-known print dealer, bookseller, and collector of old sporting pictures, of New Oxford Street, for permission to reproduce the various prints of old London sports and personalities which help to illustrate this book.
The coloured engraving on the outside jacket is reproduced from Alken's rare Book of British Sports by courtesy of Messrs. Arthur Ackermann, of New Bond Street, W.I.
J. WENTWORTH DAY.
Wicken, Cambs.
Contents:
CHAPTER I
The Falcon on St. Paul's—A Peregrine who came back—With some account of St. James's Palace.
CHAPTER II ........
The Woodcock of St. James's Street—Whites' Betting Books—A Duck Decoy in St. James's Park— The Romance of the London Wildfowl.
CHAPTER III ........
Escape from London—The Lost Men who Hunt their Food—A Hermit of Mill Hill—And the Bird Catchers of the Commons.
CHAPTER IV ........
The " Unknown " Lake District of London—Birds of the Reservoirs—Shooting Wild Geese Within the Suburbs.
CHAPTER V ........
The Birds of London—The Full Story other Feathered Visitors—An Unique List of Records.
CHAPTER VI ........
Hunting in the Earliest Days—When London was a Mud-walled Village—Wolves and Bears—The Ambassador's Entertainment.
CHAPTER VII ........
Stag-hunting in Chelsea—Deer in Hyde Park—Coach Racing and the Running Footmen—Banks and his Horse.
CHAPTER VIII .....
London Race Meetings—The Hampstead Course—Kentish Town Races—Wild Days at the Bayswater and Harrow Meetings—The First Tattersall
CHAPTER IX ........
On Duelling—The Old Battling Days—The Plug-uglies—Stripped and Left Stark Naked—Rat-catching and Dog-fighting—A Dog-fighter of To-day—Dog v. Opossum.
CHAPTER X ........
Cock-fighting in London—Dod and Duck Ponds—The Origin of Balls Pond Road—A Cockfight in Westminster.
CHAPTER XI ......
Shooting Round London—Lord Malmesbury on Wimbledon Common—The Snipe Marshes of the Lea—Middlesex Partridges—The Rangers' Shoot in Hyde Park—Archery on Blackheath.
CHAPTER XII .....
'Ere, Wot's This ?—The Last of the Cabbies-Sneak the Pie and Teddy Oysters—The Blood-worm and Bill Figgs' Farmyard in Marylebone.
CHAPTER XIII ........
Salute to Yachting CHAPTER XIV ......
Birds of Death—The Crow of Streatham—Ravens and Rooks—Mrs. Langtry's Evil Peacock.
CHAPTER XV ........
The Gate-crashing Gulls—The Almost-human Rook—And the Pigeons of St. Paul's—With a Note on Rats and Ratcatchers.
List of Illustrations
AN EPPING FOREST KEEPER OF 1825
FACING PAG THE HERON RETURNS TO ITS NEST
SNIPE FEEDING ON THE LEA VALLEY RESERVOIRS
SUNSHINE AND FOG ON THE EMBANKMENT—AN EVERYDAY LONDON SCENE
WILDFOWL ON THE SERPENTINE—A MIXED PADDLING OF MALLARD, POCHARD AND TUFTED DUCK
THE BARN OWL
" TERNS—THOSE GRACEFUL FISHERS OF THE LONELY CREEKS "
A STARLING AT ITS NESTING HOLE IN A NOTTING HILL GARDEN
THE FIRST CORMORANT IN HISTORY TO HATCH OUT A BROOD IN ST. JAMES'S PARK
THE BLACK-HEADED GULL—LONDON'S COMMONEST VARIETY
A RICHMOND PARK HERON—THEY OFTEN VISIT THE SERPENTINE
THE LAKE OF ST. JAMES—AN IDYLL OF FOG
ROOKS COURTING IN THE SPRING ABOVE HYDE PARK
SWANS IN RICHMOND PARK
THE WORST BIRD IN BRITAIN
THE BADGER BY NIGHT
THE RASCALLY, IMPUDENT JACKDAW
GULLS WHICH COME TO LONDON
LESSER BLACK-BACKED GULLS
A FINE OLD LONDON SPORTSMAN
FALLOW DOES AND FAWNS BESIDE A POND IN BUSHEY PARK
MR. TATTERSALL—THE FOUNDER OF THE FIRM, 1766 .
THE " TIMBER RATTLERS "
BEAR BAITING
THE WESTMINSTER DOG-PIT
THE ROYAL COCK-PIT
" BULL BROKE LOOSE "
I6' PIGEON SHOOTING AT THE OLD HATS CLUB AT HENDON IN THE 'TWENTIES
A SUBURBAN GAMEKEEPER
THESE PIGEONS CALL REGULARLY AT II A.M. EACH DAY AT A TULSE HILL PUBLIC HOUSE TO BE FED
THE PIGEONS OF ST. MARTIN-IN-THE-FIELDS
GREAT CRESTED GREBES NESTING ON THE PENN PONDS IN RICHMOND PARK
A BICYCLE RODEO-A BUSHEY PARK KEEPER ROUNDS UP THE BUCKS.
Extract:
"The real rat-killer, who might be anything from, a bull terrier to a sheer mongrel, was a master of his job.
The moment the sackful of rats was let out into the arena, a leaping, running, squealing mass of rodents, the dog was in them and among them, snapping, shaking, tossing, in an unbelievable sequence of speed and movement. One snap, a bite and a toss and it was all over. A good dog could kill his fifteen rats a minute with comparative ease. Think of it—a rat in every four seconds, caught as they ran, snapped neatly at the back of the neck, tossed into the air, dead before they reached the sawdust.
That marvellous dog Jacko held the record. In 1861 he killed twenty-five rats in one minute and twenty-eight seconds. He followed that up by killing a hundred rats in five minutes, twenty-eight seconds. One year later he clean killed two hun-dred rats in fourteen minutes thirty-seven seconds. My great uncle, the late Isaac Aspland-Aspland and his croney, old Sir John Astley, “The Mate," were both there and won a pony on it.
We used to have a certain amount of rat-killing at home, at Wicken in Cambridgeshire, matching the Cambridgeshire dogs against dogs from Norfolk and Suffolk, from Huntingdonshire and Essex. When they found a specially good one, and felt rather grand about it, they brought him up to London and challenged the rest of England for fifty or a hundred pounds a side.
Actually dog-fighting, the most brutal, degrading and inexcusable sport imaginable, exists to-day. It is carried on in Staffordshire, the mining districts, on the Welsh borders and in one or two instances in the home counties.
Not so very long ago I received a mysterious communication from a certain small squire living within forty miles of London. I had written some-thing about the Staffordshire bull terrier which seemed to tickle his fancy. He wrote to tell me that he possessed the only true Staffordshire bulls, the real fighting dogs, left in England. He ended his letter by remarking, naively, “I could tell you how I got them fit, but - -“
So, smelling a rat, I wrote for further details. The rat came out of his hole. Here is his reply, word for word :
“Dear Sir,
I have noticed several letters in one of your daily contemporaries dealing with our breed—the Staffordshire bull-terrier— bottomed to the last hair ! Now, Sir, there has been a great deal of nonsense written and spoken about this fast-dying breed. One individual compared them to a barge dog . . . (mine simply blushed when they heard this - and went and hid.)
This dog above is now—a month ago—dead. He went 231/21b fit, in his collar.
He has killed an Alsatian dog in twelve minutes, and 100 rats in nine minutes, forty seconds.
They are bred simply and solely to fight—each other preferably or any other dog—if so it happens. They are entirely useless for badgers as they almost invariably get an unsuitable hold, and get killed. A true Staffordshire has no written pedigree, verbal only, never weighs over 25 Ib—has a jaw like a shark—is never fawn or part white (these are nearly as soft as an ordinary show Bull Terrier)—a head, relatively like a coal-scuttle—never, never squeaks and fights in silence. I doubt whether there are fifty in England.
A six-month pup will never snarl and (walk round ' another dog. He will go straight in, with no warning. They are delightful with children, cats and stock.
Unreliable with horses—for they are liable at any time to ‘snout' them—and it is not easy to get one off a milk-float horse either. He hangs in silence and you can cut an inch off his tail with a chopper and he will still hang.
They are from the Black Country. There are dozens up there for sale—of half-breed whippets— 40-50lb. But let anyone go and try to buy a ' reight red 'un ' and see how he gets on. I am not a dealer and I have none for sale."
A little further correspondence follows and then came this gem :
“Dear Sir,
Thank you for your letter. Yes, this letter of mine will create a lot of controversy ! I have pitted more bull-terriers than most people in Eng-land and abroad—We had a main here last week—-and I saw a most curious thing that I have never seen before.
I saw a dead dog win a fight. I set him up—and he crawled up to the white line—snarled, and died.
The other had two hind legs broke, and would not come to scratch. (They were in holds for just an hour.) The dead dog (mine) of course, got the decision. Most interesting.
To get them fit—one gets hold of a mongrel terrier, ties him up short, the far side of a really big fire in a very hot room. Tie up your dog—on the other side with a long elastic rope just short enough not to allow him—(be careful of the exact pull and stretch) to slash the other. Sick him to it; leave ten minutes. Next day twenty, etc. Don't go more than twenty minutes. And always eventually let him .................................."
