wily fox. Year after year saw the wide forests resounding to the fox-hunter’s horn; and Cavaliers and Roundheads forgot their animosities when they retired to their hunting-boxes, and became of one cloth when they met at the covert side.
Hamlets, the very site of which are now known only to the antiquary, once held a high position in the estimation of the sporting world, and it is to rescue one of the most famous of these forgotten spots from its obscurity that we have come before the public.
To the north of Goodwood racecourse, and in a low valley, embosomed by the loftiest of the South Downs, lies a little hamlet, “a tything in the parish of Singleton.” Once the Melton of England, Charlton has outlived its fame; a fame which in the reckless roystering days when the Merrie Monarch spent his country’s living after the characteristic manner described in a well-known parable, possessed spells potent enough to rivet the attractions of the Court itself, and induce the votaries of fashion to forego the ease and luxury of town for the manifold discomforts of a rural life.
To what happy circumstance Charlton owes its first selection as a hunting-place we cannot ascertain. Dalloway, the historian of Sussex, throws no light upon the subject, yet it must have attained considerable celebrity in the sixteenth century, as in 1658 we find the Duke of Monmouth installed as master, having for huntsman a Mr. Roper, well known in his day as a true sportsman.
Two things might have favoured the selection of Charlton by the duke. One was its proximity to Up Park, the property of his great friend and companion Lord Tankerville; the other, the affection displayed towards him by the citizens of Chichester, which at one time became so notorious as to incur his majesty’s serious displeasure, that it required all the eloquence of their bishop, Dr. King, to appease the royal anger. Yet, popular as the unfortunate duke was in the district, it does not appear that any great demonstration was made in favour of his claim to the crown—although there can be no doubt that the Hunt Meetings at Charlton formed a regular hotbed for the intrigues of the time; and when the duke laid claim to the throne, the principal members of the hunt rallied round their master in a far different field than that they had so often met in at the foot of Leving Down.
In consequence of the defeat and disgrace of Monmouth, the hunt, for a time, sank into oblivion, only, however, to rise again in fresh glory when King William brought peace to the troubled land; and Roper, who had found a temporary refuge in France, was unanimously recalled, and given back his old command. William, who spared no pains to suit his humour to that of every man, finding it politic to become a fox-hunter, honoured Charlton by his presence, bringing with him his guest the Grand Duke of Tuscany; and it was during this royal gathering that the Duke of Devonshire performed the feat of riding over Leving Down at full gallop, and leaping a five-barred gate at the bottom; though if the five-barred gates of those days were anything like that which now stands at the foot of the Down, our modern Nimrods would scarcely think such a performance worth a second thought.
The countenance shown to Charlton by King William appears to have roused the jealousy of the Duke of Somerset, and induced him to establish a rival pack at Petworth, then his princely seat. For a season or two open war went on. At last, victory declared in favour of the Charlton Hunt, his Grace of Somerset signed a treaty of peace, and joined packs.
Lord Tankerville for a time held the mastership of the united packs; but some dispute having arisen, he threw it up and left the hunt altogether, carrying with him half the pack, and a famous whip named Tom Johnson. Mr. Roper then ruled alone until his death, when the Duke of Bolton took the entire management, sparing neither time, trouble, nor money, in bringing the pack to perfection. Venus, however, vanquished Diana, and the voice of Lavinia Fenton (Polly Peachem) proving more seductive than that of the huntsman, his Grace threw down the reins of government.
The Duke of Richmond was then elected; but finding he could not attend so fully as was requisite to his duties (his position at the Court of George IV. requiring his frequent presence), he appointed Lord Delawar as sub-master. Not content with the accommodation at Charlton, new kennels were erected, the hounds removed to Goodwood, and finally presented to the king. Thus the glories of the Charlton hunt became a thing of the past.
Fox Hall, the temple and club of the hunt, was standing until a few years ago, when it was pulled down by the orders of the late Duke of Richmond. The origin of the name is uncertain; probably it was given in honour of the purpose for which the building was intended, and foxes’ plates, brushes, and pads, formed the ornaments of the magnificent dining-room, which was handsomely panelled and floored with marble, the design being furnished by the first Duke of Grafton, and Lord Bolingbroke, sometimes called the Vitruvius of his day. Yet although this is the simplest solution, we cannot help thinking it might have been given in sarcastic allusion to Fox Hall on the Thames, which formed a favourite lounge and resort for the fashionable world during the reign of Charles, and has no small notoriety among the intrigues, both political and domestic, of the time. On one side of the hall, and still standing, is a tall, quaintly-shaped house, with a lofty room upon the second floor, in which the Duchesses of Bolton and Richmond held assemblies. In the middle of the village stands the palace of the Duke of St. Albans. It is now used as a farm-house, though from its great size we felt inclined to pity the farmer doomed to such occupancy. Close to this house over-rose the staff and standard of the hunt—a green silk flag, with a gilt fox at full cry.
Although these are the only separate buildings now standing, and which existed in the days of the hunt, the remains of many are discernible among the cottages, rick yards, &c., having been dismantled to save the expense of bringing stone