A Year in the Life of Downton Abbey: Seasonal Celebrations, Traditions, and Recipes (35 page)

A musician tunes up.

The Sporting Season

The Earl of Grantham is the quintessential Englishman at home in his castle. It’s not the comfort of his chair by the hearth that he seeks, nor even the pleasures of a glass of whisky after a delicious supper at his dining table. No, a man like Lord Grantham is truly at his happiest when the cold wind is whipping his face, the rain is pelting at his back, his tweed suit hangs heavy and his feet are worn out and aching from tramping up and down dale, a shotgun broken across his arm.

If there is anything that defines the aristocratic country gentleman, it’s his love of outside activities, particularly those that both celebrate and take part in the countryside itself. While summer games, such as cricket and tennis, are much enjoyed, whether on the village green or one’s own lawn, it’s the country sports of winter that rouse the aristo’s spirits with a single note from the bugle. A gentleman would hardly know whether he actually enjoyed hunting, shooting or fishing – he would have been brought up to enjoy it and would expect nothing less of himself, nor of those around him.

Arguably, as landowners began to travel to town more frequently for matters of business during the week, the pull of the country’s attractions grew ever stronger. Lady Colin Campbell’s book,
Etiquette of Good Society,
had a romantic view: ‘What town-wearied man does not feel refreshed and reinvigorated as he climbs the hills with a gun on his shoulder and a dog at his heels? And for the time being is not his one wish – “Give me the naked heavens above. The broad bare heath below”?’

Lord Grantham is no exception. His estate affords him the ability to hold shooting parties for friends each winter and the drive of the house is large enough to act as the meeting place for the start of a day’s hunt. Any friend who declines an invitation to join these events is invariably considered ‘not quite a gentleman’.

Or even ‘not quite a gentlewoman’. While women were not obliged to take part in the country sports, those who could, and who held their own against the men, were admired. In fact, hunting was seen as a growing activity for women – in 1922 there were twenty-five women hunters for every one there had been in 1880. We saw, in the very first season, Mary ride out with the hunt, as bravely and as fast as the rest of them, in side-saddle no less – her horsemanship, indeed, considered a central part of Kemal Pamuk’s attraction to her.

I do wonder if it was the possibility of romance that made hunting so attractive to women after the war – men were scarce on the ground then, but a woman who rode out with a hunt would earn the respect of her fellow riders before changing into a beautiful dress for the hunt ball that night, dancing until the early hours. The perfect opportunity to meet an eligible young man.

All of the sports have their own seasons – shooting and fishing are in line with the times when the birds and fish are fully grown and plentiful; hunting is enjoyed when the fields are fallow, and therefore fine for riding roughshod over, the farmers are not too busy and landowners are seeking entertainment during the grey, cold days of an English winter.

Hunting, for many, is the most glamorous of the sports – riders in their scarlet coats (actually called ‘Pink’ because a Mr Pink used to make them) and white breeches, astride glossy steeds, the well-trained pack of hounds running in and out of the horses’ legs, as the hunt meets in front of a beautiful house.

Hunting could be a family affair. Lavinia Smiley recalled riding out as a young girl with the Cowdray Hounds, of which her father was a joint master. Although she clearly found it thrilling when the hounds caught the scent of a fox, there was no denying that hunting could also be terrifically frightening: ‘The hunting days were mostly filled with terror, both physical and social, and worst of all were days with the Crawley and Horsham, because they were often on the Downs, and once on the Downs and galloping there was no reason to suppose one would ever be able to stop. All my nightmares were of being Run Away With.’ Lavinia took less pleasure in the trophies (a fox’s paw) or the blooding (a rather gruesome tradition, in which a huntsman smeared a small amount of blood on a new rider’s face, which you had to keep on for as long as possible) than the lunch: ‘The best thing about hunting was your leather sandwich case, strapped on to the side of the saddle. Barley water in the bottle, and mutton sandwiches or toast and bacon in the silver tin. “Have you eaten yours yet?” “No, I’m SAVING it.”’

The great changes to the agricultural landscape after the First World War had their effect on the sport too. A large number of new owner-occupiers tended to be less sympathetic than the old tenant farmers and wanted to be paid a fee for allowing the hunt to cross their fields.

Farmers were – and still are – more sympathetic to shoots, which often earned them a fee if they sold shooting days to syndicates on their land. More typically, a landowner would host shooting parties on his own land across the season – for friends before Christmas, then in January he would invite his tenants, although less for pheasant and woodcock than for rabbit, which ran wild on the estate.

A shoot began with a hearty breakfast, after which the host gave each ‘gun’ (which refers to the guest, not the weapon) a number, to assign them their ‘peg’ for the day. At each drive, the numbered pegs were stuck into the ground to show where each gun stood; he would stand there either alone or with his loader (a man to help load one gun while he shoots with the other) and possibly his own gun dog, who would retrieve his birds at the end of the drive.

Everyone would be taken out in one or two ‘wagonettes’ to the first drive, unless it was within walking distance. (In fact game shoots are run in exactly the same way today, one hundred years later, down to the long socks and plus-fours the guns wear.) There would be several drives in a day, each one slightly different in aspect, whether hill or open field, with beaters (farm hands, usually, employed for this particular task) urging the birds – mostly pheasant, raised especially for this purpose – to fly out where they would be in sight of the guns. The drives would last all morning, with stops for a shot of hot consommé, fortified with sherry, and maybe a sandwich.

‘I never know which is worse: the sorrow when you hit the bird, or the shame when you miss it.’
MARY

In 1924 shooting was a relatively new sport. Before the advent of the perfected shotgun and the systematic rearing of tame birds, a landowner walking his estate wouldn’t expect to shoot more than ten birds in a day. The social historian David Cannadine writes that on one estate in Norfolk, only thirty-nine birds were killed in 1821; sixty years later, the figure was 5,363. As the sport increased in popularity, the number of birds killed could be vast. Lord de Grey was an exception among his peers, known to be the best shot of all, and his statistics are staggering. Between 1867 and 1923 he slaughtered 250,000 pheasant, 150,000 grouse and 100,000 partridge. Cannadine reports that there was one small punishment: ‘After a day’s sustained shooting, it was almost impossible to avoid suffering from a violent headache.’

Those women who did not shoot could find the whole affair rather tedious. Consuelo Vanderbilt, the American heiress unhappily married to the Duke of Marlborough, certainly did. In her memoir she writes of hours spent waiting around, with little to do but change in and out of outfits according to the time of day (she had sixteen dresses for one four-day house party). Occasionally they would stand by the guns for a drive or two – but this could be a damp and thankless task. More fun was the luncheon which allowed for much drinking and merriment to commence, despite the fact that there would be two or three more drives in the afternoon. Shooting lunches would be laid out in a barn rather than the main house, where muddy boots could be kept on but everything else would be as correct as usual, with the butler pouring the wine and the footmen serving.

Alastair Bruce’s knowledge of shooting helped the
Downton
cast here. When the actors needed to learn how to handle a gun, a day was booked for them at a shooting school and, much to Alastair’s delight, ‘I was handed a gun and hit everything.’ (Schools use clays, not game, by the way.) So on the day of the film ‘shoot’ itself, Alastair was cast as a guest of the shooting party.

‘Maids at a shooting lunch – hardly.’
CARSON

Roasting is the most delicious way to enjoy young game birds, whereas older birds are more suited to braising or casseroling. Be generous with the butter and add herbs and other flavourings of your choosing. You can also put some seasoned butter inside the carcass for pheasant, partridge, mallard, widgeon and teal.