Hunting scenes are plentiful in Regency-set novels. However, the events of the hunting season, the highlight of the gentry’s yearly calendar, did not come about just like that. One had to train the dogs, protect (in some cases, raise!) the game, and, in the end, organize the hunt proper. That was when the estate’s gamekeeper came in.
Gamekeeper’s duties
In its inception after the Norman Conquest, the role of the gamekeeper had been attached strictly to the royal household. Fast-forward seven centuries, however, and even smaller estates usually had a gamekeeper – sometimes even multiple ones! That was actually in direct contradiction with the law passed in 1710 that required lords of manors to appoint no more than one gamekeeper. Sometimes the breaches of the rules were quite flagrant – for instance, one Lord Berkeley had eight head gamekeepers, twenty under-keepers, and thirty night watchmen. In other words, sometimes a combination of a venerable title and old money could make the law look the other way… which, I suspect, is not going to be much news.
So, what did a gamekeeper actually do? Quite a lot of things. For example, while we hear often about landowners planting woods on their lands to improve game, naturally they were not the ones who did the actual physical work of looking after these – their gamekeepers were. Then came the care of the living things. Those wonderful spaniels, beagles, and greyhounds that we see coursing after hares on hunting-themed paintings (and on the pages of Regency novels) required a lot of attention. A gamekeeper would not only look after their kennels and train the dogs to flush the game or fetch it back, but even see to their medical needs (such as worming them).
He (though a gamekeeper was not always a he – more on that later!) would also take care of stocking the lakes, ponds, and rivers on the estate with fish, as well as tend to the poles and the lines of the fishermen. I suppose, fishing could be seen as an activity adjacent enough to hunting to merit inclusion in his duties. The genteel pastimes of the gentry and the aristocracy required quite a lot of behind-the-scenes work.
Then there was the care of the aviaries and the dovecots, though, if we are talking about a large estate, these particular tasks could be delegated to an under-keeper (Lord Berkeley did have twenty of those…). The duty of killing off wild rabbits, in turn, came with some perks – the gamekeeper could sell their skins and keep the meat for his own meals.
In spring and summer, he had to find or buy partridge and pheasant eggs. It was his duty to make sure that, by the time the great shooting season starts in August (August the 12th, specifically, as per the law of 1773), the birds would be grown. I suspect he mostly tried to find the eggs, or at least only buy them from the locals – purchasing them on London’s Leadenhall Market would have cost him 2s for a dozen partridge eggs and 8s for pheasant ones!
Lapses and troubles
Markets of London were officially prohibited from selling either of these birds proper, however – or even such game as hares. The ban of 1755 took care of that… or, at least, tried to. In practice, game from well-stocked estates often somehow found its way to London coffee houses. It is peculiar to us to think of there being a black market for hares, but it very much existed – and was thriving. Poachers supplying it grew bolder as the era wore on, banding together into gangs that could threaten even an experienced and wily gamekeeper. You can know your adversaries’ old tricks and delicate subterfuge, of course, but confronting a direct force of arms from multiple men is a whole different kettle of fish. In other words, the job of a gamekeeper was not simply one of great responsibility and multiple duties – it could also carry serious danger with it.
…or so it usually was. The law of 1710 that I have mentioned above, the one attempting to curb the number of gamekeepers an estate could employ (unsuccessfully), was passed to stop some gentlemen for simply naming their friends their gamekeepers just to grant them a legal right to take game on their estate. It sounds to me like a discreet way of helping one’s less-moneyed friends to access venison and hare – after all, if these friends were as fortunate as the gentlemen who “hired” them and had their own estates, they would not have needed these appointments in the first place. I suspect the law was not that effective in curbing this practice – after all, if it did not stop lords from hiring many legitimate gamekeepers, would it have kept the false ones out?
In most cases – indeed, almost all cases – gamekeepers were men (no surprises here). However, exceptions did happen. In 1820s, a Yorkshire undermaid (albeit a gamekeeper’s daughter) called Polly Fishbourne became the gamekeeper at Holkham. Contemporary reports refer to her as “imposing” and “fearless”.
Well, given all the duties and dangers outlined above, she could have hardly been able to afford to be otherwise!
Ann Hawthorne is a Regency romance author who prefers to keep her research tomes open, and her heroes’ bedroom door closed. She also offers various assistance to her fellow authors, from editing to social media marketing for their books. Her novels and work can be discovered here: http://cleanregencyromance.com
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