514 From Bentley's Miscellany. STAG-HUNTING IN FRANCE. with an ardor, and has attained a perfection, that is now historical and almost unrivalled. It is related of the Duke of Wellington, that being at a stag-hunt with Charles X., he exclaimed, at a moment when the horsemen were following the game across the plain of Plessis: "Ah! this is something like home. I can fancy myself near Aylesbury." "You surprise me, duke," remarked the king, evidently annoyed. "I must acknowledge that my self-love had flattered itself with the idea that you were present at a spectacle such as England could never present dans tout son ensemble." ACCORDING to English ideas the French sportsman is a very inferior and inefficient personage. A dress of a very outré description is in the first place essential to his success gaiters buckled with straps of enormous width, a jockey cap with a very large and peculiar peak, coat and waistcoat supposed to be in harmony with rural scenery, and a prodigious gibecière, appear indeed to be indispensable. Secondly, it is well known that the Parisian sportsman, who is reduced to limit his exploits to the well-beaten fields of St. Denis, or the quarries of Sceaux, is quite satisfied if the before-described capacious pouch receives, as the reward of his exertions, one or two larks, a red breast, or even a titmouse. He is not particular. The sportsman en province shoots hares, partridges, quails, rails, and some have even attained the credit of shooting woodcock and snipe. "Oh, on that point, my dear duke, you But on such occasions the Frenchman always must lower your colors, however repugnant shoots in company, and invariably quarrels as it may be to your feelings. England, so reto the right to the solitary bird which gene-nowned for its horses, its dogs, and the rally falls by the almost simultaneous discharge of four barrels into a covey. This peculiarity does not belong to the commonalty. It extends even to royalty. Charles X. used to shoot with the Duke of Berry, and the most lively discussions arose as to whom the game belonged. The duke would claim a bird which had been picked up by his father, and the latter would shout out, "Berry, you are taking a pheasant which belongs to me." One day the duke told an attendant to go and claim a buck he had shot, which had fallen at the king's feet. "Make haste," he said; "my father will take it. He is not very particular-when out shooting." At the same time the king, who had killed a pheasant which the duke's attendants had picked up, would send one of his keepers for it, saying, "Run as fast as you can. My son is a great thief!" But if the Frenchman, generally speaking, makes but an indifferent sportsman, and a still less successful fox-hunter, the more noble pursuit of the stag has been followed out "Will your majesty permit me to say, that that would be a very just pride on your part, if the fact had been perfectly established." splendor of its equipages, knows nothing about hunting. I do not mean the kind of hunting that consists in pursuing an animal over mountains, and across valleys, riding at a furious pace across fields and rivers, over walls and hedges, and running down a stag twelve or fifteen miles from the place where it was turned out--that kind of hunting you carry to the highest degree of perfection. You are undoubtedly unrivalled riders, but that is not what constitutes the science of venery." "Perhaps the patriotism of your majesty leads you, by this contempt for bold and effective riding, to indemnify yourself for the inferiority of French horses and riders." "It is more probable, duke, that your na tionality prevents you from acknowledging the superiority of the French in this as in other things. You must learn that the true art of the chase does not precisely consist in killing, or rivalling in swiftness with a stag, for then it would suffice to wait for the animal with a gun behind a bush, or to launch a pack of hounds at its heels. But the art lies in following up one particular stag in a forest full of wild animals, in determining the true scent or the identity of the animal amidst the most puzzling changes and breaks, and in correcting all mistakes that may arise. This can only be learnt by theory combined with practice." The king, seeing that a smile was gathering upon the duke's lips, hastened to add, "Duke, I am sorry for you. You may have a Master of the Buck Hounds, but you have no King's Grand Huntsman in England. Where is your Yauville?" So saying, he put his horse in motion, and broke off the conversation. The point here insisted upon by Charles X. (namely, the determining the identity of the stag) has become historical in the annals of French hunting, and has led, in some instances, to very remarkable results. The following is extracted from a curious little work entitled Les Chasses Princières en France de 1589 à 1811." One day the Prince of Condé resolved to hunt a veteran stag that had attracted attention in the forest of Chantilly. All the preparations were made which are usual in such a case. The wood was explored early in the morning, the position of the latest fumets determined, and relays of horses and dogs were placed in such positions as were usual when the hunters had to do with an ordinary stag of the district, which if it took to the open country would be sure to return sooner or later to its usual cover. But in this instance matters took a different turn. The stag vigorously pushed, took to the open country, but continued its flight to such a distance, that dogs and horses were alike left behind, and there was no alternative left but to sound the non prise, to the great disgust of the chief person concerned, who, in his quality of Prince of Condé and of huntsman, did not like to be defeated. He returned to the palace in a very thoughtful mood, unable to satisfy himself as to the meaning of this extraordinary flight of the stag, nor did any one see it re-enter the woods for some time afterwards. Two months afterwards, however, some under-keepers who were exploring the forest of Chantilly suddenly fell in with the identical stag. Such are the habits of the deer, that having taken a liking to a place it is sure to come back to it. "Monseigneur," they hastened to report, "the stag has returned." "We must hunt him," said the prince; "and this time let such precautions be taken as shall ensure success." The necessary orders were given, the best dogs of the various kennels of Chantilly were to be placed at the different relays, the prince was to ride his best horse, the most experienced' piqueurs were to explore the wood. "By Saint Hubert! my fine stag, you shall not get away this time," exclaimed the prince. The next morning the huntsmen's horns resounded through the forest of Chantilly, the hounds gave tongue, the horses were off at full speed; the stag had been found, and for three long hours did it hold its pursuers at bay in the forest, till at length, pushed too closely, it broke ground, took to the open country, and soon left horsemen, dogs, and prickers far behind, and most humiliatingly at fault. The prince, whose vanity had become concerned in two successive defeats, placarded all the churches for a circuit of twenty-five leagues, with the promise of rewards for whoever would bring news of his stag, for after hunting it twice he called it his own. After the lapse of a few days several peasants appeared at the château. 66 Monseigneur," said one, "I come from Vic. My village is on the other side of the Aisne. Yester-afternoon, about three o'clock, I was returning from Courneux, which is on this side of the water, when I saw a stag take to the river, not three hundred yards from me, and swim across." "Give that man two louis," said the prince. Monseigneur," said another, "I come from a still greater distance. I inhabit a cottage on the road to Rocroy. Two hundred paces from my house there is an orchard. The other night, not being able to sleep, and it being bright moonlight, I went to the door, and there, to my astonishment, I discerned quite distinctly a great stag devouring my apples. I ran for a stick, but by the time I got back the plunderer had made off, and I had no chance of following him. Ah! if that was not monseigneur's stag, I should say it was a veteran of the Ardennes that had pushed its reconnoissances rather far." "Six louis-eight louis to that man, on account of the apples he has lost!" exclaimed the prince, who was delighted. "The Ardennes! the Ardennes! that is it the very thing!" At this remark every one remembered that the preceding year, among the deer with which the forest of Chantilly had been replenished, there was one which came originally from the Ardennes. That was the stag. No doubt about it. I "Twice I have been defeated," said the prince; "twice--that is once too much. will have my revenge if I live, and my fine stag only comes back." The stag did not fail to do so. There were so many charms in those magnificent woods, the green sward was so soft and so luxuriant, the waters of the pools so tempting, the reeds and rushes that fringed them so thick! One day at breakfast-time, a keeper came in, out of breath and pale with emotion, to announce that he had seen the stag. The prince immediately called a council, and the plan of campaign to be adopted under the circumstances was duly arranged for next day, when it was resolved to hunt the stag. Relays of dogs and horses were ordered to be placed at a distance of six leagues from each other, the whole way from Chantilly to the Ardennes, and the prince expressed his determination to follow up the pursuit, even if he were to remain on horseback for a day and a night. Nevertheless, it was not without some palpitations of the heart that he entered upon so formidable a chase; and his emotions increased at the moment when the stag made for the open country, but the precautions taken were such as to ensure success. The results remained doubtful up the fifth relay, but at that point the strength of the stag began to fail him. The poor beast then got panic-stricken, swerved from a straight line, and ultimately fell at a distance of thirty-five leagues, or about one hundred and five English miles from the place where he first broke cover. This was a hunt well worthy of being preserved in the annals of French venery. Stag-hunting has had its amatory episodes and its duelling incidents, and the same peculiarity in the habits of the stag, already noticed, has been turned, as is indeed the case with almost everything where royal personages are concerned in France, to political purposes. Differences of opinion had caused a temporary misunderstanding of a rather serious nature to arise between Louis XV. and his cousin the Prince of Condé. The latter had been exiled to Chantilly, where he consoled himself with the resources of the field and the company of the philosophers, who rejoiced in the rupture between the two relations. This feeling was, however, by no means participated in by the old noblesse, who saw in it only a step gained by the factious, and who, therefore, exerted themselves, as far as lay in their power, to bring about a reconciliation. One of the means adopted to this effect was very ingenious. Of all the resources of Chantilly, it is almost needless to say the pleasures of the chase stood foremost. The passion of the Condés for field sports ceased only with the last of the race, of whom, it is said, many met with an early end from too great an indulgence in the excitement of the chase. If the King of France preserved a superiority of display in the number and magnificence of his palaces, Chantilly eclipsed the crown in all that re ferred to venery. In the stables of that spot-so dear to the chronicler of field sports —three hundred horses ate out of marble mangers, and dogs of every possible description, and of the best breeds, occupied a whole wing of the château, in the second circular court. The archives of Chantilly preserve to the present day the record of the sports of the time. It appears from these curious records that 587,470 rabbits, 77,750 hares, 87,000 pheasants, and about 11,000 fallow deer, harts, hinds, does, and boars were killed in the space of thirty years. Without precisely participating in the excessive passion for field sports that charac terized the hero of Nordlingen, the founder of Chantilly, Louis Joseph de Bourbon, still found in such pursuits the most agreeable relaxation from more serious studies. The same turn of mind made him take up the pursuit in its most enlightened aspects; he mastered the theory as well as the practice of the art, and he entertained the most intimate relations with M. d'Yauville, the most celebrated sportsman France ever boasted, not even excepting Salnove and Du Fouilleux. The frequent journeys of D'Yauville to Chantilly, even when Condé was in disgrace, excited no surprise. The source of the intimacy that existed between the prince and the grand-veneur were known to every one. Not less devoted to the person of the king than bound by sympathy of feeling to Condé, M. d'Yauville's real wish was to bring about a reconciliation between the two. It was observed that latterly, upon the occasion of his visits to Chantilly, he held long conferences with M. de Belleval, captain, and Martineaux and Gaspard, lieutenants of the hunt; but the circumstance was soon forgot in the vortex of amusements in which all parties were involved at that pleasant place. One fact, however, could not remain without attracting notice it was the disappearance of all the large stags from the forest. When the prince went out hunting, there only remained three or four that the prickers could offer for selection. The prince began to be annoyed at this unexplained phenomenon; he thought that they were attracted away to the neighboring royal domain of Compiègne, and he muttered threats of persecution against the grand master of the Soissonnais. The festival of Saint Hubert-a day upon which every true sportsman must hunt or renounce all chances of success for the ensuing year was close by, and the prince resolved to prepare for it by replenishing his forest. M. d'Yauville kindly volunteered his services, as grand huntsman to the king, to accomplish this object. In a short time the new hosts arrived at Chantilly, and amongst them was a splendid stag of great beauty and exquisite proportions, which attracted general admiration. The prince made inquiries about it, but the grand huntsman only vouchsafed evasive answers. Autumn in the meantime was coming on, the salons of Chantilly were getting deserted, the ladies had given up acting charades under the guidance of Beaumarchais, and, not caring much for the sports of the field, had taken themselves off to Paris, when, the evening before Saint Hubert, D'Yauville made his appearance at Chantilly. He, however, remained but a brief time, held some mysterious converse with M. de Belleval, and took his departure for the royal domains, where the festival of the patron saint of all good sportsmen was held with similar solemnities as at Chantilly. Louis XV. had for some weeks past fallen into a state of mental and physical prostration. His constitution was breaking up, and the only thing that seemed still to arouse him from his apathy was the excitement of the chase. "Sire," said the grand huntsman, "I come to take your majesty's orders for the festival of Saint Hubert." "Well, I will follow your advice, M. d'Yauville. The forest of Senart is too far from Versailles: let us fêté Saint Hubert at Rambouillet. You can arrange the details." "Sire, the studs and kennels of the Duke of Penthièvre will be there at your disposal. You know that they are fixtures at Rambouillet." "Not for a festival of Saint Hubert: such a solemnity must be celebrated according to the rules. The royal stud and the royal kennels must be had recourse to. Let the Duke of Penthièvre join us with his hounds also." D'Yauville went away delighted. Everything happened as he wished. True that he had not experienced much difficulty in inducing the king to hunt at Rambouillet, for the monarch had an especial predilection for the place. He liked its great level forests and spacious sheets of water-the lakes of Saint Hubert, of Pourras, and of Holland-which, following one another, surpass all others, even Chantilly, in picturesque expanse, and still more so in the immense quantity of game which is attracted to the dense cover of their shores. Louis XV. liked the place also because it was associated in his memory with his latest attachment. He had proposed to the duke to exchange another property with him, but M. de Penthièvre held by his hereditary domain. The king respected the feeling, but asked permission to build a hunting-box. Instead of a lodge, he had erected on the borders of the lake of Saint Hubert a splendid mansion, to which he gave the name of the lake, and around it, out-houses for his followers, his horses, carriages, and attendants soon rose up in endless profusion. Above all there was a cerisaie-an orchard of cherry-treesthe trees of which had been grafted by the fair hands of Dubarry; and in the summertime the king, simulating an agility which was no longer natural, ascended the trees to drop the fruit, ripened by a sun of June, into the coral mouth of his favorite. The spot selected for the hunt of the 3d of November was the warren of Chagny, mid-distance between Ivelines and the Briche de Poigny. The king did not arrive till a late hour; the Duke of Penthièvre and his attendants were there in attendance, and the relays had been duly placed at the surrounding woods. The chase opened with the noisy flourishes of horns, called the Saint Hubert and the Rambouillet. The first is only sounded on the soleman day of the fêté of the patron huntsman; it is the indispensable overture, as it is also the necessary finale of a drama which takes place only once in the year. These were followed by la royale, which intimated that the dogs were attacking the stag. The animal soon took to the open ground, followed by prickers, princes, nobles, courtiers, and a crowd of horsemen, some in the blue livery of the king, others in the green livery of the Duke of Penthièvre. At about the same hour the chase was opened at Chantilly. For some unprecedented reason, M. de Belleval himself sought out the stag destined for the honors of the day. I veteran stag hunted by the king, beat out of A proceeding so contrary to the usual order one forest after another, had at length taken of things, and to the traditions of the place, to the lake of St. Hubert. It was evident did not fail to increase the conjectures which that the last scene of the drama would be had been awakened the night before by relays enacted there. Attendants had been deof dogs having been expedited in the direc-spatched in all haste to inform the ladies, the tion of L'Ile Adam. Peasants who had returned the same evening from Pontoise had also declared that they had seen relays going on even beyond that point. The Prince of Condé and the Duke of Bourbon were on horseback at the cross-roads of the Grand Connétable. The splendid stag sent by M. d'Yauville-the king of the forest -had been selected for the day's sport. He was soon off, and great was the delight of the princes to see with what vigor he took to the open country. He gave promises of holding out for an indefinite length of time. The only fear was that the relays might not have been properly placed for so bold a runner. To the prince's expressions of anxiety on that score, M. de Belleval smilingly replied, "Your highness may rest assured that all has been foreseen." At the speed at which the stag went, they were soon past Maffliers, and had reached the point of the woods of L'lle Adam. There was a relay ready at the very point. The prince was astonished and delighted, and expressed his feelings by his looks. On and on they went, till dusty and heated they reached the warren of Bessencourt. Here a new surprise awaited the prince-a relay of horses, ready-saddled and bridled, and a fresh pack of hounds, were at the station. "Better and better, gentlemen!" exclaimed the prince; "we shall have it all explained by-and-by. Now let us go on." "Yes, monseigneur." Fields and woods passed by as if in a panorama, hedges and ditches fled from beneath the feet, rivulets and rivers presented no obstacles to their ever onward progress. At the junction of the Seine and Oise the prince felt a moment's anxiety whether the stag would not take to the left by the plain of Achères to St. Germain: the stag, however, was better trained; it took to the right towards Rambouillet, and on and on went princes, nobles, and hunters after it it was an exciting but a weary chase, and they had still far to go. Evening was coming on apace, the sun was lighting up the tops of the trees with a golden. hue, the weary woodsmen were reclining on their axes, the market-carts of Rambouillet were returning empty from Versailles by the great road which traverses the forest. The château de St. Hubert was invaded, the windows looking upon the lake were in a moment crowded with fair spectators, while those who had followed the fortunes of the day at a distance in open chariots came delightfully in for the final catastrophe. The king, with his numerous suite in that rich blue costume which so many pictures of the time have rendered familiar to the eye, occupied a little eminence that overlooked the lake. Scarcely had the hard-pressed quarry taken to the water as to a last place of refuge, and boats of all kinds and descriptions had started in the pursuit, than suddenly a second stag made its appearance at the other end of the lake. It was also at its last extremity. At the same moment the sound of distant horns came across the waters, then the noise of dogs and human voices, and lastly a group of horsemen appeared bearing the red colors of the Duke of Orleans. No doubt some unforeseen accident had brought the prince to Rambouillet; he was to have hunted the day of St. Hubert in the forest of Dourdan, and his stag must have led him astray. M. d'Yauville, however, did not understand the nature of the apparition: it was not the one that he expected. A red livery did not enter into his calculations, and he looked anxiously at his watch. One of the head-keepers, fearing that the king's amusements might be interfered with, offered to ride off and request the duke's huntsmen to give up the chase and withdraw. "By no means," said the king; "it is a very pretty sight." At the very same moment a third stag made its appearance at the head of the lake, coming from the north, followed by a host of dogs, horses and riders. Astonishment now reached its acme. Every one looked at his neighbor as if inquiring for the solution of the enigma. The colors were neither red, blue, nor green; they were neither those of the king, nor of the duke, nor of M. de Penthièvre. They were yellow-the livery of the Prince of Condé ! The gallant stag, followed by the prince, had swum the river at the village of Villaine, crossed the wood of Alluets, and after that the Bois de la Reine, from whence it had gained the high heath called La Haute Bru |