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REMINISCENCES OF AN OLD SPORTSMAN,

INCLUDING HUNTING IN THE OLDEN TIMES IN FRANCE, ITALY, AND OTHER PARTS OF THE CONTINENT, INTERSPERSED WITH ANECDOTES.

SIR,

I Had just quitted Oriel Col

lege with the remains of some Greek and Latin in my head, and a little logic on my tongue, but with a much more finished education as a Sportsman, when I embarked for a four years' tour and sojourn on the Continent. Men and manners had been recommended to my study; but I confess that the fairer sex, and (with all due submission to the sweet creatures) the breed of horses and dogs, together with the sports of the field, occupied more of my time and called forth more of my attention. I had already put myself under the tuition of a Member of St. John's College to make me a finished Nimrod, and he had very nearly finished me; for, in following him in one of my breaking-in lessons, Steeple-hunting, I very nearly broke my neck: notwithstanding I completed my hunting education, and considered myself, when abroad, as a crack horseman. I had often hunted with Warde's hounds, and with the Duke of Beaufort's, as well as with a pack of subscription harriers; and I had accompanied Royalty repeatedly in the stag-hunt: so that stag, fox, and hare had all fled before me, and I fancied myself,

both in a scarlet hunting coat and my green Harrier Club dress, quite the sportsman.

I well remember the honest face of the late George the Third, looking all good-humour around him, in his blue coat with scarlet cape and cuffs, his natty wig, and velvet cap-the late Sir Henry Goff, Bart. (an old child's guide as a sportsman of mine) riding after Majesty with a silver-handled hatchet at his saddle-bow, and the late Sir Edmund Nagle, then Captain Nagle of the Royal Navy, making the good old King laugh with his Hibernian jokes*.

The remembrance of the hunting field of those days formed a great contrast to what I immediately after saw in France. I need not tell any of my brother sportsmen-readers what the King's Hunt is, or was; the only thing which I then thought extraordinary was Kennedy, one of the Yeomen Prickers, of enormous size and protuberance, and a grey horse of matchless bore and power, which carried him, and appeared like an elephant in the field.

We now come to the French Monarch, the unfortunate Louis the Sixteenth, with whom I hunted

*The jolly Admiral was amusing the King one day with a story of a brother Midshipman who had been a great enemy of his, but to whom he returned good for evil, by jumping overboard one day and saving his life, he having fallen out of the rigging after which they became fast friends. That was noble of you," said the King: I suppose after that he would have done anything in his power for you."—"Yes," replied the brave seaman, "that he would; he would have gone to hell to serve me.' That's a great way to go, Captain Nagle," observed the Monarch with a smile, and, putting spurs to his horse, rode off, enjoying vastly the roughly told tale. These incidents between George the Third and the late Sir Edmund were innumerable.

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the stag at the Forest of St. Germain, at Fontainebleau, and elsewhere. There the turn-out was very different indeed to the attendants of George the Third, in their gallant scarlet, blue and gold, jockey-caps, et cetera, with fine light blood horses, and a field of Nobility, Gentry, and Yeomanry, all caparisoned for hardrunning and ease to their horses: I saw those of His Most Christian Majesty start one hundred-andtwenty in number as relays, by threes, a groom forming the centre, with a led-horse on either side, the grooms in royal livery, dark-blue, deep red, and silver, huge silver-laced cocked hats, and demi-jack boots, heavy enough to frighten an English horse to lock at. Then came the King in a carriage and eight, with his gardes du corps, and he mounted his strong, bony, bay hunter, surrounded by Nobles and Courtiers dressed in the royal livery, and in similar manner with heavy boots and silver-laced hats. Many of them had the seams of their coats laced, and some had three stripes of alternate gold and silver lace, as some of the grooms had alternate red velvet and silver ditto. The King wore his own livery, was very fat, very easy looking, and very healthy: he sat back in his saddle, rode at almost full speed, and seemed as if he thought that his horse had no feeling. The whole appearance of the Royal Hunt, amounting to nearly three hundred horse, had a very curious and (to me) ridiculous appearance: the noise, the bustle, the pomp and parade, the clattering of heavy boots, the flapping of thick tails (of the men), together with an air of importance and eliquelle, were

quite beyond my conception. The hounds were English, very fine dogs, and purchased at Tattersall's: they ran well, but were not as well hunted; there was too much bustle and exertion in the matter. The horses of the King's establishment, as well as those of the Nobility who accompanied the Royal train, were mostly Norman, although a great many were English, and of high prices. The former were very stout and bony, and more calculated for a stiff country, or for the fatigue of a long and arduous journey, than for fleetness, fencing, or other active performances, in getting over leaps and crossing a country. Even the English horses were more stout than our sportsmen like them. Bone was a great recommendation in France in those days, and a cross between the British and Norman breed was much sought for. The Duc de Lauzun, the Duc de Pienne, and the Prince Charles de Ligne had some of the finest English horses in the country, not forgetting Philippe Egalité's stud (the revolutionary Duke of Orleans); among which I found one horse, the only complete model of the old English hunter of Sir Sydney Meadows's day, an animal of fine stature, bony, yet with a good deal of blood in him.

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I must not omit noticing a fine old Cavalier of the ancien regime, with whom I got acquainted at the stag hunt in the forest of St. Germain. He was of great stature, but as straight as a dart; he was mounted on a chesnut long-tailed horse, with a demipique saddle, and a crimson saddle-cloth with a rich gold lace border round it. He had a plain cocked hat, heavy boots, a blue coat of great dimensions with covered buttons, a scarlet waistcoat with broad gold lace, blue velvet inexpressibles, knee caps (manchettes de bottes) as white as snow, a couteau de chasse by his side richly mounted in silver, and with a crimson velvet scabbard: he was considered to be very like Louis the Fifteenth, and had been much noticed in his day on that account. He was full of anecdote, and recounted many sporting and other stories of his day. Amongst these he told me that a garde du corps, returning from the chasse with the King, perceived a raven flying over his head at a great altitude in the air: taking out one of his pistols, he pointed at it, and it went off at half-cock by accident: the ball, however, struck and brought down the bird, and the wary Norman, always on the look-out for adventure, and wide awake to his own interest, cried out, "Voila! mes camarades!— what do you think of that?" The circumstance was reported to the King, and the bird was laid before him. It was acknowledged by all that the garde du corps was a long-shot, and this accident made his fortune, he having previously to it been a cadet de famille, with nothing but his pay and a very slender allowance from his friends.

Amongst other pieces of information, my sporting old Gentleman assured me that we borrowed all our hunting science from our ancestors the Normans; that the word tallyho! was no more than a cry that the fox was "dans le taillis en haut," (up in the brushwood); and that the very title of Lord Grosvenor was from a progenitor nick-named Le gros veneur, the big huntsman. This I did not feel obliged to believe; but "si non e vero, e ben trovato.”

He was very minutious in detailing particulars of his youth, and took pride in telling me that he was not only a Member of the Royal Hunt of Louis the Fifteenth, but had furnished his proofs of Nobility, so as to enable him to enter the King's carriages, he being one of the Noblesse de Provence. His dress, as an aspirant in the field, was a milk-white coat with a scarlet and gold waistcoat!!! his hair in large curls at the side, and bagged in a rosette behind-a fashion then gone out of date, and called by the moderns of Louis the Sixteenth's Court, in derision, un Crapeau.

It was at the Forest of St. Germain in Laye that I first saw Marie Antoinette d'Autriche. This splendid Sovereign was indeed an Imperial model of female beauty: rich and royal were her charms, despotic and commanding her lovely form and imposing figure. If a man had but one drop of chivalrous blood in his veins, it would swell in his heart and mantle at the sight of this great and unfortunate woman. She at once struck, captivated, and interested you. Her stately demeanor was all the Queen-her soft large blue eye was all the

woman. Respect was inspired by the former; zealous devotion was enkindled by the latter, with a kind of a feeling as if a man wished to have peril to brave for such a Princess, and arduous enterprise to undertake for the reward of her smile.

If Agamemnon ever deserved the title of Anax Andron (the King of Men), or Ney merited the nom de guerre of un brave parmi les braves, Marie Antoinette of Austria was entitled to the epithet of the Queen of Women, and une belle parmi les belles. My reader must pardon me for this long digression from the subject of sporting: a true sportsman is always a man of gallantry; and he who boldly risks his neck at a desperate fence, or a blind leap, will be very likely to brave every danger for the Lady of his Love, and to stick at nothing in follow ing the Blind God's chase in pursuit of beauty. To such a one his flame may fairly address the words of the Italian Bard, "Deh! non seguir damma fugace," etc. "Follow a nobler chase and spare the

deer,

Hunted by cruelty, run down by fear :
I am thy captive, Sylvio, follow me-
Already ta'en and bound by love to
thee."

But to the Boar-hunt. The field was numerous and brilliant. The hounds and whole turn-out belonged to the present Charles the Tenth, Ex-King of France, then second brother to Louis the Sixteenth. It was what was called l'equipage de Monseigneur le Comte d'Artois carriages, horses, et cetera. By the way, there were then in France a number of what was termed voitures de chasse, hunting carriages, very fancifully constructed, resembling our caravans, and having sometimes a stag's head and fore quarters in

front; over which a coachman, all gold or silver lace, and his hair highly dressed, used to take his seat, driving either four-in-hand, the horses all too far from their work, the leaders with very long traces, seldom tight (for these dressy coachmen did not know how to keep the tits up to their traces), or with four horses, the leaders having a postillion with cocked hat and jack-boots. Sometimes also these voitures de chasse had three horses abreast; and once I saw one with four, which was very like the engravings of the Roman cars. The Nobility mostly went to covert in close carriages, the horses being led, as those of the Royal Hunt of Louis the Sixteenth were, each led-horse being covered with a rich cloth, corresponding with the livery of the owner, and with the family arms, or cipher and coronet, at each corner. The Comte d'Artois's was dark green with splendid gold lace; the livery being that colour and crimson, laced richly with gold. It had a fine effect in the field, although an unsporting appearance, being more military-looking than anything else. The Prince of Conde's trappings were buff and crimson velvet, with silk embroidery of the latter colour, in portraiture of the Knights in leathern doublets with the crimson favours.

The Queen of France wore the uniform of the Hunt, with a profusion of gold lace, and as great a profusion of fine white ostrich feathers in her riding-hat. She was in one of these voitures de chasse, drawn by eight fine English bay horses, driven by a giant of a charioteer of most uncoachman-like appearance-a desperate driver, but a bad whip. The ani

mals went at a furious rate, and Her Most Christian Majesty had much the appearance of a Sove reign of ancient times making a triumphal entry into some conquered state.

The Princess Elizabeth, sister to the King, was dressed in a plain blue riding habit, made in London, and an English riding hat with black feathers: she wore an open collar, like our young boys, and displayed a neck as white as the most polished ivory: she rode à l'Anglaise, and was mounted on an English horse. Alas! amiable, innocent, and unoffending woman! she was, in a few years afterwards, a victim to the sanguinary demons who disfigured the revolutionary page by the torrents of blood shed during its progress!

A marcassin, or small young boar, was turned out in the forest, but, to me, afforded no sport, being surrounded by cohorts of huntsmen, piqueurs, and other horsemen, and forced down alleys in the forest for the amusement of Royalty: it was at length easily taken and killed, and the sports of the morning literally ended in smoke, the horses streaming and smoking, and clouds of dust and leaves flying in the air our ears at the same time deafened with loud fanfares from French horns.

At this moment the lovely vic

tim-Queen stood up in her triumphal car, and made gracious recognitions to the surrounding admiring Noblesse, at the head of whom rode the Comte d'Artois, in the flower of youth and prosperity, sharing great regard and favour from his lovely belle sœur. There was a great deal of hard riding, but no sportsman-like feats performed. Not a single horseman rose in his stirrups to ease his horse but myself and a few Englishmen, and we were laughed at for so doing.

After the hunt the Royal party adjourned to the pavillon, where refreshments were prepared, and where the Noblesse paid their court to their superb Queen, who stood amongst the glittering throng like the brightest planet surrounded by lesser stars. Duke of Dorset, then Ambassador, was near Her Majesty, who, laying her hand upon his arm, said, in a playful tone, "How d'ye do, Go dem!" (meaning a worse word), which excited universal mirth*.

The

I must here be allowed to express my surprise at the ignorance of the French, both of the Anciene Cour and of the New School, who consider this oath as quite a necessary expletive to make up our phrase in speech. Swearing thus has always been confined to the lowest order. The French, however, of all ranks, male and female,

* Although Marie Antoinette had, when serious or displeased, a most disdainful haughty air, she very often unbent into the most playful familiarity. This betrayed her into what her enemies called levity or giddiness, but it was nothing but a natural francheza, which Imperial pomp and etiquette kept down. Of this nature was the following anecdote. She condescended to dance with a young Englishman of the name of Conway, and, being a good deal heated and agitated by the exertion, she made him observe the palpitation of her heart, in an attitude which half seemed like an inclination to place his hand upon it. The act, however, was not done, nor did Conway attempt to take advantage of this momentary, almost involuntary, indiscretion. The King came up at this juncture, when the lovely Queen said naïvement, "I was just shewing this young Cavalier how violently my heart beat." To which His Majesty sternly replied, et il y a bien-fait de prendre votre parole :". "and he did well to take your word for it."

65

VOL. IV.-SECOND SERIES.No. 20.

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