XIII.

/Sport in the Champagne./

The Champagne forests the resort of the wild-boar--Departure of a hunting-party in the early morning to a boar-hunt--Rousing the boar from his lair--Commencement of the attack--Chasing the boar--His course is checked by a bullet--The dogs rush on in full pursuit--The boar turns and stands at bay--A skilful marksman advances and gives him the _coup de grâce_--Hunting the wild-boar on horseback in the Champagne--An exciting day's sport with M. d'Honnincton's boar-hounds--The 'sonnerie du sanglier' and the 'vue'--The horns sound in chorus 'The boar has taken soil'--The boar leaves the stream, and a spirited chase ensues--Brought to bay, he seeks the water again--Deathly struggle between the boar and a full pack of hounds--The fatal shot is at length fired, and the 'hallali' is sounded--As many as fifteen wild-boars sometimes killed at a single meet--The vagaries of some tame young boars--Hounds of all kinds used for hunting the wild-boar in the Champagne--Damage done by boars to the vineyards and the crops--Varieties of game common to the Champagne.

The Champagne does not merely comprise vineyards producing some of the finest wine in the world. In parts it is covered by vast and luxuriant forests, where the pleasures of the chase are not lacking to the Champenois, who as a rule are eager in the pursuit of sport. In winter these forests are the resort of wild-boar, who haunt by preference the woods around Reims, journeying thither, it is said, by night from the famous forest of the Ardennes--the scene of Rosalind's wanderings and Touchstone's eccentricities, as set forth in _As You Like It_; and whose gloomy depths and tangled glens shelter not merely boars, but wolves as well.

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In the villages of the Champagne on a cold winter's morning, with it snowing or blowing, you are frequently awake before daylight by the noise of barking dogs, of horns sounding the departure, and of some vehicle rolling heavily over the stones. A party of sportsmen is proceeding to the meet. Jokes and laughter enliven the journey, but every one becomes silent and serious upon reaching the place of rendezvous, for the object of the gathering is the excitable and perilous boar-hunt.

In the Champagne it is no longer the fashion, as in Burgundy,

'With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore.'

The more certain rifle is the weapon usually employed, and these arms are now examined and carefully loaded. Meanwhile the reports of the keepers are attentively listened to. They have beaten the wood, each on his own side, accompanied by a bloodhound, and they inform the hunters what they have seen or found. Great experience is necessary to accomplish the _rembuchement_, as this tour of inspection is termed, in a satisfactory manner; and with some it is a veritable science. Eventually, after a discussion among the more experienced ones, it is decided to follow the scent which appears to be freshest; whereupon the dogs are brought up coupled, and let loose upon the trail. The attack now begins. There are always two or three _piqueurs_ who follow the dogs, exciting them with their voices, and making all the noise possible, as long as the game has not been roused from its lair. Meanwhile the marksmen place themselves at the posts indicated by the president of the hunt, the most experienced being assigned the best spots, whilst those whose habit it is never to harm the boar go of their own accord 'up wind'--that is, to bad places--thus causing the animal to 'refuse,' and to pass within range of guns that rarely let him escape unhurt.

At first the dogs raise a somewhat distant cry--perhaps one has followed a wrong scent--and some of the huntsmen remark in a low tone to themselves that after all they would have done better to have stopped at home, and turned out of their beds at a less unseasonable hour; then, at least, they would not be standing with frozen feet in the snow, and with colds in the head in perspective. But suddenly there comes a cry of 'Vlô!'--the Champenois expression for designating the boar--'Attention!' 'Look out!' Then the report of a couple of shots, and finally the howling of the pack of dogs. Snow and cold are at once forgotten. Each man grasps his rifle and waits for the boar to pass by. The branches of the underwood creak and break; there is a noise as of a squadron of cavalry dashing into a wood; then, all of a sudden, a black mass is caught sight of approaching. But the boar is a cunning fellow; he has seen the sportsman who is in wait for him, or has scented his presence, and will pass out of range. Now that luck has betrayed the latter, he has to content himself with the _rôle_ of a spectator.

So far as one can judge by the barking of the dogs, the boar is directing his course to where an experienced marksman is posted--one who is not about to fire his first difficult shot. Observe him: he is perfectly motionless, for the least movement might betray his presence; his eyes alone dart right and left in quest of the foe. Here comes the boar, passing like a cannon-ball along the line, and there is scarcely time to catch a glimpse of him between the reports of two shots, which succeed each other with the rapidity of lightning. The boar is by no means an animal easy to knock over. The forest roads are never more than ten to fifteen paces broad; and as there are marksmen both on the right and left, it is necessary to reserve your fire until the animal has crossed the road and is plunging again into cover. In addition to this, there are only two spots where a mortal wound can be inflicted upon the boar--either behind the shoulder or in the neck. Hit elsewhere, he will lose but little blood, and the only effect of the wound will be to render him more savage. He will rip up a dog or two, perhaps, and then rush off far away, without showing any further sign of injury. Boars carrying several bullets in their bodies, but rejoicing in capital health, as well as others covered with cicatrices, are frequently killed. Firing too high is a common fault with many marksmen, arising from the fact that in winter the boar's bristles are very long and thick, and that each one stands on end at the sight of an enemy, thus making the animal look much higher on his legs than he really is.

But to return to our description of the hunt. The boar has just been hit by one of those rare marksmen, every bullet of whose rifle goes straight to its intended billet. Although struck, the animal continues his onward course, a couple of drops of blood which have tinged the snow with red showing unmistakably that he has not been missed. The dogs who follow him closely hesitate for a minute as they reach the roadway, but the leader has espied the spot where the boar was wounded; he sniffs the blood, and darts off again, followed by the pack, who have full confidence in his discernment. The dogs are torn and wounded by the thorns and briers which continually obstruct their path, for the boar rushes through the thickest and most inaccessible cover, in hopes of retarding the progress of his pursuers; but the hounds divine that their prey is near, and the most tired among them recover all their energy. Suddenly a great silence succeeds the furious yelping and baying of a short time ago. The boar is about to turn at bay. His strength is becoming exhausted, and feeling that he is doomed to die, he has faced round, with his back towards some inaccessible thicket, so as not to be taken in the rear, and confronts his pursuers, determined to die bravely and to sell his life dearly. It is no longer the baying of a pack in full cry that now rends the air, but isolated yelpings and plaintive howlings, such as watch-dogs give vent to when strangers are wandering round the house they protect.

Then comes the crowning feat of the hunt, and the most difficult to accomplish. The most intrepid marksman advances towards the dogs, his hunting-knife and rifle alike ready, the former to be made use of should the latter not suffice. He has need of great prudence and great coolness to accomplish his task, for directly the boar hears his approach he will unhesitatingly dash upon him. He must await the animal's onslaught with a firm heart and steady hand, and only fire when sure of his aim. Often, however, the hunter is bothered by the dogs, which surround the boar on all sides, hang on to him from behind, and excite his fury. The position may become critical, and many a sportsman who has counted too much upon his nerve has found himself compelled to climb a tree, whence he has been able to 'bowl over' the enemy, without incurring any danger. It is needless to add that when discovered in this position he has felt very much ashamed at having resorted to such an expedient.

In the Champagne the wild boar is almost invariably pursued on foot, the minute subdivision of the land into different holdings and consequent limitation of the right of sport rendering it very difficult to follow the animal on horseback. M. Roederer, it is true, started a pack of hounds in the Forest of Reims; but at his death there were not sufficient lovers of the chase to keep up this style of sport, and every one fell into the habit of knocking over a wild-boar in the same prosaic fashion as a simple rabbit. However, some few years back, a rich landowner from Brittany, the Vicomte d'Honnincton, having had an opportunity of sport in the Champagne, and having seen that large game abounded, installed himself near the fine Forêt de la Traconne, in the neighbourhood of Sézanne, and resumed the chase of the wild-boar on horseback. The great success he met with induced him to take up his quarters in this district, and his pack, composed of a cross between the English staghound and the Artois hound, has become justly famous.

In the month of December 1878, an exciting day's sport was had with M. d'Honnincton's boar-hounds. The presence of herds of wild-boar having been noted in the neighbouring woods between Epernay and Montmort, M. d'Honnincton was soon to the fore with his pack, and all the sportsmen for miles around were summoned. The meet was at the Château de la Charmoye, a regular hunters' rendezvous, belonging to the Vicomte de Bouthylliers, and situate in the heart of the woodland. During breakfast one of the huntsmen came to announce that a huge _solitaire_ had passed the night at a short distance from the château. Everything, therefore, promised well for sport. The guests mounted in haste, each one equipped in true French style, with an immense hunting-horn round his body and a light gun or a pistol attached to the saddle. The lively strains of the horn had begun to sound on every side, and the hounds were being uncoupled, when the boar, disturbed by all this noise, majestically traversed the main avenue of the château, and pushed on towards a group of ladies assembled to witness the departure of the sportsmen. A finer start would have been impossible. The hounds dashed towards their prey as soon as they caught sight of him at full cry, and the _sonnerie du sanglier_ and the _vue_ were blazed forth by the horns on every side. The hunt commenced. The greatest difficulty and the object of all was to hinder the boar from plunging into the thick of the forest, where, in the dense cover, he would have gained a considerable advance upon the dogs. Thanks to the activity of the huntsmen, who cut off his retreat on this side, it was possible to drive him towards the plain of Montmort; and from this moment the sport was as fine as can be imagined, it being easy to note the minor details of the hunt even from a distance. The boar made his way with difficulty over the ground saturated by rain, and the eagerness of the hounds increased in proportion as they gained upon him.

A broadish rivulet with very steep banks was reached. The boar tried to clear it at a bound, but fell into mid-stream. The sportsmen all came up at this moment, and with their horns began to sound in chorus 'The boar has taken soil;' the hounds plunged in and began to swim after the boar, and the scene became a truly exciting one. At length the boar succeeded in quitting the stream; but frightened by the horsemen whom he saw on the opposite shore, he recrossed it a second and then a third time, amidst the hounds, who were assailing him on every side, and each time met with the same difficulty in ascending the bank. It may be readily understood that he was getting exhausted by his efforts, and began to appear done up. He recovered his vigour, however, and soon gained ground on the hounds. He had still two or three miles to cover in order to regain the forest, and it was necessary at all costs to prevent him from accomplishing this. Then ensued a wild hunt, a mad steeplechase over fields, hedges, brooks, ditches; the horses in several places sank over their hocks, and were covered with foam, but whip and spur restored energy to the least ardent. The boar was gasping, but still kept on, and the steam from his body, which quite surrounded him and caused him to resemble a four-legged demon, could be plainly perceived from a distance. In this style the hunt swept through the little village of Lucy, with all the dogs of the place howling, the women and children shrieking, and the men arming themselves with spades and pitchforks. But the boar not losing courage on this account, and despising these primitive weapons, did not stop, and drew nearer and nearer to the wood. The hounds were getting tired, and the most experienced sportsmen began to despair somewhat of a successful day, when suddenly the beast plunged into a pond situate close to the forest, halted, rolled several times in the mud, and rose completely covered in steam and mire. It is all over: the animal is at bay, and cannot go any further.

This is the interesting moment. The boar pulls himself together, feeling that he is to die, and, up to his belly in water, he bravely awaits the pack. With his eye glowing with rage, his bristles erect, he utters grunts of defiance. The fifty dogs throw themselves on to him without a moment's hesitation; but four or five are sent rolling into the middle of the water, never more to rise. The struggle which follows is terrible; the boar's tusks tell at every blow, and the water becomes literally red with blood. At length the foremost sportsmen come up, and it is high time they do. Seven dogs are already lying on their backs, with their legs in the air, and almost all bear marks of the boar's terrible tusks. The first who is ready alights from his steed, and boldly advances into the water; for it would be imprudent to fire at the boar from the edge of the pond, and thereby run the risk of wounding him, and rendering him still more furious, or even of killing one of the dogs, by whom he is surrounded. An interval of solemn silence ensues; the horns only wait for the shot to be fired to sound the _hallali_. The dogs make way in order to let the sportsman advance; the boar draws back a little, and then making a bound recovers all his strength for a rush upon his enemy. Woe to the man who misses him! the boar will give him no quarter. But the sportsman waits for him very quietly, and when he is only two paces from him plants a bullet between his eyes, which lays him dead. The notes of the _hallali_ awake the echoes: never had a hunt been crowned by finer results. The setting sun lighted up the scene, which transpired just below the Château de Montmort, scarcely half a mile off, and the ladies assembled on the terrace of the old château of Sully waved their handkerchiefs in congratulation to the fortunate sportsmen.

The foregoing narrative furnishes a good idea of the ordinary method of hunting the wild-boar on horseback in the Champagne, a method which, though offering at times varying details, arising from the size of the animal pursued and the number and strength of the hounds engaged in the chase, presents, on the whole, a general resemblance to the description just given.

Some years back boars were far from numerous in the Champagne, hiding themselves, moreover, in inaccessible positions far away in the woods, so that it was necessary to cover a larger extent of ground in order to sight a recent trail. Latterly, however, these animals have multiplied considerably, each sow having seven or eight young ones at a litter, and littering three times a year. In the forests around Reims and Epernay twelve, and even fifteen, boars have been killed during a single hunt. It not unfrequently happens that a herd of fifty, and even a hundred, boars are encountered together, when a veritable massacre often ensues, if the hunting-party only comprises a sufficient number of guns.

The victims include at times some sows with young grice, which the hunters frequently try to bring up. One of these little animals, who had been named 'Snow' from having been captured one day when the snow was on the ground, followed his owner about everywhere like the most faithful poodle. His master would often take him into the wood and simulate a hunt with his dogs. Snow, however, possessed vices as well as virtues, and one of his habits was an extremely disagreeable one. Like the rest of his species, he was very fond of rolling himself in the mire, and, on returning home, would proceed to clean himself by rubbing unconcernedly against the dresses of the ladies of the house. One Sunday his master had taken him out for a walk, and as they returned home they passed the church, which the ladies of the locality, arrayed in their richest attire, were just leaving. During his walk Snow had taken two or three mud-baths, and, on meeting the fair devotees of Avize, he thought the occasion a propitious one for cleansing himself. He at once put the idea into practice, employing the silk dresses of the ladies for the purpose. The children who accompanied them were greatly terrified, and rushed shrieking into the adjoining houses, pursued by the gambolling boar, who seemed to greatly enjoy the panic he had caused. As La Fontaine has remarked,

'Rien que la mort n'était capable D'expier son forfait.'

So, after such an offence, poor Snow was sentenced to undergo capital punishment, and expiated by death his want of regard for the silk attire of the fair sex.

Another boar named 'Scotsman,' and belonging to the same sportsman, was also an amusing fellow. He would stretch himself out in the sun of an afternoon as majestically as the Sultan on his divan, whilst a hen with whom he had contracted a tender friendship kindly relieved him of his parasites.

A gentleman of the same district owns two enormous sows, which follow him like greyhounds whenever he rides out. When a friend asks him to step indoors and to refresh or rest himself, he replies: 'I must beg you to excuse me; I have with me _Catherine_ and _Rigolette_, who might inconvenience you.' The friend looks round to see who these interesting young people may be, and his surprise may be imagined when two big swine familiarly place their forepaws upon his shoulders.

Several sportsmen of the Champagne possess packs of hounds, and the true boar-hound, the 'dog of black St. Hubert breed,' is really a magnificent animal, with his long pendant ears, his open chest, and broad-backed body. Hounds of the La Vendée and Poitou breeds are also used at boar-hunts. Dogs, though they may be of excellent race, require, however, skilful training before they will hunt the boar. It is necessary they should see several boars killed ere they will venture to tackle this formidable enemy, of which the dog is instinctively afraid. House-dogs, curs, and terriers will at times pursue the boar admirably, and prolong his standing for hours without approaching within range of the beast's tusks, whilst animals of a higher spirit will allow themselves to be ripped up alive, or, if they escape, will not dare to again approach their foe after a first repulse.

Since boars became so numerous in the Champagne they have done considerable damage to the crops, a corn or potato field being soon devastated by them. At harvest-time a watch has often to be set for them by night. A few years ago, at the moment of the vintage, people were even compelled to light large fires near the vineyards to scare away these dangerous neighbours.

The shooting season in the Champagne extends from the commencement of September till the end of February; but boar-hunting is often prolonged until the first of May, and occasionally _battues_ are organised during the summer.

Other four-footed game tenanting the forests of the Champagne are the roe-deer, in tolerable quantity; a few fallow-deer and stags and wolves, which latter are still numerous, spite of the warfare carried on against them. The roe-deer is hunted, like the boar, with hounds; but this easy sport, which does not possess the attraction of danger, is quite neglected when boars are numerous. The forests also give shelter to hares in abundance, martins, wild-cats, and foxes, the latter being rigorously destroyed on account of their depredations. They are stifled by smoke in their holes, or else poisoned or taken in traps.

Sportsmen are so numerous in every little village of the Marne, the shooting license only costing five-and-twenty francs, that feathered game has become very rare. The most remarkable specimen is the caimpetière, or small bustard, which exists only in the Champagne and Algeria, and the flesh of which is highly esteemed.

Partridges and hares would have entirely disappeared from the plains were it not for the shelter which the vineyards afford them, for woe to him who ventures to shoot among the vines! The vine is as sacred to the Champenois as the mistletoe was to their Gallic forefathers. Great severity is shown in respect to trespassers at the epoch when the vines are sprouting, for each broken bud represents a bunch of grapes, which its owner hoped might realise its weight in gold.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: THE VINEYARDS OF THE COTEAU DE SAUMUR.]

## PART III.