278 STAG-HUNTING RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTEK XVI 



FRENCH HORSEMANSHIP 

 Jamais boii veneur ne fut mauvais capitaine 



Having nothing else to ride, I determined to renew my youth 

 by riding a hirehng at Fontainebleau, and I carried this 

 sentimental. resolution into effect through the telephone of 

 the Hotel Continental. It is not a modern improvement I 

 understand, but, after the interchange of many ' Holas,' 

 ' qui est-ce?' ' est-ce vous ? ' the evening before, I had at last 

 been brought into relations w^ith the local Percival, and ex- 

 pounded my wants, my inches, and my weight ; a reassuring 

 ' Comptez sur moi ' concluding the transaction. 



The next morning broke like a hunting day. Tender 

 grey clouds brooded low over the Tuileries gardens, and 

 moved slowly across a spacious rain-washed sky. The Gare 

 de Lyon was not as animated as Paddington or Euston on a 

 hunting morning. Well-cleaned — even badly-cleaned — boots 

 and breeches are an immediate introduction to the platform 

 of a London terminus and most provincial stations. They 

 secure at once the particular attention of the guard, the 

 smartest services of the porters, and a meed of goodwill and 

 interest all round. But the general public in France have 

 no part or lot in hunting. It has never been popular in the 

 Latin sense of the word. The chasse a courre is a vestige of 

 privilege which has outstayed the ancient regime. Over here 

 the public bunts by right. Over there the individual hunts 

 by invitation. 



