In Vanity Fair: A Tale of Frocks and Femininity

by Eleanor Hoyt Brainerd

For wolf hunting the French hounds are called into service, though it is difficult to break any hound to wolf scent, and nothing wears a dog out more effectually than a wolf chase. Good horses are required, too, for a wolf hunt is likely to mean a night out and a tremendous straight-away run over a wide area, and even when dogs and horses and hunters are of the best, an old wolf will usually give them all the slip. The beast has phenomenal endurance and cunning. For hours he will idle along just in front of the hounds, knowing they dare not attack him while he is fresh. Then, when the pack is beginning to breathe hard and labour a little, Monsieur le loup shows what he can do in the way of speed when he really gives his mind to it. Away he flies, a streak of yellow grey, leaving his pursuers far behind, and the chances are that pack and hunters have but a magnificent run for their pains. One of the most famous sportsmen of France, who keeps a pack devoted altogether to wolf hunting, says that he has killed less than a half dozen old wolves in his hunting career.

Louveteaux—young wolves—furnish most of the sport, and here the story is a different one; for the year-old wolf provides a long and brilliant but usually successful run, and frequently a kill in the night when flaming torches held by huntsmen in picturesque livery throw weird lights and shadows over the scene.

Small wonder that the Frenchman who chases wolf and boar returns the Briton's scorn in kind, and calls the English fox hunt a "promenade à cheval." There is a certain amount of justice in the phrase, for the Englishman of fox-hunting fame hunts to ride instead of riding to hunt.

The French sportsman shrugs his shoulders, too, at the stag hunt of old England.

"To bring a tame deer in a box and push it under the noses of the hounds—Ce n'est pas la chasse, mon ami," says the Marquis, with fine contempt, and while his description doesn't apply accurately to all English deer hunting, it is true that tracking the deer comes nearer deserving its title of royal sport in France than in England.

Contrary to Punch tradition, the gentleman of France is usually a good shot. Shooting has been an essential part of his education and even the veriest dandy of Paris may be uncommonly handy with a revolver or gun. Such prowess is a part of the traditions of his race. Duelling was a passion and a diversion with his ancestors; and while serious duelling is, even in France, a trifle obsolete to-day, the customs due to it still exist. Monsieur le Marquis fences cleverly and shoots as well. Possibly he has his private shooting-gallery and practices there for a while each morning; but, whether or no he has this private practice, he is fairly sure to turn up at some one of the public shooting rendezvous during the day. The Tir au Pigeon Club in the Bois is the nucleus from which all of the open-air clubs of Paris have developed, and is one of the most popular rendezvous for the smart Parisian set. The same is true at Deauville, at Nice, and wherever fashionable Parisian colonies are to be found, and the events at the exclusive shooting clubs in these places will always bring together a notable collection of society folk and an impressive exhibit of Parisian chiffons.

There are many Frenchwomen who can hold their own with the men when it comes to the handling of a gun, and a few who can follow hounds as pluckily as any English Diana; while, as for the wearing of charming shooting costumes, for the covert, or for luncheon with the guns, of dressing effectively for the meet, of donning exquisite negligées for the tea hour when the huntsmen may be expected to straggle in, tired, valiant, and loquacious,—there the Parisienne leads the world. The tea gowns and shooting costumes of the Place Vendôme and the Rue de la Paix are the true triumphs of the French hunting season and the wearing of them is to the average château guest a thing much more important than the killing of game—is, in fact, her method of following the chase. Nimrod may enjoy having his adored one by his side in the covert or running neck and neck with him behind the hounds, but he has little time for admiring her then. His heart is with pheasant or hare or deer. The story is a different one when he goes back to the château in the gathering twilight and finds daintily gowned women waiting, in the glow of fire and candle-light, to greet him with enthusiasm and listen with rapt attention while he fights his battles over again. Then is the hour of the sportswoman, for there's more truth than fiction in the theory so audaciously exploited in "Man and Superman." The form of the chase which appeals most keenly to women the world over is the pursuit of man, and the Parisienne in particular is a zealous devotee of the sport.

A Frenchwoman famous for her advanced ideas,—the "new woman" translated into French—went to Berlin some years ago, and a conference of the emancipated was called to do her honour. She came into the audience hall, exquisitely gowned, the most delightfully feminine of figures. She looked aghast at the band of strong-minded, atrociously dressed women assembled to hear her; and then, throwing aside her premeditated address upon woman's suffrage, she plunged into an eloquent plea for the union of becoming dress and emancipated womanhood, winding up with a fervent appeal to her sisters to remember always that they must dress to please the men.

There spoke the true Frenchwoman, new or old; and the fair guests at the châteaux, whatever may be their feeling about the chase of stag or the shooting of birds, never are so lacking in sporting spirit that they neglect dressing to please the men.

For the Parisienne in general the hunting season means only an excuse for châteaux visits, and a château visit means only picturesque meets at which one may wear one's smartest morning frock, chat with friends from other châteaux, flirt with gallant huntsmen, and, perhaps, follow the hunt at a discreet distance in cart or automobile; it means luncheon with the guns in English fashion, and another opportunity for a smart costume; it means the tea hour of coquetry and chiffons; it means superb dinners to which come fashionable folk from the country round about; it means evening festivities of all kinds. Oh, an excellent opportunity for the displaying of one's wardrobe resources, is the château visit, and a super-excellent opportunity for les affaires de cœur is offered by the informal intimacy of a great house party.