seen such a breed as this before; shaggy-haired, and of a grey colour, much larger than a mastiff, and with his ensanguined eye and hanging jowl, the most powerful beasts I had ever beheld, and very fierce. The breed is very scarce and peculiar to Brittany; it is said to have been brought from Spain by Du Guesclin in the thirteenth century. The hounds were furnished with iron collars with sharp steel spikes, and were formidable as the bêtes fauves they were intended to contend with. For once there was a truce to impertinence in the names they bore! The sounding titles of Hector and Achille were not bestowed upon a kitten or a poodle. We were soon sweeping our way across the lake, where the patches of wild duck and teal lay eyeing us, and moved to a wary distance as the boat approached them. We landed and gained the upper ridge of the mountain, where a splendid and boundless view broke upon our sight. Immense wastes of genêt and wild broom, which retains a bright green colour in the depth of winter, relieved the grey and umber masses of the forest. Dark clusters of holly clothed the gorges, and unless where the cold and silver springs were here and there visible in their fall to the lake, filled them with a shade of double darkness. Deep belts of pine crowned the summits of the heights, stretching like a sombre cloud, while the distant châteaux glistened in the pale rays of a winter's sun. The echo of the horn, the baying of the dogs, and the faroff crack of the rifle, gave us notice that the game was afoot. A similar spot was selected to that which I had occupied the previous day, and my host gave me the chance of first fire. We were a long way from the scene of action, but we had the best place, as the hunt would be continually advancing towards us; whilst the sounds of distant strife and the wailing note of the mort sounded like a dirge across the lake and sorely tried my patience. At length the hounds by our side gave notice that there was something in the wind. "It is a boar!" said my host. "Look to the hounds; see how their eyes kindle, and their hair bristles up! A token that it is no trifling enemy. They would not so honour a stag! !" Presently the monster appeared, having outstripped his pursuers. He came along at a leisure trot; the hounds crouched close to the earth; he stopped some sixty paces from us; we were concealed from his view, but he seemed conscious of danger, and as if speculating from which quarter it might come. "Now you may murder him at discretion," said my host: "he is all your own." I took what I thought a deadly aim, and missed. The boar advanced half-a-dozen paces, stopped again, and stood sniffing the air. "That fellow takes us for Jews," said my host, "and imagines we should turn pale at the sight of his blood! He is bent on his fate. Quick, your other barrel! Now together, and at the eyes!" We fired simultaneously, and the brute rolled over, rending the earth and tearing the branches in wild and ungovernable fury. The hounds launched upon him like lightning, and, pinning him by the throat and muzzle, they rolled over and over together in the death-struggle. It would have done Sneyders' heart good to see it, and have made Landscer prick up his ears. So savage was the affair, that I found myself breathing hard with excitement. The boar was soon throttled, and lay upon his back with his muzzle covered with foam, and his eye still scintillating, like a half-extinguished coal. "Don't sleep over him," cried my host; "have him out of the way, and reload. We shall have the rest of the family presently." But this was not so easily done as said; for so heavy was the beast, that it was with the greatest labour we could drag him to our standing, even with the assistance of the hounds, who, covered with blood, pulled at him like demons. "Where did you aim ?" said my host. "At the eye," I replied. "True," he said; "the ball has entered the right eye, and traversed the brain. He is untouched by me. Courage! this will put you in nerve." Well," thought I, "with so little practice, I have not done amiss. After all, others can miss as well as I; but I have nailed you at any rate, and a frightful brute you are!" That very evanescent thing called cat's ice and vanity are of about equal foundation, and will assuredly betray every thing above a feather's weight that trusts to them. Gentle reader, I am a votary to truth; and I will here confess, that when the beast was broken up, I went out of presumed curiosity to see him, but, in fact, prompted by that sort of vanity which we feel towards the captive of our proper bow and spear! The ball was found buried in his brain, and I took possession of it as a cabinet curiosity; but what was my mortification to find, that the bore to which it belonged was two sizes smaller than that of my rifle, and that this ball was of iron, whereas mine had been of lead! I had made a miss of it, after all. Human afflictions are all mutable; I could no longer endure the sight of the brute; and, taking the ball to M. Perron, I said, "I believe this belongs to you." He laughed, and replied,— "You won't be made happy at any price! You fired over." However, while in the field, I was in blissful ignorance and full of confidence. "There is a stag coming!" whispered my host, whose practised ear had detected him long before mine. "The wind is with us, and he will continue on." He came up at such a pace that there was no time for deliberation, and we both fired. He gave a spring, wheeled forward, struggled to gain the opening where we stood, and fell at our feet. Both balls had taken effect. While M. Perron was busy with his woodknife, he stopped suddenly, and I heard the pattering of many feet over the leaves. The noise was too light for a stag, much less for a boar; but the hounds gave the warlike indications that announced a beast of prey. "Wolves!" said my host," and several of them. They will keep together like sheep. Kneel down, get on a level with the troop, and sweep both barrels into them!" I knew the forest abounded in wolves, and had before wondered we had not seen one; but these sagacious beasts, at the first sound of the horn, make a clean flight of it, usually threading cover till they gain the open country. In a few seconds seven came on at a measured gallop, and all en bloc; three fell at our fire, and the hounds dashing after in pursuit, pulled down and despatched a fourth, which was wounded. “Well,” said I, looking with complacency on so many carcasses so recently quenched of subtle and savage instinct so much solid meat-" this does beat cock-shooting, after all!"” The hunt was approaching fast, and the hampers which we had carried in the boat were now brought up by the attendants, and a cold collation spread out upon the grass. We were soon collected together, and the hounds being called off by the horn, came dropping in by twos and threes, except some half-dozen, who still followed a stray scent. Now began the "full and particular" account of individual adventures, the events and incidents, these affording almost as much pleasure to a sportsman in the discussion as the execution. In the midst of the relation we were interrupted with a loud cry of "Gare! gare!" and an incident occurred which might have been attended with considerable danger, but which happily ended in the ridiculous and absurd. A dead silence succeeded the warning cry, and the near baying of the straggling hounds shewed that they had driven up their game in our direction; shortly after we heard the pattering of many feet like a flock of scared sheep; then appeared a guez gouez," or "wild sow," a perfect monster, and in a perfect fury, and at her heels trooped thirteen of her progeny,squeakers," porc hellicq-gouëz" (as the provincials are pleased to call them), which were looking out for their tusks, and which, by slackening her pace and thereby risking no small danger to herself, she had hitherto managed to keep together; now, however, driven on by the hounds in couples, they had nothing for it but to rush into the open space where we sat, which they did without further ceremony, overturning all before them, and drawing forth a screaming and clatter like a hundred mad satyrs. The attendants, being on their feet, ran for their lives, not a few having learned by experience that a rent from the tusk of a wild boar is not to be stopped with stick 99 66 66 ing plaster; and in the helter-skelter of the scene the litter were magnified into a herd of full-grown monsters. I must confess the panic was universal; the grand réunion of hounds and swine took place on the tablecloth! Sportsmen, dogs, bottles, dishes, pigs, were floundering about in an inglorious mêlée, and tumbling and scrambling in all directions. “Sauve qui peut!" was the order of the day. Fortunately for us, the rifles had been stacked for safety, or we might have suffered the consequences of this confusion; instead of a tragic conclusion, however, the ridiculous affair ended by the hounds breaking off in pursuit in different directions, and the young family's being reduced in number by four, which lay stretched among the broken glass and crockery, where they had been throttled. The Baron de B(the same individual who had solicited a seat in M. Perron's carriage) had a narrow escape; his leathern buskins had been ripped up from the calf of the leg to the hip by the tooth of the enraged sow, a slight compliment as she routed past him. His escape with so little damage was no small miracle. When we could collect our scattered limbs and senses, and afford to laugh at our fears, we got once more en route and took the opposite direction home, with varied success. In all, at the close of the day's sport, we had slaughtered five deer, three full-grown boars, four young ones, and eleven wolves, from twelve guns. The night was passed as the preceding, and each successive day repeated our sport, the weather fortunately continuing clear. It would be tedious to describe the various similar events; but, as the signory belonged to M. Perron, and a gun was never fired within the domain except when he himself visited the château, twice or thrice a-year, the game was proportionably abundant. When the party broke up, and the guests were about to take their departure, I approached to take leave of my host, but M. Perron observed, "These are neighbours; I shall see them again with the return of the season, but with you it is otherwise; probably when we part, we may never cross each other's path again, and I would not have hospitality freeze midway. I have still another weck to pass here, and if business or inclination do not interfere, shall be rejoiced if you will spend it with me." I need hardly say, that this proposition was too congenial to my wishes to be refused; and during my sojourn, the particulars of his carly life, explaining the mystery of his gaining the heart of la belle comtesse, were detailed. The narrative was of so interesting a character that I will venture to set it forth in an ensuing paper. Before concluding, I have two remarks to impress on the mind of my reader. First, that this "BoarIIunt" must not be taken as a general sample of the chasse in Brittany; but as a particular instance, partaking of all the arrangements and energy belonging to M. Perron's character, this being his favourite sport. Cockshooting in the province is, perhaps, the finest in the world, but there the glory of the chasse ends. In the second place I would observe, that a Breton chasseur is as infinitely behind an English sportsman for eye, hand, management of the dogs, tact, and dashing spirit, as a Birmingham is to a Purdey. VOL. XXXIV. NO. CCII. PRINCIPAL CAMPAIGNS IN THE RISE OF NAPOLEON. No. IX. THOUGH we are certainly bound to feel very grateful for the obliging manner in which these papers have been received and noticed by the periodical press, we are aware that dissent also has been expressed. Nor could it be otherwise; views so directly opposed to the far-spread opinion and idolworship of the day could hardly fail, whether right or wrong, to be arraigned on their first appearance before the public. In general the world do not like to change an opinion when once formed, and least of all at the bidding of an unknown individual, though "Perchance a king Might reconcile them to the thing." Passing over the many who, no doubt, differ with us from honest conviction, and of whom we would gladly make converts,-passing over the vast numbers who in all societies adopt the reigning opinion of the day merely because they find it in vogue, there are entire classes who will naturally be hostile to the views we are endeavouring to advocate. Vanity, that holds such absolute sway over little minds, feels wounded by every attempt to uphold a cause which, if established, must prove the vain to have been in error. Many of the slaves of this tyrant passion-for it is a mistake to term vanity a slight or idle one-have entertained opinions at variance with those here advocated, and will resent our efforts as injurious to their selfesteem. Mere party men must also be hostile to our creed. Whigs and Radicals will not give up the idol once so highly praised and long the fierce adversary of the Tory government. Nor will the Tories resign the manone sufficiently abused, indeed-whose overthrow constitutes their glory. To reduce his greatness would be to reduce the honour acquired by defeating him, and they will, of course, rather have vanquished a giant than a man of ordinary dimensions. The novel virtue now called liberality also seeks an imaginary reputation in upholding the cause of a vanquished and defeated enemy, and must produce whole hosts adverse to the views entertained in these papers. These parties entirely forget that to extol or censure an historical character, unless upon the firm basis of truth, is to falsify history and poison a source whence entire generations are expected to derive salutary lessons of wisdom and virtue. There are also many good worthy people who really stand in need of such a character as the ideal Napoleon of the day, for he serves to give some apparent point to a pointless jest, and enforces maxims that could hardly stand unless supported by the magic of a name. It is not only in conversation that we hear his authority thus quoted, it is constantly brought forward in print to refresh old sayings of merit and respectability that had guided entire generations before he was born, but had gradually fallen into the "sere and yellow leaf," till brought out with renewed lustre as "sayings" or "maxims of Napoleon!" So useful a character will not, therefore, be readily relinquished. Nor can we object to those who differ from us expressing dissent; we claim no advantage over our betters in this respect. If we have done injustice to the character and conduct of Napoleon Bonaparte, the task of refuting us will be extremely easy, for we have stated the facts on which our opinions are founded, plainly and in detail, and have drawn our inferences as clearly at least as it was in our power to draw them. The dissenting critic has only to shew, therefore, that our statements are inaccurate and our conclusions illogical, when every thing else will follow as a matter of course. But till this is done, we have a full right to take our stand on the facts stated and on the inferences drawn: and they have hitherto, at least, formed pretty strong ground. We have been led into these remarks by reading, in a respectable Whig journal, "that the author of these papers was scientifically trying to prove that Napoleon ought to have been defeated in every battle described in this series of articles." This critical sentence, though not a very long one, contains, we suspect, as many errors as were ever compressed within so few words. The writer of these papers has never-perhaps from ignorance paid so much homage to modern science as to appeal to any of its maxims; he has always appealed, in plain language, to plain common-sense, has never dealt in professional jargon, and has endeavoured to be as intelligible to the civilian as to the military reader. Nor has he ever tried to shew that Napoleon ought to have been defeated in these campaigns; the very reverse is the case; for he has always maintained, that, from first to last, the chances were vastly in favour of the French: his reasons, whether good or bad, are given at length, though it might not suit the critics to see them. Another writer accuses us of " raking up"-what does the reader suppose? Some petty affair of gallantry, perhaps? No such thing, but "the explosion of the infernal machine," -an event that stands, and must stand, recorded in every history of Napoleon and his time! All the emperor's biographers, French and foreign, tell us that his conduct on the occasion was absolutely heroic; we have shewn from their own statements that it was completely the reverse, discreditable in the extreme-we might have said cowardly, on the part of a chief magistrate; and as this view could hardly be agreeable to our learned critic, and could not well be disproved, he, probably, thought it best to demolish us at once by the expression already quoted, certainly as elegant as it is appropriate. But the unkindest cut of all yet remains; for another gentleman of the broad-sheet tells his readers, with bitter irony, "that if the Austrian and Prussian governments had only consulted the writer of these papers, instead of employing their own generals and field-marshals, then would the French have been defeated in the very outset, and even the Duke of Wellington's triumphs been rendered needless." Paltry puerilities of this kind, shewing only a willingness to wound without the ability to strike, wanting even the vulgar personalities, always acceptable, at least, to vulgar minds,-may in ordinary cases be looked upon as far below notice, but a great historical truth, with all its consequent moral lessons, is involved in this question, and it is, therefore, right to exhibit the poor and unhappy style of criticism to which the worshippers of Napoleon are reduced, and what littleness they will to resort in their extremity. The cause of truth must necessarily gain when the feebleness of its adversaries is made apparent. But then, it seems, "we hate Napoleon,"-and with a most unchristian hatred, no doubt. The writer of these papers never saw Napoleon; was never injured by him, either directly or indirectly; and is not metaphysician enough to understand what sort of "hatred" can, under such circumstances, be entertained against an historical character long since departed. We all abhor the qualities that lead to the commission of great crimes — that led to the commission of the crimes charged against a Nero and Tiberius; but he would, we suspect, be something better than "a good hater," who could muster any personal hatred against the dust of either tyrant, could even a particle of it be discovered. We shall not, therefore, stop to argue the question, and only reply to the accusation by an anecdote formerly told of a young Irishman, a subaltern in a militia regiment. Being called upon to give a friend as a toast after dinner, and having, perhaps, no acquaintances in the immediate neighbourhood, our gallant subaltern immediately proposed the health of Napoleon Bonaparte. The officers of the loyal corps were, of course, startled; an explanation was immediately demanded and as readily given. "Och! it's an explanation you want, Mr. President, is it? Well, by St. Patrick! I think it need not be a long one, and that you'll all join me right heartily in the toast. Who is it, I should like to know, but the little Corsican that has caused us to be assembled here round our good wine? Who keeps us here in good quarters, wearing dashing uniforms and making love to all the pretty girls in the town, but this little spalpeen Bonaparte, the best friend inany of us ever had?" West-India, Walcheren and Peninsula quarters, were not, perhaps, so pleasant as those mentioned by our gallant militiaman; but while Napoleon held his head above water, hope gilded the most gloomy with the prospect of fair and honourable preferment; and those who know the British army well know that when he fell, those prospects closed upon all who had no |