The Officers of the Tordi Quinto Riding School.

FOX HUNTING ABOUT ROME

By P. D. Q. ZABRISKIE

W E ARE not used to classing themodern Roman as a sportsman—some way we are given to

thinking of him as non-strenuous—anopinion derived about equally from schoolhistory, which tells us Rome fell becauseher people grew effeminate, and from animpression that he is some way closely akinto the Italian organ-grinder. Now andthen there pops into view a man of achieve-ment, like the Due d’Abruzzi, and we thinkhe is exceptional. But really the youngRoman nobleman has a lot of good bloodin him—blood that used to flow in soldierveins—and warrior blood is pretty certainto be sportsman blood in time of peace.This it is that makes fox hunting popularin Rome.

It was Lord Chesterfield who introducedthe sport into Italy. About sixty years agoit occurred to him that the Roman Cam-pagna ought to make excellent hunting ter-ritory. There were immense expanses ofgood, level, springy turf, criss-crossed byfences not too high to jump. The climate

was moderate the whole year round, so theregion ought to be pretty nearly ideal, ifthe Romans should take to the sport withsufficient kindliness to once establish it.

And the fox was already established; theordinary red fox, as cunning and full ofrun as we know him in the new world, cap-able of fighting a little, too, in case of apinch. He was formerly hunted there asthe New England man hunts him here—chased on foot and killed with the gunwhen he is too intent on looking back atthe dogs to notice the man crouchingnear the runway ahead. There were nohorses trained for hunting and no hounds.These Lord Chesterfield imported fromEngland, and the experiment was readyto begin.

The better class of Romans were horse-men already, and when this new applica-tion of horsemanship was introduced theytook to it as their ancestors had taken towar. They rode with a dash and daringequal to that of Anglo-Saxon hunters, andthe fields grew, and hunters were imported

322 Fox hunting about Rome

m o r e a n dmore, unti lhunting be-came fashion-able.

T o t h es o u t h a n deast of Romethe land isperfectly leveland coveredwith short ,stumpy grasstha t makesexcellent rid-ing. Thereare few treesa n d f e whouses , buts o m e o l dc r u m b l i n gruins are scat-tered about—just enough toremind thatone is on his-toric ground.I should notw o n d e r i fthese associa-

t i o n s h a v esomething todo with thefearless rid-ing of they o u n g R o -mans. Howcan a man bet imid amidsuch associa-tions and overa h u n t i n gfield that wast h e b a t t l e -ground of hisancestors? Itis not a fieldwithout dan-gers on whicht h e R o m a nh u n t s m a nr i d e s . N ofield is, forthat matter;but this hasdangers of itsown. Therea r e s t o n ewal ls , allyn u m b e r o fThe Marquis di Roccagiovine taking a stone wall.

The Arrival of the Army Officers.

Fox Hunting about Rome

them, someof them soold that theypuzzled thehorses of theGoths. Thesehave bad ap-proaches andworse land-ings. Therea r e s o m ed i t c h e s ,though notv e r y m a n y .Worse thaneither wallsor ditches isa kind ofpost and railfence. Theseare often ashigh as a five-bar gate andhave but tworails, one atthe top andone a b o u th a l f w a ydown. Somuch day-l i gh t shows

3 2 3

through thathorses are of-ten deceivedand give onesome nastyf a l l s . T h ep o s t s w i l lbend whenhit hard andrebound withthe force ofa catapult .S o m e v e r ybad accidentsto both horsesand men haveoccurred inthis way.

O n e o fthese intro-duced a hadera for Ro-man fox hunt-ing. A veryp r o m i n e n tR o m a n ,named Rossi,was one dayriding a horsewhich triedto go r ightThe Marchioness Guiccioli Going Strong.

At the Luncheon Tent.

Across the Campagna.

Out Near the Aqueduct.

Refused.

through a fence of this sort. Rossi wasthrown and his neck broken. The effectwas something like what we might expectif a man high up in public life should takepart in a football game and be killedloud clamor arose over the brutality of the

sport. State and Church and public senti-ment united, as they have a way of doing,to decry the fox hunt. Finally the Popetook a hand and forbade any more huntingmeets. That ended the sport for a time,but its friends worked long and hard until

Going to the Meet.

Fox hunting about Rome 3 2 7

finally they secured a lifting of the ban.Like good sportsmen the Romans were at

chase was stopped that men might fight.

the game at once, and the red fox wasBut civil wars were common in Rome, and

chased again across the level fields of thewhen this one had passed it left so littleripple on the surface of things that men

Campagna. were ready to go hunting again and rideBut there came a day, in the sixties, together over the same field where they

Colonel Slade (English Embassy) with His Daughter and Princess Doria.

when Italy was split into warlike factions.Then bands of armed men rode over theCampagna, and fox hunters were morethan once compelled to leave the chase andride faster toward Rome than they hadever ridden for the fox, to escape captureand plunder. War always was a bettergame than hunting, anyway, and now the

had fought. So when the war ended, a lit-tle more than thirty years ago, the RomanFox Hunting Club was organized. PrinceHumbert, afterward king, was electedpresident. When it came to choosing amaster, however, the old war wounds re-opened. The hostile factions refused toagree, and what had been insufficient to

Wandering Minstrels Enliven the Scene.

prevent the accession of a king was toomuch to allow the peaceable choice of amaster of foxhounds. After considerablehostility and reconciliation the dispute wasdropped, and the riders agreed to just meetand hunt without any master—the bestmen taking turns, acting in that capacitysomewhat as the old Spartan generals tookturns directing the army. This planworked very much better than Anglo-Sax-ons would imagine, and we have a pictureof hostile Latins yielding each other inturn the honors of the place. And theyreally did very well. Some of them werefamous, and are famous yet, among foxhunters all over Europe.

This plan is still in vogue, and, strangeto say, it still works very well. Thereare three or four men who now stand atthe head of the sport, and they take themastership turn about. They are all menwith large country estates, with abundantroom for kennels of imported Englishhounds and English hunters. They havetried breeding both horses and hounds,succeeding fairly well with the former, buthave not produced such good hounds asthey can bring from the north.

Grouped about these men are the mostimportant nobles of the kingdom, and suchof the foreign diplomats as have a bit ofsportsman blood. King Humbert wasoften on the field up to the time of hisdeath. He was a good horseman, too, anda fearless rider. Now the present king,Victor Emmanuel III., follows the hounds

only a little less often. Our own ambassa-dor, Mr. Meyer, has also attained the repu-tation of being a hard and fearless rider.

Rome has a delightful climate the wholeyear round, and from the end of Novemberto the middle of March is an ideal time forhunting; them the hounds meet twice aweek. On such mornings the riders leaveRome, or the villas round about, in time tobe on the field and ready by eleven o’clock;for the hunt is always several miles fromRome, sometimes on the rolling, partlytimbered land to the northward, but moreoften on the level plain. such a meet is toRome what a Meadow Brook meet is toNew York. It means a morning gather-ing of fashionables, with time and moneyand distinction to its credit. Swift movingmotor cars, lumbering drags and four-in-hands, smart phaetons, barouches, victo-rias, and dogcarts hurry out from the city.From the estates of noblemen in the vicin-ity of the hunt come more carriages, andmen on the hunters which they will ride inthe day’s chase.

It is a crisp and frosty morning, witha sting in the air which sets the blooda-tingle and puts daring into the heart.Away on every side stretch the old, oldfields across which the legions of Cæsarmarched. here and there the eye catchesa pile of crumbling walls, the ancientcountry place of a man whose name, maybe, lives in history. Among the carriagesare the handsome dresses of pretty women,the glittering uniforms of officers and

Fox Hunting about Rome 3 2 9

the bright red coats of the men who ride.The hunters are prancing, restless to beoff. The hounds are straining in leash.Here and there in riding habit is a woman,for they, too, ride to hounds in Italy.Over all is the deep blue of a cloudless Ital-ian sky, and in the distance the outlines ofthe Albanian Hills. In each heart, undereach red coat, is the tingle of the comingrun, the anxiety as to the outcome, thelove of a good chase, and the hope forgood luck and a good place at the finish.Yes, fox hunting is the same whether thestart be from Rome or Genesee or oldVirginia.

Eleven comes, the official hour for thesport to begin; by and by the hounds sendback word that a red fox is started, and areaway. And now this run is like all otherruns. There are fences and walls and a

ditch; there is the suspense as you dash atthem, and the glow of success; or, maybe,a stumble which either makes you grityour teeth and remount, as the members ofthose old legions might have done, or putsyou out of it altogether. At any rate thischase goes on, with all its mad excitement,till the fox is caught or gets away, too latefor another run.

Then comes the ride to the luncheontent. It is ready by the woodside, andabout it collect the hunters and their guestsfrom the carriages. At this hunting lunchare assembled princes and princesses, ad-mirals, generals, nobles of all ranks, for-eign ambassadors, and sometimes kingsand queens. And after the lunch comesthe ride back, under the same blue sky,across the level fields, toward the City ofthe Seven Hills.

Down.