"Though once a puppy, and a fop by name,
Here moulders one whose bones some honour claim;
No sycophant, although of Spanish race,
And though no hound, a martyr to the chase.
Ye pheasants, rabbits, leverets rejoice,
Your haunts no longer echo to his voice;
This record of his fate, exulting view--
He died worn out with vain pursuit of you.
'Yes,' the indignant shade of _Fop_ replies,
'And worn with _vain pursuits_, man also dies.'"
COWPER.
Poor Doll! the very name of spaniel reminds me of you. How well do I
now see your long pendent ears, your black expressive eyes, your
short, well-rounded mouth, your diminutive but strong legs, almost
hidden by the long, silky hair from your stomach, and hear you sing
as you lie on the rug before a good fire in the winter, after a hard
day's cock or snipe-shooting, wet and tired with your indefatigable
exertions! Yes--strange as it may sound, Doll would sing in her way,
as I have stated in a previous page; and such was her sagacity, that
in process of time when I said, "Sing, Doll," she gave vent to the
sounds, and varied them as I exclaimed, "Louder, louder." All this
time she appeared to be fast asleep.--And what a dog she was in thick
cover, or in rushy swamps! No day was too long for her, nor could a
woodcock or snipe escape her "unerring nose:"--
"Still her unerring nose would wind it--
If above ground was sure to find it."
Monsieur Blaze also tells us, that a gentleman had a dog which he
taught to utter a particular musical note, and that the animal made a
cry which very much resembled it. He then sounded another note close
to the ear of the dog, saying to him, "Too high, or too low,"
according to the degree of intonation. The animal finished by pretty
correctly giving the note which was required.
An account is given in the "Bibliotheque Universelle," of a spaniel,
who, if he heard any one play or sing a certain air, "L'ane de notre
moulin est mort, la pauvre bete," &c., which is a lamentable ditty, in
the minor key, the dog looked very pitifully, then gaped repeatedly,
showing increasing signs of impatience and uneasiness. He would then
sit upright on his hind-legs, and begin to howl louder and louder till
the music stopped. No other air ever affected him, and he never
noticed any music till the air in question was played or sung. He then
manifested, without exception or variation, the series of actions
which have been described.
I knew a dog which howled whenever it was pitied, and another whose
ear was so sensitive, that it could never bear to hear me make a
moaning noise. I have likewise seen a dog affected by peculiar notes
played on a violoncello.
It is only now and then that such dogs as Doll are to be met with, and
when they are, they are invaluable, either as sporting dogs or as
companions. In the latter capacity Doll was quite delightful. In an
early May morning, when she knew that no shooting was going forward,
she would frisk around me as I strolled in a meadow, gay with my
favourite cowslips, or run before me as I passed along a lane, where
primroses were peeping out of its mossy sides, looking back every now
and then to see if I was following her. There was the dew still
glittering on the flowers, which, from their situation, had not yet
felt the influence of the morning sun, reminding me of some favourite
lines by my favourite poet, Herrick:--
"Fall on me like a silent dew,
Or like those maiden showers,
Which, by the peep of day, do strew
_A baptism o'er the flowers_."
How delightful it is to think of these bygone walks, and how pleasant
to call to mind these traits of a favourite and faithful animal! The
poet Cowper was never more engaging than when he describes his vain
attempts to reach the flower of a water-lily, as he was strolling
along the banks of a stream attended by his spaniel, and afterwards
discovering that the sagacious animal had been in the river and
plucked it for him.
Another instance of wonderful sagacity in this breed of dogs may be
here noticed.
A gentleman shooting wild fowl one day on a lake in Ireland, was
accompanied by a sagacious spaniel. He wounded a wild duck, which swam
about the lake, and dived occasionally, followed by the dog. The bird
at last got to some distance, and lowered itself in the water, as
ducks are known to do when they are wounded and pursued, leaving
nothing but his head out of it. The dog swam about for some time in
search of his prey, but all scent was lost, and he obeyed his master's
call, and returned to the shore. He had no sooner arrived there,
however, than he ran with the greatest eagerness to the top of some
high ground close to the lake. On arriving there, he was seen looking
round in every direction; and having at last perceived the spot where
the duck was endeavouring to conceal itself, he again rushed into the
water, made directly to the spot he had previously marked, and at last
succeeded in securing the wounded bird.
A spaniel which had been kindly treated and fed, during the absence of
his master, in the kitchen of a neighbour, showed his gratitude not
only by greeting the cook when he met her, but on one occasion he laid
down at her feet a bird which he had caught, wagged his tail and
departed; thus showing that he had not forgotten the favours he had
received.
The following old, but interesting anecdote, is taken from Daniel's
"Rural Sports:"--
"A few days before the overthrow of Robespierre, a revolutionary
tribunal had condemned M. R----, an upright magistrate and a most
estimable man, on a pretence of finding him guilty of a conspiracy.
His faithful dog, a spaniel, was with him when he was seized, but was
not suffered to enter the prison. He took refuge with a neighbour of
his master's, and every day at the same hour returned to the door of
the prison, but was still refused admittance. He, however, uniformly
passed some time there, and his unremitting fidelity won upon the
porter, and the dog was allowed to enter. The meeting may be better
imagined than described. The gaoler, however, fearful for himself,
carried the dog out of the prison; but he returned the next morning,
and was regularly admitted on each day afterwards. When the day of
sentence arrived, the dog, notwithstanding the guards, penetrated into
the hall, where he lay crouched between the legs of his master. Again,
at the hour of execution, the faithful dog is there; the knife of the
guillotine falls--he will not leave the lifeless and headless body.
The first night, the next day, and the second night, his absence
alarmed his new patron, who, guessing whither he had retired, sought
him, and found him stretched upon his master's grave. From this time,
for three months, every morning the mourner returned to his protector
merely to receive food, and then again retreated to the grave. At
length he refused food, his patience seemed exhausted, and with
temporary strength, supplied by his long-tried and unexhausted
affection, for twenty-four hours he was observed to employ his
weakened limbs in digging up the earth that separated him from the
being he had served. His powers, however, here gave way; he shrieked
in his struggles, and at length ceased to breathe, with his last look
turned upon the grave."
The late Rev. Mr. Corsellis, of Wivenhoe, in Essex, had an old
gamekeeper who had reared a spaniel, which became his constant
companion, day and night. Wherever the keeper appeared Dash was close
behind him, and was of infinite use in his master's nocturnal
excursions. The game at night was never regarded, although in the day
no spaniel could find it in better style, or in a greater quantity. If
at night, however, a strange foot entered the coverts, Dash, by a
significant whine, informed his master that an enemy was abroad, and
thus many poachers have been detected. After many years of friendly
companionship the keeper was seized with a disease which terminated
in death. Whilst the slow but fatal progress of his disorder allowed
him to crawl about, Dash, as usual, followed his footsteps; and when
nature was nearly exhausted, and he took to his bed, the faithful
animal unweariedly attended at the foot of it. When he died the dog
would not quit the body, but lay on the bed by its side. It was with
difficulty he could be induced to eat any food; and though after the
burial he was caressed with all the tenderness which so fond an
attachment naturally called forth, he took every opportunity to steal
back to the room where his old master died. Here he would remain for
hours, and from thence he daily visited his grave. At the end,
however, of fourteen days, notwithstanding every kindness and
attention shown him, the poor faithful animal died, a victim of grief
for the loss of his master.
In recording such an instance of affection, it is impossible not to
feel regret that animals capable of so much attachment should ever be
subjected to ill-usage. Whenever they are treated with kindness and
affection, they are ready to return it four-fold. It is generally
ill-treatment which produces ferocity or indifference, and the former
must be very great before the love of their master can be conquered.