Two spaniels, mother and son, were self-hunting in Mr. Drake's woods,
near Amersham, in Bucks. The gamekeeper shot the mother; the son,
frightened, ran away for an hour or two, and then returned to look
for his mother. Having found her dead body, he laid himself down by
her, and was found in that situation the next day by his master, who
took him home, together with the body of the mother. Six weeks did
this affectionate creature refuse all consolation, and almost all
nutriment. He became, at length, universally convulsed, and died of
grief.
These two anecdotes would form a pretty picture of fidelity and
kindness, and there is one (I need not mention Sir Edwin Landseer) who
would do justice to them.
I may here remark, that the dogs of poor people generally show more
attachment to their masters than those of the rich. Their fidelity
appears greater, and more lasting. Misery would seem to tighten the
cord of affection between them. They both suffer the same privations
together of hunger, cold, and thirst, but these never shake the
affection of a dog for his master. The animal's resignation is
perfect, and his love unbounded. How beautifully has Sir Walter Scott
described the affection of a dog for his master, who fell down a
precipice in a fog near the Helvellyn Mountains, in Cumberland, and
was dashed to pieces. It was not till more than three months
afterwards that his remains were discovered, when his faithful dog was
still guarding them.
"Dark green was the spot 'mid the brown mountain heather,
Where the pilgrim of nature lay stretch'd in decay;
Like the corpse of an outcast abandon'd to weather,
'Till the mountain winds wasted the tenantless clay.
Nor yet quite deserted, though lonely extended,
For faithful in death his mute fav'rite attended,
The much-lov'd remains of his master defended,
And chas'd the hill fox and the raven away."
Nor are the preceding anecdotes solitary instances of the affection of
dogs for their departed masters. Mr. Youatt, in his work on "Humanity
to Brutes," which does him so much credit, has recorded the following
fact, very similar to the one already given:--
Opposite to the house of a gentleman, near the churchyard of St.
Olave, Southwark, where the receptacles of humanity are in many parts
dilapidated, was an aperture just large enough to admit a dog. It led
along a kind of sink to a dark cavity, close to which a person had
recently been buried. It was inhabited by his dog, who was to be seen
occasionally moving into or out of the cavern, which he had taken
possession of the day of the funeral. How he obtained any food during
the first two or three months no one knew, but he at length attracted
the attention of a gentleman who lived opposite, and who ordered his
servant regularly to supply the dog with food. He used, after a while,
to come occasionally to this house for what was provided for him. He
was not sullen, but there was a melancholy expression in his
countenance, which, once observed, would never be forgotten. As soon
as he had finished his hasty meal, he would gaze for a moment on his
benefactor. It was an expressive look, but one which could not be
misunderstood. It conveyed all the thanks that a broken heart could
give. He then entombed himself once more for three or four days, when
he crawled out again with his eyes sunk and his coat dishevelled. Two
years he remained faithful to the memory of the being he had lost, and
then, according to the most authentic account of him, having been
missing several days, he was found dead in his retreat.
From a letter written by a gentleman at Dijon in France, to his friend
in London, dated August 15, 1764, we have the following account of a
murder discovered by a dog:--
"Since my arrival here a man has been broken on the wheel, with no
other proof to condemn him than that of a water-spaniel. The
circumstances attending it being so very singular and striking, I beg
leave to communicate them to you. A farmer, who had been to receive a
sum of money, was waylaid, robbed, and murdered, by two villains. The
farmer's dog returned with all speed to the house of the person who
had paid the money, and expressed such amazing anxiety that he would
follow him, pulling him several times by the sleeve and skirt of the
coat, that, at length, the gentleman yielded to his importunity. The
dog led him to the field, a little from the roadside, where the body
lay. From thence the gentleman went to a public-house, in order to
alarm the country. The moment he entered, (as the two villains were
there drinking,) the dog seized the murderer by the throat, and the
other made his escape. This man lay in prison three months, during
which time they visited him once a-week with the spaniel, and though
they made him change his clothes with other prisoners, and always
stand in the midst of a crowd, yet did the animal always find him out,
and fly at him. On the day of trial, when the prisoner was at the bar,
the dog was let loose in the court-house, and in the midst of some
hundreds he found him out (though dressed entirely in new clothes),
and would have torn him to pieces had he been allowed; in consequence
of which he was condemned, and at the place of execution he confessed
the fact. Surely so useful, so disinterestedly faithful an animal,
should not be so barbarously treated as I have often seen them,
particularly in London."
The following anecdote has been well authenticated, and the fact which
it records is still remembered by many individuals yet alive:--
Mr. Alderman Yearsley, of Congleton, in Cheshire, had a favourite
large water-spaniel named Fanny, which, in the hands of Providence,
was the instrument of saving a very valuable life.
In the year 1774 Mr. Yearsley had gone out one evening with a friend
to a tavern, and the dog accompanied him. A short time before he was
expected home, and while Mrs. Yearsley happened to be washing her
hands in the back kitchen, the spaniel returned and scratched at the
door for admittance. Being let in, she followed her mistress into the
kitchen, where she set up a strange sort of whining, or barking, and
turned towards the street-door, as if beckoning her mistress to
follow. This she repeated several times, to the great astonishment of
the lady. At length a thought struck her that Mr. Yearsley might have
met with some accident in the street, and that the spaniel was come to
guide her to her husband. Alarmed at this idea, she hastily followed
the animal, which led her to Mr. Yearsley, whom she found in perfect
health, sitting in the house to which he had gone. She told him the
cause of her coming, and got herself laughed at for her pains. But
what were the feelings of both, when they were informed by their next
neighbours that the kitchen fell in almost the very instant Mrs.
Yearsley had shut the street-door, and that the wash-hand basin she
had left was crushed into a thousand pieces! The animal was ever
afterwards treated with no ordinary attention, and died thirteen years
later, at the age of sixteen. Her death, we regret to add, was
occasioned by the bite of a mad dog.
In the "Notes of a Naturalist," published in Chambers' "Edinburgh
Journal," a work which cannot be too much commended for its agreeable
information, is the following anecdote, which I give with the remarks
of the author upon it:--
"It appears to me, that in the general manifestations of the animal
mind, some one of the senses is employed in preference to the
others--that sense, for instance, which is most acute and perfect in
the animal. In the dog, for example, the sense of smell predominates;
and we accordingly find that, through the medium of this sense, his
mental faculties are most commonly exercised. A gentleman had a
favourite spaniel, which for a long time was in the habit of
accompanying him in all his walks, and became his attached companion.
This gentleman had occasion to leave home, and was absent for more
than a year, during which time he had never seen the dog. On his
return along with a friend, while yet at a little distance from the
house, they perceived the spaniel lying beside the gate. He thought
that this would be a good opportunity of testing the memory of his
favourite; and he accordingly arranged with his companion, who was
quite unknown to the dog, that they should both walk up to the animal,
and express no signs of recognition. As they both approached nearer,
the dog started up, and gazed at them attentively; but he discovered
no signs of recognition, even at their near approach. At last he came
up to the stranger, put his nose close to his clothes, and smelt him,
without any signs of emotion. He then did the same to his old master;
but no sooner had he smelt him, than recognition instantly took place;
he leaped up to his face repeatedly, and showed symptoms of the most
extravagant joy. He followed him into the house, and watched his every
movement, and could by no means be diverted from his person. Here was
an instance of deficient memory through the organs of sight, but an
accurate recollection through the organs of smell." In a preceding
anecdote, I have recorded an instance of a spaniel recognising the
voice of his master after a lapse of six years. In that case, it was
evident that the recollection of a particular sound enabled the dog to
know his master, without having had recourse to the sense of smelling,
which, however, would probably have been equally available had it been
exercised.
About the year 1800, Mrs. Osburn, who lived a few miles out of London,
went to town to receive a large sum of money granted her by Parliament
for discovering a lithontryptic medicine. She received the money, and
returned back with it in her own carriage to the country, without
anything particular happening to her on the road. It was evening when
she arrived at home; and being fatigued with her journey, she retired
early to rest. On her stepping into bed, she was somewhat surprised at
the importunities of a small King Charles's dog, which was a great
pet, and always slept in her bedchamber. He became exceedingly
troublesome, and kept pulling the bedclothes with all his strength.
She chid him repeatedly, and in an angry tone of voice desired him to
lie still, that she might go to sleep. The dog, however, still
persisted in his efforts, and kept pulling the bedclothes; and at
length leaped on the bed, and endeavoured with the most determined
perseverance to pull off the bedclothes. Mrs. Osburn then conceived
there must be some extraordinary cause for this unusual conduct on
the part of her dog, and leaped out of bed; and being a lady of some
courage, put on her petticoat, and placed a brace of pistols by her
side, which she had always ready loaded in a closet adjoining her
bed-room, and proceeded down-stairs. When she had reached the first
landing-place, she saw her coachman coming down the private staircase,
which led to the servants' rooms, with a lighted candle in his hand,
and full dressed. Suspecting his intentions were bad, and with heroic
presence of mind, she presented one of her pistols, and threatened to
lodge the contents of it in him, unless he returned to bed forthwith.
Subdued by her determined courage, he quietly and silently obeyed. She
then went into a back-parlour, when she heard a distant whispering of
voices; she approached the window, and threw it up, and fired one of
her pistols out of it, in the direction from which the noise
proceeded. Everything became silent, and not a whisper was to be
heard. After looking through the different rooms on the lower floor,
and finding all right, she proceeded to bed and secured the door, and
nothing further occurred that night. Next morning she arose at an
early hour, went into the garden, and in the direction which she had
fired the preceding night she discovered drops of blood, which she
traced to the other end of the garden. This left no doubt on her mind
of what had been intended. Thinking it imprudent to keep so large a
sum of money in her house, she ordered her carriage to drive to town,
where she deposited her cash. She then repaired to the house of Sir
John Fielding, and related to him the whole affair, who advised her to
part with her coachman immediately, and that he would investigate the
matter, and, if possible, discover and convict the offenders. But the
parties concerned in this affair were never discovered; for the mere
fact of the coachman being found coming down the stair was not
sufficient to implicate him, although there were strong grounds of
suspicion. Thus, by the instinct and fidelity of this little animal,
was robbery, and most likely murder, prevented.
A spaniel belonging to a medical gentleman, with whom I am acquainted,
residing at Richmond in Surrey, was in the habit of accompanying him
when he went out at night to visit his patients. If he was shut out of
the house of a patient, as was frequently the case, he would return
home; and whatever the hour of the night might be, he would take the
knocker in his mouth, and knock till the door was opened. It should be
mentioned that the knocker was below a half-glazed door, so that it
was easily within the dog's reach.
"In the capital of a German principality," says Capt. Brown, "the
magistrates once thought it expedient to order all dogs that had not
the mark of having been wormed, to be seized and confined for a
certain time in a large yard without the walls of the town. These
dogs, which were of all possible varieties, made a hideous noise while
thus confined together; but a spaniel, which, as the person that had
the care of them observed, sat apart from the rest in a corner of the
yard, seemed to consider the circumstances with greater deliberation.
He attended to the manner in which the gate of the yard was opened and
shut; and, taking a favourable opportunity, leapt with his forepaws
upon the latch, opened the gate, looked round upon the clamorous
multitude, and magnanimously led them the way out of the prison. He
conducted them in triumph through the gate of the town; upon which
every dog ran home exulting to his master."
The following anecdote, which was sent to me by the gentleman who
witnessed the occurrence, proves the sense and observation of a
spaniel. He possessed one which was a great favourite, and a constant
companion in all his rambles. One day, in passing through a field of
young turnips, he pulled up one of them, and after washing it
carefully in a rivulet, he cut off the top, and ate the other part.
During this time the dog eyed him attentively, and then proceeded to
one of the growing turnips, drew it from the earth, went up briskly to
the rivulet, and after dashing it about some time till he caused the
water to froth considerably, he laid it down, and holding the turnip
inverted, and by the top, he deliberately gnawed the whole of it off,
and left the top, thus closely imitating the actions of his master.
A gentleman, who generally resided at Boston in Lincolnshire, had also
a house at Chepstow in Monmouthshire, to which he occasionally went in
the summer. While at the latter place, a small spaniel dog which a
friend at Chepstow had given him was taken on his return in a carriage
to Boston. On the Sunday evening after the arrival at that place, the
spaniel was attacked by a large dog, when out walking with his master
on the river bank, and ran away. Nothing was heard of him until the
receipt of a letter from Chepstow, announcing his arrival at that
place in a famished and travel-worn condition. The distance is one
hundred and eighty-four miles.