"Many years ago I had a poodle who was an excellent retriever. He was
a middle-sized, active dog, a first-rate waterman, with a nose so
particularly sensitive that no object, however minute, could escape
its 'delicate investigation.' Philip was the hardiest animal in the
world--no sea would prevent him from carrying a dead bird through the
boiling breakers, and I have seen him follow and secure a wounded
mallard, although in the attempt his legs were painfully scarified in
breaking through a field of ice scarcely the thickness of a
crown-piece. Philip, though of French extraction, had decidedly Irish
partialities. He delighted in a glass of grog; and no matter with what
labour and constancy he had returned from retrieving, he still enjoyed
a glass of punch. When he had drunk it, he was in high glee, running
round and round to try and catch his own tail, and even then allowing
the cat to approach him, which he was by no means disposed to do at
other times."
When my daughter was in Germany, she sent me the following interesting
anecdote of a poodle, the accuracy of which she had an opportunity of
ascertaining.
An inhabitant of Dresden had a poodle that he was fond of, and had
always treated kindly. For some reason or another he gave her to a
friend of his, a countryman in Possenderf, who lived three leagues
from Dresden. This person, who well knew the great attachment of the
dog to her former master, took care to keep her tied up, and would not
let her leave the house till he thought she had forgotten him. During
this time the poodle had young ones, three in number, which she
nourished with great affection, and appeared to bestow upon them her
whole attention, and to have entirely given up her former uneasiness
at her new abode. From this circumstance her owner thought she had
forgotten her old master, and therefore no longer kept her a close
prisoner. Very soon, however, the poodle was missing, and also the
three young ones, and nothing was heard of her for several days. One
morning his friend came to him from Dresden, and informed him that the
preceding evening the poodle had come to his house with one of the
puppies in her mouth, and that another had been found dead on the road
to Possenderf. It appeared that the dog had started in the night,
carrying the puppies (who were not able to walk) one after the other,
a certain distance on the road to Dresden, with the evident intention
of conveying them all to her much-loved home and master. The third
puppy was never found, and is supposed to have been carried off by
some wild animal or bird, while the poor mother was in advance with
the others. The dead one had apparently perished from cold.
The late Dr. Chisholm of Canterbury had a remarkable poodle, which a
correspondent informs me he has often seen. On one occasion he was
told, for the first time, by way of trial, to fetch his master's
slippers. He went up-stairs, and brought down one only. He was then
told, "You have brought one only, go and fetch the other;" and the
other was brought. The next evening the dog was again told to bring
the slippers. He went up-stairs, put one slipper within the other, and
brought both down. This dog appeared to understand much of our
language. When dining with Dr. Chisholm and others, his intelligence
was put to the proof by my correspondent. Some one would hide an
article, open the door, and bring in the dog, saying, "Find
so-and-so." The poodle used to look up steadily in the face of the
speaker, until he was told whether the article was hid high or low; he
would then search either on the ground, or on the chairs and
furniture, and bring the article, never taking any notice of any other
thing that was lying about. He would, upon being ordered, go up-stairs
and bring down a snuff-box, stick, pocket-handkerchief, or anything,
understanding as readily what was said to him as if spoken to a
servant.
Another poodle would go through the agonies of dying in a very
systematic manner. When he was ordered to die, he would tumble over on
one side, and then stretch himself out, and move his hind legs in
such a way as expressed that he was in great pain, first slowly and
afterwards very quickly. After a few convulsive throbs, indicated by
putting his head and whole body in motion, he would stretch out all
his limbs and cease to move, lying on his back with his legs turned
upwards, as if he had expired. In this situation he remained
motionless until he had his master's commands to get up.
The following anecdote was communicated to the Rev. Mr. Jenyns by Mrs.
Grosvenor, of Richmond, Surrey:--
A poodle dog belonging to a gentleman in Cheshire was in the habit of
not only going to church, but of remaining quietly in the pew during
service, whether his master was there or not. One Sunday the dam at
the head of a lake in that neighbourhood gave way, so that the whole
road was inundated. The congregation, in consequence, consisted of a
very few, who came from some cottages close by, but nobody attended
from the great house. The clergyman informed the lady, that whilst
reading the Psalms he saw his friend, the poodle, come slowly up the
aisle dripping with wet, having swam above a quarter of a mile to get
to church. He went into the usual pew, and remained quietly there to
the end of the service.
The Marquess of Worcester (the late Duke of Beaufort), who served in
the Peninsular war, had a poodle which was taken from the grave of his
master, a French officer, who fell at the battle of Salamanca, and
was buried on the spot. The dog had remained on the grave until he was
nearly starved, and even then was removed with difficulty; so faithful
are these animals in protecting the remains of those they loved.
A poodle dog followed his master, a French officer, to the wars; the
latter was soon afterwards killed at the battle of Castella, in
Valencia, when his comrades endeavoured to carry the dog with them in
their retreat; but the faithful animal refused to leave the corpse,
and they left him. A military marauder, in going over the field of
battle, discovering the cross of the legion of honour on the dead
officer's breast, attempted to capture it, but the poodle instantly
seized him by the throat, and would have ended his career had not a
comrade run the honest canine guardian through the body.
Mr. Blaine, in his "Account of Dogs," says that, "strange as it may
appear, it is no less true, that a poodle dog actually scaled the high
buildings of my residence in Wells Street, Oxford Street, proceeded
along several roofs of houses, and made his way down by progressive
but very considerable leaps into distant premises; from whence, by
watching and stratagem, he gained the street, and returned home in
order to join his mistress, for whose sake he had encountered these
great risks."
I am always glad to have an opportunity of acknowledging the kindness
of my correspondents, and now do so to the clergyman who very kindly
sent me the following anecdote, which I give in his own words:--
"I have a distinct remembrance of Froll or Frolic, a dog belonging to
an aged relation, once the property of her deceased only son, which
animal, in his earlier days, doubtless gave evidence that his name was
not given him unadvisedly, but during the yearly visits of myself to
that kind and indulgent person, I can remember nothing but a rather
small though fat unwieldy poodle, whose curly, glossy coat (preserved
after his death), long yellow ears, and black nose, the rest of his
body being perfectly white, betokened that he had been a beauty in his
time. Froll was still a prodigious favourite with his mistress,
although I confess my feelings towards him were rather those of fear
than any other, for to touch him was quite sufficient to evoke a
growl, or perchance a snap, from this pet of a dozen years or more. A
cross, snappish fellow he was at best, and well he knew the length of
Trusty the house-dog's chain, which less favoured quadruped was never
let loose by day, from a well-grounded fear that he might, if allowed,
resent, by summary punishment, the constant insults he was doomed to
submit to from this most petted and presumptuous myrmidon of the
drawing-room. With all this, although time and over-feeding had soured
his temper, Froll still retained much of, if not all, his former
intelligence (a trait so peculiar to his species), declared by many
long-past but still vaunted proofs of his being a wonder in his way.
One of his peculiarities was a fondness for apples--not indeed all
apples, but those which grew on a particular tree, called 'Froll's
tree,' and no others; this tree was, by the way, the best in the
garden, and the small, sweet, delicate fruit therefrom (my
reminiscence is distinct on this point) were carefully preserved for
this canine favourite. Nothing would entice him to eat any other sort
of apple. And in the season he would constantly urge his mistress into
the garden by repeated barking, and other unmistakable symptoms. His
daily meals, too, of which I think there were three regular ones, were
events in themselves, the careful attention to which tended perhaps to
relieve the monotony of a country life: they are indeed not speedily
to be forgotten by those who witnessed them. He would take food from
no one but his mistress or her maid, which latter person was his chief
purveyor, who had been an inmate of the house contemporary with
himself, or I believe long before; but this feeding was generally a
task of great trouble, such coaxing and humouring on the one hand,
such growling and snarling on the other, has been perhaps seldom
heard. At length, after much beseeching on the part of the maid, and a
few words of entreaty from the mistress, he would condescend to eat;
but never, I believe, without some symptoms of discontent, how savoury
soever the morsel, submitting to that as a favour which is generally
snatched at and devoured with so much gusto and avidity by most others
of his tribe. I should not have entered into these peculiarities,
which are scarcely evidence of any intelligence beyond that of other
dogs, were it not that the circumstances attending his death were
really extraordinary, the more so when the character of the dog is
considered; and as we have so often heard of a presentiment of that
great change being strongly imprinted on human minds, so there were
not wanting some of the then inmates of the house, who attributed his
unwonted behaviour on the eve of his death to the same cause. The dog
slept constantly in his mistress's bed-room, but, contrary to custom
on the night in question, he pertinaciously refused to remain there.
My brother and myself, who were then little boys, were, to our great
surprise, aroused in the course of the night by an unwonted scratching
at the door of our apartment, which we immediately opened, and, to our
equal delight and wonder, were saluted by Froll's jumping up and
licking our hands and faces--certainly he never appeared in better
health and spirits in his life. Whether he did this to atone for his
former uncourteous behaviour towards us, or was urged by some
unaccountable feeling of amiability as well as restlessness, I cannot
say, but certain it is his gentler faculties were that night for once
aroused, for this unaccustomed compliment I can safely affirm we never
personally received at any former period of our acquaintance. After a
time he left us, charmed at experiencing these new and flattering
demonstrations; which joy was, alas! doomed to be sadly and speedily
extinguished. When the morning came, the distressed countenance of
the servant who called us, portended some evil tidings, which was
quickly followed by the unexpected intelligence of the demise of poor
Froll. We hastily accompanied the servant into the coachman's sleeping
apartment, and there, under the bed, lay the poor dog. It had pleased
him to go there to die, having previously aroused every individual in
the house during the night by scratching at their several chambers one
after another, and saluting them in the same amiable manner he had my
brother and myself."
This anecdote could be well authenticated by most of the persons then
in the house, who are still alive.
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