writes--"We met once at a hollow, where some water still remained from
the rains, 2000 camels, all together admirably organised into troops,
and attended by only a few Arabs. On another occasion, we passed some
camels grazing at such a distance from the Nile, that I asked the Arab
attending where they went to drink? He said, he marches them all down
together to the Nile, and they drink every eleventh day. It is now the
cool season, and the heat is tempered by fresh northerly breezes. The
Arab, of course, brings water skins for his own supply. All these camels
were breeding stock. They live on thorns and the top shoots of the
gum-arabic tree, although it is armed with the most frightful spikes.
But very little comes amiss to the camel; he will eat dry wood to keep
up digestion, if in want of a substitute. Instinct or experience has
taught him to avoid the only two tempting-looking plants that grow in
the desert,--the green eusha bush, which is full of milk-coloured juice,
and a creeper, that grows in the sand where nothing else will grow, and
which has a bitter fruit like a melon. I was surprised to learn that the
leopard does not dare to attack the camel, whose tall and narrow flanks
would seem to be fatally exposed to such a supple enemy. Nature,
however, has given him a means of defence in his iron jaw and long
powerful neck, which are a full equivalent for his want of agility. He
can also strike heavily with his feet, and his roar would intimidate
many foes. I never felt tired of admiring this noble creature, and
through the monotony of the desert would watch for hours his ceaseless
tread and unerring path. Carrying his head low, forward, and surveying
everything with his black brilliant eye, he marches resolutely forward,
and quickens his pace at the slightest cheer of the rider. He is too
intelligent and docile for a bridle; besides, he lives on the march, and
with a sudden sweep of the neck will seize, without stopping, the
smallest straw. When the day's march is over, he passes the night in
looking for food, with scarcely an hour to repose his limbs, and less
than that for sleep. He closes the eye fitfully, the smallest noise will
awake him. When lying down for rest, every part of the body is
supported; his neck and head lie lightly along the sand, a broad plate
of bone under the breast takes the weight off his deep chest, and his
long legs lay folded under him, supporting his sides like a ship in a
cradle."
A CAPTAIN IN THE ROYAL NAVY MEASURES THE PROGRESS OF "THE SHIP OF THE
DESERT."
The dromedary has long and deservedly been called "the Ship of the
Desert." A very gallant captain in the Royal Navy, the late Captain
William Peel, son of the Prime Minister, calculated its rate of motion
much after the manner in which he might have measured the path of his
ship. He writes[254]--"In crossing the Nubian Desert I paid constant
attention to the march of the camels, hoping it may be of some service
hereafter in determining our position. The number of strides in a minute
with the same foot varied very little, only from 37 to 39, and 38 was
the average; but the length of the stride was more uncertain, varying
from 6 feet 6 to 7 feet 6. As we were always urging the camels, who
seemed, like ourselves, to know the necessity of pushing on across that
fearful tract, I took 7 feet as the average. These figures give a speed
of 2.62 geographical miles per hour, or exactly three English miles,
which may be considered as the highest speed that camels lightly loaded
can keep up on a journey. In general, it will not be more than two and a
half English miles. My dromedary was one of the tallest, and the seat of
the saddle was 6 feet 6 above the ground."
LORD METCALFE ON A CAMEL WHEN A BOY.
Charles Metcalfe, "first and last Lord Metcalfe," to whose care were
successively intrusted the three greatest dependencies of the British
crown, India, Jamaica, and Canada, and who died in 1846, was sent to
Eton when eleven years old. His biographer relates,[255] that "it is on
record, and on very sufficient authority, that he was once seen riding
on a camel. 'I heard the boys shouting,' said Dr Goodall, many years
afterwards, 'and went out and saw young Metcalfe riding on a camel; so
you see he was always orientally inclined.'" This anecdote will serve as
a comrade to that told by Mr Foss, in his "Lives of the Justices of
England," of Chief-Baron Pollock. When a lad, one of his schoolmasters,
fretted by the boyish energy and exuberant spirits of his scholar, said
petulantly, "You will live to be _hanged_." The old gentleman lived to
see his pupil Lord Chief-Baron, and, not a little proud of his great
scholar, said, "I always said he would occupy an _elevated_ position."
FOOTNOTES:
[253] Quoted in Timbs' "Century of Anecdote," vol. i. p. 223 (1864).
[254] "A Ride through the Nubian Desert," by Captain W. Peel, R.N., p.
49.
STAGS AND GIRAFFE.
The deer family is rather numerous, and found in many different parts of
the world. Reindeers abound in some parts even of Spitzbergen, and with
musk oxen can find their food even under the winter snows of the Parry
Islands. The wapiti and heavy large-headed elk or moose, retreat before
the advancing civilisation of North America. The Indian mountains and
plains have noble races of deer. No species, however, is more celebrated
than our red deer. The giraffe is closely allied to the stag family. The
Arabs name it the seraph, and indeed, that is the origin of its now
best-known English name. Visitors should beware of going too near the
male, for we have seen the dent made by one of the giraffe's bony knobs
on a pannel close to its stall. We have heard of a young lady, who
entered the garden one of those summer days when straw bonnets had great
bunches of ripe barley mingled with artificial poppies as an ornament,
and, going too near the lofty pallisade, found to her confusion and
terror that the long lithe tongue of the giraffe had whisked off her
Leghorn, flowers and all, and had begun leisurely to munch it with
somewhat of the same gusto with which it would have eaten the branch of
a graceful mimosa.
EARL OF DALHOUSIE AND THE FEROCIOUS STAG.
Mr Scrope relates an instance of unprovoked ferocity in a red deer at
Taymouth, in which the present Earl of Dalhousie might have been
seriously injured.
"In October 1836, the Hon. Mr and Mrs Fox Maule had left Taymouth with
the intention of proceeding towards Dalguise; and in driving through
that part of the grounds where the red deer were kept, they suddenly at
a turn of the road came upon the lord of the demesne standing in the
centre of the passage, as if prepared to dispute it against all comers.
Mr Maule being aware that it might be dangerous to trifle with him, or
to endeavour to drive him away (for it was the rutting season),
cautioned the postilion to go slowly, and give the animal an opportunity
of moving off. This was done, and the stag retired to a small hollow by
the side of the road. On the carriage passing, however, he took offence
at its too near approach, and emerged at a slow and stately pace, till
he arrived nearly parallel with it. Mr Maule then desired the lad to
increase his pace, being apprehensive of a charge in the broadside.
"The deer, however, had other intentions; for as soon as the carriage
moved quicker, he increased his pace also, and came on the road about
twelve yards ahead of it, for the purpose of crossing, as it was
thought, to a lower range of the parks; but to the astonishment and no
little alarm of the occupants of the carriage, he charged the offside
horse, plunging his long brow antler into his chest, and otherwise
cutting him.
"The horse that was wounded made two violent kicks, and is supposed to
have struck the stag, and then the pair instantly ran off the road; and
it was owing solely to the admirable presence of mind and sense of the
postilion, that the carriage was not precipitated over the neighbouring
bank. The horses were not allowed to stop till they reached the gate,
although the blood was pouring from the wounded animal in a stream as
thick as a man's finger. He was then taken out of the carriage, and only
survived two or three hours. The stag was shortly afterwards
killed."[256]
THE FRENCH COUNT AND THE STAG.
Mr Scrope, in his "Deer-Stalking," describes a grand deer-drive to
Glen-Tilt, headed by the Duke of Athole. Many an incident of this and
subsequent drives was watched by "Lightfoot," who was present, and whose
pictures, under his name of Sir Edwin Landseer, have rendered the life
of the red deer familiar to us, in mist, amid snow, swimming in the
rapid of a Highland current, pursued and at rest, fighting and feeding,
alive and dead, in every attitude, and at every age.
In this encounter, the Duke killed three first-rate harts, Lightfoot
two, and other rifles were all more or less successful. A French count,
whose tongue it was difficult to restrain,--and silence is essential to
success in the pursuit,--at last fired into a dense herd of deer.
Mr Scrope adds,[257] "Everything was propitious--circumstance,
situation, and effect; for he was descending the mountain in full view
of our whole assemblage of sportsmen. A fine stag in the midst of the
herd fell to the crack of his rifle. 'Hallo, hallo!' forward ran the
count, and sat upon the prostrate deer triumphing. '_He bien, mon ami,
vous etes mort, donc! Moi, je fais toujours des coups surs. Ah! pauvre
enfant!_' He then patted the sides of the animal in pure wantonness, and
looked east, west, north, and south, for applause, the happiest of the
happy; finally he extracted a mosaic snuff-box from his pocket, and with
an air which nature has denied to all save the French nation, he held a
pinch to the deer's nose--'_Prends, mon ami, prends donc!_' This
operation had scarcely been performed when the hart, who had only been
stunned, or perhaps shot through the loins, sprang up suddenly,
overturned the count, ran fairly away, and was never seen again.
'_Arretes, toi traitre! Arretes, mon enfant! Ah! c'est un enfant, perdu!
Allez donc a tous les diables!_'"
VENISON FAT.--REYNOLDS AND THE GOURMAND.
Northcote[258] says--"I have heard Sir Joshua Reynolds relate an
anecdote of a venison feast, at which were assembled many who much
enjoyed the repast.
"On this occasion, Reynolds addressed his conversation to one of the
company who sat next to him, but to his great surprise could not get a
single word in answer, until at length his silent neighbour, turning to
him, said, 'Mr Reynolds, whenever you are at a venison feast, I advise
you not to speak during dinner-time, as in endeavouring to answer your
questions, I have just swallowed a fine piece of the fat, entire,
without tasting its flavour.'"
STAG-TRENCH AT FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAINE.
Goethe was born at Frankfort-on-the-Maine, August 28th, 1749. In his
autobiography[259] he says--"The street in which our house was situated
passed by the name of the Stag-trench; but as neither stags nor trenches
were to be seen, we naturally wished to have the expression explained.
They told us that our house stood on a spot that was once outside the
town, and that where the street now ran had formerly been a trench in
which a number of stags were kept. The stags were preserved and fatted
here, because the Senate every year, according to an ancient custom,
feasted publicly on a stag which was always at hand in the trench for
such a festival, in case princes or knights interfered with the city's
right of chase outside, or the walls were encompassed and besieged by an
enemy. This pleased us, and we wished that such a lair for tame wild
animals could have been seen in our times. Where is there a boy or girl
who could not join in the wish of this man, who has been called the
first European poet and literary man of the nineteenth century?"
GIRAFFE.
"Fancy," said Sydney Smith to some ladies, when he was told that one of
the giraffes at the Zoological Gardens had caught a cold,--"fancy a
giraffe with two yards of sore throat."
In one of the numbers of _Punch_, published in 1864, the quiz of an
artist has made the giraffes twist their necks into a loose knot by way
of a comforter to keep them from catching a cold, or having a sore
throat. He has very audaciously caused to be printed under his cut, "A
FACT."
FOOTNOTES:
[255] "Life and Correspondence of Charles Lord Metcalfe," by John
William Kaye, vol. i., p. 8.
[256] "The Art of Deer-Stalking," p. 33.
[257] "Deer-Stalking," p. 229.
[258] "Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds," vol. i., p. 124.
[259] "Truth and Poetry from my own Life; the Autobiography of Goethe,"
edited by Parke Godwin, part i., p. 3.
SHEEP AND GOATS.
These are animals, at least the former, which seem to have been created
in a domestic state. They are represented on the most ancient
monuments. A head of a Lybian ram of very large size, in the British
Museum, has great resemblance to nature, and there is one slab at least
among the Assyrian monuments where sheep and goats, as part of the spoil
of a city, are rendered with great skill. In the writings of the Ettrick
Shepherd, many curious anecdotes of Scottish sheep are given.
HOW MANY LEGS HAS A SHEEP?
When the Earl of Bradford was brought before the Lord Chancellor to be
examined upon application for a statute of lunacy against him, the
Chancellor asked him, "How many legs has a sheep?"--"Does your lordship
mean," answered Lord Bradford, "a live sheep or a dead sheep?"--"Is it
not the same thing?" said the Chancellor.--"No, my lord," said Lord
Bradford, "there is much difference: a live sheep may have four legs, a
dead sheep has only two; the two fore-legs are shoulders; there are only
_two legs of mutton_."[260]
GOETHE ON ROOS'S ETCHINGS OF SHEEP.
In the "Conversations of Goethe with Eckerman and Soret"[261] in 1824,
he handed me some etchings by Roos, the famous painter of animals; they
were all of sheep, in every posture and position. The simplicity of
their countenances, the ugliness and shagginess of the fleece--all was
represented with the utmost fidelity, as if it were nature itself.
"I always feel uneasy," said Goethe, "when I look at these beasts. Their
state--so limited, dull, gaping, and dreaming--excites in me such
sympathy, that I fear I shall become a sheep, and almost think the
artist must have been one. At all events, it is most wonderful how Roos
has been able to think and feel himself into the very soul of these
creatures, so as to make the internal character peer with such force
through the outward covering. Here you see what a great talent can do
when it keeps steady to subjects which are congenial with its nature."
"Has not, then," said I, "this artist also painted dogs, cats, and
beasts of prey with similar truth; nay, with this great gift of assuming
a mental state foreign to himself, has he not been able to delineate
human character with equal fidelity?"
"No," said Goethe; "all that lay out of his sphere, but the gentle,
grass-eating animals--sheep, goats, cows, and the like--he was never
weary of repeating; this was the peculiar province of his talent, which
he did not quit during the whole course of his life. And in this he did
well. A sympathy with these animals was born with him, a knowledge of
their psychological condition was given him, and thus he had so fine an
eye for their bodily structure. Other creatures were perhaps not so
transparent to him, and therefore he felt neither calling nor impulse to
paint them."[262]
LORD COCKBURN AND THE SHEEP.
Lord Cockburn, the proprietor of Bonaly, that pretty place on the slopes
of the Pentlands, was sitting on the hill-side with the shepherd, and,
observing the sheep reposing in the coldest situation, he observed to
him, "John, if I were a sheep, I would lie on the other side of the
hill." The shepherd answered, "Ay, my lord, but if ye had been a
_sheep_, ye would hae had mair sense."[263]
WOOLSACK.
Colman and Banister, dining one day with Lord Erskine, the
ex-chancellor, amongst other things, observed that he had then about
three thousand head of sheep. "I perceive," interrupted Colman, "your
lordship has still an eye to the woolsack."[264]
SANDY WOOD AND HIS PETS, A SHEEP AND A RAVEN.
Alexander Wood, a kind-hearted surgeon, who died in his native town of
Edinburgh in May 1807, aged eighty-two, is alluded to by Sir Walter
Scott in a prophecy put into the mouth of Meg Merrilees in "Guy
Mannering"--"They shall beset his goat; they shall profane his raven,"
&c.
The editor of "Kaye's Edinburgh Portraits"[265] says that, besides his
kindness of disposition to his fellow-creatures, "he was almost equally
remarkable for his love of animals. His pets were numerous, and of all
kinds. Not to mention dogs and cats, there were two others that
_individually_ were better known to the citizens of Edinburgh--a sheep
and a raven, the latter of which is alluded to by Scott in 'Guy
Mannering.' Willy, the sheep, pastured in the ground adjoining to the
Excise Office, now the Royal Bank, and might be daily seen standing at
the railings, watching Mr Wood's passing to or from his house in York
Place, when Willy used to poke his head into his coat-pocket, which was
always filled with supplies for his favourite, and would then trot along
after him through the town, and sometimes might be found in the houses
of the doctor's patients. The raven was domesticated at an ale and
porter shop in North Castle Street, which is still, or very lately was,
marked by a tree growing from the area against the wall. It also kept
upon the watch for Mr Wood, and would recognise him even as he passed at
some distance along George Street, and, taking a low flight towards him,
was frequently his companion during some part of his forenoon walks; for
Mr Wood never entered his carriage when he could possibly avoid it,
declaring that unless a vehicle could be found that would carry him down
the closes and up the turnpike stairs, they produced nothing but trouble
and inconvenience."
GENERAL CARNAC AND HIS SHE-GOAT.
It is pleasant to see, and not rare to find in men of warlike habits, a
love for animals. The goat or deer that used often to march before a
regiment with the band as they proceeded to a review in Bruntsfield
Links, when the writer and his friends were boys, about 1826 to 1832, he
well remembers. Nor is Edinburgh garrison singular.
General Carnac, in 1770, communicated to Dr William Hunter some
observations on the keenness of smell and its exquisite sensibility. He
says--"I have frequently observed of tame deer, to whom bread is often
given, and which they are in general fond of, that if you present them a
piece that has been bitten, they will not touch it. I have made the same
observation of a remarkably fine she-goat, which accompanied me in most
of my campaigns in India, and supplied me with milk, and which, in
gratitude for her services, I brought from abroad with me."[266]
JOHN HUNTER AND THE SHAWL-GOAT.
HUNTER'S METHOD OF INTRODUCING STRANGE ANIMALS PEACEFULLY TO OTHERS IN
HIS MENAGERIE.
It is pleasant to meet with a notice of the pursuits of the great
anatomist, John Hunter, in a rather out-of-the-way book.[267] The
ingenious way in which he introduced strange animals into his menagerie
is worthy of notice.
"The variety of birds and beasts to be met with at Earl's Court (the
villa of the celebrated and much-lamented Mr John Hunter) is matter of
great entertainment. In the same ground you are surprised to find so
many living animals in one herd, from the most opposite parts of the
habitable globe. Buffaloes, rams, and sheep from Turkey, and a
shawl-goat from the East Indies, are among the most remarkable of those
that meet the eye; and as they feed together in the greatest harmony, it
is natural to inquire, what means are taken to make them so familiar,
and well acquainted with each other. Mr Hunter told me, that when he has
a stranger to introduce, he does it by ordering the whole herd to be
taken to a strange place, either a field, an empty stable, or any other
large out-house, with which they are all alike unaccustomed. The
strangeness of the place so totally engages their attention, as to
prevent them from running at, and fighting with, the new-comer, as they
most probably would do in their own fields (in regard to which they
entertain very high notions of their exclusive right of property), and
here they are confined for some hours, till they appear reconciled to
the stranger, who is then turned out with his new friends, and is
generally afterwards well-treated. The shawl-goat was not, however, so
easily reconciled to his future companions; he attacked them, instead of
waiting to be attacked; fought several battles, and at present appears
master of the field.
"It is from the _down_ that grows under the coarse hair of this species
of goat, that the fine India shawls are manufactured.[268] This
beautiful as well as useful animal was brought over only last June from
Bombay, in the _Duke of Montrose_ Indiaman, Captain Dorin. The female,
unfortunately, died. It was very obligingly presented by the directors
to Sir John Sinclair, the President of the British Wool Society. It is
proposed, under Mr Hunter's care, to try some experiment with it in
England, by crossing it with other breeds of the goat species, before it
is sent to the north."
As anything that met with Mr Hunter's approval must have been a
judicious arrangement, I may quote from the same source the passage
about the buildings for his cattle at Earl's Court.
"Mr Hunter has built his stables half under ground; also vaults, in
which he keeps his cows, buffaloes, and hogs. Such buildings, more
especially the arched byres, or cow-houses, retain a more equal
temperature at all times, in regard both to heat and cold, and
consequently are cooler in summer and warmer in winter; and in
situations where ground is so valuable as in the neighbourhood of
London, are an excellent contrivance. Mr Hunter has his hay-yard over
his buffaloes' stables. The expense of vaulting does not exceed that of
building and roofing common cow-houses; and the vaults have this
essential advantage or preference, that they require no repairs." He
then gives an account of some buffaloes which Mr Hunter had trained to
work in a cart, and which became so steady and tractable, that they were
often driven through London streets in the loaded cart, much, no doubt,
to the astonishment of passers-by. With a glimpse of a very beautiful
little cow at Earl's Court, from a buffalo and an Alderney, which was
always plump and fat, and gave very good milk, we must take leave of
John Hunter's menagerie.
COMMODORE KEPPEL "BEARDS" THE DEY OF ALGIERS.--A GOAT.
Sir Joshua Reynolds, when twenty-five, sailed to the Mediterranean in
1749 with the Hon. Augustus Keppel, then a captain in the navy, and
afterwards Viscount Keppel. In 1750, Commodore Keppel returned to
Algiers to remonstrate with the dey on the renewed depredations of the
Corsairs. The dey, surprised at his boldness, for he anchored close to
the palace, and attended by his captain and a barge's crew, went boldly
into the presence of the Algerine monarch to demand satisfaction,
exclaimed, that he wondered at the insolence of the King of Great
Britain sending him a beardless boy.
Keppel was only twenty-four, but he is said to have answered, "that had
his Majesty, the King of Great Britain, estimated the degree of wisdom
by the length of the beard, he would have sent him _a goat_ as an
ambassador." Northcote is in doubt of the truth of this speech having
been made, but says, that it is certain Keppel answered with great
boldness.[269] The tyrant is said to have actually ordered his mutes to
advance with the bow-string, telling the commodore that his life should
answer for his audacity. Keppel quietly pointed out to the dey the
squadron at anchor, and told him, that if it was his pleasure to put him
to death, there were Englishmen enough on board to make a funeral pile
of his capital. The dey cooled a little, allowed the commodore to
depart, and made satisfaction for the damage done, and promised to
abstain from violence in future.
FOOTNOTES:
[260] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 18.
[261] Translated from the German by John Oxenford, vol. i., p. 138.
[262] Roos must have been limited in his powers, unlike our Landseer,
who paints dogs, sheep, horses, cows, stags, and fowls with equal power.
[263] Dean Ramsay's "Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character," 10th
edition, p. 19.
[264] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 214.
[265] There are two copperplates devoted to the figure and portrait of
"lang Sandy Wood," as he was called.
[266] "Philosophical Transactions," LXI. p. 176 (1771). Paper on
Nyl-ghau, with plate, by George Stubbs, engraved by Basire.
[267] Baird, "Report on the County of Middlesex," quoted in view of the
agriculture of Middlesex, &c., pp. 341, 342, by John Middleton, Esq.
London: 1798.
[268] The wool which grows on different parts of their bodies, under
very long hair, is obtained by gently combing them.
[269] "Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds," vol. i., p. 32.
CALVES AND KINE.
The little anecdote of Gilpin and the three cows illustrates one elegant
use of the subjects of the following paragraphs. What home landscape
like that painted by Alfred Tennyson would be perfect without its cows?
Many anecdotes of them could be collected. The Irish are celebrated for
their "bulls," one of them is not the worse for having "Bulls" for its
subject. Patrick was telling, so the story goes, that there were four
"Bull Inns" in a certain English town. "There are but three," said a
native of the place, who knew them well; "the Black Bull, the White
Bull, and the Red Bull,--where is the fourth?"--"Sure and do you not
know, the Dun Cow--the best of them all?" replied the unconscious
Milesian.
A GREAT CALF.