SOME FAMOUS PETS

Evening Post, Volume CXXIII, Issue 59, 11 March 1937, Page 27

SOME FAMOUS PETS

GALLERY OF FRIENDS

NAPOLEON'S DISLIKES

.' When faced by a shy genius, ask him about his dog, writes Cicely Pochin in "John 0' London's Weekly." There could be no safer rule, for the most austere of important people seem to have a weakness for their favourite animals. Sir Isaac Newton was so great that he could even forgive serious interference with his work. At Cambridge he had a small dog called Diamond, which was accidentally shut up in his study one morning while Newton attended the early service at Trinity. College. When he came back he found that the dog had upset a candle on his desk, and papers containing the minutes of years of work were destroyed. But when Newton discovered the damage there was no tumult. He picked up the dog > and said: "Ah, Diamond, thou little knowest the mischief thou hast done."

Several soldiers and popular leaders in the past have had canine friends. Prince Rupert is said to have deeply lamented the death of his dog, Boy, who was killed at Marston Moor, and William Nassau, Prince of Orange and the father of William 111,- had a pug which ■ saved his life on one occasion.

In September, 1572, William's forces were surprised near Malines during a night attack by the Duke of Alva, and most of his guards were caught. But the dog's uneasiness awoke the Prince. When .William died, his faithful pug starved, and now lies at hjp master's feet in the Nieuwe Kerk at Delft.

■ Napoleon could hardly be counted among the great animal-lovers. In the affair of Josephine's;pug he comes off with much less than his usual share of glory, and almost plays the part of the henpecked husband. His wife Had an un-reasonable-affection of a sulky and lethargic, brute called Fortune, for which Napoleon developed a passionate dislike. In 1797 he aired his grievance to Arnault, as he watched Josephine fondling her ugly pet. "You see that dog there," he said; "well, he is my rival. He was in possession of Madame's bedroom when I married her. I wish to depose'him, but —what use! I was told I must resign myself to sleep elsewhere or consent to share it with him. That was sufficiently exasperating, but as it was a question of taking or leaving. I resigned:' myself. The favourite'was not so obliging. I carry, proof of it in my leg." When Fortune met a violent death at the jaws of the cook's mastiff, he was secretly delighted, but Josephine wept bitterly—and soon consoled herself with another dog. The cook feared Napoleon's displeasure, and tried to draw his mastiff away when they met in the garden, but Napoleon urged him to leave the dog there. "Perhaps he will rid me'of this other fellow as well," he said, meaning Josephine's new darling. SHE BIT AT PRAYERS. Inutter contrast to Napoleon was the late Bramwell Booth. He was a great animal-lover, and owned a long succession' of cocker spaniels! later he had a<Shetland collie named Mona, whom he thought even more intelligent than "the^attiels. She nev^Kleft'him'whew ■■he':\ was 'at home, \ and:v disliked all, strangers, especially when they were, present at prayers. When the time came to kneel, someone always kept firm hold of Mona's collar if visitors were there, for if she was left free she would dart forward and bite the; strange calves thus invitingly exposed to attack. ( Henry Irving, the actor, had a smooth-haired terrier called Fussy, given originally to' Ellen Terry by Fred Archer, the jockey. Ellen Terry in turn presented him to Irving. The great actor was very fond of his dog, and was much worried when Fussy was lost in Southampton when on the way to America with him. But the dog,turned up some time later, in Irving's dressing-room at the Lyceum! He was starving, and his feet were bleeding with the long walk to London, but he was well looked after by the housekeeper until his master's return. Three years before ;Irving's death, the dog, who had become almost blind, fell through 'a-trapdoor at the Theatre Royal, Manchester, and was killed. But most of the famous men whose dogs share their immortality are, naturally, painters and writers.' Hogarth had a pug called Bounce, and Landseer's Brutus was the model for "The Invader of the Larder" and other pictures. A NECESSARY FRIEND. An author seems to be incomplete without his devoted follower, but Sir Walter Scott is probably the greatest literary dog-lover. His • bull-terrier, Camp, was once guilty of biting the baker, and was always covered with shame when the incident was mentioned afterwards. Scott has described how if you said, "The baker was well paid" or "The baker was not hurt after all," Camp came forth from his hiding place, capered and barked, and rejoiced. When he was too-old to follow his master on horseback, Camp went regularly to meet-him when a servant told him which way Scott was coming. When -Hie dog died, Scott sadly buried him.with his own hands, and excused himself from a dinner engagement that day on account of "the death of a dear old friend." Among his other dogs was a black greyhound called Hamlet, and the great Irish wolfhound Maida, who was in such demand as ah artist's model that he fled at the sight- of a pencil and paper. Charles Dickens's favourite breed seems to have been the Newfoundland. He had Don and Bumble, who were father and son, for several years, and loved to remember how Don, seeing his son in difficulties while swimming, brought him out by one ear with an expression of infinite long-suffering. Dickens's books are full of dogs, from the mongrel Diogenes in "Dombey and Son" to Dora's King Charles spaniel, Jip, and the pointer in "Pickwick" who refused to pass the notice, "All dogs found on this land will be shot.'" GALSWORTHY'S DOGS. John Galsworthy's dogs have recently been honoured with a book to themselves, and they often figured in his work. His beloved spaniel Chris is the John-who is so prominent in "The Country House," and of another firm friend he wrote in a letter from Grove Lodge: "We are well, but Mark, our, dog,- is dead and we are very sad." • Thomas Carlyle joined the ranks of the great men who were also doglovers when his wife acquired Nero. She wrote to a friend:— "Mr. C. had accepted it with amia-. ', bility! To be sure when he comes down gloomy in the morning, or comes in wearier from his walk, the infatuated little beast dances round him on its hind legs, .as I ought to do and can't, and he feels flattered and surprised by such capers to his honour and glory."

When the dog died eleven years Jatpr she wrote again:—

"Mr. C. himself was in tears at the poor little thing's end; and his own heart was (as he phrased it) unexpectedly and distractedly torn to pieces with it."